The last time I drank, I drove into a ditch, which doesn't sound like that big of a deal, but I stopped at the ditch, looked left and right, then drove into the ditch.
Remember when you were a kid, you'd jump on the bed, and you'd have no worries in the world, and you'd just jump on it? The idea of that now scares the hell out of me. I don't even know what would happen.
Very rarely will I say nice things about myself because that'll only lead to self-esteem, but the podcast is something I'm really proud of and I think I'm putting out a great product.
Almost said 'theater'! But I know the blacks don't go! Unless it's that My Arms Are Too Short To Box With God production. Or The Wiz.
I'm definitely allergic, by the way, but I love kitty cats.
I had what can only be described as the worst voice in the history of music.
In fact, somebody keeps putting on my Wikipedia page that I'm either Don Pardo's son or grandson. I had an audition recently where the woman said, "I understand that you're Don Pardo's grandson," and I said, "No, I am not." And you should have seen the look of disappointment on her face. It may have cost me the job. It was that devastating to her that I wasn't related to Don Pardo.
I grew up in the South Side, and when we would have snow and blizzards and drifts, we would jump off the garage roof into the snow. Now if I'm up on a step ladder and I think I'm going to fall, it's a foot and a half off the ground, but I'm panicked about it. So I'm afraid of ladders and those beds.
