2/18/04 4:00 AM: Kathy Ireland has sold one hundred million pairs of socks.

I watched Tavis Smiley's PBS show tonight (and it's a little dry, like a PBS show), mostly because I remembered how funny it was when my ex-wife (we were married at the time) beat him at Scrabble. Anyhoo, I enjoyed his segment with Kanye West (and I'm taping Tavis with Prince on Thursday, man I like Kanye West more and more as time goes on ... mild digression), but he interviewed Kathy Ireland as well. My entire knowledge of Kathy Ireland comes from watching Craig Kilborn, who holds her up as the paradigm of stupidity who answered one of five questions on his little quiz segment. However, I'm watching, and she has political and spiritual views that seems pretty well thought out, and she's built a business and employs 37 people and has sold, at last count, one hundred million pairs of socks. No matter what you're doing, if you've sold a hundred million of anything, you're kicking some serious ass. The world continues to get weirder and weirder ...

I had a happy Valentine's weekend.

You may not know my grassroots "Red Forman, Misunderstood Visionary" campaign, but it was crystalllized brilliantly in last week's episode of That '70s Show. To give some background, he is convalescing at home, grumpily, after a heart attack. His wife got paranoid about her intellect after discovering she didn't know basics of US history. So she stands in the middle of the kitchen and asks, "Red, do you think I'm smart?"

Red sets down the newspaper he was reading and replied, "Oh, is that what we're gonna do today? We're gonna fight?" Freakin' hilarious.

Tuesday night, I started a singing class at West LA College. The only night they had available was Tuesday, which sucks as it's the night I have to do my newspaper. Still, I found out I'm a "true bass," and the teacher (and the class) seemed pretty impressed with my "vocal instrument." I'm a singer, who knew?

In that vein, I only eat sugar or mucus causing foods during the weekend. I like to be fresh for my show on Thursday nights. To be honest, I'd kill for some bean pie right now, and I'm not really sure it does cause mucus, but I'm paranoid so I dodge it. Blah.

Lots of women have been flirting with me, as my karaoke hosting has become more steady at Mel's. One guy flirted with me, which was flattering but very weird. I appear to be glorious.

I've got four unwatched video tapes, with close to twelve hours of stuff I actually wanna see, next to my recliner right now. Argh.

On February 19, 1999, I met the woman I ended up divorcing. Funny that. Her mom served me with divorce papers, which was the last bit of business, last week. I'm very disappointed in myself for even getting into that. It's been an interesting five years.

I hang out with a guy named Jon. Jon was hitting on a half-Black/half German girl who followed us to Norm's. I was vaguely setting the screen on her blonde friend, who seemed content to let the two of them go at it and not really involve me. Anyhoo, I really was looking forward to having a turkey burger, as they're really good at Norm's. They were out. I was crestfallen. I'm still a little peeved. I don't get to Norm's as often, now my karaoke patterns have altered a bit. Oh well.

Yes, Jon got the girl's number. Allegedly, she's the first cousin to Diana Ross.

I've been on a karaoke CD buying spree, which has just broken the $100 mark. I wanna start trying more of them at home, but after finding out I'm a "true bass," I'm less sure about what I wanna sing. I have been notching my songs down lower, intellectually -- haven't sang anything by Lifehouse in more than six months. On the other hand, a lot of the "broken hearted" songs I used to sing -- "Hanging By A Moment," "Kissing a Fool," and "Synchronicity II" -- just don't resonate anymore. I'm in a much better mood, all around, centered by my core of indifference and virtual inability to care about whatever happens.

Part of my anger over the stupid four and a half year tragedy that was my longest relationship comes from the fact that, outside of that, I'd probably own an apartment building by now. I surely had the cash. I was just stupid and trusting, which may be the same word. I told a girl at my singing class, "don't be afraid." My message used to be "believe," but I don't have any ability to do that, so I sure as hell won't tell anyone else to try it on for size.

So Kanye West has this whole "regular guy" shtick to his emceeing, which I think is glorious and brilliant. Not only is he musically fascinating, and smart enough in his way, but well meaning. I like that a great deal. Gotta play more of his music.

It's my blog. I'll hop from subject to subject as much as I damned well please.

There's all these songs I wanna try on these new disks. I look to roll out and field test the following in the next few weeks: "Mony Mony" by Billy Idol, "I Would Die 4 U" by Prince, "Seven" by Prince, "Rock Lobster" by the B-52s, "Stray Cat Strut" by the Stray Cats, continued refinement of "Creep" by Radiohead, ditto "Girls & Boys" by Good Charlotte, "Can You Stand The Rain" by New Edition, "Sing Your Name" by Terence Trent D'arby (whose since changed his name), "Let It Whip" by the Dazz Band, "Sumpthin' Sumpthin'" by Maxwell, "Practice What You Preach" by Barry White, "Come & Talk To Me" by Jodeci, "You Make Me Wanna ..." by Usher, a bunch of songs by Savage Garden, "Tuff Enuff" by the Fabulous Thunderbirds, trying "Jumper" by Third Eye Blind in a lower register and "Kryptonite" by Three Doors Down. I now own karaoke versions of all of those songs. Mwahahahahahahahahaha!

I want to write more. The Crown is due this week, and I'm worried I'll be late. I hate that.

I used to write poetry about stuff that happened. Then I switched to write about stuff I want to happen. Now I don't want either. I don't really have much to say poetically. That kind of bugs me.

Sleep now.