I grew up on the streets of the North Side. School was not cuttin it, so I became a teenage hand model. Oh what a life - wining and dining with supermodels and movie stars - livin easy.
Then I hit the dread and demise when I turned 20. Kicked to the curb like an empty can of Old Milwaukee. The rough and tumble world of teenage hand modeling dropped me faster than Creed dropped Scott Stapp.
With no skills - other than showing off any product with my rugged, yet soft, supple hands - I made my way to the only family that would take in such a stray.
With a mic in one hand, and a bottle of gin in the other, I stumbled into 95-7 The Rock. The Mighty Lords of Rock took me in, filled my empty cup, gave me a cot to sleep on when things got tough, and they gave me a job!
The rest is, as they say, History. A blurry history it may be, but it is the only one I got.