Cody Wagner's Blog, page 5

Growing Up Gay in a Small Town

The main character in my upcoming book and I share several similarities. Most of them have to deal with personality. However, I carried over one “physical” trait I felt was important: we are both from tiny towns.

I was born and raised in a small town called Pampa. In many ways, it was a huge blessing. Everyone knew each other, which created a sense of family. It was also really safe. Mom was one of those people who threw us out at dawn saying, “Don’t come back ’til lunch.” We’d explore the parks, search water meters for snakes (really), wander random stores, etc… And Mom never had to worry about us getting abducted.

On the flipside, being gay in Pampa was not easy.

I realized I was gay when I was about twelve. At the time, I didn’t know exactly what it meant. But something in my brain knew it was a big deal. I first wrote the words on paper in seventh grade and just stared at them for hours. The good news is I was out to myself for a loooong time. The bad news is there wasn’t a chance of my coming out in Pampa.

Why? Well, growing up gay in a small town presented a unique set of challenges.

1. The “gay thing” was swept under the rug.

You’d think that, growing up in the Bible Belt, I’d heard the “gays are sinners” speech over and over.

Nope.

The gay thing was almost never discussed. We definitely got the sense being gay was considered evil, but it wasn’t an overt thing. I think people believed if they didn’t acknowledge something, it didn’t exist. And, because the gay topic never came up, no gays existed in Pampa. That’s some math transitive property stuff there, folks!

Here’s the thing. When I lived in Dallas, I rarely knew my neighbors. The city was big enough where I kept myself extremely busy. And I only congregated with the people I wanted to. Screw everybody else. That concept is different in small towns. Like it or not, you knew your neighbors. And their neighbors. Being the outcast amidst this circle of familiarity was really difficult. People could be amazing to each other, but they could also be very judgmental. As a result, people didn’t discuss things considered “different”.

Growing up, I was asked only once if I was gay. One time in eighteen years. Now I’m pretty manly (cough cough) but I don’t think I’m that manly. People may have whispered or talked behind other peoples’ backs, but it wasn’t discussed in public.

There were no gay organizations AT ALL. No clubs, bars, outreach programs, phone numbers. Nothing.

2. The loneliness was palpable.

They say 5-10% of the population is gay and that number feels right. However, I believe the percentage is much lower in small towns. Why? Well, what’s the first thing most gay people do when they get old enough? They move to the big city where they can meet more of their own kind. The second I graduated, I went straight to Amarillo. Then, upon graduating college, I hauled my butt to Dallas.

I’d say the dispersion of gays is different depending on the location. For example, Dallas may be like 12-15% gay. If Pampa was any more than 2% gay, I’d be shocked. And most of that 2% were students (what with all the adults fleeing for the big cities). That meant there were no grownups to provide support or form organizations or anything.

The result? I seriously thought I was the only gay person for years. Nothing is harder on the psyche than feeling like you’re all alone. I was an island unto myself for years. I had no one to talk to, no one to confide in, no one to tell me “You’re not evil and deserve to be loved.” Everything remained bottled up inside. It’s hard having to hide what is one of the most defining things about you.

3. When the “gay thing” was finally acknowledged, it was a BIG freaking deal.

During my sophomore year of high school, a kid named Raymond moved to town from Houston. He was extremely effeminate, prancing all over the place. He proudly announced his love of knitting.

Now, I’m not one to succumb to stereotypes, but it was VERY obvious he was gay. So what did the town do? They swept it right under the rug. There was no tangible proof of his sexuality. No proof equals no gay, remember?

Until someone found his “Hot Guys in School” list.

The news spread through Pampa High in milliseconds. My stomach ached the second I heard about it. I curled up my desk and stared off at nothing, imagining myself getting outed. The thought was terrifying. At that point, the gay thing couldn’t be ignored anymore. It existed and there was real proof.

Retaliation was swift and it was brutal.

One of the guys on Raymond’s list jumped him after school. His eye was messed up the next day. He got jumped again that day. And the next. A fight actually broke out in the halls between classes. I heard some teachers didn’t stop it.

The bullying was so savage, Raymond dropped out of school. He worked at Wal-Mart for a few weeks. I heard he moved back to Houston shortly after that. As for me, I constructed an electric fence around my little island. Loneliness squared.

4. There’s a true lack of exposure.

Mom came home from the grocery store one day, her eyes all bugged out. When I asked her about it, she said, “One of the boys working at Albertson’s was wearing eye shadow. Eye shadow!” It was a big deal!

Stepping outside a certain norm rarely happened. I think the familial nature of small towns caused that. The fact everyone and their dog knew about your eye shadow the second the automatic doors slid open made the exposure too much to deal with. It’s one thing dealing with a small little fraction of a city. It’s another feeling the entire world is watching you.

Therefore, we didn’t see as many worldly things. That caused the whole “feeling along” thing to escalate. Have you noticed that all these points feed into each other? It was like a vicious circle.

5. People really fear what they don’t know.

I think this one is pretty self-explanatory. If not, let me just share a verse of Beauty and the Beast with you (did I just out myself saying that?):

We don’t like

What we don’t understand

In fact it scares us

And this monster is mysterious at least

Bring your guns

Bring your knives

Save your children and your wives

We’ll save our village and our lives

We’ll kill the Beast!

In this day and age, when everyone is talking about the gay thing, I think some of these points may have changed. Either way, it’s still harder to be a gay kid in a small town. So if you know someone, be kind. He may blog about you one day.

The post Growing Up Gay in a Small Town appeared first on Wagner Writer.

And now the world gets to hear me sing. EEK!

This past weekend, I attended the wedding of an awesome friend. A couple weeks ago, he asked me to sing for everyone during the ceremony. Normally, I get super duper nervous singing, and it totally affects my having a good time. Therefore, I tend to shy away from it. But I’ve been performing enough lately where it wasn’t as big a deal.

Coincidentally, tons of people have been asking to hear me sing.

And now you get that chance! DUN DUN DUNNNNNNN!

I’ve posted a couple other singing vidoes, but I HATE them. Like I want to put them in a car and push that car into a raging river. The sound quality in them is terrible and I don’t think they represent my voice very well. But this one is different, I think. I’m pretty proud of it. It most accurately captures the way I really sound (at least I think it does).

So without further ado, here I am singing one of my favorite old songs:

Click here to view it on YouTube.

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In Fifth Grade, I Killed My Best Friend

One of my fellow writers recently posted a video about how some authors will kill you off in a book if you piss them off in real life. Say, for example, an acquaintance named Jennifer throws you under the bus at work. How to you enact the ultimate passive aggressive revenge? You create a character in your novel named Jenny then have her die a horrible death.

The second I watched the video, I stared at the screen in a trance. See, I’d already done that years ago when I was a kid. Back before I’d even thought about being a writer. And I learned that you never kill a friend/acquaintance off in a book. Since the Halloween season is approaching, I think it’s the right time to finally share this story.

Back in elementary school, I was best friends with a kid named John. At the time, I was going through a really snarky phase. I constantly made fun of John but swore everything was done in “good fun”.

One day, a month or so before Halloween, he’d had enough and snapped, “I’m not playing with you anymore until you stop.”

How did I respond? Well, I crossed my arms and said, “You’re just a big baby. Like your Cabbage Patch doll.”

True to his word, he stopped hanging out with me. From that moment on, we were sworn enemies. Just as the Cody and John wars were escalating – with us both trying to get the rest of the class on each of our respective sides – our teacher gave us a Halloween assignment:

Write the scariest story you can imagine.

Talk about perfect timing! I sat down and vowed to write the most horrific story ever! And I would do that by subjecting John to the worst death possible: impaling him on two-feet-long ghost vampire zombie bat fangs!

Gruesome! I just knew I’d win the prize. Talk about killing two birds with one stone.

Then about a week before the contest, two things happened that changed the course of my story:

1. We found out we had to read aloud to the rest of the class. Glorious! Everyone would see how much I hated John. And they’d be terrified at his death. It was perfect! I even made some revisions to heighten the gore.

2. A mutual friend of ours came up and said, “I read some of John’s story and he’s killing you.”

So John was going to try to beat me at my own game??? Oh man, I was furious! The second I got home that night, I rewrote half my story. Killing John off wasn’t good enough, anymore, so I tortured his character throughout the entire thing. Given I was in fifth grade, my tortures weren’t of the usual “rip off his toenails” variety. No, I had zombies eat half his brain. And they ate the smart half, which made him really really stupid in class. Then werewolves tore off his running muscles so he was even “slower than the girls” during P.E. By the time the contest day rolled around, I had 8 pages of John torture I was sure would one-up anything he could do. When Mrs. Burton called on volunteers that morning, my hand naturally shot in the air.

Unfortunately, so did John’s.

“John, why don’t you go first,” she said.

I sat back, fuming. He’d won that round. But I refused to show it. As John went to the front of the class, I sneered at him. My glare was supposed to say, “Do your worst.”

And he did.

His story had me being captured. Then Story Cody became a zombie and terrorized everyone. He was pretty vicious.

But then something unexpected happened. During the climax of the story, John had Story Cody snap out his zombie self. Apparently, Story Cody was the only person who had ever fought off the zombie curse. Knowing what it was like to be a zombie, Story Cody immediately knew their weaknesses. Grabbing a gun, he began shooting the zombies down. When the last zombie was gone, the school rejoiced. Story Cody was even raised on everyone’s shoulders during a parade.

My face burned as John finished and sat down. He had done the unthinkable: he’d turned me into the hero. My entire body trembled with embarrassment as Mrs. Burton said, “Since you were so excited, Cody, why don’t you go next?”

I freaked. John’s story had flipped everything on its head. How could I throw him under the bus when he’d just made me the coolest hero ever?

My pages shook as I sat on a stool at the front and flattened my pants. I pretended the stool was lopsided and wobbled on it a few times, stalling for an idea. A few students cleared their throats loudly.

“You may begin,” said Mrs. Burton.

Helpless, I began reading. I read about John being tortured. I read about his running muscles being torn out. I read about him getting beaten in races by all the girls.

I reached the end in what felt like 5 seconds. I was sure an idea would hit but the time whisked by and I had nothing. John needed saving, but my mind was a blank. Desperate, I turned the last page over, somehow expecting words to miraculously appear. Nothing.

I stared at the class, turning pages over and over, pretending I had more story. Thirty seconds turned into a minute. I kept turning my eight pages. One kid flapped his ears. My twin sister hissed, “Sit.”

That’s when the mouth diarrhea hit. Ignoring everyone, I began talking. I talked about how John became like a lizard and his running muscles began regenerating. And how his brain also regenerated to twice its normal size (making him like a brilliant Grinch). I talked and talked and talked. My brain refused to shut me up. Like the battery robot, I kept going and going. The class looked at me like this:

A paper airplane hit my arm and the class erupted into laughter. I kept talking right through it. Mrs. Burton didn’t even gripe at the class. Instead, she came over, gripped my arm, and said, “OK, Cody. Your time is up.”

The class exploded. Someone started counting seconds out loud. I pulled away and ran to my desk. The seat was cold as I sat and placed my head on the desk. A girl pretended to snore in front of me. I closed my eyes.

“Cool story.”

The voice was familiar. I sat up and looked to my left.

It was John.

I smiled and said, “Yeah, well… yours was cool, too.”

Just like that, we were best friends again. And I learned my lesson that killing friends off in your book is often worse than killing them in real life.

OK not really. But I wanted the moral to sound really grandiose.

The post In Fifth Grade, I Killed My Best Friend appeared first on Wagner Writer.

Save the Date – Book Launch Announcement

We have a date!!

I know I’ve been talking about it for two years. And I’ve been the biggest tease ever. At one point, I guaranteed the book would be out in 2014. Yeah…that didn’t happen. But I think the book is better off for it. Over the past year, I’ve been able to work with writers groups and an editor to refine my book to the point I’m super mega proud of it.

So proud that I’m ready to release it into the wild to fend for itself. Aaaaand I have a release date.

For reals. My book will be released on:

October 27, 2015

DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNNN!!!!!

The reason for that launch date will be announced soon. And I think it’s pretty darned exciting. I also have some exciting news coming up regarding my book launch and stuff.

So stay tuned.

Oh, and in case you’re still here, this is the front cover of my book:

I can’t tell you how excited I am about this! My artistic friends Ben Gill and Brett Dougall worked really hard to make this cover a reality. So buy them Thai food immediately. Thanks!

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The most bizarre back to school gift in the history of the universe

From ages 6-18, my twin and I visited our grandmother in Tucson almost every summer. Grammy had a neighbor we’ll call Schmimmy. He was an elementary school teacher who lived next door for years. I don’t remember much about him, other than this little gem of a memory (a gemory!) I’d like to share as a “back to school” treat:

The only time I visited Grammy alone was shortly after my 18th birthday. I’d just graduated high school and went to see her before venturing off to college. During one of my last days in Tucson, Schmimmy came over carrying a package.

Naturally, I thought it was something for Grammy (as I didn’t know him very well) but he immediately said, “I got something for your graduation, Cody.”

I’m sure I gave him the side eye for a second as I thought, Is he stalking me? But Grammy bragged about me every chance she got. She had probably been talking about my high school graduation since I was four months old.

Anyway, I didn’t question it because, you know, I had a present! I’m pretty sure I stuck out my arms and said, “Gimme gimme gimme!”

Before I could open it, though, he held up a hand. “There’s a story behind this present.”

I pulled away, like a kid who’d been told he couldn’t celebrate Christmas until “Mom does 8 more readings from the Bible.”

But I politely sat back as he began:

“College students are a bunch of thieves!” he said. “And by college students, I mean your roommates. When you finally live with friends, you all will have one thing in common: you’ll be broke as hell. And you’ll be in each other’s space constantly.”

He paused to give me his most serious look. “I learned the hard way that roommates will take your clothes, your towels, your music. Anything. And most people don’t label their stuff, so it gets impossible to tell what belongs to whom.”

I nodded along as he lifted the gift and continued, “So I started labeling my stuff. That way, if there was ever a dispute, I could prove things were mine.” He held out the package. “That’s what I’ve done for you.”

I grabbed the package and smiled, thinking it held monogrammed towels. That would have been cool! I was from a poor redneck town and thought Laverne and Shirley’s monogrammed towels were the most amazing thing ever. (SIDENOTE: I now realize their towels should have been “Hers and Hers”. BAZINGA!!)

With all that in mind, I tore into the package. Then I sat back, confused.

Tighty whiteys.

He had given me a bag of tighty whiteys. They weren’t even wrapped. Just a bunch of pairs of underwear in a bag.

I looked at Schmimmy waiting for the punch line. There wasn’t one. His face was so excited.

“See, everyone needs underwear.” He said. “And mine always turned up missing.”

I couldn’t respond.

“So that no one takes your underwear without permission,” he said, “I labelled them for you.”

Curious, I grabbed a pair of underwear and held them up:

A giant iron-on scorpion was right on the crotch.

A. GIANT. SCORPION.

I’d been given scorpion undies.

Why Scorpion Undies Are So Wrong

1. First off, tighty whiteys??? That’s the underwear you stop wearing when you turn twelve. I’m pretty sure a Bar Mitzvah ritual is taking all your tighty whiteys and burning them in a kosher pit. It’s like right after the chair dance thingy. OK I’m not Jewish, so I don’t know where that came from.

2. Who takes the time to put iron-ons on tighty whiteys???

3. And who chooses scorpions? I can’t help but think it was supposed to be an innuendo. Like I needed to say, “the stinger is in here, people” as I pointed at my crotch.

4. Why would a teacher (I barely knew) give this as a gift? Is that how people flirted back in the day? Was I just totally oblivious? Were people in the 90s giving out Valentine scorpion undies?

5. What kind of freaky-ass roommate steals your underwear?? I did the whole college thing for years. And, to some extent, Schmimmy was right: my roommates and I constantly took things from each other. But never underwear. Ever.

The Aftermath

OK now that I’ve made fun of the scorpion undies, it’s time to come clean:

I actually wore them.

DON’T JUDGE!! I’m sure everyone can relate to this rationale:

We were dirt poor in college (as I’m sure most students are). And, like most poor college students, we didn’t have a washer/dryer. Let me tell you something, people: doing laundry at a laundromat SUCKS (who’s nodding along with me here?). Oh man it sucks. It’s like a waste of an entire day. Consequently, I would cycle through my clothes over and over. I remember smelling pairs of socks in the back of my closet, hoping some were less stinky than others so I could wear them one last time (that would inadvertently turn into 2-3 more times).

And therein came the undies. When I was down to absolutely zero clean undies, I admit I’d whip out the scorpion.

OH MY GOD. That didn’t sound right. LOL! I mean I’d whip out the undies and put them on. SHEESH!

See! I had a good excuse to wear them!

The End! Seriously, we’re not talking about this anymore.

Go away!

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A Peek into my Novel, Part One: Check Out Its Butt!

Last week, you got to read the oh-so-exciting post about my book title. Yep, just the book title. Honestly, I bored myself writing it, so I’m surprised anyone viewed it. But thanks so much to those of you who did! And if that post became your replacement for Ambien… You’re welcome.

OK honestly, I had fun writing that post. And the swan meme is glorious!

Anyway, this week, I’m giving you a more sultry glimpse at my book: its ass.

That’s right, you get to see the back cover illustration.

How many of you are disappointed right now that you don’t get to view a real hiney? I know I am.

But for those of you who aren’t, here’s some info on the back cover:

My illustrator and I wanted to highlight a really important scene. After chatting, the choice became obvious. See, the main character comes out of the closet (oh yeah, for those of you who couldn’t infer from the title – The Gay Teen’s Guide to Defeating a Siren – the main character is a gay teen) and gets sent off to a CRAZY pray-away-the-gay school.

That school is the setting for 90% of the book, so we wanted to feature it.

Furthermore, there’s a scene in the book where the main character arrives at campus and sees it through a big wrought iron sign. In that moment, he’s like “Oh man, what am I in for?” It’s a really foreboding image.

That’s what we chose. My illustrator was kind enough to do a cool little drawing that will go on the back cover. And you get a first peek!

The sketch isn’t done quite yet. You’ll be able to see buildings through the entrance when it’s finished. But this is a first look at the campus.

More to come! And also, this is private, so:

UPDATE!!!!

Since this post was released, my illustrator has finished the back cover. And I think it looks so good! What do you think?

The post A Peek into my Novel, Part One: Check Out Its Butt! appeared first on Wagner Writer.

Yes, I wrote an entire post about a book title.

It’s been over two years of blood, sweat and tears, but I’m thrilled to finally announce the launch of my first novel.

WOOOOOHOOOOOO!!

If everyone isn’t standing up right now and throwing roses, I’m going to be very disappointed.

Now that the date is approaching, I’ll be making several book-related posts over the next few weeks, each with announcements and info.

But first things first:

We finally have a title!

You wanna know how difficult this book has been for me? It took WEEKS just to decide on a title.

The initial working title was Camp NO Where – A Healing Home for Gay Kids. I didn’t really think too much about it. The idea appeared in my head one day and I thought it was meant to be. Also, it struck me as kinda catchy.

Little did I know, a synonym for “fate” is often “laziness”.

I knew there was a (terrible) movie called Camp NO Where, starring the robber from Home Alone. That was never a big deal to me – lots of titles already exist out in the world. However, I was talking with someone a couple months ago and he said, “I think there’s a book series called Camp Nowhere.”

I freaked! A few searches revealed my friend was right: the author of Goosebumps (remember that series?) released a book series called Camp NO Where.

Double freak.

Still, I leaned toward just keeping the name. After all, the Goosebumps stuff is pretty old. Then, on a whim, I mentioned all this to writers group and several people said, “We’ve always thought you needed a different title.”

I was all like, “WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME THIS?! YOU’VE HAD LIKE A MILLION YEARS!”

The response? “We thought you were tied to the title.”

Booooooooo.

That kicked off…

Title Hunt 2015

I reached out to every person familiar with the book and BEGGED for input. I Facebook messaged people and called people and texted people. I even did focus groups, bringing options to writers group and gathering peoples’ opinions. I was relentless.

When that failed, I began offering gift cards to the winner.

Seriously. I started a little contest offering $25-$50 Starbucks cards.

And it paid off. After announcing the contest, someone had a suggestion that ended up becoming the title.

The result? I lay, sobbing in my bed for hours. OK, maybe I wasn’t that dramatic, but I was so thrilled to finally be done with it.

So after all this buildup, you must be wondering about the title. I feel it needs more buildup, so here are drum roll memes and unveiling memes.

Now that that’s out of the way, I proudly present:

The Gay Teen’s Guide to Defeating a Siren

Now that I’m looking at it, the plain written title kinda pales in comparison to the fun memes. Oh, I know what will help:

There we go. Catchy, eh? If you disagree, SHOOOOSH!! I’ve struggled with this enough. Actually, if that title already exists or something, then please DO let me know.

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4 Scariest Bugs as Illustrated by Cody

So I made this Facebook post about killing a scorpion yesterday. The experience was horrifying! I do NOT NOT NOT NOT handle bugs very well. When I saw the scorpion, I cussed really loud and hid behind a wall and peeked at it. There was no way I was taking my eyes of it. If I lost a live scorpion in the house, I’d have to move. So I thought and thought of a plan.

A shoe? No way! You have to get way too close.

But spray? The scorpion was in the laundry room where we keep the spray, so that wasn’t an option.

Finally, I decided on a broom. Best case scenario, I could whack at it from a distance.

My first swipe knocked the scorpion off the wall. It freaked out and started running! I screamed, turned the broom sideways, and proceeded beat it. Did I mention I was still screaming? After like five minutes I stopped. The scorpion was a pile of mush. But that wasn’t enough. After throwing down the broom, I stepped on the mush. A lot.

After posting this to Facebook, I got tons of comments and stuff. The WORST part about it was the people posting pictures of bugs to freak me out!!!

People, you don’t understand how scared of bugs I am. Therefore, to help you out, I’m including my top scariest bugs. That way you’ll know what to avoid around me.

Authors note: There is NO way I can get pics of these bugs online. Too scary. Therefore, I’m including “for-cody’s-safety” drawings. Other bug phobics should thank me.

4. Wasps

Bees really freak me out. So when you take a bee, give it mean steroids, and tell it to build creepy nests in your eaves… well, that’s a wasp and I just say hell no!

First off, they fly. That means there’s no escape. You can’t just jump onto the hood of your neighbor’s car when you see one. No, you have to like run away, swatting at nothing like crazy.

Also, WTF is that dangly thing in the back?

Seriously? Is their stinger that long??? I have no idea, but it scares the butt hair out of me.

Fear of wasps run in my family I think. Windy (my sister) was telling me yesterday that she thought she had a wasp on her. Terrified, she started swatting her arm. Well, she swatted so hard, her arm began stinging… which made her think she’d been stung, so she started freaking out even more.

Don’t underestimate our fear of bugs people.

3. Big Spiders. Oh, and webs.

I had to make the distinction here of big spiders. For some reason, those little spiders that scurry across a desk or something are really cute.

Big spiders?

I will run away like it’s in my hair, even if I saw it all the way across the room.

Big spiders are freaking fast! Have you ever tried to race one? Just imagine if Usain Bolt had 8 legs.

NO!

And then there are the webs. Isn’t the worst feeling in the entire world walking into a web you couldn’t see? Suddenly, you feel like you have spiders on you, but you can’t find them.

2. Scorpions

The freaky thing about scorpions is I’ve never seen one until I moved here.

It’s like that creature under the bed you didn’t think really existed. Until it appears in your pantry on a can of corn!!

When you realize this insanely weird, poisonous creature actually exists, it’s like finding out Candyman is for real.

And holy crap are scorpions hard to kill!

They’re huge and invincible! Has anyone experienced this? You can like whack on a scorpion and it just won’t die. I once watched a video where a scorpion was frozen in ice. Seriously, it was in a giant ice cube. The researchers left it like that for several days. Then they took a blow torch (!!!) and melted the ice.

THE DAMN SCORPION JUST WALTZED AWAY LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED!!!!!!!!!

I swear that exact same thing happened to Freddy Krueger. By the transitive property of mathematics, that means a scorpion is Freddy!

1. Centipedes

Oh God. I can barely write what they’re called.

Centi…those things make me shut down.

Literally. I shut down if I see one. My body seizes up and I can’t move. And I start whimpering for help.

They are literally the scariest things on the planet.

Why?

A. Look how freaking long they are!!!! They’re wider than a shoe!!! I have this horrible horrible fear that I’ll see a long centipede. Feeling brave, I’ll step on it. Well, it’s so freaking long, I only crush half of it and the other half circles around and stings my foot!!!

IT COULD HAPPEN!

B. To make A above worse, you can’t freaking tell which side is the head or tail. Are you stepping on the icky stingy part or the harmless antennae things?

Nobody knows!

C. I’ve always heard that, to conquer a fear, you learn about that thing you’re scared of. Therefore, I went out and learned about centi-nasties. And what did I read? Well, did you know that, when a centipede stings, the flesh in that area rots?

YOUR SKIN ROTS!!!

The learning thing 10000 percent backfired when I read that. I mean…are you kidding me? Centi-things turn you into a zombie!!!

OK I have to stop writing now. I seriously feel bugs on me and need to go take a shower.

But I leave with this hypothetical:

Say you’re in the bathroom, would you rather:

A. See a giant bug (the kind you’re scared of) right next to your foot?

OR

B. Turn and, in the mirror, see a smaller bug on your back?

You decide.

The post 4 Scariest Bugs as Illustrated by Cody appeared first on Wagner Writer.

Please! Stop fat shaming dogs! They have souls, too. Maybe.

My sister and brother-in-law have two dogs, Molly and Harper. They are about the same size (medium) and the same age as well.

Since we moved to Phoenix, Molly has put on some weight.

How much weight? Let me illustrate:

Fat Molly – Example 1

The other night, Chris (my brother-in-law) let the dogs out for pee time. To prevent bugs from flying in, he left the door open as wide as Harper’s body.

When Harper finished, he came running back, no problem.

Then it was Molly’s turn. She ran for the door and… wham!

Her neck fat got stuck in the door.

Harper turned and gave her a side eye. We laughed. Unfortunately, Molly was right there listening.

Fat Molly – Example 2

A couple weeks ago, we had spaghetti for dinner. Normally, we don’t feed the dogs human food. But every once in a while, Windy (my sister) will give them a single spaghetti noodle. When this happens, the dogs go CRAZY. They love getting treats and will run all over the place for one.

Until now.

Windy scooped out a noodle and went to Molly, who was laying on the floor. When Windy held out the noodle, Molly’s eyes got wide, but she didn’t move. Windy even held the noodle right over the dog’s head, but she didn’t try to grab it.

Finally, Windy put the noodle on the ground right next to Molly’s face. Without moving, Molly stuck out her tongue and lapped it up.

I’m not gonna lie, we laughed pretty damn hard. Unfortunately, Molly was right there listening.

Fat Molly – Example 3

Chris recently posted a pic of the dogs sleeping in his bedroom. In the Facebook post, he mentioned the dogs being terrible workout partners. From out of nowhere, several people commented on how fat Molly had gotten:

Now we’d taken “Fat Molly” public. Unfortunately, she was right there listening.

The Aftermath

Since all this happened, Molly has been laying around more than ever. At first, I thought she was acting so lazy because of her weight.

Now, I’m not so sure.

If you look at pics of fat dogs around the Internet, notice one thing:

They’re usually laying down and/or asleep.

You know what else causes lots of lounging and sleeping?

That’s right, depression!

DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNN!!!

We have to stop fat shaming our dogs. When they hear our derisive laughter, they know exactly what’s happening. I mean, they have access to “Modern Dog” and “Dog Fancy” magazines that show what “beautiful” dogs are supposed to look like. These magazines have set unrealistic expectations for our dogs and it has to stop.

Our comments have cut Molly to her core. Especially after they went public.

Don’t believe me? Here’s my evidence showing why dog fat shaming has to stop:

1. Molly won’t look me in the eye

See:

And when I went around to force her to acknowledge me, she tried running away.

(Unfortunately, because of her size, she couldn’t get up, tried running along the wall, and didn’t actually go anywhere:)

2. She’s more self conscious in public

When we take the dogs out for a walk, Harper runs all over the place. He sniffs everything and tries to catch all the lizards in existence.

Molly’s story is different. When we take her, she doesn’t want to stay out as long. She pretends to be tired so that we have to bring her home.

Molly may act nonchalant but I know exactly what’s happening: she’s picturing everyone peeking thru their blinds at her. Probably holding copies of Dog Fancy and shaking their fists.

It gets so bad, she’ll even pretend it’s hot outside to hide under bushes “in the shade”.

I know what shade she’s really hiding from… the shade mean people are throwing at her!

3. Even “skinny” dogs are affected

Harper is definitely caught up in the wave of Molly’s fat shaming. How do I know this?

Well, since Molly started gaining weight, Harper has lost weight.

Coincidence? I think not.

He may be partially blind, but that doesn’t stop him from seeing the embarrassment Molly is suffering. Consequently, he must be so anxious, he’s not hungry anymore.

He’s gotten really good at hiding it, too. His bowl – that sits right next to Molly’s – happens to be empty. But he’s not eating and I know it. So what happens to the food? Obviously, Harper is hiding it somewhere so that we think he’s eating OK. But he’s not OK. He’s hurting for his sister.

His fat fat sister.

…You know what? I’m having second thoughts about this. A friend just told me her fat dog once broke into their pantry, tore open a strawberry Slim Fast, and drank the whole thing. Now THAT’S taking matters into your own hands. THAT’S being a go getter. THAT’S grabbing a bull by the horns.

Now I’m kind of upset with Molly. If she were really that depressed about all her rolls, she could do the same thing. She could do wide grip pull-ups with me while I’m working out. She could do burpees. But she’s not. She’s not taking any of her own initiative. And for that I wonder if she’s just making her own (king size) bed and lying in it.

The post Please! Stop fat shaming dogs! They have souls, too. Maybe. appeared first on Wagner Writer.

7 Examples of Extreme Human Laziness

Ahhhhh the human spirit can do some amazing things. We cure horrible diseases, donate clothes to the needy, and post videos of goats wearing pajamas (perhaps the most important thing we’ve done so far).

We can also be sooooooooo lazy.

The other night I was lying in bed reading. My phone buzzed with a message and I went to grab it. The book is pretty big and it threatened to close before I could mark my spot. I HATE trying to find where I’m at when the pages flutter closed (who doesn’t).

What were my options?

Well, I could have grabbed a bookmark. I keep one right next to my bed in case of such dire emergencies.

The problem was, I couldn’t. quite. reach. I would have had to slightly twist my body and lean over to grab it. Too much work.

What did I do?

Yep. I’d done laundry, thrown it on my bed, and used a pair of underwear.

The amazing thing about laziness is the lengths to which people will go just to be lazy. Many times, the effort it takes to slack outweighs that of just getting off our butts and completing the task.

Continuing on in that spirit of being lazy, I could share some of those pictures sweeping the Internet (like the woman in an electric wheelchair holding onto a guy in a Roscoe Scooter). But to make it more original and personal, I’m going to share some really lazy things I do. I’m not saying I’m a lazy person. I don’t think I am. But we all have those things that would make other people face palm (it’s an underwear bookmark, for God’s sake).

Sure, I’m embarrassing myself, but I know I’m not the only one out there who’s done these things. In fact, I bet most of you can beat my examples.

Without further ado, I’m too lazy to…

1. Grab a bookmark.

I’ve already talked about this, but it segueways right into #2. Remember my thing about grabbing underwear? Apparently, I’m also too lazy to:

2. Fold my laundry.

Yep, there’s a huge mound on my bed right now. I have to try to sleep around it at night. God forbid I actually spend 10 minutes putting it away.

I’ll tell you, I’ve spent more time (hours probably) thrashing around at night, moving tank tops and underwear around so I’m not lying on them. I’ve woken up in the middle of the night thinking, “Damn this laundry,” then pushed it away and tried to go back to sleep…only to wake up 20 minutes later with the same sock lodged in my back.

3. Turn off a light.

Picture it: I’m all comfy in bed (meaning I’ve pushed the piles of clothes around to make a little nest).

That’s when I realize I’ve left the light on.

What do I do? Get up and turn it off?

No way! That is way too much effort.

Instead, I lay there and try absolutely everything and anything to turn the damn thing off without actually standing.

Throw shoes at the wall and hope for a lucky shot? CHECK!

When the shoes are gone, wad up socks and try the same thing? CHECK!

Stick my legs out as far as they’ll go and desperately try to reach the switch with my toes?

CHECK!

How much time did I spend messing with turning the stupid thing off? 5 minutes.

How much time would it have taken to get up and turn the switch off? 10 seconds.

Winner? Not me.

4. Put books on their shelves.

I usually read at night before bed. The thing is, I change my mind on what I want to read. All. The. Time. Sometimes I get hooked on a book and want to finish it. Other times, I want to see how authors wrote certain scenes. On those nights, I’ll dig through 5-6 books, skimming through them all. Consequently, I purchased a little tiny bookshelf that sits next to my night stand.

I bought it just so I’d keep my books more organized.

Let’s look at that organized bookshelf, shall we?

5. Unplug an iPhone cord.

My office is also the guest room, complete with my desk/computer/shelving unit and a full size bed. I spend hours in there a day. Sometimes, when I’m pretty active on my phone, I have to go grab the charger from my room (it’s typically plugged in next to my bed).

There have been some nights when, after showering and brushing my teeth, I’ve walked into my bedroom and tried plugging in my phone…only to realize my charger isn’t there. Groaning, I walked into the spare room, finding it plugged into the wall.

Now, I’m not proud to admit it, but there have been a couple of instances where the idea of unplugging and moving the charger feels like SUCH a huge pain that I’ll just crawl into the guest bed, plug my phone in, and go to sleep.

Yep.

P.S. I’m going to catch hell for this one when Windy reads this.

6. Grab a towel (that’s a few feet away) after my workout.

Molly (the dog) likes to lay close to me while I’m working out. Usually, she’s right next to the exercise mat. Now, some of my workouts are so grueling, I’ll just collapse on my knees right there. I’m literally dripping with sweat and can barely more. That’s when I notice my sweat towel is across the room on the chair.

Molly, on the other hand, is right next to me. I’m not proud to admit this, but occasionally I’ll lean on her and pretend I’m giving her a hug. What I’m actually doing is wiping my forehead on her fur.

(SIDENOTE: I totally made this one up. I cracked myself up with the idea so I figured I’d include it. How many of you were like “WTF???” when you were reading this?)

7. Get another roll of toilet paper.

Oh God. So this example is just as horrifying as the last. Only it’s true, so you get a REAL “WTF???” moment.

Soooooo a few weeks ago, I was in the bathroom and realized I was out of toilet paper. I could have yelled for Chris or Windy to get me a roll. I’ve even texted them before (I know some of you have done this!). That would have been perfectly reasonable, as we had TP in the house.

For some reason, I didn’t do any of that.

Instead, I found some toilet paper in the trash next to me and used it.

I’m shutting up now.

Interesting “In Conclusion” Sidenote

So this post was all about those incredibly lazy things I’ve done. However, I spent *forever* on this post: making memes, taking pictures, compiling the right list, etc…

Essentially, I was the opposite of lazy when putting together a post on how lazy I am. I’m sure there’s some irony buried in there.

It’s all about priorities.

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