If you love karaoke like I do, there's a ton of spots to check out in LA, but none quite as charming (or David Lynch-y) as Melody Lounge. Be forewarned, this spot is intermittently open. You'll know they're ready for business if they plant a sandwich board outside offering cold sandwiches and cheap beer. Hopefully, you'll get a chance to meet the owner Willie, whose (possibly embellished) life stories rival Hemingway. As for the song selection, the campy MIDI versions and painfully less than accurate lyric translations can suddenly turn your favorite tunes into high-wire acts (i.e. "Leaving On A Jet Plane" magically transforms into "Libyan on A Jet Plane"). Hell, they even have a song called "Schindler's List" on the menu! Even if you don't sing, Willie or his wife will gleefully take the stage. Special tip: for a true Chinatown boner, request Willie sing Enrique Iglesias' "Bailamos."

There is absolutely no reason to go to this museum, which is the very reason why you should go! If you're stuck on run-of-the-mill, socially-relevant, highly-educational museum experiences, then Chuck E. Cheese would be more enlightening, but if your idea of a good afternoon is sifting through hand-made treasures at an alzheimer patients rummage sale, then I've got your spot! It's very small, dimly lit, and not many of the displays actually function, but it does encapsulate a very distinct, random, getting-away-with-it spirit, which courses through the finest of Los Angelenos.

I’ll say it again, I love living in a city where I can easily go to the beach for the day and be home by dark. Venice speaks for itself, I guess. I’m originally from the east coast and the sunset over the ocean still hasn’t gotten old.

Crispy rice salad with the works forever.

For books.