Anarchy Across the Universe

A Hotel Where Marilyn Once Lived

How was your Father's Day?
Ours, terrific!

I am not used to Father's Day in June. In Brazil it's the second Sunday in August, maybe to tone down the bad luck involved in August just being August.

It's been stressful around here lately. I have been working like a mad dog, foaming at the mouth while devouring blog after blog, tech info, Technorati, e-mail, my work day has been a fourteen-hour-day one.

This is no way to celebrate Father's Day

My husband doesn't work much less than that. He's a computer scientist, but he likes to be called software architect. I wish he would get more than two hours of sleep a day. In the end, I confiscated a component of our Mac G5. He could use any of the four other computers her, they are all Apples. He prefers, I would too, the G5.

Last week, due to my merciless decision, no computer, he decided to get some sleep. And rested, he's still in a pissy-sour-ass mood, he picks on our son.

Men, as they grow older they grow harder to like. Temper, temper. Intolerance, impatience, I haven't gotten to the point of preferring animals, but maybe a much younger male human animal?

Nelson Rodrigues, the playwright and writer of futebol stories, used to say every woman should fall in love with a seventeen-year-old man. I settle for twenty-two.

Yesterday was a day spent half on a balancing act. He would alternately yell at our son or come into my office and ask me where I wanted to go. Maybe his lack of verbalization of his wishes is a cultural trait of Southwestern France, no water, no talk. It is a trait of a drought plagued area of Brazil, in the Northeast, a book, "Vidas Secas" by Graciliano Ramos and the film, by Nelson Pereira dos Santos, available at any art video store near you.

My husband asked me if I wanted to go towards the ocean, to Malibu. "Anything you say, honey," my father's favorite way of dealing with my mother's temper.

Fifteen minutes later he comes back into my office. I am still struggling with importing photos from my collection.

"I don't think I want to drive all the way to Malibu. And Chinatown, I would like an outdoorsy ambience."

"Sure, honey. Anything you say"

I dropped the blog. Zagat search. Zagat has never let me down. Search, search and search. "Nah," he says. I hit "Eight Top Restaurants" in Los Angeles.

"blue on blue," I say. You call. He called and got hung up on.

I call. Chat the receptionist up. We get going. Our son stands warned not to start on topics that may be unpleasant for Daddy. Daddy is stressed.
Daddy misses the restaurant. We go around and get there. The Avalon Hotel. This was a so-totally-kewl experience. It looked like a typical 50s building. It is a 50s building.

The building surrounds an hour-glass swimming pool, its shape maybe pays a tribute to Marilyn Monroe. She lived in the hotel for two years. Desi and Lucille threw parties there.

The furniture, artifacts ornamenting the hotel are all authentique. The Avalon is an architect's found art dream. And what about the food?

It wasn't dinnertime yet. We settled for the bar menu. A thin pizza, humus with pita bread, some tomato and herbs croquettes, a delish rock shrimp ceviche with avocado bits.

Now, the big secret for budget conscious foodies like us is not to have any alcoholic drink. Those start somewhere in the tens and up. If you can do that, go for it.

There are middle-of-the-week specials and weekend for US$ 175/night. The hotel is small, the staff quite friendly, the view inside a trip, and who knows you may see MM herself in the middle of the night.

Desserts were great, tab was quite reasonable.

The Avalon Hotel's blue on blue, enjoy it. We did!
http://www.avalonbeverlyhills.com/

Is she eye-candy or what? Marilyn at the hotel