Archive for the 'Killer Posts' Category



03
Oct
12

Calling All BUFF CHARNAS And SERIOUS BELTERS

70652881LwHvct_phMa charnas, I have to just say that yesterday’s post where I showed you ous how the Champions League Twenty20 Cricket flippin STOLE MY SHIT has gone MASSIVELY virile.

That was the biggest numbers this site has ever done in one day and not one ou, NOT ONE, had a bad thing to say about it because ja. The ous STOLE MY SHIT! Flippin THIEFS!

KLAPPING IT is a INSTITUTION! It’s a flippin RELIGION to ous (WOLFPACK! You BUFF CHARNAS know what I’m talking about). So after gym last night I did a bit of a photo shoot of myself and my flippin BELTER girlfriend so the Twenty20 ous can see what KLAPPING IT is all about.

Check these flippin HIGH QUALITY shots we took in our home studio.

 

 

Here’s another one in case the white pant cricket moffies didn’t get the message the first time round:

 

 

And just to rub home my point:

 

 

After that I had A THOUGHT, which was unusual for me so you better flippin listen carefully.

I know for a FACT that literally millions of MASSIVE AND RIPPED BUFF CHARNAS and SERIOUS BELTERS read this site about ten times A DAY because this site lets me spy on them.

So why don’t you flippin MONSTER okes and BELTER chicks send me your sexy pics that show how you like to KLAP IT to tellthetiger@gmail.com and I’ll IMMEDIATELY put YOU on my site.

It’s time to show those flippin banana eating cricket moffies once AND FOR ALL what KLAPPING IT actually means so that never again will ADVERTISING RATS steal from a interweb oke and think they can get away with it.

-ST

01
Jun
12

Friday Challenge – Guess These Close-Up Images

Looking-at-the-World-through-a-Microscope-snow2It’s Friday and I know as well as you do that you’re gonna spend the morning making sure you cover all your bases in the “working the bare minimum” department.

Come lunchtime you’re gonna grab a bite with some colleagues, then you’re gonna remember how loaded you are cause it’s pay day and celebrate with a few beers.

Fast forward to three hours later and you’re staggering back to work to kill time until you can go home without getting the hairy eyeball and THAT’S when you need to share this Friday challenge with EVERYONE YOU KNOW!

The following images are taken through an electron microscope and if you can guess what all 10 of these images depict, you are either a flippin GENIUS or a very creepy person who must please never read this site again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There ya have it folks! Hit the comments section and see how many you can get right, I’ll announce what everything is at 4pm… (provided I’m not elbows-deep in the office bar).

Have a killer weekend party people! Happy Payday!

-ST

24
May
12

3 MORE Tips To Make Your Life Too Awesome To Handle

cheesy-smileGreat news guys! I’ve gotten my hands on some more life-changing tips to make your life too awesome to handle!

So grab a pen from the handy craft caddy I showed you how to make the last time I made your life too awesome to handle and let’s take the awesomeness of your life to a whole other level!

And no, I don’t HAVE to end every sentence in this post with an exclamation mark, but enthusiasm is contagious and nothing says “I’m enthusiastic” better than CAPITAL LETTERS, EXCESSIVE PUNCTUATION AND ANTI-DEPRESSANTS WASHED DOWN WITH AN ENTIRE BOTTLE OF RED WINE!!!!!

Tip #1:

Use a simple household comb to prove to your friends once and for all that you are homosexual

 

 

We’ve all been in this situation. You buy an alluring salmon-coloured, alpaca sweater, you put it on for the first time before heading to a mate’s place to watch the big game and the minute you walk through the door your buddy’s like, “What the fuck dude? Is there something you wanna tell me?”

Well, thanks to this handy tip, you’ll never have to hear that question again! The next time your buddy wants a hand with some home DIY, take a comb along to hold the nails in place while you hammer them at impossibly skew angles into any surface!

Just make sure you practise this one at home first. I’ve already shattered 17 combs getting it right, but trust me, it’s totally worth it when you see the look of realisation on your friend’s faces after you show them this handy tip.

Tip #2:

Roll your cables up in tubes and carry them wherever you go

 

 

We’ve all been in that life-threatening situation where an electronic device such as your cell phone or laptop is about to die but you left the cable at home!

Well, if you combine the tip above with a condom and a tube of KY Jelly, you’ll never be without cables ever again!

Just carefully roll up the cables you need, put them in an empty toilet roll as shown, stretch a condom over the toilet roll, smear it with the KY Jelly and gently insert it into the handy storage compartment located beneath your nether regions.

Just be sure to rinse the cables off before you use them. Failing that, if someone asks what that smell is, I usually just blame it on a “rat that’s died under the floorboards”.

Tip #3:

Reuse things like a homeless person

 

 

Who knew that a simple Pringles container is the prefect size to store spaghetti in?!

Certainly not the guests that I had around for a party the other night, one of whom opened the container, tipped it upside down thinking chips would come out and poured my spaghetti all over the floor!

“What the fuck bro?!” he chirped, cheekily, “who the fuck keeps pasta in a fucking Pringles tin?!”

“I know right!” I replied. “Genius, isn’t it?”

“Sure is!” he replied staring at the pasta which was now stored not-so-conveniently all over my kitchen floor.

“Don’t worry about picking it up, I know a great trick with a vacuum cleaner and some pantyhose that I can use, I just need to get the cable out,” I said, unbuttoning my jeans.

“I’m fucking leaving,” he said, “you are a sick, sick man.”

And he was right. I am sick. Sick to the power of rad because thanks to my work colleagues relentlessly sending me these handy tips over email, my life (much like my ruptured colon) is too awesome to handle!

-ST

18
May
12

The Tiger Listens To 5FM, Gets Scarred For Life

blow-torch_01For about three years, maybe more, I flat out refused to listen to commercial radio in South Africa and my rationale was pretty simple.

I don’t listen to the songs I like five times a day, so hearing music that infuriates me on infinite repeat was about as fun as shaving my balls with a blowtorch.

Recently though, maybe because I’m getting old or because my fighting spirit has been broken, I’ve been listening to 5FM in the mornings because sometimes I get a chuckle out of it, with the exception of this morning when a woman phoned in and scarred me FOR LIFE.

It started out innocently enough – a woman who sounds like she’s in her 40s calls the station to tell Gareth this ambling story about how she wished she’d gotten through for some competition or other about things you’ve fixed (or something like that, I’ll be honest, at this point I wasn’t paying much attention, the conversation was pretty boring).

 

 

Gareth asked her if she enters a lot of competitions because she sounded like one of those creepy serial competition-entering types and she said no, her job doesn’t really allow for that.

“Why?” asked Gareth, “Do you work in a sweatshop or something?”

“No,” she replied, “I work in the morgue.”

Just wait, it gets better / worse.

“Oh wow, that’s pretty hectic,” Gareth said, “what do you do there?”

And I shit you not, her reply (which is still echoing in my head) made me feel intensely uncomfortable.

“I put humpty dumpty back together again,” she said, as the whole of South Africa whispered “what the… fuck…?” in morning traffic.

 

 

No one in the studio seemed particularly distressed by this news at that point and started firing all these questions at the woman during the course of which another two nuggets of disturbing shit dropped out (wonderful mental picture right there):

1. She works exclusively on CHILDREN
2. She will sometimes work on as many as 9 A WEEK!

They asked her if she gets to see a psychologist as part of the job, to which she replied “No, I don’t.”

Now, I don’t want you guys to get the wrong idea here, what she does is a necessary service, and one that probably makes it easier for grieving parents and families to say goodbye, but still, it gave me the willies man!

“I put Humpty Dumpty back together again…”

 

 

And just like that, the nursery-rhyme analogy makes perfect sense.

Because it’s children…

If anyone needs me, I’ll be staring unresponsively off into space, probably until Monday…

Have a… killer weekend? Disappointed smile

-ST

14
May
12

What Actors Are Actually Taking When They Get Loaded On-Screen

779If I had to make a list of every movie or TV series I’ve ever watched where people smoke, toke, shoot, and shnarf all manner of supposed “drugs” it would be a mile long.

Drug use in movies and series is becoming increasingly prevalent, which always leads me to wonder what the fuck they are actually ingesting.

For a long time I figured it was just the real thing and that there was probably some dodgey pact that Hollywood made decades ago with law enforcement to just turn a blind eye to it in exchange for some fat kickbacks.

But apparently it’s highly illegal for any controlled substances to be used on camera (what happens off camera is anyone’s guess), which is why Hollywood is forced to use the following substances instead of actual drugs.

Chrystal Meth (or tik as it’s known in the good ol’ S of A)

Apparently the meth that my main man Walter White cooks up in Breaking Bad is nothing more than totally harmless rock candy.

Only problem with this is I’ve never seen rock candy smoke up like whatever it is they use when the characters actually smoke it, so I’m a little sceptical of that one…

 

Mahanga-Janga

Again, this one is a little suspect. Apparently the weed the characters in Pineapple Express blaze is actually a non-tobacco herb that looks like pot, cooks like pot, but produces none of the blissful side-effects.

So that’s Pineapple Express. What about Weeds, Knocked Up, Harold & Kumar, Grandma’s Boy and old classics like Half Baked, Cheech and Chong,  Outside Providence and Don’t Be A Menace? You telling me they ALL used this non-tobacco herb?

Again, sceptical…

 

 

Cocaine

FINALLY a grain (gram?) of truth. Legend has it that Pacino topped up on real coke throughout Scarface back in the day, but when they shot Blow in 2001, the actors schnarfed inositol – powdered vitamin B.

So instead of getting an intra-brainous blast of ego-inflating, gibberish-producing, teeth-gnashingly powerful charlie, the actors left the set everyday with lowered cholesterol, healthy, shiny skin and hair and regulated blood pressure.

FUCK YEAH!

 

Crack

The dodgiest of the lot. Apparently Ryan Gosling’s character in Half Nelson smoked a piece of a broken drinking mug that prop artists dyed with coffee to look like crack. A pinch of tobacco produced the smoke and hey presto, the audience were none the wiser.

 

 

So there you have it. A list of four movies that substituted the real thing with perfectly safe, non-toxic alternatives.

Somehow I still don’t buy it. Wired has the original article that I’ve ripped this off from, so you can go there if you want to check the source, but I’ve pretty much copy / pasted the entire piece here.

I still reckon most movies just use the real thing.

I mean c’mon! There’s acting and then there’s just trying to hold your shit together on camera while you’re higher than God; doesn’t take a genius to spot the difference and I reckon most actors fall into column ‘B’ when they have to “act” high on camera.

Shoulda been an actor goddamnit! How fun must that shit be?! Winking smile

-ST

10
May
12

Why The Release Of Diablo III Terrifies Me

diablo3On the 15th May, the gaming world is going to lose it’s damn mind when Diablo III officially hits shelves and can you blame them?

When the original Diablo was released in 1996, it was an instant classic. The game was as dark as they come and insanely addictive.

But it was really Diablo II (released in 2000) that got its hooks into me personally. Blizzard took the concept from the previous game, expanded it tenfold and created a gaming masterpiece.

To say I got obsessed with that game is a gross understatement – I atebreathedlivedsleepedshat Diablo II for a long, long time. How long you ask? Try A YEAR AND A HALF PLAYING THE SAME CHARACTER!

Yeah. I played one character (the Necromancer) for a full year and a half and finished the game on normal, nightmare and hell difficulty levels and then got the expansion pack and did the same.

 

 

I was totally obsessed. With Diablo II they added this genius feature where if you finished the game on normal, you got knighted as “Sir”, finishing on nightmare earned you the title “Lord”, finishing on hell (which, let me assure you, was exactly what the name implies) earned you the title “Baron” and finishing the expansion pack on hell earned you the title “Patriarch”.

So yeah. If that doesn’t make my point about how obsessed with this game I was, I don’t think anything will.

Except maybe mentioning that I got my character all the way up to Level 76. See how I used a capital “L” there? Level 76, bitches! (He said, knowing full well he was setting himself up perfectly for some douche to gun him down with their Level 89 Barbarian in the comments section…)

 

 

It’s been 12 long years since those days. A LOT has changed. I’ve graduated varstiy, found gainful and meaningful employment, moved into a flat with the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever known and things are going well for me y’know?

I don’t NEED Diablo III in my life, I realise that. I can totally turn a blind eye to all the hype surrounding it and get by doing my day to day. I’m not an impressionable 17 year old anymore, I’ve matured a lot since then.

I think I’m in a much stronger place now than I was back then and if I had to say install it and just play a few hours on the weekends, I could definitely handle that.

Just a few hours on a Saturday morning when my girlfriend is at work and maybe a few more later that same day if we didn’t have any other plans y’know? And obviously a few on Sunday morning, cause who does anything on a Sunday?

 

 

And, depending on my workflow, an hour here and there during the week, in the evenings before I hit the hay, wouldn’t be such a bad thing would it? I could handle that, couldn’t I?

Sure I could! Hell, on slow days I could probably even handle an hour at work during my lunch break, I mean no one takes lunch breaks anymore right? Exactly! Time to take the power back, stick it to the man!

If I blogged less I could also get an hour or two extra, BOOM! I mean this site is cool and all, but I definitely think people would still dig it if I posted, say, once or twice a month, am I right?

If we got a maid to handle house stuffs, that would also free up a LOT of my time. J-Rab will be stoked if I do that because it means less house work for her as well and more time to read quietly in a corner somewhere while I SLAYTHEFUCKOUTOFEVERYTHINGISEE AAAARAGARARAGRAGAAGRAGAR!

 

 

Now all I need is a machine that can actually run it, but I’ve been thinking about getting myself a decent rig for awhile, to improve my productivity and shit y’know? I could just make a small withdrawal from the unit trusts I invested in so I’ll one day be able to afford a deposit on a house, no biggie.

And THAT ladies and gentlemen, is why the release of Diablo III terrifies me.

Watch this trailer if you have any doubts about how awesome this game is going to be and how badly it’s going to instantly addict all who play it.

 

 

Kiss your life goodbye, you won’t need it after you start playing.

See ya’ll in New Tristram Winking smile

-ST

04
May
12

Facejacker – The funniest shit you’ll ever see

facejackerThat’s a pretty bold statement right there but I’m comfortable making it because here at Them’s Fightin’ Words we do not fuck around… much…

While I was over in London a few weeks back, I got introduced to this killer show called “Facejacker” by my good buddy Stuza and my life has been changed for the better ever since.

The concept of Facejacker is pretty simple. Actor Kayvan Novak adopts a whole bunch of different disguises to completely change his appearance and then terrorises the general populace with fucking hilarious results. You HAVE to see this shit.

Though he acts as ten different characters on the show, my personal favourite is Brian Badonde, a flamboyantly homosexual art critic who suffers from “Bourettes”, a speech impediment that makes him start certain words with the letter “b”.

Here’s one of the first skits he did at an art gallery:

 

 

How he keeps a straight face throughout is a total mystery to me. How fucking funny is that shit?!

And it only gets better. Check out the pottery episode:

 

 

The whisky episode also made my literally piss myself laughing:

 

 

And the one that got me hooked when I saw it a few weeks back. I present to you. Brian Badonde. Art critic. Learning the art of. Boetry.

 

 

I swear to god, when he gets the guy to recite Postman Pat, he gets this close to packing up laughing, just watch his face, priceless!

Have a killer weekend party people Winking smile

-ST

05
Apr
12

Golden Fruit Forgotten

4136597496_5abe2fb47dBack in high-school we had this badass English teacher who was like a walking encyclopaedia of life-changing quotes.

She used to print them out and tack them to the walls in her classroom. I’ve forgotten most of them over time and the ones I remember I only half remember.

One of them was about golden fruit, it was a metaphor for greatness. It went something like “Heavy hang the boughs that bear golden fruit.”

I thought of it today because I got to thinking about Layne Stayley, a man who you’ve probably never heard of, but who was one of the greatest vocalists who ever lived.

 

 

Like a lot of artists that were part of the grunge scene in the early 90s, Layne got strung out on heroine and on April 5th 2002, the exact same day that Kurt Cobain had eaten a shotgun eight years earlier, Layne overdosed in his flat where he’d been living as a recluse for a number of years.

That was exactly 10 years ago today.

He was the singer and frontman of grunge / metal band Alice In Chains, who recorded the last great album of the grunge era, the self-titled album they released in 1995.

 

 

I don’t know why, but one of the lines he wrote was floating in my head yesterday so I started digging up some old articles about him and what I found was pretty heart-wrenching.

His dad was a junkie who left him, his mom and his sisters when Layne was eight. It was a heavy blow growing up without his father and at one point he even got a phone call telling him his father had died, which was a lie to protect Layne from his old man.

Layne said he felt like he always had the talent and creativity to be a rock star and was motivated by the thought that if he became a celebrity his dad might return.

 

 

Sure enough, once Alice In Chains started gaining momentum when Layne was in his early 20s, his dad saw a picture of Layne in a magazine and suddenly wanted to be a part of his son’s life again.

Sadly, it wasn’t quite the reunion Layne had imagined growing up. I found this on the MTV site, it’s part of the last interview that Layne ever gave:

 

"He said he’d been clean of drugs for six years," Staley related. "So, why in the hell didn’t he come back before? I was very cautious at first. Then the relationship changed. My father started using drugs again. We did drugs together and I found myself in a miserable situation. He started visiting me all day to get high and do drugs with me. He came up to me just to get some shit, and that’s all. I was trying to kick this habit out of my life and here comes this man asking for money to buy some smack."

Layne’s father finally kicked his heroine habit, but Layne’s dependence on the drug only worsened over time.

Alice in Chains only ever recorded three studio albums, three EPs and one live album. Layne’s heroine use got so bad that they band didn’t finish touring to support their second album and didn’t tour following the release of their last album at all.

By 1996 the band was dead in the water. In the same year, Layne’s ex-fiancé Demri Lara Parrott died from complications caused by drug use, which sent Layne sliding deeper and deeper into drug use and depression.

 

 

Layne did vocals for another two Alice In Chains songs for their boxset, which was released in 1998, but from 1999 until his death in 2002, he lived as a total recluse.

Drummer Sean Kinney was interviewed about Layne’s final years:

 

"I kept trying to make contact…Three times a week, like clockwork, I’d call him, but he’d never answer. Every time I was in the area, I was up in front of his place yelling for him…Even if you could get in his building, he wasn’t going to open the door. You’d phone and he wouldn’t answer. You couldn’t just kick the door in and grab him, though there were so many times I thought about doing that. But if someone won’t help themselves, what, really, can anyone else do?"

More tragic than that was bassist Mike Starr’s last recollection of Layne when he saw him on April 4th 2002. Starr tried to get Layne to call 911 and get himself checked into hospital because his drug use had gotten so bad that he was completely emaciated, had lost a number of teeth and was wracked by pain and nausea.

Layne threatened to end their friendship if Starr called 911. The two fought and Starr stormed out of Layne’s apartment. Starr later said that Layne called out, “Not like this, don’t leave like this” to Starr as he left Layne’s condo.

 

 

On April 19th 2002, his accountants phoned his mother and told her that no money had been drawn from Layne’s bank account in two weeks.

The police kicked in the door to his home and found his remains lit by the flickering light from the television he died watching when he overdosed on a lethal combination of cocaine and heroine.

His mother was there when they found him. She asked the police if she could move some things off the couch so she could speak with her son one last time.

After an autopsy was performed it was revealed that Layne had died on the 5th of April, making Starr the last person to ever see him alive.

Starr blamed himself for his bandmate and close friend’s death for most of the remainder of his life, which ended tragically last year in March after he OD’ed on methadone and prescription medication.

Alice In Chains reformed in 2009 with a new vocalist and bassist to release Black Gives Way To Blue, but it just felt like a cardboard cut-out of a band that, for all the incredible music they recorded, has largely been forgotten.

 

 

Growing up, I promised myself I’d never become one of those sad, sorry fuckers who clings onto the “good old days” and reminisces endlessly about how much better things used to be, but when I think about the great musicians and bands that were around in the early nineties, it’s hard not to.

So many great minds, weighed down by the burden of the golden fruit they bore.

Great men, the ones that become legends of their time, endure untold suffering to bring some kind of truth, some kind of light into this world that is just as quickly extinguished and forgotten.

Let us not forget our brother Layne Stayley who lived his life with heaven beside him and hell within.

 

 

-ST

02
Apr
12

The Pink Bulls. Let’s Have That Conversation

Bulls-Away-227x300I hover very much around the periphery when it comes to sports in general, only really getting excited about them when World Cups come around.

It’s a huge failing I have as a man and it’s lead to a bazillion awkward conversations when well-meaning strangers ask my opinion about something sporty only to be met with an expression so blank, for a second it looks like I’ve actually died.

So I’m probably not the best-suited person to comment on anything vaguely sport-related, but none the less, I think it needs to be said that the Blue Bulls’ new away jerseys make me want to tear my eyes out.

Back in highschool there were only two sports that were offered in winter – rugby and hockey. If you played rugby you were one of the MANNE! You were one of the BOYCHAYS! You were a flippin’ TUFF OU who didn’t take no kak from nobody.

 

 

Conversely, if you played hockey, you were obviously a homosexual.

This retarded segregation lead to me opting for “social squash” as a winter sport, which I played exactly once with my dad’s wooden racquet from the 1960s which I broke in a fit of rage when I discovered how shit I as at squash.

Anyway, the point I’m getting to here is that from our early teenage years as men growing up in South Africa, it is drummed into us that playing rugby is the very pinnacle of what it means to be a man.

For years this Paleolithic classification of manliness put me off the sport entirely until Jake White lead one of the best Springbok teams I’ve ever seen to victory at the 2007 Rugby World Cup.

 

 

Watching that team literally mow down the competition along the road to victory gave me a new respect for rugby because holy shit, those guys were running onto the field, game after game, like a buncha fucking berserker warriors, and destroying EVERYTHING!

You’d have to be a robot or something not to feel inspired watching South Africa dismantle the teams we came up against – it was blood for blood by the gallon and by god, we were ready for war.

Since then I no longer fall into a waking coma when someone switches the rugby on because professional rugby players are tough as nails and while the finer points of the game are still lost on me, I get a kick out of watching ous getting chewed up in bone-crunching tackles and steamrolling the opposition to score tries against impossible odds.

I don’t think there is a sport on this earth where the players put their bodies on the line like they do in rugby (with the possible exception of ice hockey) so why the fuck would you dress those players in the pinkest uniforms I’ve seen outside of a gay pride march?!

 

 

Sure, I know what you’re thinking – the notion that pink is not a manly colour is ridiculously sexist, small-minded and prescriptive and that I’m no better than the guys back in highschool who thought all hockey players were gay.

But still, there are certain things that are burned into our consciousness from a very young age, certain basic associations we make that stick for life. One of which (in Western society anyway) is that blue is for boys and pink is for girls.

Of course any half-intelligent reader will stop me at this point with the inevitable “the fact that YOU aren’t comfortable with a team of rugby player wearing genitalia-pink jerseys says more about YOUR insecurities as a man than it does theirs” to which I’ll respond by saying “well done” while I pat you on the head because this is not about me.

 

 

This is about a team who, while they might not have been the favourites to win against the unbeaten Stormers, still took a good 40 minutes to get on the scoreboard after a disappointing first half.

There’s no denying they fought tooth-and-nail in the second half as they drew level with the Stormers, but where was that same single-minded determination in the first half?

It was in the changeroom where they left it the minute they jogged out on the field pinker than a My Little Pony themed birthday party.

Confidence in sport is everything and sure all chauvinistic stigma aside pink is just a colour, but I’d be willing to bet good money that at least a handful of Bulls players on Saturday ran onto that field thinking “I can’t fucking believe I’m wearing this…”

-ST

27
Mar
12

Nomu Launches Half Arsed-a Chef, Slick Makes A Cameo

nomu_stir_largeSo a couple weeks back your pal Slicky-T was asked to take part in an epic spoof of Master Chef brought to you by the good folks at Nomu.

Naturally my agent handled everything, I just showed up at the Nomu studio where I was greeted by cross section of Cape Town’s A-list influencers and more wine than you could shake a tin of Nomu beef rub at (courtesy of Andre Pentz, what a badass).

Everyone from bloggers Big Daddy Savage and Dax to comedienne Angel to 2OceansViber Richard Hardiman was there. Even SA celeb Leslie Van Der Westhuizen showed up and covered the Nomu kitchen from one end to the other in a bizarre mix of chocolate powder, soy sauce, melk skommel and other ingredients which shall remain nameless.

The result was a series of sick videos we’re calling “Half Arsed-a Chef”, the first episode of which “The Boerie Tower” follows below.

Unfortunately they had to cut me out of this episode entirely except for the opening credits, something about my performance over shadowing the rest of the contestants, but just you wait. There are at least another three or four episodes of the show and obviously they’re saving the best for last.

 

 

In case you were wondering, my team (Bubbles and Caylee) were the ones responsible for “The Alsatian” – the tightest boerie tower ever coiled around cardboard.

Stay tuned folks, more of that good shit to come Winking smile

-ST