LA Vacation Suggestions 1: Obama Family Edition

The First Lady and First Grandma at the Staples Center last night.

LA is all 'a-Twitter" about the First Lady's family trip to LA this week. The First Family has been sighted at Luques, Pink's, and Pizzeria Mozza. I wonder if Mrs. Obama received a similar scolding like I did from the server at Mozza for bending the binding of the wine list cover. Mrs. Obama was also at last night's Game 6 of the NBA Finals. Many were wondering if the First Lady was rooting for the Celtics or the Lakers. I hope she was rooting for the Clippers. I'd like to make some suggestions for the rest of the Obama family's trip:

• Robin Hood British Pub in Sherman Oaks: The quality of the website says it all. This place is as authentically Briitsh as the off-duty cop patrons are authentically Irish.

• That Pupuseria next to the Auto Body Repair place on Temple and Figueroa Streets in Echo Park: The Obama Family's parade of black SUVs are bound to get scratched in this town. While the car's bumper is getting a touch up, I recommend grabbing a pork rind pupusa.

• Tang's Donuts in Silver Lake: Yes, it sounds like a porn set in a donut shop. It's like naming a salad place, "Taint's Tossed."

• Blue Goose Lounge in Hollywood: There's no windows, the entrance is a heavy, rusted door, the bathroom smells like mildew, the taps don't work, there's a bunch of mismatched sofa strewn about for that "burnt-out Levitz showroom" feel, and whatever you do, don't get the tacos. Aside from that, its lovely. Keep in mind, the rave reviews on Yelp are probably written by 22-year-olds.

California Field Trips #4: Laguna Beach

We stayed at The Pacific Edge

Views from our balcony

See, it's art because it's expensive.

Over Memorial Day weekend (and my birthday) Alex and I went to Laguna Beach. Alex actually surprised me and during most of our time in the car, I had no idea where we were going. The time we were driving on south on the 110, I thought to myself, "Well, maybe there is a fabulous spa in Compton." We found ourselves in Laguna Beach. The beach is beautiful, the town is quaint, and there's nothing remotely LA-ish about it. I can't really put my finger on why something is and isn't LA. I didn't see anyone working on a screenplay in the beach shack coffee shop next door or any 50 year-old men in Ed Hardy t-shirts. Laguna has same sleepy, beach-y feel of Hawaii. Everyone eats between 6-8 PM, falls asleep by 10 PM, and wakes up 5 am to engage in heavy recreational physical activity. There's an interesting blend of residents in Laguna Beach: wealthy professionals, retirees, and art population that serves the wealthy. professionals and retirees. On every block there is an art gallery, art classes or school, shop, ceramic studios, and jewelry stores. The art is very specific rich lady art: a lot of stone sculptures of voluptuous lady figures and jewelry made up of giant, mother of pearl slabs, all marked up 300%. The art scene seemed really active and vibrant and I'm sure there's amazing work that's not being marketed to tourists and the nouveau riche. I was on the prowl for the new cast of Laguna Beach, but didn't see one self-entitled, beautiful teenager traipsing about. Maybe Lauren and Lo and crew got MTV's attention only because they were the only teenagers in Laguna Beach. The only teenager I found was a Justin Bieber-ish naïf that showed us to our table at my birthday dinner. Maybe Laguna has some revered Children of the Corn policy. See, now that's a show about Laguna Beach!

Shitcanned-tivities #6: Naps

Take naps. Do you remember when you were working and you'd crave chocolate or coffee at 3 PM, anything to help you make it to 5PM? You'll begin to feel that way about naps. There's nothing that beats the 3-4 PM Oprah nap. Well, maybe a paycheck.

LA vs. NY: You've Been Served

Classically trained.

I was strolling with a friend after brunch (yes, people walk in LA...around The Grove) breaking down the different status items that define the social climbing ventures of the women in The Real Housewives of Orange County and The Real Housewives of New York City. How big is your McMansion? (Vicki's "Land of the Lost" inspired backyard grotto) vs. How big is your McCharity? (LuAnn's "Give Your day-old Gucci to Poor People" Party). In so many ways New York and Los Angeles are interchangeable and constantly compared. Both cities share a population of power-hungry, status-climbing, star-fucking, dreamers that shuttle to each coast to hang with whatever city gives them their next ego fix. Also known as Show Business. LA is an outer, outer, outer borough of NY, just northwest of its outer, outer borough, Florida; and NY is the Emerald City just beyond Bakersfield. There are definable priorities among the moneyed, consumerist elites of both towns. Sure, you need a fabulous designer bag in LA, especially if you’re a Second Wife of a Studio Exec that Lunches in Beverly Hills. In LA, no one cares about the name on your purse quite like the name of your yoga instructor, or Pilates instructor, or your Yogalates instructor. In New York, it's whose party you're invited to and who you're wearing. In LA, it's whose vacation home you stayed in and who rejuvenates your vagina. In New York, it's how expensive you look. In LA, it's how much money you spent to look like you don't care. What defines your social status in LA the most is who and how many serve you: personal trainers, stylists, shoppers, assistants, concierges, organizers, dog walkers, groomers & whisperers, spiritual readers, life coaches, relationship coaches, gardeners, estheticians, and event planners. How many people do you pay to ensure your personal well-being? In LA, there's an onslaught of professionals offering personal services. This all exists in New York, but I didn't feel its presence as strongly as I feel it in LA. Why? Because in LA, what else are out of work actors going to do after they quit? Sure, there's plenty of out of work or former actors in NY, but there's plenty of office buildings that need temps. In LA, once you spent a year in Coffee Bean with your laptop being your own "boss" and "writing" your script, there’s no going back to a 9 to 5 cubicle world. If you can't make a small business as an actor, you can make a small business of teaching actors how to make a small business as an actor. Or you can do this.

My Brief Guide to LA #3: Eastside Edition

I'm dedicating this installment of My Guide to LA to some Eastside joints I've checked out the past few months. So Westsiders, stop whining about traffic and gang activity circa 1998 and come on over! Or don't, our inferiority complex feeds our sense of superiority.

• Footsie's: Highland Park. I guess this is a dive bar. I've put some time into some serious shitholes in NY and I don't conside upholstered banquettes and well-thought out lighting design to be "dive-y." Great outdoor space, pool table, cool bartenders, cheap beer options!

• Verdugo Bar: Glassell Park. VerdugoBar has the same energy and vibe as Footsie's. The backyard is huge, and has beer hall style tables and benches. There's a BBQ the first Sunday of every month.

• The Thirsty Crow: Silver Lake. This is a brand new bar that specializes in bourbon and bourbon cocktails. It has a cozy, speakeasy style and definitely pulled me out of my wine and beer comfort zone. There's usually a food truck parked outside which brings us to...

• Grilled Cheese Truck : A truck of cheese-y, gooey, yummy-ness that travels all over LA.

Need to hit this weekend:

• Eagle Rock Brewery: Like the Brooklyn Brewery in NY, Eagle Rock's tap room is open to the public during the weekends.

If the Hollywood sign was in NYC

There's been a lot of news about possible land development west of the Hollywood sign. The latest new is Hugh Hefner decided to put buying another girlfriend on the back burner and donate money to prevent any development around the sign and the land will be turned over to Griffith Park. I'm shocked the land hasn't been developed already, at least into a giant parking lot. If you want to be a millionaire in this town, open up a parking lot. In New York, no one would let a chunk of land next a famous tourist attraction sit idle for a second. If the Hollywood sign was in New York, not only would the land around it be covered in "luxury" glass box condos, each letter of the sign would have it's own business:

• H=Starbucks

• O= Chase Bank ATM

• L= Duane Reade

• L= Ray's Pizza

• Y= Pinkberry or a Pinkberry knock-off

• W= Another Starbucks, in case the "H" Starbucks isn't convenient for you.

• O= Thai restaurant

• O= Nail Salon

• D= The sign is very big and quite a walk. You'll need another Starbucks.

And of course a new sign would have to be mounted on top of the Hollywood sign to promote its new owner: Trump.

LA Lessons #7: On time is early

When I first moved to LA I spent a lot of time before meetings sitting in my car on suburban streets in the middle of the day, waiting, like a pedophile. I had no idea how long it would take me to get anywhere so I erred on the side of caution or a potential three lane, 10-car fire on the 101, and left early for everything. I realized the time of arrival suggested on the GPS would only be accurate if everyone else in LA were eaten by zombies and it was only me and my trusty German Shepard in a fabulous townhouse. Speaking of GPS, never speak of a GPS to anyone who moved to LA at least ten years ago. They will all insist GPS is shit and it's Thomas Guide or nothing. Yes, my GPS has put me on some weird, inconvenient routes but I always got there and never rear-ended a car because my head was sunk into a giant book of maps instead of looking ahead. The aversion to GPS by LA vets is a middle-aged version of "when I was your age I walked uphill to school in snow with no shoes..." Now that I have a grasp of how long it'll take me to get to most places, I still find myself to be the first one there. I've sat at stand-up shows 15 minutes before they're supposed to start and it's just me and the busboy. I've walked into bars and restaurants five minutes past the time I'm supposed to meet someone, and still have to text the other person fifteen minutes later to see where they are. Traffic or not, lost or not, there's really no urgency to communicate an excuse or an ETA to the other person who is waiting for you. I think there's some general, unspoken rule that perfectly responsible, considerate people know and I haven't figured out yet: meeting times are only mark rough half hour windows of time and there's no need to apologize or acknowledge your tardiness as long as there's a chance of potential, unexpected traffic or parking restrictions.