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10
Mar
11

The Simple Things

By SlickTiger Leave a Comment
Categories: Being Slick and Killer Posts
Tags: , , , , ,

Today we stop everything we’re doing and take a minute to reflect on the inherent joy in the simple things.

We went to the beach a few weekends back and I took the following picture of a tree:

 

 

This picture perfectly sums up what I’m talking about. The tiny wooden bridge, the thick green grass, the white sand, you can almost feel it between your toes, these simple things are important. They have a way of lifting your spirits when life gets shitty – losing sight of these simple pleasures is a one way ticket to misery and brother, you don’t want to take that ride.

Children understand this without having to be told. They can spend hours picking up and scrutinising shells on a beach or getting totally lost in the simple act of making mud pies but as we get older bigger, badder things come our way and it’s easy to get lost in the fight.

Take pleasure in a simple act today. Run a bath, eat some ice cream, go for a swim, listen to Frank Sinatra, go for a walk, climb a tree. We give a lot of time away without realising that it’s really all we have and it’s running out fast. So take some back today, it’s good for the soul.

In other news J-Rab has a job interview today at a vet that would be perfect for her. She’s nervous for the interview, we’ve got a lot riding on this so guys, spare a thought for her today, cross fingers, cross toes, send good vibes and maybe that simple act will change our lives Winking smile

Here’s hopin’.

-ST

01
Mar
11

A Post For Salome

By SlickTiger Leave a Comment
Categories: Being Slick and Killer Posts
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I always felt bad because when Stikey and I, at the tender age of about 15, decided to run away from home, we passed Salome in the street and lied to her about where we were going.

She could see that something was up. Two adolescent shit-kickers dragging a colossal tog bag up the road randomly in the middle of the afternoon. Not normal.

She asked us where we were going and I told her I was spending the night at Stikey’s place and not to worry about us and yes, our parents knew about it.

Then we high-tailed it up the street, jumped in a black taxi and drove to a Formula One hotel where we spent the night getting as wasted as humanly possible and freaking out completely that our parents were going to disown us.

We were asshole kids and we did a lot of asshole things, but lying to Salome like that, it never sat well with me.

I don’t remember if I ever apologised to her for that. To this day I still don’t know if my parents asked her if she’d seen me that afternoon and what she said.

I’m not sure it matters anymore. Salome died yesterday afternoon.

Let it be known, for as long as this junkyard site stands, that Salome was a  good person, that she went to church every Sunday and said her prayers, that she was a gentle soul and that she deserved to live longer and see her grandkids grow up big and strong.

Salome was young, younger than my mom is now when she died, too young.

She used to give the softest hugs.

I think that’s what I’ll remember about her the most. She gave the softest hugs and she had a great laugh that could always make you laugh.

And holy shit, she make the best goddamn chicken mayonnaise rolls you’ve ever tasted in your life! I swear to God, her chicken mayonnaise rolls were so good, I’d save them for the end of my school day and eat them on the rowing bus going back home with this big dumb smile on my face.

I’m older now and I understand that life is cruel, but why the fuck did it have to be so cruel to her? What the fuck did she ever do to deserve losing her daughter who died right next to Salome on the bed in the tiny room that Salome used to live in, what did she ever do to deserve that?

I remember one night she spoke to me about it, she came to me for answers, she wanted to know how the God she loved could do that, but what could I tell her? What the fuck do you say to  someone who’s been through that?

I hugged her because there was nothing I could say. I just hugged her for the longest time, until she’d stopped crying and I told her things would be ok, they would get better.

She used to give the softest hugs Salome, and if there is a God, she’s giving her daughter one of those hugs right now and they’re together in a world that’s much, much better than this one.

 

 

-ST

22
Feb
11

The Melissa Riso Police Nailed Me!

By SlickTiger 2 Comments
Categories: Being Slick
Tags: , , , ,

You guys might have noticed that last week Friday there was nothing on this site which may have seemed a little weird if you’re a regular reader and had noticed that I’ve gotten into a badass routine of posting every week day, sometimes more than once!

Well kids, the reason why there was no post last week Friday was because WordPress had BANNED me from posting on my own goddamn site! Can you believe that shit?!

I had banged out a seriously inspiring, thought-provoking post about immortality (still saved in my drafts, I’ll probably publish it later this week) and the second I tried to upload it I got the following bullshit message:

 

 

So I jump into my site’s back-end (God that sounded wrong) and the following message is sitting there, glaring at me like my boss when I show up at work drunk:

“Warning: We have a concern about some of the content on your blog. Please click here to contact us as soon as possible to resolve the issue and re-enable posting.”

It felt like I’d been called into the headmaster’s office for innocently lifting the cute English teacher’s skirt with a stick to see if she was wearing undies or not (she wasn’t).

It later transpired that WordPress had been served a legal notice because I’d posted a picture of this belter called Melissa Riso last year in October and I was in violation of some copyright law or other.

So they unceremoniously axed the picture from my FTP server and let me post on the site again. Thanks WordPress. You just made me realise for once and for all that it’s time to host this crazy-assed site elsewhere.

Until then, here’s a picture of a belter I found on the internet, not sure if you know her? Name of Melissa somebody-or-other Winking smile

 

 

So yeah, if there’s no post tomorrow you know why.

-ST

21
Feb
11

The Tiger Hits The U2 Concert, Has The Time Of His Life

By SlickTiger Leave a Comment
Categories: Being Slick, Events, Gig Reviews and Good Times
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I wouldn’t call myself the world’s biggest U2 fan, so it’s safe to say I went in there with pretty much zero expectations and had my mind blown in every conceivable way.

 

 

J-Rab and I hit the Cape Town stadium at about 4.30 to beat the (non-existent) traffic and make sure we got into the VIP lounge that Nokia very kindly provided us with tickets for. Problem was the lounge only opened at 6pm so we bought a couple of beers and killed a bit of time wandering around the stadium and checking out THE CLAW.

 

 

THE CLAW has gotten a shiteload of press over the last two weeks and for good reason. It’s possibly the single coolest staging rig I’ve ever seen. It’s colossal and looks like it could get up and start walking like some giant killer spider-robot, blasting the audience with intense death rays at any minute.

We got a lot of pics of it before it was all lit up, much to the dismay of one of the security guards we had a chat with who was like, “You’re not allowed to take pictures.”

“What?” I said, “We’re allowed to take pictures?”

“No,” he replied, “not allowed.”

“Ok,” I said, and took some pictures. He smiled at me, I smiled back. What a rad guy.

Once they opened the VIP lounge, I was so excited I bounded in there and immediately ordered two suitcases (what?! They didn’t have any tequila ok?) and a couple more beers. Nokia really pulled out all the stops – for the next two hours I was like a kid at Christmas, munching all manner of froo-froo finger ding-a-lings, taking goofy pictures with J-Rab and drinking suitcases like there was no tomorrow.

 

 

At 8 they closed the VIP lounge and we headed upstairs to catch some of the Springbok Nude Girls set, which would have been a lot better if the sound was sorted out. As it was, it sounded a little like the guys were playing underwater which is apparently an old trick that’s been used for years in the industry – the headline act gets the killer sound and the supporting guys play through amplifiers made of rusty tin cans.

After the Nudies finished up, J-Rab and I went in search of some more free drinks and were immediately drawn, like moths to a flame, to this mesmerising green light that was glowing at the Heineken VIP bar.

“What do you think that is?” J-Rab asked in awe.

“I dunno…” I replied, “but Jeannie D’s in there so it must be important.”

“Go see if you can get us some free drinks.”

“Roger that.”

I approached the security guy at the entrance with the kind of total confidence only 7 suitcases can give you and proceeded to walk straight past him.

He gripped my arm like a vice.

“Where’s your wristband?”

“Right here brother,” I said, proudly displaying my white Nokia lounge VIP wristband.

“That’s the wrong colour,” he said, sternly.

“What! I’m the wrong colour?! What the hell is this, the Apartheid Bar?”

“Your WRISTBAND is the wrong colour.”

“What in God’s name are you talking about?”

“It’s white. It’s supposed to be black.”

“So it’s the REVERSE Apartheid Bar? Man, I can’t wait to blog about this unfair discrimination!”

“Please step aside sir, this is for people who were invited to the Heineken bar ONLY.”

“Cool. Whatever. I’m too white for this bar. It’s cool, I understand…”

As I was sulking off to tell J-Rab the bad news, I saw a MAJOR flaw in the security setup. White blocks.

 

 

They were at the perfect height for sitting on and then, when no one was looking, casually swinging your legs over onto the other side and then casually standing up and WAPOW! You were in the Heineken Reverse Apartheid Lounge.

The second both J-Rab and I had executed this security-defying manoeuvre we whipped out the camera and took about 15 pictures of ourselves pulling more goofy faces while we talked to each other in very snooty voices indeed because we were in the HEINEKEN LOUNGE BABY!

 

 

We swanned over to the bar to start klapping some more free drinks and very quickly froze in our tracks. The people here, they all had cards. Heineken cards! And these cards, you had to produce them to get the sauce – no card, no sauce. J-Rab and I hovered at the bar, furiously trying to think up some way to beat the system when who stepped in front of us? Liesl Van Der Westhuizen, that’s who!

Now, I know what you’re thinking, Liesl V, Schmiesl V, who cares. Well, I’m here to tell you that Liesl Van Der Westhuizen is a fucking cool person. The second her and her boyfriend stepped in front of us she turned around to apologise for cutting in front of us to which I calmly replied, “No sweat. We’re not even supposed to be here, we slipped past security to score some free drinks but apparently you need a green card or something…”

“Do you guys want some drinks?” she said, without even skipping a beat, “We’ll get you some!”

And that’s how we ended up drinking in the Heineken bar for free with Liesl V. Until security kicked us out. That was kinda embarrassing. But we met up with Liesl outside again and they got us a SECOND ROUND OF DRINKS!

What a lovely person, seriously. I don’t care what anyone says about her, Liesl is cool in my books. She helped a Tiger out so I’ll have no more Liesl-bashing on this site thank you very much. Um. Not that there ever was any to begin with, but yeah. Just so you know.

 

 

After that U2 took to the stage and THE CLAW came to life in a multitude of colours and images and flashing lights. Unfortunately by this stage J-Rab and I were about twelve sheets to the wind so it’s hard to recall the exact details of the concert, but I can confirm this much – U2 put on an INCREDIBLE show and no, I’m not just saying this because I was there and you weren’t.

About halfway through the set, J-Rab and I somehow managed to get into the outer golden circle to get some pics from the ground just in time for them to play “Sunday Bloody Sunday” and “One” which, I’ll be honest, was an emotional moment for me. It’s my favourite U2 song of all time and hearing the guys play it live right there in front of us was intense.

 

 

Not sure if I was cool with all the Nelson Mandela / Desmond Tutu references and imagery that we were bombarded with and the snippets from interviews with both of them, I just think it’s a pretty obvious ploy to get the crowd all gooey with emotion (it worked like a bomb).

But I’ll let it slide because U2 have always been a political band and have actually done a lot of good in this world. Also, in all fairness, I don’t think I’ve ever watched a band play in this country and NOT mention Nelson Mandela or Desmond Tutu in some way so I’ll reserve judgement on this one.

It was a brilliant experience and an amazingly well-executed concert. Big up to Nokia for making it all possible, you guys spoiled us and we really appreciated every second of it, let’s be pals forever.

In closing, here’s a pic of THE CLAW in its full glory after a massive CONE of TV screens extended down towards the stage like it was going to tractor-beam the band into space.

 

 

Good times Winking smile

-ST

15
Feb
11

Saturday At Sidewalk Cafe

By SlickTiger Leave a Comment
Categories: Being Slick and Good Times
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

If you don’t already know Sidewalk Cafe in Vredehoek you need to head on down there one Saturday and grab a bite because the food is incredible, the vibes are awesome and if you’re lucky enough, Dave will be your waiter and for however long you stay there, life will be about as perfect as it can be.

 

 

For us life was as perfect as it could be for about five hours. We rolled into Sidewalk at about 9.30 on Saturday morning, J-Rab, Jennyjenjen, Barbarian, Goff-girl and myself after waking up hungover as hell from our housewarming the night before and marvelling that we were all still alive.

We went to meet up with friends of Goff-Girl’s who were just finishing a scrumptious breakfast of fresh fruit juices, muesli, yoghurt, honey and tea, so naturally we all sat down and ordered a round of beers.

From there the wheels came off completely. By 10.30 we were onto the Bloody Marys and sometime around lunchtime a round of tequilas came out followed by a police van that parked in the street right next to us. We knew we had total immunity as long as we stayed put though so that’s exactly what we did and sooner or later they moved on, all of us smiling and waving at them like a bunch of asylum escapees.

 

 

It felt good not to give a shit. It felt good to spend the morning getting loaded at a ridiculously early hour with my friends while other people went jogging up the street or came to Sidewalk in their loafers to enjoy a quaint little meal and saw the chaos that was unfolding at  our table.

And all the while, Dave endured. Like some stalwart captain of a ship full of maniacs, he stood his ground because he’d seen this before many, many times and at least we added a random element into his day that he seemed to enjoy.

“I want a big flower for behind my ear,” J-Rab turned around and randomly blurted out as Dave was walking past and I swear to God, the man didn’t even flinch or look surprised or perplexed or off-guard in any conceivable way. He just said “Sure” like it was the most normal request he’d ever heard, walked over to a nearby tree and came back with the perfect flower.

 

 

It was good times I tell ya, Sidewalk Cafe gets the Tiger stamp of approval. Go there every day this week and the week after and the week after. Dig the view from the stoep outside and have a Bloody Mary or 10.

Life really doesn’t get much better than that Smile

-ST

14
Feb
11

House Warming Shenanigans

By SlickTiger Leave a Comment
Categories: Being Slick and Good Times
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

Here’s a quick, honest breakdown of what happens when you invite people to a party you’re throwing according to racial and geographic breakdown and of course, personal experience.

If you’re in Joburg and you invite 20 white friends to a party, 13 actually show up. Conversely, if you invite 7 black friends, about 15 – 20 show up of which, somehow, you only know 3.

In Cape Town, it doesn’t matter if they’re black, white, Indian, Chinese or Austro-Hungarian, you invite 20 people to a party, 2 show up and they’re three hours late.

By those standards, the housewarming we threw on Friday night was a roaring success. Here’s a couple pics of the insanity that went down.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After that point, all kinds of shit went down, so let’s just leave it at that shall we? My mom reads this blog.

It was a killer, killer party and went on until some ungodly hour at which point people started dropping like flies, but not before we got this pic of the Slain Barbarian.

 

 

And now it’s Monday and life continues from where it left off, in my cubicle somewhere, meek and mild.

And people will ask me how my weekend was and what the hell will I tell them?

“Fine and yours?”

Stay tuned for part 2 at Sidewalk Cafe the day after, where we had beer for breakfast, tequila for dessert and dug our heels in for a good five hours of Bloody Marys.

Until then…

-ST

11
Feb
11

What If Kurt Cobain Was Still Alive?

By SlickTiger 5 Comments
Categories: Being Slick and Killer Posts
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I was a good kid until I was 11 years old. I did what I was told and didn’t give my parents too much shit, I worked hard at school, played sports (badly), climbed trees and kept myself out of trouble.

But even from an early age, there was something else about me, the hint of something darker. I loved reading and burned through a lot of books as a kid which meant I quickly got bored of the standard Enid Blighton / Roald Dahl fair.

When that happened I went straight for the jugular and started reading Stephen King and Dean R Koontz and a whole host of other very, very twisted literature that children probably shouldn’t go anywhere near and those words took root in my brain and sprouted a thick, dense jungle of thoughts and ideas that is expanding exponentially as I get older.

 

 

I grew up an only child and as is the case with all only children, I spent a lot of time hanging out with grown ups. My life in many ways was an endless procession of well-mannered dinner affairs with my parents and their friends where I was told to sit up straight, finish my food and behave, which I did.

Fast forward to Christmas in 1994 – my parents and I are staying at a place called Highlands Run, a trout farm near Dullstroom, it’s about 6 in the morning and I’m tearing through my Christmas presents like only an 11 year old kid can.

A friend at school had said to me that his older brother was listening to this band and it was the best album of all time which piqued my curiosity and prompted me to ask my mom for the album for Christmas.

At the time I was big into really, really crap music like 2Unlimited, Midi, Maxi and Efti, Haddaway, 12 Inches Of Snow, that kind of shit, so you can only imagine what happened when I opened my Christmas present, put the cassette tape into my walkman, put my headphones on and pressed play.

“Smells Like Teen Spirit” tore like machine-gun fire through my mind and I loved every second of it. Here was this guy screaming his fucking head off, banging out these loud, angry three and four chord riffs that hooked me instantly and to this day, have not let go.

 

 

Everything changed after that day. The flood gates were opened and in poured an ocean of noise which quickly became the soundtrack to many a wasted night and day spent getting fucked up with my friends when I was way too young to have any idea what I was doing to myself.

Anyway, the point of all this is Kurt Cobain changed a lot of people’s lives the way he changed mine. He was the sole reason my entire generation started playing guitar and dressing like they’d stolen their clothes from a Salvation Army donation bin (they probably had).

I’ve heard so many people over the years say he was murdered by Courtney Love and spent countless hours arguing with those people because I refuse to believe that. The man was a mess! The drugs, the fame, the overwhelming commercial success of his music, the legions of screaming fans, he couldn’t handle it, it made him miserable as sin because he’d all of a sudden become the poster-boy for an entire generation, some kind of over-inflated grunge hero and he hated the pressure and the pretence of it all.

 

 

He’d lost his will to play and with it, his will to live. The same way he exploded onto the scene, he exploded off it, and I know it’s not really the popular opinion, but I think eating a shotgun is a seriously badass way of offing yourself because it sends a very clear message that what you did sure as hell wasn’t a cry for help.

A lot of people have speculated what it would be like if he hadn’t painted the ceiling with his brains, some saying he would have eventually come right and possibly gone on to write material that would be even better than his previous stuff and become an even more influential force in rock music, but I’m sceptical.

This piece that Chuck Klosterman wrote for Spin Magazine is probably the best prediction of what would have happened if Kurt Cobain were still alive http://www.spin.com/articles/what-if-kurt-cobain-didnt-die.

 

 

It’s a pretty hilarious read because in Chuck’s version of events, Cobain fizzles into obscurity and despite his half-hearted efforts, never quite manages to top the successes of his early career.

The universe has this funny way of working out sometimes. Can you imagine a 44 year-old Kurt Cobain? Some doddering, irrelevant middle-aged junkie, stinking up awards ceremonies and becoming the butt of the Justin Bieber-era entertainment industry’s jokes?

To be quite frank, I’m glad Cobain isn’t around to see what became of the industry because it’s the fucking Mickey Mouse club out there!

There are things in this life that are worse than death and Cobain still being alive to see how ridiculously over-commercial, overly-sexed and painfully shallow mainstream music has become over the last twenty years would definitely be one of them.

-ST

08
Feb
11

When All Else Fails, Terror Is Always An Option

By SlickTiger 1 Comment
Categories: Being Slick
Tags: , , ,

Kommetjie in many ways is an idyllic little town by the sea. People there are chilled out, they enjoy a relatively stress-free life and are known to indulge in the odd marijuana cigarette from time to time whilst staring vacantly at the sea.

We hit Longbeach Mall on Sunday, which was bustling with a fine cross section of Kommetjie locals, some of whom looked like their parents might be cousins, which I guess is the other, darker side to living in a quaint little seaside village with very little to do in the evenings.

Long story short, I was already slightly on edge whist walking around the mall, which is what made the following discovery all the more terrifying.

 

 

But wait, it gets better.

 

 

Shop mannequins are creepy as fuck at the best of times, but these puppies take the cake.

Do these faux-humans make you want to buy clothing? They make me want to hide under my bed and never come out again… much like my day job actually…

-ST

03
Feb
11

SlickTiger Rides A Segway, Doesn’t Die!

By SlickTiger 2 Comments
Categories: Being Slick and Good Times
Tags: , , , , , , ,

Life was good for Jimi Heselden. He came from humble origins and built a name for himself when he invented a collapsible wire mesh fabric container called Hesco bastion that was widely used in war zones to quickly and effectively erect blast walls and fortifications (thanks Wikipedia!).

In 2010 he bought Segway Inc. at which time his estimated worth was somewhere in the region of R1 947 831 890, a figure which I have painstakingly converted because I can’t find the pound button on my keyboard.

Then one day Jimi went for a lazy afternoon ride on his Segway (fitted with special off-road tyres), drove off the edge of a 24 meter cliff and died.

When I heard this, my entire conception of these quaint little machines that look like something out of The Jetsons changed immediately.

“Killing Machine” is a strong term but right now, two whiskies in, I can’t really think of a better one.

 

 

On Sunday, J-Rab gave me strict instructions not to get too hammered at the family lunch because she had a surprise for me later that afternoon and boy was I glad I listened to her (for once).

We took a drive through to Spier Wine Estate in Stellenbosch where she used to work where she let the cat out the bag that we were going on a sunset Segway tour around Spier! With special Segways fitted with off-road tyres!

Did visions of my mangled body lying at the bottom of a 24 meter cliff start flashing through my mind? No. For one, there are no 24 meter cliffs on Spier and for two I’d seen six year old kids on those things, how hard could it be?

And that’s just the thing, it wasn’t hard at all. All you have to do is hold onto the handlebars and lean, you’ve got to be a special kind of retarded to get that wrong.

 

 

Our tour guides Saul and Dan took us through the basics of driving the Segways and after about 20 minutes of riding around on an old tennis court we all had the hang of it and were ready to take the Segs off the ‘turtle’ setting and tear up the dirt roads of Spier.

To put it simply, if you ever get a chance to visit Spier and you don’t jump on the Segs to take a tour of the vineyards, you’re missing out in a huge way.

 

 

The machines are seriously fucking cool – you hardly have to move a muscle to get them up to top speed and they’re so responsive you can whip out a 360 degree turn in a circle as tight as the wheelbase is wide.

Dan and Saul are definitely onto something. With the off-road tyres fitted the Segs can handle some pretty rugged terrain and it beats the hell out of actually walking, think of all the unnecessary wear and tear you’ll be saving on your legs!

We found the perfect spot on the edge of the vineyard and got off the Segways to watch the sun set. All around us there was just acre upon acre of rolling green land framed on all sides by the mountains rising like stone giants as the shadows they cast lengthened in the fading light.

 

 

I don’t know when we’ll go back to Stellenbosch again. We don’t live there anymore so probably not for a long, long time, but as far as last memories go that afternoon riding around the vineyards is possibly the best we could have left with.

-ST

02
Feb
11

Promises Promises

By SlickTiger Leave a Comment
Categories: Being Slick, Events and Good Times
Tags: , , , ,

So I know I said I’d post a whole buttload of pics from the Met on Saturday once I got my hands on J-Rab’s camera, but having gone through the pics she took, they were kinda ok, not really mind-blowing.

Still though, here’s a nice pic of J-Rab and I sitting on a couch / giant flower that went well with my red and black 1930’s gangster get up.

 

 

It was such an intense fucking party, seriously. And at the end of it all, the kind folks from Road Trip drove us home for free as part of the package.

Would I recommend entering every goddamn competition known to man to win tickets to the J&B main marquee for next year’s Met?

Does the pope shit in the woods? Winking smile

Oh yeah, and incidentally we did bet on the horses if you were wandering and pretty much lost everything, which is officially my excuse for the copious amounts of tequila that followed and the awesome / mildly terrifying moves I was whipping out on the dancefloor. 

Good times I tell ya, good times.

-ST

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