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11
Oct
10

The Beauty Of Taking A Number Of Heavy Blows To The Head

By SlickTiger 2 Comments
Categories: Uncategorized
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Is that you find cartoons like this one really, really funny.

I can’t even explain to you why I think this cartoon is hilarious, but it made me burst out laughing at the cubicle farm a few weeks back, which usually only happens when I entertain crazy-assed ideas like going to client meetings naked or seeing how much I can secretly drink under my desk before someone asks why I’m standing on the boardroom table, belting out “We Are The Champions” in my Tiger Scants.

 

 

And I guess that’s the lesson here kids. If you damage your brain enough, well, Christ, you could find pretty much anything funny.

[Roll credits]

-ST

09
Oct
10

Congratulations!

By SlickTiger Leave a Comment
Categories: Uncategorized
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You’ve found a secret post!

 

 

-ST

07
Oct
10

A Text-Book “Red October” Post – WITH PUPPIES!

By SlickTiger Leave a Comment
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On the internet, repetition is king. Don’t think just because you’re a sometimes-funny fucker who got through to the finals of the SA Blog Awards and then dropped trou and showed everyone his Tiger Scants that people actually read your shit.

So to reiterate – last year, when I first started this fucking junkyard site, I posted everyday for the month of October and turned every day on the calendar you see on your right (scroll down a little… theeeeeerrreeee you go) red with posts.

This year I’m trying to do the same, but as I stated in the post I put up on the 1st, that means that some posts will be kak.

This post is kak. Make no mistake. I’m about to go taste some fine whisky at 15 On Orange so I know for a fact that I won’t be posting later tonight.

So, as a peace offering, here are cute pictures of the puppies we are currently raising. Keep a special eye out for Rocko, the fucking raddest little guy the world has ever known.

Also, send this around to all your friends, especially the girl ones, as proof that as long as you have cute animals (or porn) on your site, nobody gives a rat’s ass about what you write.

Lemon curry.

 

 

 

Ok, now I’m going to have to issue a disclaimer. What you are about to see is Rocko. He’s the coolest fucking dog ON THIS PLANET, so just take a few moments to accept that fact and prepare yourself for what you’re about to see or your head might explode with awesome.

 

 

And that. Is that.

Until tomorrow.

-ST

05
Oct
10

Quick, Everyone! In The Crate!

By SlickTiger 4 Comments
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My favourite moment as a blogger is when people ask me what other blogs I read.

“What?!” I invariably reply, “there are other blogs on the internet?! Holy shit, no! I don’t read that garbage, it’s bad enough that I write one, why the hell would I want to read someone elses?”

But the sad truth is that I too get miserably bored at work sometimes and find myself gravitating toward other blog sites, mostly just to affirm the fact that I am pretty much the Anti-Christ of South African bloggers and probably always will be.

 

 

Shaun Oakes has his moments too though – that whole Marine Taxis debacle that went down a few weeks back? Hilarious! And brilliantly handled too, made me wish some crazy old bat would bless this site with her incoherent, hate-fuelled ramblings. A guy can only hope…

And so I stumbled on his post about some Smirnoff hamper he was giving away on his site for this new thing Smirnoff is doing where they are going to put South Africa’s nightlife in a crate and ship it to some random country overseas.

Then they open it in the middle of a huge party with hundreds of people gathered there and BAM! Out jump The Parlotones!

 

 

Hahaha! Sorry, couldn’t resist 😉

No, they open the crate and BAM! Out jumps something, or at least a whole bunch of somethings that people have voted into the crate on Facebook.

The final say as to what exactly goes into the crate is decided by DJ Euphonic and DJ Fresh which totally defeats the object if you ask me because with stand-up guys like that calling the shots, there’s no way any crazy shit’s gonna get in there.

And, as anyone who’s truly experienced it can attest, SA nightlife is ALL about the crazy shit.

Me, I’d put David Kramer in there, no question about it.

 

 

Imagine everyone’s surprise when ol’ Dawie jumps out on the other side, banging out “The Royal Hotel” or “Biscuits And Biltong” on his guitar to a totally bewildered crowd of snooty, too-cool-for-school partygoers who have probably never once in their lives sat around a blazing fire with their buddies talking shit and listening to Mr Kramer’s classic ballads intermingled with the distant sounds of lions banging somewhere.

I think it’s a cute idea and all but I just don’t think what comes out of our crate on the other side is really going to blow anyone’s mind – does that make me a cynical basterd?

All we can hope, hope and pray, hope, pray and dream is that we get Columbia’s crate.

Now THAT’S a party I’d give a toe to be at, hooooooooooooooooo-weeeeeeeeeeeeee!

But seriously, am I the only one who thinks a crate packed full of Vuvuzelas, boerie rolls and Freshly Ground is a sure-fire recipe for a distinctly average night out?

-ST

04
Oct
10

Bubblegum On My Boots

By SlickTiger 4 Comments
Categories: Uncategorized
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Hahaha! I just read the fucking weirdest comment I think’s ever been posted on this site. Christ, I love the internet.

I found this one pending approval on my “About” page. I trashed the comment, but copy / pasted the text and decided to give it a post of its very own.

This one works on a couple of different levels but at face value, what we have here are some intensely passionate bubblegum Steri supporters enlisting the help of the Tiger.

 

 

Sit down for this one ok? I don’t want you surfing the internet standing up while you read this.

Are ya ready kids?

 

Dear SlickTiger

You may have heard of the Steri Flavour war that is breaking out right here in the beloved mother city. Cape Town Girl has been inundated with requests to ambassador for unofficial flavour fan clubs; we’re HUGE fans of Bubblegum and are looking for a blogger who is the epitome of what we’re all about.

Beware that Tashtober and Movember are upon us and that REAL South African boytjies, are out there cultivating some of the most hairy lip slugs ever witnesses by mankind, some so manly that would leave MacGyver feeling hopelessly inadequate. There is something magnificent about Bubblegum Steri Stumpie in the manner that it leaves a luminescent blue stain on your tongue. If you’ve been blessed with the god given talent to nurture a prodigious set of handlebars, taking a swig of the Blue Milk Magic will leave you with a mystical blue shaded tash.

You’re probably sitting down, wondering “why the fuck should I endorse some unofficial fan club for some arbitrary Steri Stumpie flavour in a war that will probably never reach my doorstep?” We can say only this, bubblegum is an underdog, we believe that we should be measured, not by the size of  12x5cm plastic container, but rather by the power of its contents to leave a sticky residue on your fur loaded upper lip. Bertrand Russell, a famous war dude, once said, “War does not determine who is right – only who is left”. Given the obvious stickiness of Bubblegum flavoured milk you will realise that long after the flavour of last nights shwarma feast has faded, the scent of a loving long street lady has paled after a morning shower, the blue stain will remain, unfaltering, everlasting reminder of your loyalty to the greatest flavoured milk to walk this crazy-ass planet of ours.

The unofficial official bubblegum steri stumpie fan club are massive fans of SlickTiger and love spending their free time reading his ludicrous blog posts, the madder the better.  Will you join us in a crusade to get people to Save the Flavour with Bubblegum Steri Stumpie?

Hugs and Kisses
The Bubblegum Flavour Savers
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Save-the-Flavour/138205386225707?ref=ts

 

A wise old man once said to me, there are two reasons why anyone does anything in this life.

The good reason.

And the real reason.

 

 

The good reason always comes first, it’s the worm on the hook, coated in a thick, slimey sheen of gooey, ego-massaging goodness. Nomnomnom…

Then comes the real reason, hard and barbed. In this case I happen to know the real reason why The Bubblegum Flavour Savers are contacting me and it’s pretty innocuous all in all, so fuck it.

If it’s help you want, it’s help you got. You guys want a platform that speaks to some crazy basterds, you got one.

There’s just one small catch…

I’m gonna need your souls. Just sign a piece of paper that says “I [insert full name that appears on birth certificate] hereby give my soul to SlickTiger for ever and ever. Amen. [Signature must follow]”.

I don’t think it’s much to ask for really. Paper and ink boys, that’s all it is. Hand over 1 x soul for each of the founding members of The Bubblegum Flavour Savers and let’s get you charnas (in)famous!

Bada bing, bada bang! 😉

-ST

03
Oct
10

What It’s Like To Be Six

By SlickTiger Leave a Comment
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If you want to remember what it’s like to be six, you gotta wait for a really, really hot day, then you gotta buy a giant softserve (with a flake inside), dip it in chocolate and eat it sitting right by the beach.

Then, if you’ve done that right, this should happen.

 

 

Now what you’re dealing with is a race against time. Things get frantic. You want to eat the ice cream, all of it, as much as possible before it all ends up dribbling away.

Then you hit the cone and you have a different problem altogether.

The serviette starts turning gooey and becomes impossible to remove from the cone.

See Exhibit A.

 

 

So naturally you get a little panicky, you get a little fidgety, you start picking the paper off quick as you can, people are staring, some douche keeps taking pictures of you with his phone, you try go a little quicker, you turn the cone round and round and round in your hands, unravelling the soggy serviette, trying to get that stubborn bastard off and the next thing you know…

 

 

Hey presto.

You’re six years old again 😉

-ST

01
Oct
10

Red October

By SlickTiger Leave a Comment
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It begins today. Last year, when I first started this blog, I posted everyday for the month of October, and turned every day in the calendar you see on the right red with posts.

This year I aim to do the same.

The beauty of setting goals on a blog, where everyone can read them, is that failing is awesome. It’s like going onstage drunk as a hobo at a gig and passing out after three songs.

Which is why I aim not to fuck this up 😉

Sure, some posts will be banal. Some will just be plain lame, but it’s the principle of the thing y’know?

So here we go. Nine o’clock on a Friday night.

Post number one of thirty one.

Let the good times roll.

 

 

-ST

28
Sep
10

Happy Birthday TFW!

By SlickTiger 1 Comment
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Today marks exactly one year since this site went live.

 

 

I feel like I should post something momentous to mark the occasion, like maybe a bunch of bullet points that clearly highlight my favourite moments since I started blogging or something, but I’m not going to do that cause you and I both know that nobody gives a shit about that shit.

I got a better idea.

Let’s get drunk. Fuck it all. Let’s get drunk and sing old Velvet Underground songs, who’s with me?! HUH?!?! WHO’S FUCKING WITH ME!

AWESOME! Ok, here, you get started on this fine bottle of single malt and I’ll tell you about a friend of mine, name of Jimmy Brown, he ain’t got nothin’ at all.

Not a shirt right off his back. He ain’t got nothin’ at all 😉

I’ve enjoyed writing this blog for all you crazy fuckers out there, you’re good people, exactly the kind of people I started writing this site to attract. Crazy diamonds.

 

 

And I’m sorry you know? Sorry if recently the content’s been thin and posts are few and far between, I still got all these fightin’ words in my head, just not the time to get them out in the right order.

I think this site might be here forever though. I think I’m re-thinking the whole thing with a long term goal in mind to just keep posting and posting and posting. And in time you’ll be able to cut through all this material like a saw through a tree and you’ll be able to read the circles in the trunk and tell the good years from the bad.

It’s like a beat-up old spaceship floating aimlessly through the ether and inside it are a tiny handful of people, my friends mostly, getting fucked up in the lamplight and talking a bunch of shit, sometimes laughing.

Other people, they get on and off, and in the credits of this movie they only appear as “Man By The Teleporter” or “Woman Playing Ukulele” and that’s fine, they have no place here, they’re free to come and go. I don’t mind.

 

 

So pour us another drink, easy on the ice, while I tell you about old Ginger Brown, walks with his head down to the ground, they took the shoes right off his feet and threw the poor boy right out in the street.

And this is what he said.

“Oh sweet nothin’
She ain’t got nothin’ at all…”

-ST

27
Sep
10

The Tiger Loses At SA Blog Awards, Drops Trou

By SlickTiger 11 Comments
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What can I say guys? I failed you. I failed you all and I’m a lousy, good-for-nothing faily-failure who gets right to the finish line and then fails.

I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am, let’s face it…

 

 

I mean things started out well enough. J-Rab and I got all suited up and hit the One & Only for the pre-drinks at 5.30, made some pleasant chit chat with the people there and took sneaky hits off my tartan hip flask when no one was looking, on all counts it was a great start to the evening.

Oh, and did I mention that J-Rab looked smokin’ hot? You feel like the King of the world with that girl on your arm, no shit. You walk in there head held high because you know you’ve got the hottest girl in the place and nothing and nobody can fuck with that.

 

 

From the pre-drinks we were ushered downstairs where the blog awards were taking place and given fucking mind-bendingly strong tequila cocktails that went down like a freight train. Naturally I had one or two to take the edge off my nerves and then possibly another one or two because I needed something to do with my hands.

Next thing I knew we were all being asked to take our seats for the awards to begin which they did with an opening address by JP Naude that stressed a number of points to make the poor guy look better in the face of all the accusations being levelled at him that the nomination and voting procedures for this year’s awards were retarded.

Personally I couldn’t give a rat’s ass. I got to the final two in my category so I was happy.

The highlight of my evening was our Honourable Premier Lady Z’s speech she made at the awards. She’s a great public speaker and was actually really funny too which I wasn’t expecting at all.

 

 

Then came intermission during which J-Rab turned to me and in no uncertain terms said, “Babe, if you win there’s no question about it, you’ve got to go onstage and drop trou.”

“Huh. That’s a pretty crazy idea.”

“C’mon! You have to do it, this whole awards thing is so stuffy and boring. You have to drop trou if you win!”

“Lemme have a tequila and think about that…”

(3 tequilas later)

“Fuck! You’re a genius! I’m SO dropping trou when I win that fucking award! Ah man, this’s gonna be PRICELESS!”

“Atta boy!”

“I even practised in the bathroom, getting my jeans off, this is gonna be AMAZING!”

 

 

And so I marched purposefully back to my seat, really happy that I’d girded my loins with my “Tiger Scants” when I was suiting up earlier (the Tiger Scants are very sexy black undies with a growling Tiger’s face right where your junk sits).

I think there’s only one other pair of undies more badass than the Tiger Scants, but they’ve been universally banned because they killed a subway full of people with their sheer awesomnity.

I was ready. I was going to do it. I was going to unleash the Tiger and I already had four people waiting to give me a standing ovation as soon as my jeans hit the stage.

But yeah, in a profound Sad Trombone moment they didn’t read the name of SlickTiger that night, no, they read the name of Brainwavez and your poor buddy ol’ pal Slick’s hopes and dreams were shattered against the jagged, rocky shoreline of reality where he isn’t the blogging demigod he thinks he is.

He’s just a man with a clunky laptop banging out fightin’ words, a crazy man, maybe one day a great man, but not today.

 

 

From there things got a little blurry, but the anti-climax of not being able to drop trou onstage proved too much for me to bear so I spent the rest of the evening dropping my jeans at any given opportunity and “unleashing the Tiger” to large groups of unsuspecting people who reacted in much the same way they would had I unleashed a real tiger.

On that note, if anyone out there on the interwebs manages to unearth pictures of me “unleashing the Tiger” or just any pictures of me and J-Rab at the awards, I’ll reward you handsomely for your efforts by posting the pics IMMEDIATELY and writing a humorous limerick about you that you can show your friends.

Needless to say, we didn’t stick around for long after the awards. I could sense I was dangerously close to committing the kind of Tiger faux pas that gets you tarred and feathered in blogging circles. So we caught a taxi to The Fez instead and boogied on down with some of my closest and oldest friends who consoled me with drinks, pats on the back and kind words like “Fuck those fucking fuckheads man! You did good dude, you got the the top 2 IN THE COUNTRY! I mean that’s fucking impressive, that’s th – wait, are you even listening to me? Oh Christ, the tiger underpants again…”

To sum up, I’d like to quote one of my favourite novels of all time:

It eluded us then, but that’s no matter – tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms further… And one fine morning –

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

This is not the end.

-ST

20
Sep
10

Tequilas on me!

By SlickTiger 3 Comments
Categories: Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

It’s a fucking done deal guys, thanks to all your support and the endless hours you spent voting, revoting and re-revoting for Klap Gym Boet, it’s cracked the FINAL TWO for the SA Blog Awards!

I found out last night and started bouncing off the walls like a piece of loose shrapnel with J-Rab while the two of us laughed our asses off that a post about KLAPPING GYM could ever get so huge.

 

 

We drank Savannas because that’s all we had. We ate fish and rice for supper in our wooden shed and fantasised about being rich and famous.

But seriously you guys are the best. Without all you crazy fuckers backing me on this, God knows I’d still be banging out these words, drunk and belligerent, to an audience of about twelve people.

Big up to my good friend MJ though, she’s up against the Tiger for Best Post with this gem she put out there last year that gives a detailed overview of how District 9 was marketed on the web. It’s an excellent and well-researched piece of writing and if MJ bags the award on Saturday, I’ll be really stoked that for once, the good guys finished first.

 

 

In other news, you may have noticed that the site’s been a little thin on the posting side of late but truth be told, life, the universe and pretty much everything is scrambling for a piece of me and like I said in last week’s post, I’m bleeding time like nobody’s business right now and there’s only so much of me to go around.

I’m working on creating more of me though, but it’s proving tricky because to do that I need to KLAP 3 SESSIONS OF GYM, SMASH 6 PROTEIN SHAKES, 12 RAW EGGS, 5 STEAKS, 9 CHICKEN BREASTS and 3 INJECTIONS OF DANGEROUS ANABOLIC STEROIDS EVERY DAY!

So guys, tequilas on me this week and wish me luck for Saturday. If I KLAP this one, maybe some kind folks will help me redesign my site for free because let’s be honest, it’s getting a little ropey and I got plans to p1mp it out flippin’ HECTIC charna!

Good times I tell ya. Good times 😉

-ST

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