I’m not sure why my parents were so eager to spend time marching up desert mountains to experience the splendor of nature. When you hike in Arizona, the nature you see is mostly dirt, spindly bushes, and cacti. (The plural of “cactus” is “cacti” because the word is Latin. Romans didn’t settle Arizona, but apparently we wish they had.)
The spiny bushes around here are Salsola tragus (tumbleweed), but the plant’s first name was Russian thistle. This is because immigrants accidentally brought the seeds with them from Russia, and tumbleweed very quickly blew across the US (pun intended) and took over. Sort of like an alien invasion but with annoying weeds.
So really, who won the Cold War?
People have misconceptions about tumbleweeds, and I think cartoons and old Western movies are to blame. Tumbleweeds are not some Lone Ranger plants that appear in ghost towns and roll across the frame when the mood is right. Tumbleweeds are pack animals. A tumbleweed will spend its life being alive and not contributing anything to society. When it eventually dies, it waits. It waits for the wind to pick up; and once the wind blows hard enough, every tumbleweed in the entire state starts its migration.
There were so many tumbleweeds where I grew up that if one blew across the street while we were driving, we always tried to run over it.
Every December, the city gathered up a thousand or so of them and built a giant, twenty-five-foot-tall Christmas tree. Sure, it might have been a fire hazard to put electric lights on the driest, most flammable plant around, but I always thought the tumbleweed Christmas tree looked pretty. Just not pretty enough to take any pictures, so here’s one from the city.
City of Chandler, Arizona
Luckily there was never a huge gust of wind during Christmas because that probably would’ve been the end of Tummy the tumbleweed Christmas tree.
But enough about tumbleweeds, let’s talk cacti.
This is a Cylindropuntia fulgida, also called a jumping cholla because if you get too close, the plant will hurl a stickery ball of pain at you.
These guys are infamous for sticking to any part of your unprotected skin. Look up this plant on YouTube and you won’t find educational videos. You’ll just see ones of people trying to pull these things off various body parts.
Jumping chollas are pretty much nature’s way of saying, “I hate you and your entire species.”
This is a teddy bear cholla, which was named by someone who apparently had never seen a teddy bear. Those were some lonely frontiersmen.
This is a prickly pear cactus. Half of the name is right. Who saw one of these and thought: “Hey, look at those pears!”
Fun fact: You can actually eat these cacti—after you scrape off the prickles, of course. Personally, I’ve never been that hungry.
And as you probably know, Arizona is famous for the saguaro cactus, which looks a little like a tree that is constantly surrendering.
And will sometimes make threatening gestures at you.
By the way, a lot of people have a serious misconception about cacti. They’ve been told that cacti store water inside their trunks, so they think if you cut a cactus open, it will be filled with juice like a coconut. Trees also store water inside their trunks, but when you cut into them, you don’t find any juicy parts. You find wood. And that’s pretty close to what you’ll find in a saguaro.
Chop down a saguaro and see for yourself. Just kidding—vandalizing saguaro on state land is an actual crime in Arizona, so don’t do that.
Since cacti pretty much advertise the fact that if you get close, they’ll hurt you, you wouldn’t think that people would plant cacti around their houses, but they do. It’s sort of the ultimate way of telling kids to keep out of their yards.
Some people want to make their homes look like a place where cattle have died.
Planting a saguaro in your yard is also a huge commitment because they can live to be 175 years old. So you better have some grandkids who will make sure not to water them. (They’re desert plants. You don’t have to water them.)
When I was little and out on walks with my mom, she would point out cacti we passed in the neighborhood and say, “Never touch those or you’ll get stickers in your skin and it will hurt a lot.”
I internalized that lesson pretty well.
Then I went to preschool and the teachers told me that if I was good, they would give me a sticker.
That’s why I always misbehaved in class.
When a YouTuber friend of mine—we’ll call him Kirby (name has been changed to protect friendship)—came to visit Arizona, Adam, from SomeThingElseYT, and I decided we should take him on a hike—you know, so he could see all our dirt, spindly bushes, and cacti. We drove to Camelback Mountain (named for an apparently really lumpy camel).
I remembered going on this hike as a kid and being able to complete it, so I thought the three of us would have no trouble. But my memory lied to me, because the hike was in the “for experts only” category. At one point, a railing is installed along the trail to help people climb up a massively steep part. I’m still not sure how I feel about hiking with a railing. It’s sort of like the park rangers are telling us, “Yeah, we know you’re wimps. Here’s a railing so you don’t trip over the flip-flops you’re probably wearing, wuss.”
So I tried not to use the railing because I’m tough and don’t need anyone’s help.
It’s 1.23 miles to the summit, and after Adam, Kirby, and I got past the first steep point, Kirby was really tired and didn’t want to go the other 1.21 miles. And that’s when I realized that we shouldn’t have taken an internet friend who sits behind a computer all day on a strenuous hike.
Months later, two other YouTuber friends, named Mario and Luigi (names have been changed to give them cooler names), visited Arizona, and we decided to give Camelback Mountain another shot.
Mario and Luigi made it to the exact same spot Kirby did before they wanted to turn back.
After Mario and Luigi left, Adam and I decided that we would hike the mountain ourselves. We had driven to the mountain twice and both times never made it anywhere near the top. I mean, 1.23 miles. Pshh. Easy.
When we reached the first steep part of the trail, where we’d turned back the other two times, a kid in a group ahead of us dropped his water bottle and it rolled toward me.
Usually when people recognize me, I don’t have to worry about making awkward small talk for long because we are both on our way somewhere else. This time we were both on our way to the same place, the top of a mountain. And that’s how I was joined by a preteen hiking companion, along with his mom, who didn’t know why her son liked me so much.
Frequently when I meet fans, they ask me if I’ll mention their names in a video. I never do, because listing people’s names in videos would be boring. Well, this kid also asked me to mention his name, but I don’t remember it anymore, so I can’t. Sorry about that, EthanGrantJohnBryceMicahDavidAveryJacobSolDerekTroyBrandon or whatever your name was.
As we hiked, I began to remember one very important thing: Like Kirby, Mario, and Luigi, I also sat behind my computer all day. Most of my exercise came in the form of walking to the kitchen for some mac ’n’ cheese or wandering around my house looking for things I’d misplaced. But now I couldn’t turn back because I was hiking with a fan. I didn’t want him to remember me as TheOdd1sOut, that loser who couldn’t make it all the way up Camelback Mountain.
This was my third time driving to this mountain and I wanted to finish this hike once and for all. I’m proud to say that I made it up all the way with (insert name here) . However, toward the end I did have to ask the group to stop and rest every ten steps. (That is not an exaggeration. I was really struggling.) So now that unnamed fan will just remember me as TheOdd1sOut, that guy who wheezed way too much while hiking up Camelback Mountain and then didn’t even remember his name.
But the point is, I was out there
willingly appreciating nature by hiking around. Which means that eventually, we all turn into our parents whether we like it or not. Pretty soon I’ll also be eating healthy food, talking about the benefits of a good night’s sleep, and making chore charts. Sometimes even now when I think about my future kids, I already imagine myself telling them to go outside and play.
Chapter 4
A Chapter for Everyone
When I’m out at conventions or, you know, when I’m at the grocery store buying mac ’n’ cheese, I meet lots of special people. I wanted to do a chapter just for them.
Section four people who don’t under stand homophones
If ewe due naught no watt a homophone is, eye well X plane. Homophones R words, that win herd, sound the same, butt R naught spelt the same and mien differ rent things. Watt eye yam saying hear is that the English language ran out of words and had two reuse a phew. If some one is reading this too ewe rite now than it mite seam grate, butt just no that the purse son who reeds this is half-ing a reel pane full thyme.
If ewe half know clew how two spell some thing and you’re teacher tells ewe two spell it buy “sounding it out,” ask hymn ab out home a phones, cause if the “sound ding it out” method was a hole lot moor ack U rate oar bet her than guess sing, wood home F owns X cyst? Ewe sea, hoe Moe phones own Lee X cyst sew you’re tea chair has a ree sun too mark down you’re pay purse. All so sew ewe sound like ewe half Ben drink king when ewe send text mess ages you sing voice two text.
Two bee fare, English spell ling never maid much scents too beg in with.
The rest of the world might not know this, but people in Australia do things a little differently, like calling Burger King Hungry Jack’s or calling everyone “mate.” I’ve been to Australia three times, which practically makes me an expert. If asked, I can almost always identify if something is a kangaroo or a koala. So I thought I’d dedicate this section to my fans Down Under.
For those of you who aren’t experts on Australia, here is a short history lesson. Back in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the British wanted to get rid of their prisoners, so they thought out of the box, or out of the continent in this case, and they decided to put their horse thieves and pickpockets on a boat and send them to an island full of spiders. That’s what you call a less-than-auspicious beginning.
Here’s a little-known fact: England did this same thing when first sending settlers to America. Jamestown—which was named after me—had such a high death rate that people didn’t want to make the trip across the pond to live there. One judge told some convicted criminals that they could swing from a noose or go to Jamestown. I believe they chose the noose.
However, this doesn’t mean that all the people in America and Australia will rob you blind if you step on the continent. It just means that their ancestors would have. Australians are actually very nice people who have cool accents and great ideas about how to barbecue shrimp. And they also have some less-than-great ideas, like eating Vegemite, which is the key ingredient of asphalt. They have something called fairy bread, which is untoasted bread topped with butter and sprinkles. I’m sorry, Australia, but putting sprinkles on bread does not make it a dessert. However, sprinkles do make for good subscriber-milestone markers, so carry on with that.
Sectoin for dyslexics
Frist of all, is it raelly a good idae to haev a “y” in the wrod “dyslexia”? Haevn’t we alraedy estalbished that if yuo’re dyslexic yuo’re not a good speeller? So wheover decidded to throw that “y” into the wrod just maed it hardre for dyslexics to find uot infromation abuot thier own conditoin. Theey’re all triyng to saerch for help with dissleckseah.
Anwyay, wehn I say this is a sectoin for dyslexics, waht I raelly maen is it’s a sectoin so that eveyrone esle can see how it flees to be dyslexic.
Weclome to the wrold of speelling that maeks no eathrly snese and you feal like an idoit durring evrey speelling test. Atcually, you feel like an idoit a lot of the tiem, becuaes dyslexia acffets all yuor shcoolwrok. You ecpext us to raed the pagraraph of derictions on that math werksheot? Naw. Wee’re just gonna geuss waht the taecher wants us to do. Soem of the tiem we’ll be rihgt.
Section for people who have a virus
Section for people with really bad eyesight
Is this better? Can you read this without your glasses? You’re welcome.
Section for people with really good eyesight
If you are one of the lucky people with good eyesight, pat yourself on the back and enjoy seeing all the minutiae in life, like hair follicles, the edges of leaves, and this writing. I bet you can see every word on an eye chart, can’t you? You’re like a hawk. Can you imagine if you were one of those pathetic people who had to wear glasses all the time? Fortunately for you, you’ve been blessed with an amazing pair of eyes and don’t have to worry about any old people snooping in this conversation.
Section for people with REALLY bad eyesight
HOW DID YOU GET THIS FAR?
Section for people who are color-blind
Section for lawyers
The contents of this section are not under any oath to make you laugh. However, in the event there is any laughter, the results and proceeds of such laughter shall belong to me.
You cannot unread this section. Therefore, upon completion of this section (if ever), you may be required to sign a release indemnifying me and holding me harmless from and against any residual effects of your reading this section, including, without limitation, nausea, diarrhea, or plain disgust.
Any markings you make on the page of this section are property of TheOdd1sOut LLC. Notwithstanding the foregoing, if your markups lack artistic integrity (i.e., they stink), I will have the right to assign any such markings to any third party without any further obligation to you, either express or implied.
If we ever make a theme park based on this section, we own the rights to it. (That is an actual thing that’s in my contracts.)
“Force majeure.” “Droit moral.” “Further instruments.” Those are some crazy legal words. Go look them up.
The foregoing constitutes the complete understanding between you and TheOdd1sOut LLC, and it may not be supplemented or amended unless in writing and signed by all parties hereto.
To the extent there is any inconsistency between the terms of this section and the terms of any other section, the terms of one of the sections shall control.
If you hated this section, you waive all rights against me.
Sign here.
P.S. We own all your money.
And if you don’t fall into any of the previous categories, here’s a section just for you
You didn’t think you’d get a section, but you did. This is your section. You’re special. (I never said it would be a long section.)
Chapter 5
Dog Training
During the 2004 presidential election between George W. Bush and John Kerry, my family bought a West Highland terrier puppy. The puppy was born on election day so we decided to name her after the winner. The new leader of our nation was going to make history by sharing a name with the best dog in the world. And that’s why we named her Bushy. Just kidding. We named her Georgie.
Georgie was supposed to be a Christmas present for the family, but the breeder insisted that we pick up the dog earlier, so what we really got for Christmas was a cute puppy that peed on our Christmas tree and riddled our gifts with teeth marks.
The breeder told us that dogs like sleeping in kennels, but Georgie didn’t. She saw her kennel as puppy jail and wouldn’t set a paw in it. She wanted to sleep on our beds at night. She wasn’t potty-trained, so this meant we had to either listen to her whine in the kennel or let her sleep with us and keep taking her outside during the night to go to the bathroom.
Or, third option, I just slept in a slightly damp bed. Hey, I’d done it for eight years.
My parents were determined that Georgie was go
ing to be the obedient sort of dog who knew how to sit, stay, heel, and tell us if someone fell down a well and needed help. Sure, I’ve never seen an active well in my entire life, but it’s never a bad idea to be extra cautious.
We enrolled Georgie in classes at our local PetSmart. I had hoped it would be like real school where all the dogs sat behind desks, a dog teacher would ask the class to turn in their assignments, and the dogs would say that their humans ate their homework.
But it turned out this wasn’t a place where you dropped your pet off, picked her up an hour later, and she would be smarter. Dog school had only one thing in common with regular school, and that was: I was going to have to put in some effort.
My twin sister, Faith, my mom, and I went to the classes with Georgie to learn how to train her into a wonder dog. Little did we know that Westies are notorious for being difficult to train. But hey, there’s no instruction manual for raising a dog, so how were we supposed to know that? Actually there are hundreds. That’s how I learned that Westies are difficult to train.
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