I Like Worms.

Worms are fun. For the last couple of weekends I've been digging in the yard, turning up sod for a garden to be planted in late May, after the last potential for frost has passed. Digging feels good - weird muscles hurt that I didn't know I had. My clothes were filthy, like when I was a kid. (flashback) My cousins and I rolled down this big sandpile my uncle had for his excavation business. We had a game going to see who could roll down the sandpile fastest. My mother called me "Pigpen" like on the Peanuts, I was so filthy. (/flashback)

There were long, lazy nightcrawlers who wriggled back into the earth; vexed-looking white grubs, curled up enjoying a winter-nap, who clearly registered their distaste for the light; and my favorite, the short, fat worms that slime your hands when you pick them up and then zizzle back into the dirt as soon as you let them go.

Ok, I'm a weird girl. I like worms! Sometime, I'll tell you about my imaginary friend, Patches.

Morning Zoo

I read on CNN today that David Lee Roth's radio show, which replaced Stern on the East Coast, might be toast. The show is certainly insufferable, but I wonder whether the expectations are correct for any successor to Stern's wild ride. Adam Corolla's having similar difficulty on the West Coast as well.

Come along with me for a minute, back to guitar rock. Remember it? It wasn't alternative. It was people in pink blazers, with bleached hair. Clothes were TIGHT. They made videos that involved a degree of creativity. It seemed like a good idea to have midgets and girls in bikinis involved. It's Van Halen, remember? Remember Diver Down? Mein Gott, there was a CLARINET involved! That wacky intro to Little Guitars?

Remember how ruthless and sexy that synth-intro to "Dancing in the Streets" sounded, then and now? How'd they make a cover of a motown classic sound so sinister? Why does Alex need so damn many floor-toms? These are questions I asked myself at age 15, while tightening my leather (skinny!) tie in preparation for the junior-high dance, where I would inevitably end up disappointed that no-one asked me to dance for "Stairway."

But at that time, there was a Showmanship element to things. DLR really personified that for me, the idea that, Flannery O'Connor-style, "nobody with a good car needs religion" -- that somehow the show IS all there is. There's nothing behind that curtain, and maybe this gauzy reality is enough for now.

It of course ISN'T enough, apparently, for some, now. But hasn't our Diamond Dave gone the way we'd hoped he would, though? What are the other options for a spandexed Amazon-crossing, K2-climbing Showman from the decade of your show of shows? Shouldn't he own a dojo or something? Or perhaps show up hawking exercise equipment or cold-cream? Or so much worse. No, he's got a radio show. Yes, it's terrible. But he's David Lee Roth. I'm just waiting for what's next. It's his show, after all.

Humalebebelezebelebubalehumalebebelezebelebop.

Big PiMPin'

Well, I'm back, and certified, it turns out. Oh, the exam was horrifying. But it's over, and I passed (!), and I have my life back. I'll write more when I've had some more sleep. Just wanted to say I'm back in the land of the living.