there's more to life than this

Today is a boozlyboozlyboptiddybop kind of David Lee Roth day. There's nothing like sitting around as naked as possible, crazy from the heat and the piddly four hours of sleep I smushed between my waking life.

Speaking of Diamond Dave, I (still) need to review the T. Hecker CD "My Love is Rotten to the Core" for work. It features lots of barely audible ramblings from DLR, the man I once thought was thee shit (yes, I am one of *those*, with hair metal bands in my skeleton closet), overlayed with glitchyness, noisy ambience and samples of Eddie's twanging.

Speaking of hair metal, I recently spied an ad for Vince Neil at the Whisky -- I think they should reconsider including his picture in future ads. He is one bloated and bemused fella. Those who know me now will probably find it amusing to know that I once sported a head full of platinum rocker locks much like Mr. Neil. I was actually going for the Lita Ford look but simply didn't have the slutty rocker chick wardrobe to go with the hair. I also had and still have my studded handcuff belt. I really didn't pay much attention to the Crue after Shout at the Devil -- and they didn't fare much better for me after Vince killed Razzle from Hanoi Rocks. I still have my Hanoi Rocks albums, collected mostly in a fit of teenage passion over Mike Monroe, their beeeyootiful singer.

I dutifully bought Circus, Hit Parader and Creem every month -- Creem standing hair and shoulders above the rest in terms of actual rock journalism. Circus and Hit Parader were (are?) much like TeenBeat and TigerBeat -- lots of glossy pictures of your favorite metal heartthrobs (my favorite was the shot of Iron Maiden's Bruce Dickinson in red spandex pants, crouching down with some sort of huge monster bulging between his legs) but little content.

Of course, out of all my metal crushes nothing will ever surpass my love for Nigel Tufnel...