Best mom quote of the day: "Little kids that play with knives don't get to go to Toys R Us."

My LA residency is now legit. I have the unpaid parking tickets to prove it.

After three months of free tenancy on sister's almost comfortable couch, I am the proud renter of my own place. Of course, I am not eternally grateful for sister kicking my butt to move to California and sleep rent free in her bitchin' pad. Plus, I got total bragging rights for living in Venice. Yes, it is as bohemian, grimy and riddled with celebrities as you might have imagined.

Through spectacular planetary alignment I found the lovely Fraser to move-in with. She is a bubbly, vivacious Aries who enjoys our 15 minute walk to get to the beach. The quiet little neighborhood has just been hit with an exponentially higher cute factor.

The streets are lined with towering, full trees and quaint houses covered in vines. Sounds of the neighbor’s wind chimes fill the apartment on certain nights. Couldn't be more pleased with the near full sunset is visible from our back porch.

Unless maybe we were living upstairs.

Our cozy two-bedroom apartment has a retro feel, lots of natural light and hard wood floors throughout. Although I have yet to find a bed, the air mattress will do as long as I have the freedom to put my stuff wherever I want and have boys over. Take that big sister.

The shower does sound like the furies are going to come flying out of it every time you turn it on. The first time I heard the wailing I crouched to cover my vitals and looked for any flying banshees that have entered the room. We’re working on it.

Out back there is a lovely courtyard with multiple plant arrangements. The light is perfect for all the veggies, herbs and succulents that I want to plant. So far my arrangement consists of a cactus brought as a housewarming gift from Michigan (thank you Ben), an adorable unidentified

succulent and some collected pieces of ice plant that Sarah brought back from our trip to Pismo Beach.

Fraser, I promise I didn’t know that the tenacious ice plant is ravaging the wilds of coastal California. We just thought it looked neat.

Said plants have also started a covert battle with one of the neighbors. I keep putting them on the ledge, so we can see their beauty from the window. It makes me smile.

Someone who does not share this sentiment keeps

moving the pots onto the ground. This has now happened multiple times.

When the pots are on the ground, I can’t see them until I walk to the ledge of the porch. This defeats the purpose, so I move them back. Sneaky neighbors.

I blame the cantankerous guy who lives upstairs. I can’t remember his name so let’s call him Darryl. He gets so agitated by our boisterous talking that he stomps on the floor.

Pause for ridiculous laughter.

I am going to invest in a special broom so that I can communicate back to him by knocking the handle on the ceiling. Call it a battle of wills between floors. Our hopes for a real-life recreation of Friends is finally being realized (true Friends fans will remember the cranky downstairs neighbor who for some reason always wore a robe).

Maybe the next time he stomps, I will rush upstairs in apparent fright. When he answers I will look him up and down. Then ask if he’s alright because I heard what sounded like a fall, which may have resulted in injury. Upon explanation I will politely request that he refrains from stomping about as we enjoy a calm environment.

He does however seem to be building an ark by day. The clanking from above can only be made by the heavy machinery he sporadically drops on the floor. He may also be loading the ark full of bowling balls.

Being the understanding neighbor I am, I haven’t brought it up.

The apartment is still pretty empty, not for the lack of yard sailing and curb cruising. Anyone in LA County that has a box spring, bed frame, side table, lamp of any kind or coffee table, let me know. I’m not picky.

At least we don’t have to entertain by sitting on the floor picnic style like I did for NYE. Fraser’s mom gave us a couch and beautiful kitchen table to use.

Best. Roommate. Ever.

Especially if she remembers to turn the lights off when leaves a room. Ahem.

New ways to interrogate and identify with friends, family or perfect strangers

Are you tired of the doll-drum of generic meet and greets or family gatherings? Want to connect with the in-laws or vague family friends without having to rehash their trip to Istanbul for the umpteenth time?

After another hectic holiday season I incorporated a new line of question and answer to entertain not only myself, but avoid divulging too much personal information to perfect strangers. Just because you are genetically related to someone I hang out with does not give you liberty to analyze my career choices.

Maybe I found my passion waiting tables and cleaning-up after ungrateful rich children.

For the record, albeit I was born and raised in the fine state of Michigan, I do not care about any Ohio State versus Michigan State and/or the University of Michigan rivalries. I don’t follow sports, especially American football. Any attempt to incite a competitive reaction is made further moot by the fact that I now live in LA.

Besides, everyone knows that Ohio is Michigan’s sewage drain. As eloquently put by dear Aunt Marge, Those commie bastards.

Thus, I turn the tables onto my counter-part and ask what are their favorite albums of all time. This is similar to the desert island list or the "best music of the year" questions. This is specific to albums, not just artists which presents an interesting challenge.

Respondents are not allowed to pick greatest hit albums that conglomerate every single that an artist releases. Even compilations are a cop-out in my book, but can be admitted with enough conviction and fervor. In a day and age where MP3s are downloaded faster than artists can release music, this question is best made for people over the age of 15.

The real fun of the game is to learn about personal music taste. The answers are just that, personal lists about how certain albums by amazing artists influence someone you know. There are no right or wrong answers. Although disagreements, discussions and modifications are encouraged.

And yes, you only get five.

No matter how many people rave over the White Album or Abbey Road, my unapologetic favorite Beatles album is Sgt. Pepper and the Lonely Hearts Club Band. My affection is founded due to the cohesive nature of the album like a well orchestrated narrative. Yet, it is the opposite reason with the varied, dissimilar narratives that attract White album aficionados.

My list has been modified over time after hearing amazing lists with artists I had little to no exposure to or had plum forgotten. Jeff Buckley has made a fierce comeback on my playlists. David Bowie masterpieces and Demon Days by the Gorillaz have been rotated on and off my list depending on my mood that day.

Response times are always an intriguing indicator. Musicians seem to be able to throw out a list with rapid fire. Others widen their gaze and tell me how they are going to have to get back to me. Either response is legitimate.
Rapid fire is more fun though.

So here is my list in no particular order:
Disc I- Led Zeppelin
Hunky Dory- David Bowie
Sgt. Pepper and the Lonely Hearts Club Band- The Beatles
The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill-Lauren Hill
Wincing the Night Away- The Shins

Deny what you will this is my list. David Bowie is part of my childhood so it pains me to pick just one. The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust often appears on my list instead. Disc II by Zeppelin is amazing throughout, but the nostalgic connotations with Disc I is too hard for me to part with. A Night at the Opera by Queen tries to sneak in, but I just can’t commit.

I lied about the order, Wincing the Night Away is my top album of all time. No explanation required.

Now it’s your turn. What’s your top five?