Crackpot. Crazy. Dingbat. Lunatic. Nut. Screwball. Weirdo. Kook. Bizarre. Unusual. Oddball. *WACKO*WACKO*WACKO*WACKO*WACKO*WACKO*WACKO*

Buche and cabeza the best.

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."

I go shopping there for veggies and bread but always leave the store with a little more than that.

Salton Sea is not technically LA, but is a by-product of its history and my first-choice escape from the city: one of the world's largest inland seas and lowest spots on earth, a man-made lake in the midst of the Colorado desert, a resort area in the twenties turned in one of the worst ecological disaster of the past century.