The only thing better than having time off of work is having a place to go on vacation. And ever since Ca-chee and Paco Johnz moved to East Hollywood, I've been aching to gather up all my snakes and get on a plane.

Rapidly, that time is approaching. Soon, when you suckers are trying to pull your Carhartt snowpants over your Sorels, I'll be basking in California sun.

Like any good traveller, I've set some win-goals and loss limits for the trip.

For example, there are things I will definitely do. I will certainly eat a lot of cheap, good Mexican food. I'll see some good live music. I'll take a lot of pictures of weird things. I'll gawk at Kieffer Sutherland's bizarre warehouse mansion, which is right in the neighborhood. As I descend into LAX, I will undoubtedly blare "Welcome to the Jungle" in my headphones.

There are also many things I will not do. I will not go to Universal Studios. I will not go to the Hyde, paying a $100 cover and $25 per drink.

Then there are the things I hope to do. Such as go to the Griffith Observatory. Or photograph Lindsay Lohan's cooter as she gets out of a car and sell it for ten grand.

The best thing about visiting someone who lives in a city you've never been to is finding out what the city is really like -- not from a tourist perspective or a TV perspective, but from a citizen's perspective. And that, above all else, is what I intend to do.