At least we didn't order room service

Let me take a moment here to (mis)quote the esteemed Ferris Bueller: I love staying in hotels. It is so choice. If you have the means, I highly recommend spending a night downtown in your own city.

When a night in Leavenworth wasn't exactly working out, Phillip and I turned to Priceline to salvage our weekend. We scored a room at the Sheraton (although Phillip admitted that he didn't think Priceline was going to accept our third and final (and not terribly cheap) bid, but oh well, there we were, and he was going to ENJOY HIMSELF.) I told my mom we weren't going to shop, but when you're downtown with all the stores and the restaurants and the ATM machines whispering your name from every corner, well, you're probably going to spend a little extra money.

And oh, I love hotels. Especially the swankier ones with gigantic lobbies and baby grand pianos and six elevators and gorgeous front desk operators with slight European accents. We shunned the valet for the Freeway Park garage where overnight parking was ten bucks cheaper. And we didn't order cocktails in the lounge or get the doorman to hail a taxi or click-clack across the lobby in stiletto heels on our way out for a Fabulous Night On The Town. But the bed was a sea of bright white down, the view was beautiful, and the movie theater was right next door. Sunday morning we slept in, used every little soap and shampoo, walked down to the market and had crepes for breakfast. I could totally get used to that.

As usual, a Flock Of Frightening Youth had infiltrated our hotel. This time it was hordes of pimply-faced twelve-year-olds in shockingly short skirts, all in attendance for some event I swore to Google later. And now I have: ugh. Talent scouts. At least they left us some hot water. (And Stage Moms? Seriously. Your sweet little girls are not doing themselves any favors by aping Lindsay Lohan, much less yourselves! It was all I could do to keep from buying out Nordstrom's stock of cable-knit white tights and patent leather Mary Janes and distributing them at the front entrance.)

Anyway, after spending the afternoon shopping, I mean, window shopping, we went back to the room to take a little nap before dinner. (Phillip: "The channels are the same!" Maggie: "Because we live 10 minutes away." Phillip: "But it's still cool. We're in a hotel. But I know what channel American Chopper is on." Maggie: "Yeah, it's weirdly comforting to see familiar faces on the local newscast. Other cities' local newscasters always creep me out." Phillip: "We love you, Jean Enersen!")

We had high hopes for dinner. I expressed them by wearing fishnets and high heeled boots (tasteful fishnets, Stage Moms, there is such a thing, and boots that in no way connote Lady of the Evening) and putting on lipstick. Unfortunately, Saturday night is apparently a fairly popular evening for dining out and no one had space for us until about an hour after our movie was supposed to start. I'd thought about making reservations that morning, but Phillip and I sometimes inhabit an alternate universe in which we are the Universe VIPs and things like reservations are only nuisances. That meant we ended up at the hotel restaurant which, when it is not laying out a completely fantastic dessert buffet, is just a sad and uninspired "cafe" serving gray hamburgers and french fries out of a bag in the freezer. Also, the "chef" gave Phillip the bottom halves of the bun and gave me the tops. The bottom of my chicken sandwich had sesame seeds on it. Sheraton, I did not keep my toes pinched inside two-and-a-half-inch heel boots for that.

Good thing we had tickets to the Topher movie, which as just as sweet as everyone wanted it to be, and could not have worked without Topher's ability to pull off sheer assiness and utter adorableness at the same time. There is a reason I watch That 70's Show, people. (Speaking of movies, I saw The Aviator today and Leo, I still think you're kinda meh, but today I found myself totally forgetting that you were ever King of the World and have decided you are ultra-deserving of your Golden Globe. Well done.)

And after the movie? A slice of cheesecake to eat in the hotel and Topher hosting Saturday Night Live. Yum.

(Sugar disclaimer: This weekend totally did not count. And we went to the gym after our breakfast crepe. So there.)

The rest of my weekend involves building a database- in my FREE TIME- and is extremely not interesting. Today Phillip came home with a portable USB drive. For me. The Realm of Geek, it is drawing ever nearer.