I'm 34 years old and have a gloriously misfunctional (as opposed to disfunctional) family: a fiancee, a hilarious two year old daughter, a couple of teenage step-daughters (replete with the teenage angst they drag around with them) and a very old, very intelligent, but very needy, homosexual dog.

I've had two academic pieces published (both with very long titles):

"American Morality and Social Mechanics: the Meaning of Nothingness in the prose and poetry of Charles Bukowski"

"The Historical Present: Notions of History, Time and Cultural Lineage in the Writing of Richard Brautigan"

Otherwise, am a frustrated writer, working in IT, tortuously inching through a PhD thesis on Richard Brautigan as a back-up plan to getting something substantial published if no-one likes my fiction. The things I have in print have infected me with a mania to make it more.

Oh yeah, and I'm NOT a top webooker  :oD

I once met Benicio Del Toro at a urinal. He was looking at me strangely because I had glandular fever and my eyes had swelled. "You alright?" I asked. "Yeah" he answered, zipping his fly.