I Wrote A Book!

It’s true! I have to keep pinching myself so I know this isn’t a dream. I did it. It’s real. OW! Maybe it’s time to stop pinching.

Click here to grab your copy. This funny self-help book is available on Amazon in both paperback and a Kindle version.

I’m as surprised as you are. I always wanted to write one but this wasn’t part of the plan for at least another few years. Sooooo….why now?

The Low Point

Toward the end of November, Los Angeles was entering full Coronavirus crisis mode. Everything was shut down which meant stand-up comedy was once again, ghosting me. Earlier in the year, I found projects to keep me entertained during the drought but these new restrictions had me wrapped up like a muskrat in the coils of a python. There was NOWHERE to go and NOTHING to do. 

I freaked out. I teared up. The anxiety of filling my days with menial activities for another few months was overwhelming. I’ve been relaxing and practicing self-care since March and as nice as that sounds, it’s producing diminishing returns. You can only go deep so many times before the fish at the bottom of the ocean start needing some space.

One night, as my fiance and I were chatting, the idea of writing a book came up. I told her that I wasn’t quite ready to tackle such a huge assignment. 

“What if you didn’t write a novel. What about a funny self-help workbook?”

Immediately my cognitive wheels started spinning furiously. Vin Diesel would have told me to slow down and I would have told him that he should have said that to Paul Walker (RIP). Sorry, Vin. This idea is too good. Pedal to the metal. Let’s go.

A Funny Self-Help Book is Born

I preach a lot about unapologetic positivity and optimism. My main purpose in life is to spread love, uplift others, and have fun. What better way to do this than by putting my personal methods into an easily digestible format so that others can benefit as well.

Almost daily, I’m hit up by someone on social media with a life question. Everything from “How do I tell this girl I like her” to “What advice would you give to a young performer?” Sometimes it gets weird and they just wanna see my feet. But who am I —a fuzzy man who on occasion wears a tail—  to say what’s bizarre? 

I also knew one inherent truth that I had never heard anywhere else. Getting roasted made me love myself. Somehow, being viciously insulted again and again has allowed me to be completely OK with my appearance. Hundreds of jokes have been aimed in my direction to delight audiences both in real life and on television. Sure, I look like the moon in a silent movie, a Meth Labradoodle, or TwoFace if he only had one face. All of those statements are true.

At first, I felt attacked. But I then began to love who I was. I stopped judging and started owning. As more quips were thrown at me, I began to laugh with the rest of the crowd. This was a huge turning point.

Along with getting publicly thrown into a fire pit and charred alive numerous times, I had also spent a couple of years devouring a ton of self-help books. I’d pick up tidbits from each one and implement them into my daily life. Little by little, my anxiety and fear began to deteriorate. Through meditations, visualizations, and writing exercises, I was at a place where I could look in the mirror and not instantly begin criticizing the person looking back. What a breakthrough!

Then there’s my podcast, Achilles’ Heel. For almost 100 episodes, guests have opened up about the darkest part of their lives. As I learned more about their perceived weakness, I realized that it wasn’t that at all. Our flaws don’t make us weak. They make us interesting. Everyone has something they think is “wrong’ with them. But what if that same flaw could actually be transmuted into strength?

Through every episode, the amazing people I interview tell me about their struggles and also their tips to live a fruitful life. A life without all their bullshit getting in the way. These conversations are engaging and enlightening, but they’re also individual lessons on how to be a better human. 

I thought a lot about where I was 10 years ago. Misguided, confused, flailing about without any real goals. Back then, I would have NEVER read a self-help book. That was the inciting incident that let me know exactly how and why I needed to flesh this out and actually write this funny self-help book.

The Anti-Self-Help Book

As I constructed the 28-day outline with my fiance, I constantly reminded myself that I was writing this for the old me. With that focus, I was able to fill the book with not only ideas and concepts to find joy, but also a fuck ton of jokes to keep the reader entertained and laughing their ass off.

I took everything I’d learned, put it in my own words, and crafted it into a format that could be enjoyed by anyone. That includes the depressed rageaholic that I used to be. It’s right on the back cover — This is not your grandmother’s self-help book.

Take a peek inside Roast Yourself To Happiness! Click here to download a FREE 16-page PDF excerpt from the workbook.

I’ve been asked hundreds of times how I got to where I am. How do I wake up every day with a smile on my face and a genuine lust for life? Why am I always in such a magnificent mood? Not only have I scribed my methods throughout this book, but I did it in a way that is simple, satisfying, and fun.

I’m living proof that even the most stubborn fucks can transform themself into a powerful being. One that is ready to absorb love and exert it limitlessly throughout the world. 

I’m so excited to unleash this funny self-help workbook into the world. I know it’s going to help change lives for the better. The only question is…

Are you ready to Roast Yourself to Happiness?

A Hard Look In the Mirror

It’s easy to assume that I’ve always been a rainbow of light smothered in positivity sauce. As I dance my way through this iteration of life, I attempt to remain dainty on my feet. I soak up as much beautiful energy as I can, absorb it through my patchy skin, and exert it limitlessly back toward others. However, this was not always the case. It was the polar opposite.

For the first 22 years of my life, I hated myself with a vigor that would be too intense for even the most evil of dictators. I refused to accept compliments, especially about my appearance. I knew that I was a disgusting garbage monster made up entirely of a skin disease that depleted me of any self-worth. Say whatever you want to me, my mind was made up. I had painted a picture of myself using puss, ooze, blood, flakes, and steaming piles of excrement, still chock-full-o-corn. It wasn’t pretty, then again, neither was I.

In the same way I love inspiring people, I used to take pride in being able to suck them down into my cruel state of existence. If someone was smiling, I would remind them that mass genocide is occurring every day. If a person was in a new relationship, I would chatter on about divorce rates. If you got a new car, I would stand on the hood and piss through the sunroof while you were taking it for a spin around the neighborhood. My happiness was derived from stealing it from those who earned it. Twisted? Yup. Detestable? Tell me again, Daddy.

I’m not proud of it, but my morality knows that honesty is the best way to atone for my previous behavior. I can’t expect you to trust me without total transparency.

When you hate yourself, no one can convince you otherwise. I had a loving family, lots of friends, a sick pair of rollerblades, I had it made! But when you find solace in a dark hole, it’s very difficult to ever climb out. Wallowing in misery, ain’t it grand?

For years I’ve been working on my attitude toward myself, others, and the world as a whole. Countless hours of reading personal development books, meditation, and positive affirmations have slowly begun to warp my brain into a place where I can experience hot, sexy, unadulterated, raw-dog love. 

Three words that come up relentlessly in my process: FEAR. SHAME. JUDGEMENT.

The funny thing about those words is that they are also often used by others as the antithesis of what I stand for. When I go on a show like America’s Got Talent, decked out in a skin-tight bodysuit, getting annihilated by the vitriolic screams of thousands of people, fear is not a word that seems to fit the situation. But trust me, inside, my blood is boiling to a temperature so hot I’m waiting for steam to pour out of my mouth like a human tea kettle.

It’s not that I’m fearless. I tell myself I am but that’s a lie and I’m smart enough to know I can’t fib to my inner-child or higher self. I don’t believe anyone is fearless unless they are a raging sociopath. I have learned how to channel my fear into positive energy through my ever-growing plethora of experiences. I know when to actually be scared, and when it’s merely a case of self-sabotage to inflict unnecessary harm. 

I allow the frightening feeling to wash over me. Come on in, invited guest! That tingling through your bloodstream, those hairs erecting toward the sky, that brick sitting in your stomach weighing you down to the floor, all of them are tools in your arsenal. If you remain confident in any situation, those feelings will mutate into emotions of comfort. When I feel the nerves racing through me, it’s because I have everything in my power to KO this experience. 

I’ve harnessed this fear for huge performances. I called upon it when I tried to slackline across a canyon 75 ft above the ground. I even needed it when I proposed to my fiance on a floating dock in Hanalei Bay, Kauai. I felt that familiar discomfort, let it run through me, and then break it down so I can remove the negativity and be left with the useful part of that energy.

You can’t lose it so you might as well use it.

Moving on to other super fun feelings that all of us love: SHAME and JUDGMENT! 

I’ve often been told that I’m shameless and that mostly stems from how I dress when I’m on TV. Realistically, as much as I love wearing insane outfits lined with sequins and furs, I partially do that to hide from my insecurities. The more ridiculous the clothing, the less people notice my skin, the more empowered I feel. Plus, it’s just more entertaining to be a colorful buffoon. 

Sometimes I still have trouble looking at myself in the mirror. I assume that never fully goes away no matter how many trips I take down Psychedelic Lane. But recently I had an experience that altered me past the point of no return. 

I was in Sedona, Arizona, decompressing in the desert only three days after my final performance on AGT. I quite the narcotic cocktail flowing its way through the roads less traveled in my head. While it weaved its way through wormholes I had never discovered, it turned down one wrong street and I realized I was about to shit my pants. Fortunately, I’ve done enough drugs to recognize that squeeze in my abdomen was more than me getting totally ripped. I excused myself and floated to the toilet.

One thing I recommend while tripping is to avoid mirrors. However you see yourself without influence will be amplified times a million, be it positive or negative. With my personal view of myself, I tend to lean towards the latter. I stumbled into the brown-tiled bathroom, shirtless, and unavoidably began to stare directly down the belly of the beast. 

“Ughhh. Look at you. You’re covered in red splotches. You have tiny scabs on your arms and legs. There are pink lines leftover from scratching in your sleep. You’re flaming harder than 1980’s San Francisco. You’re fucking gross.”

Harsh, I know. I would never talk to someone else this way so why was I OK saying it to myself? I stood there, unmoved, and kept staring. Moments went by before I spoke again, but this time I said the words out loud.

“You’re beautiful. I love you. Your skin is unique. It is your own. Others may not understand it. They may be grossed out, scared, confused, uncomfortable. But those are their feelings. I cannot allow the judgment of others to reign supremacy over how I see myself. No one can make me feel any way that I don’t want to feel.”

I said all of that. As I continued to leer at my mostly naked body, a sense of pure calm released within me. Something changed. I felt weightless. My skin became less fiery as if sheer will had caused it to release whatever negativity and sickness had been causing my eczema. It didn’t physically disappear, but that didn’t matter. After 35 years of loathing, I could finally see beyond the rash. 

Powerful doesn’t even begin to describe that emotion. It was a momentous victory over my psyche and also over the thousands of faces that had ever looked at me and wondered what the fuck was wrong with my face. I used to let them influence me, but not anymore. 

I’m in control. Repeat: No one can make me feel any way I don’t want to feel. 

And bam! Just like that, I had a new mantra as I drift through this existence. 

Did I need drugs to have that revelation? Probably not. You can’t lie to yourself while under the influence of a hallucinogen. Truth always wins so while it wasn’t necessary, the combination of that liquid and powder was the catalyst I needed.

Negative thoughts will never fully go away. Even with all the work I’ve done, I still find myself passing judgment toward others without reason. When I see a very overweight person drinking a 64-ounce milkshake, I can’t help but look at them as weak. After that moment, I try to think about their personal struggles and how I have no reason to think ill of them any more than they do when they look at me. If I can flip the script, I’ll walk away stronger. Perhaps I’m looking at a war veteran who was in a horrible firefight, lost use of their legs, and has lost some of the will they once held on to. They deserve that milkshake. And put some fucking Oreo chunks and chocolate syrup in that cup while you’re at it. This man is a hero!

You’re never going to fully erase judgment, fear, and shame, but we can certainly chip away at those words little by little. Pretend you’re a diamond mine and somewhere within you is an unlimited treasure. It’s protected by layers of mud, rock, and sludge. Every time you’re kind to yourself or others, a piece of that sediment is broken down and stripped away. One day, you’ll find that cave of diamonds and realize you can live there in perpetuity. 

And that, my friends, is how you will always shine. Jerry Springer ended every show, no matter how trashy and insane with a simple phrase: Be kind to yourself and others. It really is that simple. 

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