Hollywood-Inspired Roadtrip: Grey Gardens!

Before Drew Barrymore and Jessica Lange danced their way into our hearts with their Tea for Two number, there was the real thing. Grey Gardens was a documentary that inspired shock and awe in me. How these East Hampton ladies of high society could degenerate into a reclusive life of squalor was beyond me.

I had to see Grey Gardens for myself. During my last visit to New York City, I rented a car and sped the length of Long Island to get to the once-delapidated mansion that Jackie O. & Co. cleaned up before it was condemned. Not surprisingly, the facade was blocked off with high gates and security cameras because of jerks like me. But for the savvy book-readers and documentarians of the world, it is well-known that one can go to the beach, climb a sand dune and get a great shot of the backyard, which I did.

He Stacks Rocks, People!

Last week, L.A. Weekly released their special edition, People 2009. Cover to cover it's filled with people who make Los Angeles the sick mecca it is. Most of the entries I agree with. Cutting-edge vaudeville circus troupe Lucent Dossier? But of course. Drew Barrymore? Why she's our homecoming queen!

Then there's um, Kevin Morgan. He's concerned about drugs and violence in Venice Beach, which is changing the scene, making it a darker place. So what does he do about it? He doesn't provide counseling. He didn't open a rehab center. He doesn't volunteer. He...stacks rocks. That's right folks, he takes rocks and puts them on top of one another.

They call him "The Rock Star."He quotes,"It's a memorial to 89 lives. They came from all over the world, [but] lost their lives to bad influence choices. They are the forgotten souls of Venice Beach." Of course they are forgotten! Meth heads roam around like zombies, engaging in petty theft for their next fix, and Mr. Morgan is playing with stones!

I appreciate the art he's providing takes patience. It looks fantastic. I even appreciate the man's fine bone structure. But how can L.A. Weekly praise him as a man of the people, someone who's giving back? How is a drug-crazed gangster going to see a pile of rocks and think, "Sh** yo, I better quit this bidness." Um, no. In fact, calling him a "Rock Star" and tagging him as a philanthropist makes me want to take drugs.

Pawing Your Way to the Top

Part of living in Los Angeles is having struggling actors for friends. You take the $15-$20 gamble on their plays and hope for the best, though sometimes you end up with men in drag dressed as the Statue of Liberty, splattered in yellow paint and wailing monologues about the decline of jazz.

The perks? Wrap parties filled with pretty boys and all the red wine you can drink. You may hit gold if one of your friends lands a series regular role. Red carpets and gift bag hand-me-downs? Yes, please.

But these days, scratching and clawing your way to the top is a lot dirtier than the age-old casting couch. My friend Rene once said, "If I can't get into acting the old-fashioned way, I'll go through Scientology." But Xenu.net exposed the sci-fi cult for what it was, and Tom Cruise didn't help any by treating Oprah's furniture badly. Rene knew she couldn't maintain her dignity and pretend to sell her soul to those people.

"Kaballah! That's it! I'll join Kaballah!" What, with Madonna, Demi and Ashton jumping on board and red string bracelets on celebs like Gwenyth Paltrow and Lindsay Lohan, it seemed a sure thing. But that faded fast too. Bracelets flew off wrists faster than you can say, "Fifteen minutes!"

These days, it seems there's only one shortcut to fame. It's called Much Love, the animal rescue organization in Los Angeles. Spearheaded by Tori Spelling and boasting members such as Alicia Silverstone and Drew Barrymore, adorable young starlets-to-be line up for the volunteer classes. With blowouts and manicures, they beautifully throw themselves into the world of animal rescue. They nod their perfumed heads, flash their bleached smiles, and hope to help with the next fundraiser at the Playboy Mansion. Or that red carpet gala with Ralph Fiennes. Whatever works.

But I can't knock anyone willing to give homeless pets a new lease on life. Unlike pretending to be ancient Hebrew spiritualists or adopting theories of alien takeovers, at least these people are making a difference. I've even brought my beloved greyhound Olivia (see above photo) to a Much Love red carpet event. My advice to the up-and-comers? Don't claw your way to the top, paw your way to the top.