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.

This video took longer to make than Cleopatra and feels almost as long. Still, I couldn’t bear to wait a minute longer so for all my fellow Ab Fab freaks out there: This is for you!

The day after my Thanksgiving in Hell I quit that ridiculous job and said goodbye to the pompous owner, to boring and fruitless evening shifts and to two of my new friends Camille and Chris. It was no victory for me. Whatever mild relief I may have felt by ditching the bad restaurant gig was quickly overshadowed by the familiar question, “What next, man?”

My holidays had already been scrapped to make way for a dizzying season in high-end food service. It was too late to go home because I could not find a sitter for Petey and I was not about to leave him alone with some strange person in my house. It was not so much the person I was concerned with as much as it was Petey himself; Petey has issues and believe me it will make for a great story some other time, but for now and the sake of my point I was stranded in Palm Springs for Xmas.

I did not mind being with Petey, I love that dog, I minded not being at home. That really was the worst part; this would be my first Xmas EVER that I did not wake up with my family and it was really making me miserable. Bah Humbug was starting to be my theme and response to anything festive and holiday oriented.

My sister called to ask what she should get my Mom for her birthday, which is the 2ndof January. I told her that perhaps I should come home and surprise her. We agreed that that would be the best idea since Xmas had really upset her. I told ma that I had to work New Year’s Day and I would not be able to make it home. Unfortunately the quality of the surprise was increased dramatically the more depressed she became.

I employed my brother and family to tape the event and keep ma occupied so I could get in the house quietly and surprise the hell out of her. Much to my dismay she was not feeling well when I came home and looked as if she had bet hit with a rhino tranq. She looked at me through a haze, but in a second it registered and well you can see the rest.

It was my tenth birthday, my first double digit celebration at our summer weekend destination on Catawba Island on Lake Erie. We spent every weekend there and most of our vacations and I hated it. I hated having to pack and then drive two hours, on a good day, to the island. My father had a boat and being the avid fisher family, we spent a lot of time on the water fishing, swimming and just hanging out.

A typical weekend started Friday night arriving pretty tired from the drive and going to bed early. We were awakened really early much to our discomfort and dragged to breakfast. I usually had two eggs sunny side up and two pieces of whole wheat toast with no butter. Then came the hard part, we would drive to the boat and then ma would get the dope ready, Dramamine. She would crush up the bitter white pill in a spoon with “Slice”, a citrus 7-Up concoction that my brother and I grew to despise forever with or without the pill. We were pretty good at being on the water after being drugged and either slept or played games. As we got older we took the rods and began to fish.

There aren’t many fish tales in my background, but I remember winning a Fish Ohio award for a White Bass that I caught with my dad and Uncle Kenny. The fish was 15.5 inches long from tip to tail and the award was for any fish longer than 15”. That fish stayed in our freezer for years to come uneaten and completely whole tucked beneath countless Ziplock baggies of sauce and meatballs.

When it was time to reel ‘em in and head home my brother and I would tear up the remaining sandwiches into small pieces and feed the seagulls that followed us all the way in to the dock. It was there that the carnage began. My father and whoever accompanied us, my Uncle Kenny or Randy, would begin to clean the fish in a precise, professional and bloody way. Meanwhile, ma and usually us kids would go down the street to the local farmers’ stand and get sweet corn on the cob, peaches and tomatoes for the upcoming dinner. Dad would bread the filets and deep fry them to a perfect golden brown. The corn was shucked by me and the sibling. I remember I always took great pride in husking the corn and making sure that every single thread of silk was taken off and the corn’s speckled kernel skin was left shiny and smooth.

We all gathered around the wooden picnic table waiting for the day’s catch to be presented. Soon there was plates of fresh fish fillets with corn on the cob that hours before was still on the stalk. Ma would prepare a salad of fresh tomato wedges, red onion and fresh basil all dressed with extra virgin olive oil, salt and pepper. I remember this meal so well I can almost taste it and chances are before I blew out the candles on that zucchini cake, that’s what we had for dinner. My Uncles had places on either side of us and became quite close to us and our parents. We spent a great deal of time with them on and off the island. Their wives and kids soon became our “adopted” cousins and Aunts. On that particular dinner, for my 10th birthday, they were there to help cut, bread, serve and celebrate.

I would give anything to have that back. All that bitching and moaning I did when I was a kid was all because I did not want to go to my family’s weekend getaway on the lake. You really have no idea of what you have until you grow up and find that you dearly miss what is long gone.