Charlie D. Weisman was a bad kid. His teachers didn’t like him, and the other kids thought he smelled bad. In fact, the “D” in his name was often presumed to stand for “disappointment” or “disgusting”. To make matters worse, there was little hope that this disgusting disappointment would ever amount to anything. Little, but not none.

In a desperate attempt to scrape together social equity, Charlie became an engineer. He climbed the nerd-ladder, eventually securing a role in the research and development department of a wearable breast pump company. “I was at the cutting edge of boob-technology,” he once said. “I should have been at the top of the world, and yet I felt unfulfilled.”

He decided then and there to quit his job and travel the world while living in his car. He went far and wide, telling tales to all who would listen. Upon realizing nobody wanted to listen to his stories, he decided to write them down. And so it was that Charlie D. Weisman became an author.