Wow. This is kind of awkward...having to talk about myself for a whole page of the site. If I were a big celebrity comic, this part would be handled by a press agent, but I'm just getting started, so I have to do it myself. That sucks. Then again, a press agent might bend the truth to make me more marketable to a larger audience. She might say I'm taller than I am or that I'm a good cook…or that I know how to juggle. Anyway, who wants a larger audience? Not me. It's like the difference between having a bunch of friends you don't really know all that well or having a few really good friends who are always there for you. Yeah, I'd rather stick with you guys. So, here's the truth. I was born on a small island in the South Pacific, but grew up in the hills of West Virginia and on the beaches of Southern California. If you've watched Beverly Hills 90210, The O.C. and/or Kids, Incoporated, you have a pretty good idea what my childhood was like—a lot of sand, a lot of song, a lot of relationship drama. During high school, I worked at Denny's—in fact, I was the youngest waiter in Denny's history—and belonged to an Up With People-like church choir that performed at churches and prisons throughout the Southwest. I sang bass. People thought I was pretty funny. I went to college in a place called San Diego. I majored in Spanish so that, one day, I'd be able to cross over into the Latin market. Consider it my payback for Selena. I spent my days managing the campus' Lesbian, Gay & Bisexual Association (LGBA), attending classes and carrying torches for a slew of cute, Latin boys [Editor's Note: I mean "boys" in the general, "guy" sense…not in the NAMBLA sense.] I worked mostly at Johnny Rockets, but sometimes as a Sign Language sales associate at a different college's—one with a large, deaf student body—book store. People still thought I was pretty funny. After college, I followed my sister to San Francisco. Well, first I crashed my car (accident; not my fault) and, since the insurance money wouldn't have paid for a new car, I had to move somewhere I wouldn't need one. I lived in the Castro and slung hash at Bagdad Café. I wanted to work there because it's also the title of my favourite movie. And because gay guys tip well. I also taught ballroom dance, at Arthur Murray. I'm not that great of a ballroom dancer, but I'm a good teacher and people liked taking lessons with me because I made them laugh. I was still pretty funny. I had a boyfriend, in San Francisco, and we moved to Los Angeles, together, to be closer to his abuelita. That's Spanish for "grandmother." See, mom…that degree did come in handy. Anyway, Nana Mary thinks I'm funny, too; she became one of my favourite people in L.A. By this point, I was working as a project manager in the Internet industry. It was an exciting time to be in that industry. We were young and edgy; we rode Razor scooters and Segues and downloaded music illegally; we took lunch out-of-doors and wore jeans to meetings; there were free sodas. We didn't know the bubble would burst. About a year after that relationship ended, I moved to New York. I dove right back into the Internet industry, but got burned out on it pretty quickly. It was no longer edgy and I was trying to lay off sodas. I realized that a lot of people had told me I'm funny. Lots of them even meant "humourous," so I decided to try to make it as a stand-up comic. I'd be happy to be a sit-down comic, as well, but most clubs don't provide a stool. Whatever. I don't like stools, anyway. I like for my feet to be touching the floor. So, I took a couple of crap jobs that pay the rent (barely), while providing me with the flexibility of schedule comedy requires. I started playing some clubs in New York City. People thought I was funny, so I played some more. Then I built a website.