Given that I'm usually the one weird stuff happens to because I blog about it, I suppose it was only time before I became the material someone else would tell their friends about. The non-sequitur of the day was experienced by the cute blonde and her friend walking by my apartment building right when I and another friend were being dropped off there. I got out of the car and said, "Damn it, now that stupid Charles in Charge song is going to be stuck in my head all day." I gotta tell you -- taken in context, it made a hell of a lot of sense.

So when Meatloaf sang, "I would do anything for love, but I won't do that"... well, did anyone ever figure out what he actually won't do?

I suppose being a creature of habit leads to good friends knowing how I operate. I found it just a wee bit funny that a friend of mine (who's known me for probably around 15 years -- we went to summer camp together, wound up at college together and now out in L.A. together) just called me up at 2am without any fear that I would be sleeping. The odd thing about the conversation was that he was back in Connecticut and it was already "tomorrow" for him, while it was still "today" for me. When he took me up on my previously-made offer to pick him up at the airport "today," I kept having to translate that into "tomorrow morning" in my head and vice versa. Are you confused yet? Fran and I hit the Curiosa Festival tonight. It was an interesting experience, not just because it was odd to see mothers and daughters side by side both singing along to The Cure and not just because Interpol rocked the arena, but also because there were some rather hot babes there. However, it was not one of the hot babes who stood behind Fran and me in line at the concession stand and said she'd do anything for pit tickets. (No, neither of us took her up on it. And not just because we didn't have pit tickets.)

Paris Hilton, who I despise, is putting out a 198-page memoir. I guess it's to tell the masses about the scared, hurt little girl inside who really never wanted all the fame and publicity, she just wanted world peace and a nice life for herself. I swear, if anyone you know buys this book, use it to beat them liberally. I've been informed that I'm having lunch today at Mauro's Cafe, which, if you ever watch the HBO series Entourage, is where the first scene of the first episode took place. The lunch and the scenery will be delicious there. And last night while watching Blind Date, the couple on the date happened to drive past my local bar that I usually go to. Curiosa Festival tonight with Fran. Then, blissfully, the weekend. I'm workin' for it. You wanna piece of my heart? You better start from the start. You wanna be in the show? Then come on, let's go.

Okay, my father actually went to his local Jewish newspaper to ask about this chick in Seattle. Unfortunately, the editor thought it was a great idea, and while he couldn't give out her address, he said if my dad wrote a letter to her at the local paper with my contact info, the local paper would forward it to her in Seattle. This can only end badly. In other news, a Hong Kong company has invented a virtual girlfriend that lives in your cell phone and demands attention, conversation (in the form of text messages) and gifts (virtual flowers and diamonds and the like that consumers can buy but don't actually translate into anything physical). I beg you: If one of your friends gets one of these, hit him. Hard. Anyone who spends their money on buying an imaginary woman imaginary flowers and diamonds deserves to be smacked around.

Okay, so you know how parents are supposed to embarrass you? I think mine are taking revenge upon me for dragging them into the digital age by modernizing the embarrassment. And expanding it. When I was growing up, the parental embarrassment was basically contained within the community and general geographic area. Thanks to the magic of the Internet, my father is now attempting to embarrass me across state lines. Several months ago, Dad was reading some strange Jewish newspaper he gets and saw an article written by this girl about why she only dates Jewish guys. He and my mom scanned it and e-mailed it to me. I read it. Fine. Nice enough article, kind of covers some of the same ground I usually go over when explaining why I don't date outside the faith. Flash-forward a few months to our conversation tonight. Dad has decided that, since this girl's writing style apparently reminds him so much of mine, he got a "special feeling" when he read the article -- much like the one he got when he met my mom. So now Dad is on a quest to get contact information for this girl so I can communicate with her -- and ask her out. Dad is apparently oblivious to the fact that she lives in Seattle and chooses to ignore my numerous protests that I don't do long-distance relationships (hell, I won't even date someone more than 20 miles away, let alone 1,500), and when he said, "Well, try it, you never know," he also chose to ignore my response that I have tried long-distance dating and I didn't like it and that's the reason why I'm not doing it ever again. Bright and early Tuesday morning, Dad is taking himself down to the offices of his local Jewish newspaper to ask for this girl's contact information. And he says that if I don't write her, he will contact her himself and attempt to get her to write me. Just when I was beginning to think I was getting along really well with my dad, he goes and pulls a stunt like this. I feel like pulling a Charlie Brown: raising my head up to the heavens and screaming "AAAAAAAAAAUGH!"

So, if your goal for the day is to do absolutely nothing, and you accomplish your goal, can you say you've had a productive day? Forgot to post this... one of my co-workers is the king of spotting random actors and personalities. So when we were at the Duran Duran party on Thursday, he recognized that the two waiters mingling with the crowd were Brandon and Nicole from The Amazing Race 5. The funny thing was that Nicole was telling him all about how their careers were starting to diverge and how she wanted to stay in Los Angeles and be an actress while he wanted to go to Paris and Milan and be a model. My co-worker said something that supported Nicole's side, and she pointed and Brandon and responded, "See? Would you please tell him??" She's very cute in real life... but I'm told they're both righteous God-fearing Christians. And they're still apparently very much in love.

Yeah, so I like to talk about myself. So freakin' what? Anyways, I figured that my 100 things is out of date, and I'm completely lethargic at the moment, so why not just sit idly at my computer and fill in the answers? The only parts of my body that have to move to do this are my hands, and considering I just did the masochism routine (a.k.a. exercising on the elliptical trainer), that's all I have energy for. So, the layer thing: LAYER ONE: -- Name: Keith -- Birth date: December 21, 1976 -- Birthplace: Brooklyn, NYC, baby! -- Current Location: Deep in the heart of Los Angeles -- Eye Color: They've been described as "warm brown," which is supposedly "sexy and comforting." At least it's not "shit brown." -- Hair Color: Jet black -- completely dark. I tried (at the insistence of an ex-girlfriend) lightening it and putting some brown in there, but my hair is so dark that I had to be standing directly under a light source for anyone to see it. -- Height: 5'9" -- Righty or Lefty: Righty -- Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius. And yes, I am a typical fire sign, according to some people who follow this stuff. Not that I put much stock in it... LAYER TWO: -- Your heritage: Eastern European/Russian mutt. -- The shoes you wore today: Today? I haven't even left my apartment yet. I'm still walking around in my sleep clothes, unshaven. -- Your weakness: Where to begin? Hot intelligent women, chocolate, pizza, the perfect song and/or remix... I could go on forever. I have many weaknesses. -- Your fears: Losing my sight or hearing. -- Your perfect pizza: There's this place in the town I grew up in that makes this amazing gorgonzola pizza. When I went back to Connecticut in May, I had to go there to get one -- I'd been dreaming about it for two years. -- Goal you'd like to achieve: World domination, evil minions, money, power, the usual. LAYER THREE: -- Your most overused phrase on AIM: "[wry smile]" -- Your first waking thoughts: I can't think when I wake up. -- Your best physical feature: Probably my eyes. -- Your most missed memory: When my grandfather used to drive me around New York and take me up to his office in the World Trade Center. (And no, he didn't die in 9/11. He died when I was 6.) LAYER FOUR: -- Pepsi or Coke: Diet Coke. -- McDonald's or Burger King: In-n-Out! If I'm not in Southern California, Wendy's will do in a pinch. -- Single or group dates: I don't think I've ever been on a group date. So single dates, I guess. -- Adidas or Nike: Er? I like pudding. -- Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea: I can't stand ice tea. -- Chocolate or vanilla: Chocolate. Weakness, remember? And to the people out there who prefer white chocolate, stop fooling yourselves -- white chocolate is not chocolate. Milk is passable, but it's dark chocolate all the way for me. -- Cappuccino or coffee: Frappuccino. LAYER FIVE: -- Smoke: Nah. Kills my singing voice. -- Cuss: Every now and then. As Lewis Black said, everyone swears -- and according to the Catholic Church, if you thought it, you said it. And if you walked outside during this past winter and your initial thought wasn't "Fuck, it's cold!" then you have anger issues. -- Sing: When am I not singing? -- Take a shower everyday: I don't let myself leave the apartment without having showered. -- Do you think you've been in love: Yeah, most likely. That might explain the stupid things I've done for some of the women I've dated. -- Want to go to college: Already done it, not planning on going back. -- Liked high school: Eh. Some parts of it. A lot of others I could've done without. -- Want to get married: Yes. -- Believe in yourself: Sure, why not? I guess since I believe in the fact that if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself, I guess the only person I can count on is me. -- Get motion sickness: Never. I can read on a bus or in a car or on a train and not get sick. -- Think you're attractive: I have self-image issues. Let's just leave it at that. -- Think you're a health freak: Hello, we're talking about someone who traveled 3,000 miles for a pizza! -- Get along with your parent(s): Mom and I are on the same level. Dad... well, we love each other a lot, but there's always going to be at least a little friction there. -- Like thunderstorms: I love them. I wish L.A. had weather. I miss thunderstorms. It's one reason why I love visiting my parents in Tucson -- they have these incredible thunderstorms. -- Play an instrument: I played the trombone for 10 years, then gave it up to sing when I hit college. LAYER SIX: In the past month... -- Drank alcohol: Oh yeah. -- Smoked: No. -- Done a drug: No. -- Made Out: Yeah. -- Gone on a date: Yeah. And the aforementioned date led to the making out, but then she freaked out and decided she didn't want to date anyone who worked in the same industry as her, and that was that. -- Gone to the mall?: Well, there's a mall across the street from my office building, so I'll go over there for lunch sometimes, and there's also a movie theatre there that I'll go to. But aside from that, I haven't shopped in a mall. -- Eaten an entire box of Oreos?: Not in this past month... but there was that time... -- Eaten sushi: I loooove me some sushi. I still can't believe it's been a week since I've had it. -- Been on stage: Not this month. Does backstage count? -- Been dumped: Um. Does it count if she doesn't want to date anymore after going out once? -- Gone skating: Hello? Los Angeles? Ice? -- Made homemade cookies: Do chocolate peanut butter squares count? -- Gone skinny dipping: No. -- Dyed your hair: I can't dye my hair, remember? -- Stolen Anything: Well... not in this past month, at least. LAYER SEVEN: Ever... -- Played a game that required removal of clothing: No, and I think that'd be fun. -- If so, was it mixed company: N/A. -- Been trashed or extremely intoxicated: Oh hell yeah. But strangely enough, I've never been hungover. -- Been caught "doing something": I've been caught doing lots of things. Are we talking illegal, sexual or stupid? -- Been called a tease: No, because I don't know how. -- Gotten beaten up: I got into a fight once when I was like 10. He knocked the wind out of me. -- Shoplifted: Nope. -- Changed who you were to fit in: Not really... never really believed in that kind of thing. I am who I am, and piss off if you don't like me. There's 6 billion people in this world, we all don't have to get along on a daily basis. I'm a pretty likable guy, but I have my limits. LAYER EIGHT: -- Age you hope to be married: I'm just hoping it'll happen at some point. -- Numbers and Names of Children: I think 2. I always wanted to name my kid "Quinn" -- it was the name I used when I was on the air. I got it from a character in a Frederick Forsyth book. And like Mikey, I like girls with names that can be shortened to boy-like names, like "Sam" for Samantha and "Alex" for Alexandra. -- Describe your Dream Wedding: Not my cup of tea. If my future wife to-be-named-later has some kind of fantasy wedding she wants to live out, that's fine with me, as long as it doesn't involve lighting me on fire in some strange ritual or something. -- How do you want to die: Painlessly and quickly. -- Where you want to go to college: Already been, not going back. -- What do you want to be when you grow up: I want to be a rockstar. Or run my own radio station. -- What country would you most like to visit: Italy, Australia, Ireland, and I'd love to see England and France again. LAYER NINE: -- Number of drugs taken illegally: Only one. -- Number of people I could trust with my life: A few. -- Number of CDs that I own: Around 1,000, I think. I haven't counted recently. -- Number of piercings: None. -- Number of tattoos: None. It's against my religion. -- Number of times my name has appeared in the newspaper?: A few times. Not enough. -- Number of scars on my body: A few... from skin injuries that didn't completely heal. -- Number of things in my past that I regret: Quite a few. I don't need people to keep lists of things I've done to try and make me feel horrible about myself on command, I do it all on my own. Jewish guilt is the second most powerful force in the universe.

And that's yet another reason why I love Get Fuzzy.

So, tonight I went to an exclusive music industry party with Duran Duran. It was in the penthouse suite of Chateau Marmont on the Sunset Strip -- the same hotel where John Belushi died. I got to meet the band and also hang out with some friends who I hadn't seen in a while and meet some new people as well. The view from the balcony. Sunset lights up as nightfall descends. Me and the world-famous Richard Blade. And the person who took this picture was a dorkus and made it all blurry, but that's me with some co-workers -- and I'm posing next to Simon LeBon. I have pictures of me with all other bandmembers too, but I'm exhausted and need to get to sleep.

Okay, those who know me know that I am by far not a morning person. And that I love sleep, and anyone who wakes me up by calling me while I'm still sleeping is a bastard and will be remotely smacked upside the head. However, when one of my best friends called to tell me that Simon LeBon of Duran Duran had been hitting on her all night (to the point of even sticking his tongue in her ear) and that he specifically made sure she came to his afterparty and asked her to "tuck him in," I was happy to take the call and laugh at her, even though I was barely awake. (No, she didn't sleep with him. Or make out with him. She's married. And doesn't make out with rockstars.) Then tomorrow, it will be my turn to party with Duran Duran. Not that I expect Simon LeBon will want to make out with me.

Okay, so I've been kind of corresponding with this woman from JDate via e-mail. She seems kind of cool, though not very talkative and not all that creative -- when I e-mailed her questions, she answered them and then couldn't come up with any other questions on her own to ask me. Either way, she e-mailed me this morning with a quick note to say hi and that we should make plans to get together soon. And then she tagged it with a quick P.S.: "Did you by chance get Beastie Boys tickets?" I remembered when a friend of mine who's also in the music industry told me when I first moved here that I needed to be careful who my friends were -- I had to make sure they wanted to be my friends because they liked me and not for what I could do for them. So my question becomes, am I being overly paranoid in thinking that I'm a little astonished that before I've even met this woman, she's already starting to inquire about tickets, or could it just be a friendly question?

Olympics, to you I say, "Bah humbug." Okay, so I don't like the Olympics. Hours upon hours of watching the dullest stuff imaginable. (And from what I've heard, what's aired so far is just this shy of being more interesting than watching paint dry -- four hours of a processional?) People doing laps back and forth in a pool... and this is supposed to be riveting? Synchronized swimming? Pole vaulting? I heard there was some guy who was walking on a cube during the opening ceremonies, and the commentators said he'd been practicing for a year to be able to do it. Quite frankly, what kind of marketable skill is this? "Well, Frank, we'd really love to hire you... quick learner, personable, and you can walk on a cube! Goddamn, we need a man like you in our company!" One of my friends told me that the Olympics are a way for Americans to be nationalistic without getting into issues like the war in Iraq. I can see that. Unfortunately, our teams seem to be sucking at this point, so by the end of the Olympics, we may only be able to rub it in Bulgaria's face that we kicked their asses. I would definitely watch some Olympic events if they were entertaining. Like these, for example: 1. Lion-taming. We throw some poor schmuck in a cage with an untamed lion. The gold medal goes to the guy who is either able to successfully tame the lion in the shortest amount of time or lasts the longest before getting eaten wins the gold. 2. Century Club drinking. Usual drinking rules apply: 1 shot per minute for 100 minutes. Last guy to boot gets the gold. 2a. Beer chugging. The fastest person to down a pitcher without booting wins the gold. 3. Two words: Human bowling. 4. Oral sex. Hey, you have to admit that it takes a lot of skill to do it correctly. You can even have different divisions: women on men, men on men, men on women, women on women. First team to orgasm gets the gold. And I guarantee you the TV ratings for that event would be through the roof. 5. Packing a suitcase. A couple has to get enough of their clothes for a one-week vacation into a single suitcase, and it has to close. The tension between the men and the women would be intense. First team to have a completely packed and close-able suitcase without killing each other gets the gold. 6. Quite frankly, who doesn't appreciate a good belching contest? "And now, sponsored by Heineken..." 7. Potato-gun assembly. Each team is given the raw materials. The first team to build and successfully fire a potato wins the gold. Cheating by firing your potato at other teams and nailing your opponents counts for extra points. (Just to make things interesting.) Any other suggestions?

Okay, so it's Friday the 13th. But we all know bad karma can be warded off with kickass tunes. You do know this, right? Well then, rock on! (And right-click and "save as.") DJ Dubz - "Pass That Insane Dutch" (Cypress Hill vs. Missy Elliott) Tim G - "Where's Your Lounge Act?" (Basement Jaxx vs. Nirvana)

New Jersey Governor Resigns, Admits Gay Affair Will someone please tell me why he resigned? Is being gay against the law now? Is having an affair any business of ours -- or anyone else's besides his family's and the person he had an affair with? 480-Pound Woman Dies After Six Years On Couch Two things about this article caught my attention: 1. Workers entering the home had to blast in fresh air because the stench was so powerful. You'd think the guy who lived there with her would've succumbed to it after a while -- or maybe opened a window? And none of her neighbors noticed this incredibly bad smell emanating from her place? 2. "Removing her from the couch would be too painful, since her body was grafted to the fabric. After years of staying put, her skin had literally become one with the sofa and had to be surgically removed." Ohhhh man. Her body was grafted to the fabric? Okay, forget the issue of her being 480 pounds. When you become some kind of woman-couch hybrid, then it's time to call in Richard Simmons.