Growing up,
Tina’s childhood was like a cosmic sitcom nobody green-lit.
Dad roared in on a Harley, blasting "Highway to Hell", party rocking and chain-smoking like a chimney, while grinning like the eternal class clown who kept getting detention—in jail.
Mom countered with Sunday mass marathons, starched dresses, , and a holy-water sprinkler that could douse a bonfire.
Their “how we met” story? Opposites attract, clearly—but it turns out they had one thing in common...cookies. Vanilla wafers, to be exact. Yup, that's right! This mutual delight ignited in the cookie aisle.
Caught in the crossfire
of leather jackets and rosary beads, Tina spent years playing Switzerland—until her junior year of high school, when she'd had enough of her pesky peers' bullying, and swerved straight into Dad’s “screw it” lane. She ditched the rulebook, started owning her weird, and spent the next decade trying to figure herself out.
👈🏼 Why yes, yes that is a bud light in my hand
Fast-forward:
- By age 28, she was an impressive partier who could keep up with the best of 'em.
- Age 30, professional drinker (could mix a martini in her sleep).
- Age 32, hot-mess express in full denial.
- Age 33, white-flag moment—she checked herself into rehab, kickstarting the world’s messiest relay race: relapse, recovery, therapy, repeat. Somewhere between the breakdowns and breakthroughs, she rewired her entire operating system.
Spoiler: the real magic was always the words, not the whiskey.
She’d often whip up custom poems for loved ones like a custom gift-wrap service, ranging from hilarious roasts to gooey heart-tuggers. In fact, her debut book, Give it Your Best Kid, started as a poem for her unborn nephews (because nothing says “welcome to the world” like a sonnet).
One stanza led to another, and suddenly she had a full-blown non-fiction children’s book in verse that’s equal parts Dr. Seuss and life coach. Who knew encouragement could rhyme so well?