Hi. I'm Steven. Or Steve, but definitely not Stephen.

The majority of my life was spent hunkering down in middle America. Omaha, Nebraska to be exact. Home to iconic steaks enjoyed by fictional US Presidents, a vibrant music scene and the second richest man in the world.

Growing up, my family would go to Florida every winter. I’ve been to Disneyworld 8 times. 8 TIMES! At least we never caravanned in the Griswold family truckster.

The exact moment I lost grip of my adolescence was in October of 2001 when I fell out of Phil Schulte’s treehouse. A newfound fear of heights can really make a 13 year-old question life’s unforeseen future.

About nine months later, I took my first crack at creative writing in a car ride to Wisconsin. It was about a bluefish and he was addicted to crack cocaine.

Let’s see… what else?

I can sometimes spell moderately-challenging words correctly on the first try.

I love cheeseburgers, but I’ll take a Philly cheesesteak, no problem.

Give me a malt beverage and I’ll show you a disappearing act.

Sometimes I get a hankering to stack whatever's in my pockets - a tube of chapstick is usually the base.

I can't draw a jean jacket. I found that out the hard way during a shameful evening of Pictionary.

I used to own a Talkboy, like the one in Home Alone 2.

And I hate the way cucumbers taste.