Here's a fact about me: I have watched Pretty Woman at least 100 times. In fact, that might be lowballing it. Yes, I am of the generation of women that looked to a prostitute for guidance in the ways of love. Oh hell, who are we kidding? Julia Roberts would have no sooner been a street walker. That woman was made to reside in the Beverly Wilshire Hotel in Beverly Hills. So, I feel ok in saying that I watched that movie a hundred + times and thought that my life might somehow come to look like hers, minus the time on Hollywood Blvd. Fast forward a couple of decades and I'm no Julia Roberts, nor am I married to any Richard Gere, but I am sitting in the famed hotel that this screen siren called home in Pretty Woman. There is nothing at all fictional about the glitz and glamour of this famous...
