Born in Texas, grew up outside Atlanta. Intended on living in LA for one year but ended up staying for 6. Currently all of my earthly possessions, including a motorcycle and several TMNT action figures, are sitting inside a Torrance storage unit.

I got out of a speeding ticket in high school because my football jersey was on the passenger seat, and my dean at Dartmouth told me he’d never seen a student a with such a ‘colorful’ academic and disciplinary record graduate without having been suspended.

Spent a year teaching English in the Marshall Islands (don’t worry, no one else knows where that is, either). I can tell heartwarming, hilarious, and horrifying stories from my days with the wee little monsters. Ask me about the Carlton fart story sometime.

After that, I worked in Los Angeles bars for too long, then transitioned into food and drink writing. In fact, I’ve worked for nearly twenty employers since I was 18, and the only one that ever fired me was a Christian charity.

But according to family members, the most telling anecdote about me is this: in the police report describing my first arrest, despite my being violently sick in the back of the cop’s cruiser, the officer still wrote, “Freberg was polite and courteous throughout the process.”