Feeling that this blog was missing that "personal touch" that permeates most successful sites, I am going to introduce a series entitled "Getting to know the author" in which I detail my life story to date. Sort of a digital autobiography. With the completion of this series, I hope we will all be just a little closer.

Except that I still don't want to know anything about any of you.

My birth was an auspicious one, a portent of things to come (so to speak). With a sick thud, I fell to the ground, a child, but not easily identified as such. Grey, leathery skin and long, full whiskers took the place of the usual soft, pink exterior and button nose.

I still remember my first thoughts. I was not even out of the womb (well, not all the way out of the womb, anyway), but I was very self-aware.

Ow, ow, hey that hurts. Hey, guys, my head it getting pretty much squished here...

*Pop*

Oh, that's much better.

I caught my reflection in the doctor's eyes and thought to myself "Sweet Jesus, I'm ugly. What the hell's wrong with me, I look like a little, wet burrito." Young as I was, I didn't realize that all newborns look like little, wet burritos.

I quickly grew into my looks, though, and much as the ugly duckling grew into a beautiful swan, I developed into one of the best looking children of my generation. Modeling contracts were soon to follow, but my career didn't fully take off until I landed the role of "Ricky" on TGIF's "A Bushel and a Peck." All will, of course, remember the catch-phrase that resonated through the hearts of adolescent America: "No Problem, Chuckeeeeeeey!"

Life was good. The money kept rolling in and the hits kept on rolling out. Everything was all kittens and ponies until...I hit my first growth spurt (cue the music). And with that growth spurt began the awkward teenage years.

Next: The fall of an American Icon, the birth of an American hero.