My name is Robert. I was born with a plastic spoon in my mouth, in an Army hospital in Fort Belvoir , Virginia. Slowly, in my early years, we made like the pioneers and headed west. Apparently the west sucks, because we headed eastwards once again. Eventually we settled in the middle of the country and learned to live like the Yanks around us. More than a decade has passed since I toweled off the scum of middle class suburbia to form the naked yuppie I am today.I have lived a life of revered accomplishments. I once played the drums for wildly gesticulating spandex-clad cheerleaders. I have been an instrument of insult, delivering democratic messages of jest back and forth between my high school Health teacher and History teacher. A poodle once bit me on the ass. I am a sailboat on choppy waters and I have plastic-wrapped several full-sized automobiles.Occasionally, I purchase compact discs of music I can guarantee you've never heard. I am an expert in paint removal. I will pay my cell phone bill on time. My hair grows in thick on my head. I have read the story 'Sins of Omission' in the original Spanish. I am the only person on the planet that actually makes complete stops, as they are defined by law, when driving. On the other hand, I was a reckless forklift driver.I am a crafty word-spinner, a casual Risk player, and a ruthless audient at concerts. I once shared an elevator with Kevin Bacon, so once you've met me, you are only a couple of degrees of separation from him. I own many albums by Cannibal Corpse and Miles Davis, and I periodically piss off the neighbors by playing these recordings at elevated volumes. I have never been voted President of the United States, although I daydream about running from time to time. I believed that Phil Collins was a decent songwriter and a groovy drummer until he signed that contract with Disney. I am unselfish in bed, a contributor to the Swedish economy, a bona fide bad ass, and a fan of Kevin Gilbert.
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