A Buddhist walks up to a hot dog vendor and says, "Make me one with everything."
I was born on the tropical, but extremely indigent island of Puerto Rico to Harry Alberti and Celeste Correa. I was an ugly infant, but they decided against infanticide (most ugly babies are killed in Puerto Rico) because my masculine frame was obvious, even back then, so they knew that I would be an excellent laborer. They were so right. My family and I lived in a shack that we built out of palm fronds, used garbage bags, and cardboard right off the beach. It was the nicest "house" on the block by far. When I was around seven, we began building a makeshift raft out of old tires and wood scraps. Once our raft was finished, my family and I floated all the way to Florida. Once we arrived there, I got my first REAL pair of shoes. They were Nike's; I felt like Miguel Jordan. Unfortunately, I wore them out when we walked to Arizona. My parents then somehow convinced the state of Arizona that they were medical doctors and since no one checks up on degrees from Puerto Rico, they were in. My family lived in that one underground tunnel that connects Home Depot to Casa Bonita until we had saved up enough money to buy a house right off the golf course. During that time, I attended a constitutionally-based Mormon charter school that made me very strange and socially awkward during my formative years. Now I live in a kick-ass apartment in Arcadia with my feline daughter, Margot. I finally learned sarcasm, so no one considers me to be awkward anymore. On the downside, I lost my Penélope Cruz-like accent which probably lost me some "sexy points", but whatever.
Plus, I own many, many pairs of shoes. And I am still one hell of a laborer. *My parents are both doctors... come on... my life was actually a cake walk.