Otherwise known as: Cords
Birthday: May 3rd
Working on: trying to burn off all the Colt 45, Boone’s Farm and Mad Dog I ingest at our shows.
I stay home to watch: nothing, but I DVR SNL like it’s my job. And if I land on Forensic Files, I don’t turn the channel. Science will find you, yo.
Worst childhood memory: Never having a Green Machine. Even a Big Wheel was out of the question. All I had was this ridiculous yellow, tassled tricycle that was the laughing stock of the ‘hood.
Personal heroes: Jack Kerouac, Hunter S. Thompson and anyone who makes kids smile for a living.
You may have seen or heard me: rollin’ in my drop top clown car or walking around Lincoln Park clutching a Starbucks.
Nobody knows I: tape lyrics to my shower door when I’m learning a new tune.
My fantasy is: to perform on the Greek islands like the good ol’ days.
People who knew me in high school thought I was: anything but on the road to becoming a rapper. I was on the road to a life-rotting corporate existence when I got the old school bug.
My most irrational act: Going off on smokers. I’d like to round up the exceptionally inconsiderate ones and throw dirt on them. I’m at least comforted by the fact that Illinois makes them go outside like a dog. Muahahahahaha!
Pigout food: Pequod’s Pizza. The thick one with carmelized crust. Extra sauce, extra sausage and enough crushed red pepper to start a fire. Then back off.
When I’m not working, I’m: On the tennis court. And I’ll take whatever bet you got.
If I’ve learned one thing in life: Don’t pursue happiness, create it.
The three words that best describe me: Carefully controlled chaos.