Post 52: One Year in Review

Unbelievably, we've made it to the one year anniversary. You and me. We did this together. I would have quit writing bullshit long ago if it wasn't for my awesome audience. All three of you. Mom. Uncle Martin. And you, my best friend. Thank you!

We endured a lot over the past year. The good posts. The bad posts. Spelling mistakes. Controversy. Lime light. Creepy stalkers. Zombies. All the ups and downs of the year have brought us closer together and strengthened the one-way relationship more than our occasional sexting could ever do.

Now, put your hand in mine, as we take a short walk down StoryTime lane and pay tribute to my wonderful writing and your voluptuous viewership.

My blogging origins originally originated from the desire for a more meaningful hobby. While video games and masturbation are fun, they just aren't as fulfilling as anxiously piecemealing limited vocabulary in a mad-dash-marathon to publish a turd once a week.

I started as a contributing writer on a friend's website, but it became clear early on that I was not committed to a site I couldn't call my own. That...and I wanted to post a dick pic...and he wouldn't let me.

Venturing out into the blogosphere, I published my first post about one of my favorite bands, Guster. Guilty Guster Pleasure. Using some simple Excel magic and my iPod data, I showed the world that I was a dirty pirate whore when it came to music. I owed the band some money. They saw my post. Shit went international.

With that first taste of stardom, I was hooked, and I committed myself to a life of literary servitude every Wednesday evening. We've been rolling ever since. In chronological order, a short list of my personal favorites accompanied with some micro synopses of the drabble within.

Hippie Pimple Party
To this day, this entry remains the only post with ShavedGolf generated artistry. Every other pic is generally stolen from Google image searches and is never credited properly. Exceptions to this are posts about my man cave because they often contain pictures of said dwelling. Hippie Pimple Party remains one of my favorites because it was the first entry I felt proud of. It's true. It's to the point. It's about acne.

The Seven Rules of Beer Debt
A true tale of a beer enjoyed and ensuing guilt trip of a debt to repay. Coworker friend bought me a Hamms and two years later I repay him with a brew. Disbelief that I would remember such a long overdue debt led me to the creation of The Seven Rules of Beer Debt. This bitch picked up a little foot traffic on the interwebs.

Dr. Comcastic or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Cable Provider
Three reasons this entry rocked. First, I actually sent that email to Comcast. Second, the post is somewhat helpful to Comcast customers fed up with lousy service. Third, I saved $147!!!

Gaudy Bar Gewgaw
Female drink promoters suck. They hock shitty drinks and hand out ugly promotion swag. While I hate these "libation forcing floozies" with a burning passion, greater scorn is cast on those who willingly wear the promoters gaudy wares.

Zinfandel and White Lilac
A meta entry focusing on the process of blog production. Writing is serious business, and it takes the right mindset to produce such high quality pieces of shit. This entry is a favorite because I thoroughly enjoyed writing it.

Pitfalls of Internet Dating or: How I Didn't Meet Your Mother
Together we explored the perils of online dating. Or rather...I did and told you about it in StoryTime's first official miniseries.

• Pitfalls of Internet Dating or: How I Didn't Meet Your Mother; Part One: The Profile
• Pitfalls of Internet Dating or: How I Didn't Meet Your Mother; Part Two: Messaging
• Pitfalls of Internet Dating or: How I Didn't Meet Your Mother; Part Three: The Date

List Entries
I became increasingly fond of list entries. The benefit is simple: long prose requiring little transitional work between topics. Translation: I'm lazy...so here's another list...

• Useful Euphemisms
• Amusing Searches: The First
• Fantasy Football Fuckers
• The Worst Drivers in Portland

With that list we're brought fairly close to the current. I hope you've enjoyed year one as much as I have. I hope that you continue to read, not out of our undying friendship, but out of a passionate love for the Wednesday content. And beyond all else, I hope you enjoy what you see here...

dick pic

xoxo,
ShavedGolf

The Stanky Fridge Lineup

My fridge smells. Bad. Really bad. Not even Arm & Hammer could cover up the stench. Not that I tried their witchcraft. There's no baking soda in the door, but I bet if there was, it wouldn't do shit. The humming white box in my kitchen might as just well be that because I dare not open it. When I do open my fridge, I doorknob it. The smell has a ten minute half life. Do the math.

The magnificent aroma is the result of leftovers. Produce left to stew. Noxious egg nog. Musty milk . Soup sprouting spores. Burrito bowl bursting with a bitchin' bouquet. All these freeloaders have been enjoying a comfortable home for some time now and living rent free. No longer!

Tonight marks the end of their stinky tyranny. Tonight is the end of their unjust stank. Tonight is our independence day!

Tonight...I clean my fridge. A picture diary. I'm sorry.

An ominous odor stings the nostrils as I closed in on the smelly source. It's rank. It's pungent. It's tangy. Hurriedly I opened the adjacent window and alerted the local firehouse, who in turn alerted HazMat, that toxic fumes may blanket the neighborhood.

Like Gang Enforcement on the east side, I rounded up the usual bitches and strip searched them for signs of foulness. The kitchen became a lineup of suspect stinkers. I booked the lot of them. First up...

Item(s):
Soup
Purchase Date:
Variable; Over One Month
Expiration:
Variable; Past Date
Smell:
Gangrenous
Sentence:
Garbage

Item(s): Super Food
Purchase Date: One and a Half Months
Expiration: Approaching
Smell: Sweaty Gym Socks
Sentence: Garbage

Item(s):
Laughing Planet Burrito Bowl Leftovers
Purchase Date:
Two Weeks Ago
Expiration:
Two Weeks Ago
Smell:
Bigfoot's Dick
Sentence:
Garbage

Item(s):
Holiday Egg Nog
Purchase Date:
Well before the holidays
Expiration:
One Month Ago
Smell:
Rotting Holiday Vomit
Sentence:
Garbage

Item(s):
Rice Pudding
Purchase Date:
December 7th
Expiration:
Didn't want to know
Smell:
Curdled Mucus
Sentence:
Garbage

Item(s):
Fat Free Milk
Purchase Date:
One Month Ago
Expiration:
A Week Or Two
Smell:
Really Not Good
Sentence:
Garbage

Item(s):
Variable Produce
Purchase Date:
I Don't Remember
Expiration:
Fucking Forever Ago
Smell:
Festering Feces Covered In Burnt Hair
Sentence:
Garbage

With the apartment reeking like a dumpster and my appetite shot, I bagged the fuckers and took them downstairs to commence their sentence. Justice was swift. No more freeloaders. No more expiring smells. No more stinky inedibles. The multi-headed dragon was slain.

Stink lingers in the fridge, but the smell is a reminder: always eat out; never purchase perishables.

xoxo,
ShavedGolf

The Fear of Innovation

This blog is not a wealth of self-help knowledge. This blog is not a pillar of illumination. This blog is not a motivator of the masses, and, more often than not, this blog will inspire you to go to church before inspiring personal reflection. However, tonight's entry is different because tonight is a soapbox rant regarding your fears of innovation, or more commonly referred to as change.

Fortune 500 companies tout innovation on a quarterly basis. Shareholders crave it. The management of these companies remind shareholders of changes made recently and the innovations planned for the not so dissent quarter to come. The quarterly ritual of promises is done in the hopes of bolstering stock prices thus making the company net worth increase. Why? Because change sells!

If this process works for companies it can work for the average Joe. Often individuals attempt a personal renaissance in the form of a lackadaisical new year resolution. Admit it, we're less than two weeks into this new year, and you've either:

• a) failed
• b) given up
• c) all of the above
• or, worst of all, d) failed to make a commitment of change

I get it. I know why. That visceral reaction we all have to change holds us back. Change isn't easy. It's uncomfortable. It's unknown. Change is different, and we don't like different. We have a fear of failure, and there's a chance it could be a disastrous waste of time.

All excuses for why change isn't attempted, and, at the same time, all reasons change is valuable. If innovation were easy, everyone would do it, and no one would pay for it.

Innovators see the green because companies know that without innovation past mistakes are repeated. They know the inefficiencies of yesterday bog down progress. They know the opportunity for betterment is floundered. So why not change?

If you've accepted what I've said so far and are foaming at the mouth for directions on inciting change or instructions on innovation, you may be disappointed. What works for one, might not work for all. The best advice I can lend comes in short, bullet form:

• Take a Timeout - innovation rarely comes when cramming 25 hours of work into a 24 hour day.
• Take Stock - what's on the docket? what's on your plate? what are your resources? who are your allies?
• Review Your Struggles - you've always known something was amiss in that one spot, but you couldn't put a finger on it.
• Find a New Strategy - analyze the problem, find a work around, improve the process, clean up the mess.
• Be Patient - Rome wasn't built in a day and chances are your innovation won't be either.

That's it. Simple right? That's my map, my outline, my guide to tackling the future. While I'm not a success story yet, I am confident that my healthy outlook on innovation and change will eventually spur success. Because what works for companies will work for me.

Show me a company that is satisfied with the status quo. Show me a company that prides itself on stagnation. Show me a company not working towards goals and the betterment of their product or service. Show me this company and I'll show you a company doomed for failure. Is it really much of a stretch to say the same about any individual? Stop fearing change and embrace it as an opportunity. Grab change by the balls, bend it over a barrel, and show change how it's done.

Do it.

xoxo,
ShavedGolf

The Worst Drivers in Portland

Following the format of the recent Fantasy Football Fuckers post, and because the world would be a safer place if everyone drove like me, I'm presenting a list of the ten worst driving personas in Portland. The categories may be universal, but Portlanders are especially notorious for the following behaviors.

The Rainy Day Wreckers
It Rains in Portland. A lot. Sometimes for weeks or months at a time. Yet somehow Portlanders forget how to drive in the H2O. Just take it a little slower, keep a safe distance from the car in front, and turn your mother fucking headlights on.

The Lane Campers
Possibly day dreaming and definitely not paying attention, this space cadet can be found in a fast lane near you. Their talents would best serve another lane, but they're content and oblivious. You're up their ass and even with other cars whizzing by them on the right, they remain in your way.

The Hopelessly Lost
Navigation technology is awesome. Google Maps. Smart phones. GPSs. But this clueless fuck has decided to go it alone. Instead they're attempting to use the guess and check method while driving 5 MPH in front of you. They could pull over to let you pass, but won't. Legally you can't go around them, but legally they can do nothing about you flipping them the bird.

The Dazed and Confused
Downtown roads are confusing. All those one-way streets, intersections, pedestrians, cyclists, and hipsters can make navigating Portland proper a daunting task. Unless you fucking live there. It's annoying to see these drivers stop at intersections with no stop signs or callously ignore pedestrians attempting a cross walk. I don't drive like an idiot in your neighborhood...

The Rush Hour Speed Racer
This jerkoff can't handle the rush hour pace, so s/he bobs and weaves from lane to lane. With little compassion for fellow travelers, this driver takes an every-man-for-himself approach to the commute home. Easy, broseph. We're all on the same team come 5 o'clock.

The Overly Cautious
This pussyfoot has trouble merging and uses the break lights once on the freeway for seemingly no reason. Ironically this nervous Nellie is a menace because of their excessively leery approach to the everyday road rituals. Grow a pair, gain some confidence, and drive like you aren't a senior citizen.

The Underly Cautious
Speeding, weaving, and using the shoulder to pass, this asshole thinks your safety is less important than his road rampage. Maneuvering like a precision driver from a Fast & Furious movie, this family man is desperate to get the adrenaline rush he can no longer achieve in the bedroom. Justice is occasionally served when you see him pulled over five miles later.

The Skittish Snow Driver
Guilty. We all are. PDX drivers know not how to drive in the white stuff. When Portland goes snow globe, panic ensues and the roads get fucked. Snow jobs are annoying, but they only happen once a year, and I'll happily use a vacation day to avoid the clusterfuck.

The Distracted Driver
Salem passed legislation making it illegal for Oregon drivers to text message while driving. However, many asshats choose to ignore this law. We all knew it was a shitty idea before it was a law, but for some reason continue to do it. And if I was to take it a step back and say it's illegal to read while driving, people would respond with, "psh, duh, yeah!" So please grow up and stop your LOL'ing and ROFLcopter'ing.

The Washington Outsider
While it seems to be a great banner as a politician, it's a curse on Portland streets. Because of Portland's unfortunate proximity to the WA state, we occasionally have to deal with a WA driver. Beyond the WA plates, this individual is easily spotted because s/he is less courteous, drives faster, and smells bad. Welcome to our fair city, now drive like us or go the fuck home.

Portlanders, it's time to respect our roads and the fellow man in the car next to you, so if you're doing one of these things, you're a douche nozzle and should stop it. Thank you for your consideration.

xoxo,
ShavedGolf