Fresh Prince of Bel Air

Before I start the actual post I feel the need to explain my crap titles. One of you has registered a formal complaint and I'll take this time to respond.

I really don't believe in titles. I mean, they're good for books, but for my own essays and such, I have never found them necessary. However, Homer always gave me crap about that and insisted that I title my essays. So, I used cheesy titles just to appease him. If he had insisted on good titles, I would have worked harder at it. But just having a title seemed to work for him and really it was all about Homer. The joke is on me since I'm incapable of liking anything but horrid titles.

Today is gramma's birthday. (Gramma styled this photo in case you were wondering; she LOVES it.)

Since she wouldn't let us plan a party, we went out to dinner. Wow, the Sultan of Brunei is a hellova hotel owner. The Bel Air Hotel is stunning to the point where the grounds even smell good. Seriously. When was the last time you were in a parking lot and it smelled good? The food was spectacular AND the staff was genuinely nice. I was overwhelmed.

As expected, I had a celebrity sighting. There was also some musician guy who pulled up in a yellow Porche while we were waiting for our car. But, I'm musically challenged so I haven't a clue who he was. But I recognised him. Sort of.

If I win the lottery, I'm spending a large amount of time there. This place seriously kicks the Penisula and Beverly Hills Hotels' asses.

I know, I'm Klassy. Its a gift.