I guess if you’re here, that means you’re curious about me, probably because you just read one of my books. Muahahaha. All part of my evil, world-domination plan.
I’m the type of person that often has a wacky, shocking, or silly–but totally true–story to tell about my life.
(Like the time my brother and I were chased through a secluded strip of woods in the middle of the city, for over a mile, by a naked man with an erection.)
(Or the time a trucker threw an open bottle of pee out his passenger side window without looking right as I was walking by. You can guess what I got splashed with.)
(Or the time a man hit me with his pickup truck on purpose while I was riding my bike to school, and then insisted I get into the vehicle with him so he could drive me the rest of the way as an apology. Needless to say, I resisted.)
The early part of my childhood was spent on a small farmstead. Here, I am scowling to imitate “American Gothic” with my pitchforck.
I’ve got an active imagination that tends toward the outrageous and the macabre, which led to me being voted “most likely to borrow someone else’s car to transport a dead body.”