As a kid, I was a huge reader. HUGE. I used to take books into the shower (not advisable) because I found washing my hair too excruciatingly dull without reading material. I once rigged up a way to ride my bike and read a book at the same time (also not advisable; I landed in the rose bushes). I was always, always reading a book: Anastasia Krupnik, Harriet the Spy, the collected works of Judy Blume and Beverly Cleary. Weird library books about seahorses and tsunamis and the plague. To this day, I can’t crack open a hard-boiled egg without remembering the scene in Ramona Quimby, Age 8 where she inadvertently breaks a raw egg open on her head, believing it to be a hard-cooked one. Things haven’t changed much — though I don’t read books while I’m riding my bike anymore, I still truly love to read.
I grew up in the wilds of the San Gabriel Valley and went west (by about fifteen miles) to attend UCLA, where I got a degree in English Lit. I drink a lot of Diet Coke, am a devoted sandwich enthusiast, glossy-magazine lover, and sports fan.