…I once witnessed a food director lose his shit over a doily.

…I heard David Hasselhoff complain after a director called for a five-minute break, “Five minutes?! Get it together guys. I could’ve shot five episodes of Baywatch in five minutes!”

…I watched my writing partner pass a kidney stone during a casting session filled with breakdancers and stunt men. Turns out it was about the size of a TicTac®.

…Samsung sent out a press release for the exploding Galaxy Note the night our spot was supposed to have shipped. Ironically, the spot featured a Hollywood explosion.

…I once saw my writing partner go on a 20-minute rant about the importance of Strunk & White’s Elements of Style and I agreed with every word.

…I started my career as a Jr. Art Director in a large, high-rise office with enormous windows overlooking the bay. Despite steady promotions, an award-winning portfolio and growing experience, I now sit at a desk in what looks like a call center.

…I married my creative partner. Happily.

…I gushed about how great Emmitt Smith was as a football player. To Emmitt Smith.

…I launched a campaign with a talented actress named Milana Vayntrub. The art department decided she should be named Lily.

…I’ve confused people by introducing my creative partner as just, “my partner.”

…I attended a callbacks session where our actors didn’t have any lines, so our directors decided that they should dance instead. You can tell a lot about a person’s acting ability by how they dance.

…I try to pick out who’s who when staying at The Viceroy–the art director, the copywriter, the producer and sometimes, the client.

…I’ve learned that brainstorming leads to mediocrity.

…I was rear-ended at high speed on I-5 while driving the company car–an expensive company car. The kind with steering wheel heating and cooling.

…I’ve had an intense argument over a syrup pour.

…I’ve created self-regenerating, bionic pancakes.

…I’ve had spots killed during every phase of production including 50,000 feet over Somewhere, America on the way to callbacks.

…I spent Valentine’s Day weekend alone in San Francisco when my future wife’s production was cancelled just before getting on a plane to meet me.

…I’ve seen the inner-workings of a Hot Pockets’ factory.

…I left a cameraman on top of a 150-foot tower overlooking an orange grove overnight in order to shoot a time-lapse of the sunset and sunrise. The camera malfunctioned.

…I discovered that making art and making ads is roughly the same process, but in the latter, someone else sets the parameters.

…I’ve missed my kids’ first steps. All four of them.

…I have spent enough time in New York and LA that I feel as though I’ve lived in both places. On an expense account.

…I realized that Cannes is basically the Panama City of Europe.

…I’ve learned that mistaken identity can lead to a complimentary Audi R8 for a day on the Autobahn. The fields were indeed alive with the sound of music.

…My name was used in a Delta in-flight ad. I’m still getting texts, snaps, posts and emails about it.

…I’ve read the diaries of hundreds of Peace Corps volunteers.

…I stayed down the hall from Ween. They’re kind of like Pig Pen except they are followed around by a cloud of pot smoke.

…I participated in an internationally-represented conga line at the top of the World Trade Center the night of the Clio Awards.

…I’ve seen the inside of some of NYC’s famous nightclubs. During the day. Eeew.

…I sat at the Soho Grand bar with Monica Lewinsky.

…I shut down the entrance to Central Park for a photo shoot.

…I’ve seen it snow in southern California. Multiple times.

…I’ve spent 16 hours in a radio session.

…Had my taxi break down a half a mile from LaGuardia.

…I’ve flown with a full leg cast.

…I’ve witnessed the eating habits of turkey buzzards. Such scavengers that they will eat each other’s vomit.

…I’ve carried home a photographer after he was roofied at a Russian vodka bar. We were kicked out of a cab, pirouetted into trash bags full of fish guts and trudged the 5-story walkup to his China Town apartment.