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Anyway, my days on this rock we call "Earth" began on July 17, 1976, in the steamy bowels of East Chicago, Indiana. For the first four years of my life, my parents and I called a trailer in Hammond, Indiana "home." This means that technically I am a "hoosier," though it is not a fact that makes me proud.
Around 1980, Mom and Dad and me moved to a beautiful home in South Holland, Illinois, just scant minutes from Hammond and less than an hour from the "City of the Big Shoulders," Chicago. South Holland is now where I live when I'm not attending Northwestern University here in glorious Evanston, Illinois.
Now to fill in some blanks from the 21 years between my humble beginnings in Indiana and my hostile takeover of all media at Northwestern. I attended St. Jude the Apostle grade school in South Holland. Yes, it is a Catholic grade school. NO, this doesn't mean nasty nuns with rulers and bad tempers. It was this fantastic Catholic education that led me to Marist High School, an all-boys Catholic high school in Alsip, IL.
I spent four years at Marist, learning how to love myself and both fear and worship women. I won't get into it, since writing about my neuroses tends to dramatize them, but let me just say this: I firmly believe that an all-boys high school experience FUCKS ONE UP, brother. In spite of a lack of any concievable poon tang, I had a blast, working on the school paper and participating in one of the finest organizations ever founded by man or god, the Marist High School Speech Team. Marist Speech has easily been one of the formative experiences of my life, and I made many good "speech" friendships that thrive to this very day.
From Marist, I headed here to Northwestern, where I'm currently a senior avoiding any and all thoughts of life in the "real world." I write, go to classes, attempt to woo, and work on Pop- Culture-Corn, which you've already heard about if you've read the index page with any semblance of attention.
And the rest of the tale is yet to be written. . .