At the gym the other day I over heard one of the guys talking about “Whitewater” and how his dog slipped on a rock, cut her foot and fell into the river. Wait a minute? River? Was he talking about some state park up north? I didn’t know so in between presses I casually asked him what Whitewater was only to find out that 20 minutes from my condo is a preserve in Whitewater Canyon. All this time and I never knew an actual river flowed through this area from the mountains. Needless to say, I canceled my plans for the next day and told Petey we were going to see some water.

I was stoked to find how close this thing was to me. The drive east into the mountains became cooler and greener; always a good indication at this time of year. The road took us to a Ranger Station. All around the log cabin were warnings of mountain lions, rattlesnakes, black bears and bighorn sheep. It was nearly 100 degrees out so the only thing I really had to worry about was the rattlers and since my plan was to be in or around the river I wasn’t that concerned. Besides, those guys are pretty considerate when it comes to letting you know that you or your dog is too close for their liking.

A short walk along a very primitive stone-lined path led us west to a beautiful oasis-like scene. It was a river, not a creek, but a wide, flowing river that moved so fast in some spaces that it became “white water” from the small waves that crested over the rocks and such. I felt like it was Christmas morning! I unleashed Petey and jumped down the small dirt cliff, slid all the way down to the river and ran into the water. As I sat on a rock and felt the water creep up my legs and soak my shorts, I looked down and schools of tadpoles in all sorts of development were wiggling all around my feet. The water was so clear that I was tempted to dunk my head and have a drink, but for obvious reasons, I did not. About an hour into the walk we came upon a rugged shelter made of sticks, twine and brush. This is the shit that you see on that Discovery Channel show about the guy who is in the Outback or somewhere completely remote and drinks his piss and eats worms.

Being here has not been easy, but having this jewel in my backyard makes it a little better for sure.

Today I’m heading up to Utah for a Valentine’s event and I just couldn’t leave without saying something, ANYthing on the blog since I’ve been so negligent lately. Sometimes you just fall out of the groove, you know? I was thinking about religion last night and how religious people kind of get a bad rap from all of the fanatics, but then I realized an entry about that would be a major endeavor so another Friday the 13th blog op was missed. And of course I have fuck all to say about love, which means a Valentine entry is out of the question. Don’t even get me started on this “holiday” or I’ll never make my plane. Let me just say in shorthand, “Why do we NEED a day to do things for those we love?”

Then it hit me! I have a fun little video we made just for kicks and I can use it to overshadow the fact that I don’t want to write a fucking thing! They will love it and I can ease my guilt for being such a rotten host! You see how that works?

Last month I received a pdf of the article about me in the September issue of Unzipped. Naturally I had to wait until the magazine was on the newsstands before I could show it here and it sort of fell off my radar until now.

Ma Hazzard came out for my birthday for a ten day visit. It was SO much fun. The last thing on my mind was work, but we did get a ton of pictures and some priceless video so there’s plenty to look forward to on that front. Now back to the topic at hand.

Everybody went ape over the Eric Schwabel photos and Andrew Epstein’s layout. On a recent Rascal shoot there were many positive comments passed about this article and exchanging compliments is not exactly standard practice on a porn set. Needless to say I was and am very pleased. So was Ma Hazzard, btw.

In order to pretend like I didn’t forget all about this even though I claim to love it, I am putting this post on the 30th even though it’s the 2nd. At least then it’s in the correct month. Enjoy the photos. As always, Hazzard Central members get the full size (and unedited in this case) versions.

Wow, all sorts of crazy things have been going on with me. It’s madness, I tell you! When my personal life is packed with conflict and whatnot it becomes easier for me to completely overlook important events. What could I be talking about? Oh I don’t know… maybe… same sex marriage is now recognized by the state of California?!

This issue doesn’t affect me in any way and I’ve always suspected it was a plot by the Republicans to divert media attention away from whatever insidious plots they were developing at the time. All that aside I was so fucking pleased that we won the right to be recognized as regular citizens that I very nearly peed in my pants. It isn’t special treatment, it’s EQUAL treatment. Now queers can legally wed and watch as their spirit slowly dies in a loveless union just like breeders!

To commemorate this major thrust forward in the gay movement the Pacific Design Center put on a special display and I was there to capture the action.

This story has been on the back burner for ages. Sometimes it’s better to talk about something after the fact. I’ve whittled this down considerably and yet it is still reeeeally long so I’ve decided to pepper it with photos!

That’s right. This is all about Petey.

When I first got him it was clear that he suffered from a severe case of separation anxiety. He would tear up the rug in front of the door and began to rip the metal frame from around the front door in an effort to get out whenever I was away from home. I bought a wire cage from Petsmart only to have him chew, yes chew through it squeezing himself through an opening that I am shocked did not cause a bloody mess and a trip to the ER. I talked to the instructor for Petey’s first segment of obedience class about my dilemma and she told me of a woman who encountering the same problem had designed, with the help of a welder, a wrought iron cage that was meant for the transport of large exotic animals, more specifically, a tiger! Obviously the cage was going to be made smaller and the idea was comical and I was hopeful. My hopes were short lived however and smashed to a million pieces when I came home to find Petey soaked in urine and slobber. The final event that led Petey back to the truck was the “Post-Its” on my door from neighbors asking me to quiet my dog. I was literally at my last rope now so in the meantime while I figured out what the next step was in calming this panic I had to take Petey with me everywhere in my truck.

Amazingly he had absolutely no trouble hanging out in the truck; he knew I was coming back and he would lay down on his pillows quiet and relaxed patiently waiting for daddy to return. It was very problematic during August and September as the temperature would reach into the 100s. Not only was it a issue for my little boy’s health, but it is illegal to leave a dog in the car in CA. I would crank up the AC and only be gone for minutes at a time. I would enlist the help of friends to watch him when I had to run errands that would take more than a couple of minutes; this was now a full time job.

I enjoyed his company though and when I would see his little ears blowing in the wind from my rear view mirror I would just smile and be happy that he was in my life. I would leave the little window of the cab half open when I would go shopping or to the gym and it was set to a spot that even I had a hard time getting past. I had done this so many times and was without worry or fear that he would get out and besides, he was not anxious at all about hanging out in the truck.

One night I had attended a class on the Science of Happiness and of course brought Petey along. When I pulled in on the far side of the lot I noticed a man and a woman of the tweeked out variety in close proximity. I made a comment to Petey that may have been a bit judgmental, but I thought since it was just the two of us that no harm would be done. I pulled in to my spot and went inside at 7:10 PM. I know this because I glanced at the clock when I turned the truck off. At 9 PM the class ended and I went outside to the truck ready to be greeted by my beloved companion. I approached and noticed that the window appeared to be opened all the way. Panic set in and I ran to the truck. I unlocked the door the truck illuminated to show an empty cab. I wanted to throw up. I immediately imagined him by the side of the road then switched to a vision of him lost in the foothills of the mountains that looked over us from the West. Even as I write this and relive it, I feel that panic rising from my gut and the chill running down my arms to my fingertips; it was to date the worst experience I can recall. I started to run calling his name as loud as I could. I had no idea where I was running to, but standing still would only serve to exacerbate the panic and fear that seemed to engulf my body. I had only gone about 50 ft around the building when I made a quick left to see my beloved four legged friend hanging out calm as cash with the two crackheads that I silently insulted 2 hours prior.

They had Petey leashed with some rustic rubber tubing that was crudely tied to his collar like some junkyard dog. The female was grossly thin and clutching a “Big Gulp.” Her male companion was silent and wearing sunglasses. She began to explain that she found my dog and that he looked really lost and scared so she grabbed him and gave him chicken. The three of them were hanging out by the pay phone around the building, a football’s throw from my truck. I looked at her gaunt, skeletal face as she explained again that they had found the dog and that he was scared, they gave him chicken and called the number listed on his tags. I thanked them over and over and she said her victory speech over and over until I coughed up a couple of twenties.

The second I was alone with Petey I began to cry, hard, really hard. And I was ashamed of myself for my remark earlier about the street kids. That all changed very soon. Once I discovered the 10 voicemails left during my two hour absence it was clear that Petey had been taken and more or less held for ransom. He did not push that window open, they opened it. What fucking balls! You have to be really cracked out and desperate to stick your hand in a truck with the face of a pit bull staring back at you. They coaxed him out with the cheap chicken they got from the KFC behind the building and took him right to the phone where they began to make their rescue calls. It was definitely a moment to remember and now when Petey goes with me the window is locked.

With that scary episode behind me and a very different life in front of me there has been much improvement with Petey. Thanks to a little intense training and some tough love he can now stay at home by himself (for short spells anyway). There are still days that push me to my limits, but I think he’s definitely worth a little wear and tear on my nerves. Who knows what would have become of him if I hadn’t come along? I know I certainly wouldn’t be where I am today without the collaborative support of many, many individuals and they didn’t give up on me when I chewed on their $260 custom sandals! Well, you get the idea.