103-649x378800 Centinela Avenue, Santa Monica, CA

Here is a new offer from our company on the real estate market. This villa is an enchanting magical oasis on the Venice Walk streets. It is the perfect home. Awash with light throughout the day, this warm and inviting two story, 3 bedroom 2 baths Craftsman is in the heart of the walk streets in Venice.

Behind a gate a secret garden provides a hidden meditative and entrancing oasis and includes a single car garage that has direct access to the property’s grounds. The perfect layout includes: master suite with ensuite bath and walk in closet with two more bedrooms and bath upstairs; downstairs features an open living room with wood burning fireplace onto a front veranda, dining room, cook’s kitchen with its own side yard herb garden. In addition there is an additional yard/court that could be yet more off street parking if desired.

It has the kind of view that inspired a team to build a home like no other with the utmost integrity. Visions of a house encased in glass, with effortless flow from room to room and from inside to outside, is the central ethos that guided the evolution and completion of this real estate gem.

More information can be found here.

Post Format: Chat

[Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO,
and OTHERS]

GONZALO: Beseech you, sir, be merry; you have cause,
So have we all, of joy; for our escape
Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe
Is common: every day, some sailor’s wife,
The masters of some merchant and the merchant,
Have just our theme of woe; but for the miracle,
I mean our preservation, few in millions
Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh
Our sorrow with our comfort.

ALONSO: Prithee, peace.

SEBASTIAN: He receives comfort like cold porridge.

ANTONIO: The visitor will not give him o’er so.

SEBASTIAN: Look, he’s winding up the watch of his wit; by
and by it will strike.

GONZALO: Sir,–

SEBASTIAN: One: tell.

GONZALO: When every grief is entertain’d that’s offer’d,
Comes to the entertainer–

SEBASTIAN: A dollar.

GONZALO: Dolour comes to him, indeed: you have spoken
truer than you purposed.

SEBASTIAN: You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should.

GONZALO: Therefore, my lord,–

ANTONIO: Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!

ALONSO: I prithee, spare.

GONZALO: Well, I have done: but yet–

SEBASTIAN: He will be talking.

ANTONIO: Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager, first
begins to crow?

SEBASTIAN: The old cock.

ANTONIO: The cockerel.

SEBASTIAN: Done. The wager?

Post Format: Chat

Abbott: Strange as it may seem, they give ball players nowadays very peculiar names.

Costello: Funny names?

Abbott: Nicknames, nicknames. Now, on the St. Louis team we have Who’s on first, What’s on second, I Don’t Know is on third–

Costello: That’s what I want to find out. I want you to tell me the names of the fellows on the St. Louis team.

Abbott: I’m telling you. Who’s on first, What’s on second, I Don’t Know is on third–

Costello: You know the fellows’ names?

Abbott: Yes.

Costello: Well, then who’s playing first?

Abbott: Yes.

Costello: I mean the fellow’s name on first base.

Abbott: Who.

Costello: The fellow playin’ first base.

Abbott: Who.

Costello: The guy on first base.

Abbott: Who is on first.

Costello: Well, what are you askin’ me for?

Abbott: I’m not asking you–I’m telling you. Who is on first.

Costello: I’m asking you–who’s on first?

Abbott: That’s the man’s name.

Costello: That’s who’s name?

Abbott: Yes.

Costello: When you pay off the first baseman every month, who gets the money?

Abbott: Every dollar of it. And why not, the man’s entitled to it.

Costello: Who is?

Abbott: Yes.

Costello: So who gets it?

Abbott: Why shouldn’t he? Sometimes his wife comes down and collects it.

Costello: Who’s wife?

Abbott: Yes. After all, the man earns it.

Costello: Who does?

Abbott: Absolutely.

Costello: Well, all I’m trying to find out is what’s the guy’s name on first base?

Abbott: Oh, no, no. What is on second base.

Costello: I’m not asking you who’s on second.

Abbott: Who’s on first!

Costello: St. Louis has a good outfield?

Abbott: Oh, absolutely.

Costello: The left fielder’s name?

Abbott: Why.

Costello: I don’t know, I just thought I’d ask.

Abbott: Well, I just thought I’d tell you.

Costello: Then tell me who’s playing left field?

Abbott: Who’s playing first.

Costello: Stay out of the infield! The left fielder’s name?

Abbott: Why.

Costello: Because.

Abbott: Oh, he’s center field.

Costello: Wait a minute. You got a pitcher on this team?

Abbott: Wouldn’t this be a fine team without a pitcher?

Costello: Tell me the pitcher’s name.

Abbott: Tomorrow.

Costello: Now, when the guy at bat bunts the ball–me being a good catcher–I want to throw the guy out at first base, so I pick up the ball and throw it to who?

Abbott: Now, that’s he first thing you’ve said right.

Costello: I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT!

Abbott: Don’t get excited. Take it easy.

Costello: I throw the ball to first base, whoever it is grabs the ball, so the guy runs to second. Who picks up the ball and throws it to what. What throws it to I don’t know. I don’t know throws it back to tomorrow–a triple play.

Abbott: Yeah, it could be.

Costello: Another guy gets up and it’s a long ball to center.

Abbott: Because.

Costello: Why? I don’t know. And I don’t care.

Abbott: What was that?

Costello: I said, I DON’T CARE!

Abbott: Oh, that’s our shortstop!

Post Format: Chat

Ber: Who’s there?

Fran: Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold yourself.

Ber: Long live the king!

Fran: Bernardo?

Ber: He.

Fran: You come most carefully upon your hour.

Ber: ’Tis now struck twelve. Get thee to bed, Francisco.

Fran: For this relief much thanks: ’tis bitter cold,
And I am sick at heart.

Ber: Have you had quiet guard?

Fran: Not a mouse stirring.

Ber: Well, good night.
If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus,
The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste.

Fran: I think I hear them.–Stand, ho! Who is there?
[Enter Horatio and Marcellus.]

Hor: Friends to this ground.

Mar: And liegemen to the Dane.

Fran: Give you good-night.

Mar: O, farewell, honest soldier;
Who hath reliev’d you?

Fran: Bernardo has my place.
Give you good-night.