Norma Jean

I've never understood the Marilyn Monroe thing, but this girl is awfully sweet.

Amadeus

Woody Allen once said that Mozart's Symphony 41 proved the existence of God. For me, it's this:

And here's a surprising, incredibly beautiful vocal version featured in last year's Bright Star. 

Cheap Thrills & Motor Skills

I make my own cards these days. Like a kindergartner, I apparently have lots of time on my hands. Paper cuts, too! 

Weather Post

You know how annoying it is when someone gums up your news feeds with inane weather updates? Yeah, I hate that. But: 

It's prettiest here when it rains.

The Doors

Looking through pictures on my phone, I noticed a strange pattern. J'adore the door. Specifically:

"Pretty Door" (Hollywood)

"Kitty Door" (My apartment, Los Angeles)

"Neighbor Door" (Los Angeles)

 "Holy Door" (Chimayo, NM)

And "LOL Door" (George and Dragon Pub, Phoenix)

Boy Trouble

It could just be that I'm getting old, but I can't seem to tell one privileged, sexually ambiguous TV high schooler from another anymore. 

Daniel Flaherty as Stanley on MTV's Skins and Sebastian of  Bravo's NYC Prep

This lot is even more confusing:

 

NYC Prep's PC Peterson, James Newman of Skins, and Gossip Girl's Penn Badgley

The gold standard:

Eat your heart out, boys.

Let Me Entertain You

I am by no means a great hostess. On the Dracula to Martha Stewart spectrum, I rank a little below Miss Havisham. I still don't have a couch. I can't cook. I always seem to have some personal disaster moments before the arrival of my visitor - once it was a leaking toilet, once the pilot light in my gas stove blew out. It never ends. Thankfully, I'm better outside of the domestic sphere. I can plan a Los Angeles tour like nobody's business, baby. And I'm talking a tour for anybody - a jaded hipster, a conservative relative, a Standard Poodle, you name it. It delights me that I can modify a very basic 3-day agenda for any kind of out-of-towner and, because it's L.A., I'll still never run out of things to do!

I had a chance to test this theory last week when one of my favorite guests flew in. This gentleman, an East Coast dandy, had visited before. We'd already hit all the necessary tourist stuff (Grauman's Chinese Theater, Sunset, the Griffith Observatory, et cetera). We'd also rushed through some out-of-the-way attractions, like the Watts Towers and Malibu's Matador Beach. My guest particularly loved Angel's Flight and MOCA in the downtown area, even though a tweaker hollered at him ("ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME? HUH?! COME HERE") and shattered his (500) Days of Summer fantasy.

This second visit was more improvised, a chance to enjoy some of the offbeat places I love without the pressure of a rigid agenda. The only thing we really scheduled were naps. Visit #2 in photos:

 

The friendly freakshow that is Venice Beach

Some unlucky shmuck mastadon at the La Brea tar pits

 

A visit to my neighborhood bakery

 

Immaturity at LACMA

 A drive past Pink's (as usual, the line was just too damn long)

 Culver City's bizarre Museum of Jurassic Technology (look it up)

 

And finally, a monstrous tamarind mojito at Silverlake's Gingergrass

We also saw Mindy Kaling at Joan's on 3rd, but were far too cool to ask for/sneak the photographic proof.

I suppose I like having visitors so much because, aside from the obvious benefits of company and entertainment, it helps me reactivate my excitement and pride in L.A. It forces me off my computer and out of my apartment, and I almost always like what I find outside. Unless it's a NO PARKING sign. 

Or a screaming junkie.