If you DON'T want to know about me, you can escape now. If you didn't like that, here's a diversion. But beware - it'll make you laugh REALLY hard. If you don't want to go THERE, tough. Find your own site. (:

Now that we've weeded out those that don't want to give me a chance (and I don't need them, really, because they only give me a headache) we can go on with the show.

I'm a 21 year old with a twisted sense of humor. (Ask any of my friends, they'll verify it for you.)

I was born in Waterbury, Connecticut, to very nervous parents. I guess it happens that way with first babies.

When I was 10 months old I had my first trip to the emergency room. When I was learning to walk, I put my hand on the glass part of the oven door to balance myself, and burned it rather nicely. (This explains why a great deal of my baby pictures show me with a sock on my left hand.)

In October of 1981 (I was 17 months old) I got the surprise of my life. My reign over the household had ended. My brother Andrew was here to stay. The only things I remember about his birth are what my father has told me. He says that Andrew was born during the rehearsal dinner for a wedding (in the hospital, but while the dinner was taking place, I mean), and that I was perfectly okay with the whole conecpt of "little brother" until we left to go home - all the way down in the elevator, I screamed, "I WANT MY MOMMY!" at the top of my lungs. (I was quite a little charmer.) The other bit of story I've gotten was that I tried to pick Andrew up by his head when he was very young - maybe a week old, I guess. I was kinda little so the details are pretty fuzzy at best.

Andrew's in the Army right now. He survived boot camp, which is more than I can say for GI Jerk (you'll hear more about him later, too - so many "laters," so little time).

On with my bio...

When I was three, my dad took me to a Toys 'R Us and told me I could pick out anything I wanted - I grabbed a picture book and that was that. When we got home, I read him the book word for word. (It wasn't THAT hard.) For the next few weeks, I read that book to everyone that set foot within the house. My parents loved to show me off. (This was probably the same year that Andrew knocked the Christmas tree onto the kerosene heater. It gives you an idea of what I was up against.)

I started pre-kindergarten in... umm... I don't know, actually. I think it was 1984. I'm not entirely sure you care for the details, so I'll say that the highlights of Pre-K were pronouncing the teacher's name right (it was a mouthful!) and "publishing" my first book. "Miss B" (as I took to calling her, as did the rest of the class) wrote down what I dictated to her, I illustrated it, and we bound my book together with red yarn. I was very proud of the book (titled "Andy Is My Brother") but didn't get to take it home right away - it circulated in the school library for the rest of the semester! Guess you could say my literary career started early...

I do believe that Buddy came to live with us that year as well. Buddy was a Golden Retriever/German Shepherd/Collie mix with a sense of humor, a sense of adventure, and a sense of family. I really miss that dog.

When I was in Kindergarten, I got a little sister. Her name is Allison, and she was born in 1985. To date, she is the family member I am most likely to get along with. (: She's kinda cool for someone that got her start keeping me up at night with her incessant screams.

Kindergarten was a weird year for me - the first of many, in fact. I was the teacher's "helper" for a lot of the year (though at the time I didn't understand why) and eventually things got weirder. I started spending more and more time in a first-grade class, where I went for reading every day. It was odd - I actually got to help some of the kids in that class with their reading. We moved when I was in Kindergarten, though it was maybe a mile or two. I could still walk to school, although in that neighborhood my mom drove me.

Shortly after my seventh birthday, I got a baby brother. Not exactly your ideal birthday gift, but... Y'know. His name is Michael and he's pretty interesting. Nowadays, it's all about techno with him. I'm grateful that he moved on from rap.

The next few months were really strange for me. I was in second grade at the time, spending a couple of hours a day in a third grade classroom, and my teacher was constantly giving me a hard time about "being on task." I can still hear her talking to me about it. (: At any rate, I went through and IQ test and some sort of profile done by the school psychologist, and it was determined that I was a Gifted Kid. I had no idea what that meant. I just wanted people to let me go back to my Baby-Sitter's Club books.

And then It happened. I found out that I was going to skip the third grade. I loved my fourth grade teacher to death (even though she had a habit for acknowledging that I was some sort of genius, which I didn't like). I had a total blast in the FOCUS program with Mrs. Valentino. We (my friends Kristina and Ryan, from my 4th grade class, and I) went to the middle school one day a week.

Fifth grade brought about a big Yucky Thing for me. We moved to Florida in th emiddle of the school year, three days after Christmas. (There's a whole other long story sandwiched in there. It even has vomit in it. I'll spare you - for now.)

Florida proved to be a whole lot different from Connecticut. For one thing, it was a great deal warmer. So warm, in fact, that my family went swimming in February. After our first winter there, though, we became like the rest of the Floridians and said, "Oh, no, it's too cold to swim." At this point, we joined the rest of Florida in laughing at the people who were swimming.

The standards for accelerated classes in Florida are different from those in Connecticut, so I was placed in regular classes when we moved. This wasn't a good thing, I thought, and I proceeded to stop trying to excel at what I did. I look back now and regard it as a stupid move, but I was just turning ten then, so what did I know? I continued this pattern through middle school and most of high school.

Reeeeeeeal smart of me.

In middle school I was in a club called Reader's Theater. It was a total blast and we had a great sponsor. I met this chick Keri in Reader's Theater, and she proved to be a pretty nifty person. In eighth grade, Kim and Tanya joined and we spent the year looking for gossip about Mr. Zack.

Ninth grade brought about my stint with the Thespians. I also got a nickname that year. Two of them, in fact, although if you want the story of "The Flash", you're gonna have to email me. (I assure you it's worth the trouble of asking, and if I get enough requests, I'll put it on the page someday.)

Ninth grade was also the start of what I tend to call "The Ugly Years." There'll be a separate page for that later, and I warn you now. I'm tired of sugarcoating the things I kept secret for so long. So if you don't like reading things that'll make you cry, skip this part.

Let's see. Tenth grade was fairly uneventful. Got my learner's permit, almost ran over Samantha (my own dog) a couple of days after nearly taking out Leonard's front lawn. Dad yelled at me a lot, as did Mom, which I suppose is the partial cause of my driving paranoia.

Alas, I've grown tired of sharing my life's story (it's that patented Gifted Kid Attention Span - it'll get you every time!) so I'm going to go work on other parts of my page. Feel free to bookmark me and look again soon!