I arrived in Phoenix with a pair of tap shoes and a dream. I had to sell the shoes for rent money.
When I’m stuck in traffic, I pound on the inside of the trunk and pray someone hears me.
One thing my mother doesn’t know about me is I would get candy by trading the notes she put in my lunchbox to kids whose mothers didn't love them, but did give them candy.
On Saturday night, you can find me bailing a stranger out of jail, then making him run errands for me for a week.
My favorite thing about summer in Phoenix is it thins out the elderly population.
If I could redo my first kiss, I’d kiss a willing participant.
The one dessert I refuse to eat is meatloaf. Because seriously, who wants meatloaf for dessert?
If I was mayor of Phoenix, I’d totally use the sash to meet chicks.
In high school, I was the kid who said his dad was an astronaut in space. But everyone knew he was in jail.
In another life, I was probably a plant, because now I hate vegetarians.
The one place in Phoenix I don’t want anyone to know about is my bathing suit area.
On my nightstand, you’ll find framed pictures of cats. I hate cats, but I love cat pictures!
The fictional character I’m most like is Abraham Lincoln.
One thing I want to do before I die is tell someone, "The gold . . . is buried . . . .in . . ." (dead).
The best thing about Phoenix is when people ask me where I'm from, I say "Penis." And when they say, "Penis?" I say, "What? No! I said Phoenix!"
