I’m full of surprises.

Weird kid.

Didn’t utter a single word my first day of kindergarten. No surprise I became a veracious reader and quickly outgrew every book in my school libraries. Kudos to my Grade 9 English teacher for biting her tongue when I chose Joyce Maynard’s steamy To Die For as book report fodder.

Comedy nerd long before it was cool.

The first bar I snuck into underage was a comedy club. Jim Carrey was my first celebrity crush. I cried after Johnny Carson’s last show. I decorated my locker door with pics of the original SNL cast. 

None of this made me popular, but it did give me a sweet niche when I went to journalism school.

Fear killer.

Despite paralyzing stage fright, my comedian friends convinced me to get on stage for five minutes. I didn’t completely suck. 

Cut to: me going to New York City to study improv and comedy writing with Emmy-winners who destroyed my fear and blew my creative brain wide open. 

Unexpected side effect: now I love doing shit that scares me. 

Didn’t go to ad school.

I did eventually go to clown school — but the only thing I can juggle is multiple deadlines (hey‑o). 

Seriously, though: no training better teaches you how to communicate through empathy, and embrace ridiculous ideas.

It all makes sense.

Journalism and comedy made me a great copywriter. 

All are about connecting with your audience and making them receptive to your message. Constructing a tagline is just as intricate as constructing a joke or an article’s lead. Successfully pitching Vanity Fair was tougher than any client presentation I’ve led.

Saved some surprises for you.

When we talk, ask me about:

• How I got paid to yell at Nicolas Cage
• How I saw the final performance of the original Hamilton cast on Broadway — for free
• Why I knew the lyrics to every Rod Stewart song by the time I was 7
• Why I own Stephen Colbert’s bathrobe

Tl;dr: I’m still a weird kid. Minus the kindergarten vow of silence.