Cribs: Westin Diplomat EditionRebecca Woolf
Is MTV Cribs over? Cribs is over, isn’t it? Does it matter? Not really. Because I took a cazillion photos of the Westin Diplomat Resort & Spa and I’m about to post ALL of them. Not all of them, actually. Some of them. I’m about to post SOME of them!
Without further ado.
Bomp chicka wowow… Cribs: Westin Diplomat edition.
First stop? Because it is the first stop: THE LOBBY.
Speaking of lobbies, here is my roommate/BFF/husband/baby daddy. He is doing crossword puzzles on his cell phone. Chicka chickaaaa Bomp.
(This is a montage of Hal doing crossword puzzles. Just pretend the pictures are all different.)
Next up? The bedroom!
AKA Hal sitting on a chair in the bedroom
(more pretend montage action)
And here is the (Heavenly) bed which was approximately three thousand times more heavenly than our bed at home and wink wink, nudge, nudge bomp chicka bomp.
(Just kidding! I’m awake!)
Next up? The balcony which was 34 floors high and bigger than my house!
The view was one of the best I’ve ever seen so when we weren’t swimming in the ocean, we were marveling at it from space:
(Hal took this right before he came up behind me, spread my arms like wings and then proceeded to paint me naked at an unflattering angle.)
“NEAAAAAAR FARRRRR.. Whereeeeeeeever you…” bomp chicka bow wow.
And this is the Hotel Spa as in Resort & Spa which is TOTALLY where the magic happened, i.e., where we had our very first couple’s massage. Don’t worry, the masseuses went easy on us. (Don’t worry, part two: there are no pictures of the massage.)
The Diplomat Spa was also where I had my first ever steam which, contrary to my first impression, did not asphyixate and kill me. (It was actually INCREDIBLE once I settled in and after spending ten minutes in that sucker? I totally get why people put steam rooms in their mansions. Hours later, my skin looked amazing and now I’m all a google to find a local spa to call my bra.
Cue Cribs Montage of STEAM/Healthy skin/Trying to keep tiny towel from falling down, me flashing a “shaka bra” sign while wearing an oversized Hawaiian shirt.
And, of course, the golf course, which I will be writing about in my next post. (Yes, golf is boring to watch but it’s FASCINATING to read about! Seriously!)
Until then? Bomp chicka wow.