Author Archives: Robert

You know that kind of morning where you wake up early and it’s really sunny?  There’s a bright green hue appearing on all the mesquite trees and a hint of little blue flowers on the rosemary?  I’m having one of them right now.  It’s going to be in the mid 70’s today and 82 tomorrow!  It’s Spring! And you know what that means?

I’m perpetually horny.

I mean, I’m already perpetually horny (what man isn’t?) but in Springtime, it’s like a four alarm fire.  Emergency–emergency!  Beep beep beep! Pull down your pants and put your hands up–my shorts. 

And yes, of course, it’s one of my most favorite seasons.  Ray likes it too!  It’s a little bit difficult in public places though.  My tounge goes a  waggin’ at every single upright and ambulatory man within eyesight.  My eyeballs sniffing them up and down like a bloodhound. 

 “I want that one!  Ohhh, and that one. Yes! Yes! I totally want that one! Please? Can I?”

It’s a strange kind of sexual energy.  I just have an urgent desire to jump every man I see (within reason, I do have standards).  Hey, what can I say really?  I’m a highly sexual being living in a world where showing Janet Jackson’s boob on TV for a split second is punishable by monetary fee.  That’s just laughable.  It’s also embarrassing.  The rest of the world is not as prude.  A boob is a boob is a boob. 

As a child, most people saw lots of boob.  The very first thing they saw was a giant boob being shoved in their face that they sucked milk from.  My God! That happened a few times a day.  For months–years.  How traumatic.  Perhaps there is a public fear that Ms. Jackson’s wardrobe malfunction my trigger a widespread post traumatic boob episode. 

A boobisode?

I think according to whatever board regulates (in their own feeble minds) what’s moral or immoral, I would be off the charts on the latter.  That’s something that perplexes me.  I don’t feel immoral.  I don’t hurt anyone.  Why should someone judge what I do in the privacy of a public restroom–just kidding–the privacy of my own home?  Get the fuck out of my house. 

In the long run, the truth–and we all know this–is that everybody is a little bit freaky.  Everyone is sexual.  How could we not be? 

In the words of George Michael, “Sex is natural, sex is good.  Not everybody does it, but everybody should.”  That coming from Mister Public Restroom himself. 

I don’t care what people do sexually as long as it doesn’t involve hamsters and duct tape.  If a 19 year old gets it on with a 17 year old, who gives a shit?  Hell, I did it with a thirty-something PE teacher when I was 14.  Did he molest me?  No.  How could I be molested when I totally wanted it?  I was a 14 year old budding homosexual with a very robust sex drive and an all grown up PE teacher with a killer bod, tight shorts and furry legs wants to get it on with me?  Hell yeah!  But I wasn’t a consenting adult.  The age of consent in immeasurable.  That line of 18 year-old-ness is so blurry.  Not that I’m into guys that young.  I’m still into the hunky mature PE teacher types in tight shorts. 

We all have a sex drive.  Most people are stuck with the parking brake on. 

<<insert sound of tires screeching away into the distance>>

In my last post, I spoke of making a frivolous $399.99 purchase for a POD® X3 digital guitar amp modeler just minutes before our washing machine sprung a leak and flooded the house. $399.99 combined with half the cost of a not-so-cheap front loading energy efficient appliance adds up to–a lot for me.

The next day, Sweetwater Sound, the company I buy my music equipment from, called me and said AMEX was balking on the payment and that I had to call them to get the payment to go through. Here was the opportunity to be an adult and not spend money I don’t have. I cancelled my order all together. No POD® X3 for me. I suppose I could take my small amp and run a mic into the laundry room and play alongside the washing machine. I wonder what kind of suck-fucky effect I’d get from that. Oh well…

That being said. I’m not as disappointed as I thought I’d be. Last night when we got home, Ray and I went for a jog/walk. That’s where we jog until I run out of steam and then we walk until more steam builds up. The days are longer and warmer and now that my ginormous project is over, I’m back to my commitment of health and fitness (and music). After our jog/walk–I am actually getting to a point–I was watching the sunset and taking a mental inventory of what I have in my life.

• Me and myself. A strong sense of who I am.
• Ray. I have Ray and that means a lot to me.
• A nice home
• A good job that I enjoy
• Great food
• Health
• The ability to occasionally hop on a plane and visit cities with restaurants.
• And a really nice front loading washing machine–let’s not forget that.

Oh I could go on.  The point is; who needs a toy to be happy?  I’ll get my POD® X3 someday–and my new motorcycle–and an iPhone…someday.   These are things I can live without. 

In all honesty, I have what I really, really  want and he’s about ready to go to work. 

Since the play and the web site deadline have come and gone, I was looking forward to a nice relaxing weekend.  Ray went to LA to see his mom and I was doing the basic I-have-the-house-all-to-myself thing; playing music loud, leaving dirty dishes in the sink, and spending countless hours on the Internet.  I finally decided to get productive.  I had a ton of laundry to do. 

I loaded up the machine, pulled the knob out and made my way back to the home office with a fresh cup of coffee.  About 45 minutes later, I realized I should go put my clothes in the dryer.  I turned the corner toward the kitchen and to my surprise there was water everywhere. 

Everywhere!

From the time I pulled the little knob until that moment, the water had not stopped filling up the washing machine–for 45 minutes!  It seeped under the walls from the kitchen all the way into the master bedroom closet.  There were sections of our bamboo flooring that were completely submerged.  The water in the carpeting was squirting up through my toes when I walked on it. 

Ever have one of those, what-the-hell-do-I-do-first moments?  This was supposed to be my weekend of relaxation!

Thankfully, the laundry room is right off the garage and a lot of the water just flowed out that way.  It also made its way out the front door.  The washing machine is broken–obviously–so were going to Sears right now to buy a front loading water saving model.  Ray has been diligently vacuuming the carpets with our shop vac which seem to be pulling the water up.  I guess it’s the perfect time of year to have a flood in the house.  It’s very dry and breezy.   Let’s just pray the bamboo flooring doesn’t warp.  I think bamboo is very porous.  I hope it dries out quickly. 

What really, really sucks is that I finally decided the day before to shell out the $399.99 for a POD® X3 digital guitar amp modeler.  I have wanted one for several years and since I made it past my two big projects, I was going to focus on my music (and the gym–been back twice already).  Thank goodness we’re all getting the refund to “stimulate the economy”.  I’d say I just stimulated the hell out of it. 

Oh well,  I can play guitar in time with my clothes spinning around in the laundry room.  My first album will be called Tuesday Night Laundromat Club. 

Heaven help us all.

It’s done.  It’s live.  I can’t hide it anymore. 

cochise.az.gov

I have been working on this for 18 months.  It’s finally launched.  (Jimbo, it’s a girl).  Still need to work out some of the bugs but for the most part, I’m done…wow…I’m done!

The play is over with.  The site is launched.  I’m taking Thursday and Friday off this week.  I shall return to my blog.  I miss it.

Thanks for being so patient. 

So opening night Friday went off without a hitch–except both my costars were sick.  Sick-sick.  Hacking coughing Typhoid Mary sick.  The gal who played Molly hacked her way through the whole performance.   There were a few blunders but for the most part, everything went well.  Until Saturday.

I knew we were in trouble when I walked into the dressing area and saw the director getting dressed in Molly’s costume.   Molly had become so sick, she couln’t talk so the director was going to be the understudy.  I was panic stricken at first but then I went into an overwhelming sense of calm.  This was so out of my hands that I was just…not going to think about. 

We made it through the play with only a few of those awkward blank spots when no one knows what to say and a few of those, “so off cue that no one knows where to pick up” moments. 

Yeah, those are always fun.

Also, about a nano second before I was supposed to go up and start the show with my welcome-welcome speech (I play the Emcee–in a white tux–as well as two other characters), I was slammed with a sudden stomach churning, gut wrenching, immediate urge to shit.  

I was really tired so I drank a lot of coffee before I got there and it hit me all at once.  As my dearly departed friend Tony used to say, “Ahhh, yes, the coffeeshit.”  If you’re a coffee drinker, it’s self explanatory. 

There I was in the teeny tiny bathroom within earshot of the entire audience (who’s patiently waiting for the curtain) giving birth to God knows what and hoping that running the faucet would somehow mask the methane explosions coming out of my…well, you know what I mean.

And for my next trick. . .

So we have a matinee performance this afternoon.  I’m ambivalent about Typhoid Molly coming back.  Do I want to hold my breath, bathe in a vat of Purell, take massive doses of vitamin C and Echinacea or go onstage and execute a random what-the-fuck-are-they-doing-up-there display of bad high school play community theater?

Can’t I just stay home?

Hello.  Cobban is not in right now.  Please leave a message and he’ll get right back to you.  Beeeeeep…

I’m on autopilot.  Thank God for that whole fight or flight thing.  Without that built in defense/survival system, I don’t know how I’d be getting through these past few weeks.  The only problem is that I can’t tell if I’m fighting or flying.  Am I throwing punches or just flapping my wings?  All I know is I’m not home right now and you’ll just have to leave a message. 

The county website launches April 1st and the play I’m in debuts tonight.  Aside from some other miscellaneous mental clutter, I’m about one shock treatment away from a frontal lobotomy. 

Yesterday, for the first time in my life, I did something unheard of in a time of stress; I left work at 3:00 and turned my brain off to the world.   When Ray and I got home, we both showered, put on shorts and broke out the flip flops.  It was the Vernal Equinox–the first day of my favorite half of the year.  This is the time of long sunny days and warm–if not hot–weather.  It was so nice to sit on the back porch and chat with my Ray.  You know what made it even better?  Jimbo was there!  He was visiting Homer in Tucson from DC and drove down for an afternoon.  Jimbo is smart, adorable and he makes me laugh which is just what I needed.  We just lounged in the sun and chatted, went in a little mini hike (more like a walk through the desert grass) and then after the sunset, Ray made a yummy pasta dish. 

Thanks for stopping by Jimbo!

So now it’s Friday.  Opening night is tonight.  There is only one more week left until the launch of the new county website.  My shoulders are scrunching up as I write this.  All I can do is take a deep breath and hold my head up and walk right into it.  Wish me luck.