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06
Mar
10

Saturday Post

By SlickTiger Leave a Comment
Categories: Uncategorized
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Man-o-man, I haven’t popped out a Saturday post for months! I dig writing them though because there’s none of the usual bullshit pressure to get them out as fast as humanly possible.

That’s one thing you learn very quickly about blogging – you do it on borrowed time. ‘Especially if you have a job and a girlfriend and drive and a life’ J-Rab has just chirped in. She does that from time to time, but rest assured, I punish her for such disruptive behavior.

Warm up the wagon wheel, yeee-ha!

 

 

Aaaaaaaanyway. Yeah, like I was saying, unless you get paid shitloads of money for it, you literally have to steal time from other things you should be doing in order to blog. I often wonder what this blog would be like if I got paid a crapload to just write it and didn’t have to hammer posts out through the night or at sparrow’s fart in the morning.

Chances are, ironically, it would probably be much worse than it is right now because when you’re racing against time to finish posts they have this funny way of turning out amazing. I do some of my best work under pressure, that’s a fact.

Today was a good day, that’s why I’m writing this. In fact, the whole weekend so far has been awesome.

On Friday after work, J-Rab and I hit the beach in Camp’s Bay and the weather couldn’t have been more beautiful if God himself had CGIed the sky.

 

 

We wet our feet in the sea, we took goofy pictures of ourselves, we looked up at the mountains. Something inside unwound a little.

Afterward we sat at Caprice and drank one cocktail after the next, people watching all the while and watching the sun set slowly over the edge of the ocean. It’s a crazy place Caprice, a lot of beautiful people go there looking sexy and talk to other sexy people and pretend like they’re the only people in the place.

I was keen to meet up with a buddy of mine, Jacques SS, after Caprice. He was going to the opening of Trench Town in Obs, but J-Rab an I were getting too drunk to drive all the way back to where we live, which is basically between Stellenbosch and Somerset West, so we just drove back home, shagged one another’s brains out and slept like the dead.

 

 

The entire day today was spent straightening out the little house where we live and fahk! I’m happy to say everything’s finally done.

It’s weird, I didn’t like this fucked up little wooden house of ours at first, but now that it’s full of all our stuff I’ve warmed to it a lot.

And with that I’m going to bid you all a good night. J-Rab and I are itching to sink our teeth into the third season of Dexter and the longer I write this, the less time we’ll have to do that.

Too-de-loo muthufukkahs!

-ST

22
Feb
10

Tiger Out

By SlickTiger 1 Comment
Categories: Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , , ,

Hey guys, wattup? I didn’t post this weekend because basically all I did was pack, pack, pack, pack, pack, pack, pack, pack, pack, pack, pack, pack, pack, pack and after all that packing, I packed, packed, packed, packed and fucking packed some more.

Fuck! Can you handle all that packing? I sure as hell couldn’t! I think I’ve lost my mind a little, jayziz! Probably shouldn’t have dicked around so much during the week…

 

 

This post is to apologise in advance for what a scrappy week this is going to be. Today at 2pm I head to Bloem, then tomorrow I nail the rest of the drive to CT, then Wednesday morning I leave for a 3 day conference with my new company where I probably won’t be able to blog.

If I could, I would blog my ass off while road trippin’, but I’m handing back my work laptop and don’t have one besides that.

BUT, I’m not a total douchebag. To keep you guys entertained while I’m away, here are this site’s top posts to date. Read ‘em slowly, maybe like one a day until I get back on the horse, that way you won’t miss me too badly / forget about me completely.

Wish me luck, and if anything bad happens, always remember that in this life, it’s better to be a slick willy than a smooth arsehole.

Here are the posts:

 

NO.1 â€œThe SlickTiger Guide To Klapping Gym Boet!” (Click it BOET! EAT SOME WEIGHTS!)

http://slicktiger.wordpress.com/2010/02/09/the-slicktiger-guide-to-klapping-gym-boet/

 

NO. 2 “A Sad Day For Dogs” (who knew this post would be so popular?! Weird I tell you, flippin weird)

http://slicktiger.wordpress.com/2009/10/20/a-sad-day-for-dogs/ 

 

NO. 3 “Death By Ayoba!” (the first post that got people all antsy about this site, a classic!)

http://slicktiger.wordpress.com/2009/11/19/death-by-ayoba/ 

 

NO. 4 “The Parlotones Irritate The Living Shit Out Of Me” (self explanatory really…)

http://slicktiger.wordpress.com/2010/01/28/the-parlotones-irritate-the-living-shit-out-of-me/ 

 

NO. 5 “My Top 5 Calvin & Hobbes Christmas Cartoons” (I love Calvin & Hobbes, this is why)

http://slicktiger.wordpress.com/2009/12/17/my-top-5-calvin-hobbes-christmas-cartoons/

 

NO. 6 “Halloween Dos And Donts – A Course For Social Retards” (includes a dildo!)

http://slicktiger.wordpress.com/2009/10/30/halloween-dos-and-donts-a-crash-course-for-social-retards/

 

NO. 7 “Top Billing Is Desensitising My Gag Reflex” (man did I have fun writing this one!)

http://slicktiger.wordpress.com/2009/12/11/top-billing-is-desensitising-my-gag-reflex/

 

NO. 8 “The Most Hungover I’ve Ever Been At Work” (DON’T read this while eating. In fact, probably DON’T read this AT ALL)

http://slicktiger.wordpress.com/2010/01/22/the-most-hungover-ive-ever-been-at-work/

 

NO. 9 “Who Cares About The Killers?” (cause seriously, who the fuck does?)

http://slicktiger.wordpress.com/2009/12/04/who-cares-about-the-killers/

 

NO. 10 “The One Thing I Feel Is Missing From The Interweb” (*5! Yeah! Good for you? Awesome, me too)

http://slicktiger.wordpress.com/2010/01/21/the-one-thing-i-feel-is-missing-from-the-interweb/

 

So yeah, enjoy! And I’ll see you guys on the other side.

Keep on keepin’ on 😉

-ST

19
Feb
10

Friday Post, A Day Late And A Dollar Short

By SlickTiger 1 Comment
Categories: Uncategorized
Tags: , ,

Goodbye is a bullshit word. There’s too much finality in goodbye. I don’t say it.

The world turns, it always has, you find one another, and you find one another again and again and again, in this life and the lives to follow.

The radio station in my head has been blasting this song for the last two hours.

It’s the Velvet Underground ladies and gentlemen.

With a song that goes.

A little something.

Like this.

Say a word for Jimmy Brown
He ain’t got nothing at all
Not the shirt right of his back
He ain’t got nothing at all
And say a word for Ginger Brown
Walks with his head down to the ground
Took the shoes right of his feet
To poor boy right out in the street

And this is what he said
Oh sweet nuthin’
She ain’t got nothing at all
Oh sweet nutin’
She ain’t got nothing at all

Say a word for Polly May
She can’t tell the night from the day
They threw her out in the street
But just like a cat she landed on her feet
And say a word for Joanna Love
She ain’t got nothing at all
‘Cos everyday she falls in love
And everynight she falls when she does

She said
Oh sweet nuthin’
You know she ain’t got nothing at all
Oh sweet nutin’
She ain’t got nothing at all

Oh let me hear you!

Say a word for Jimmy Brown
He ain’t got nothing at all
Not a shirt right of his back
He ain’t got nothing at all
And say a word for Ginger Brown
Walks with his head down to the ground
Took the shoes right of his feet
To poor boy right out in the street

And this is what he said
Oh sweet nuthin’
She ain’t got nothing at all
Oh sweet nutin’
She ain’t got nothing at all
She ain’t got nothing at all
Oh sweet nutin’

She ain’t got nothing at all
She ain’t got nothing at all
She ain’t got nothing at all

 

 

-ST

15
Feb
10

SlickTiger is THE KING of First Impressions

By SlickTiger 7 Comments
Categories: Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

Hey Party People, wassappenin?

If you’re a loyal TFW reader, I think I should probably start by apologising for being a lazy bastard over the weekend and not posting (it was actually a pretty epic weekend because I by mistake smashed my buddy Peggles’ massive glass table while we were playing darts and I feel really bad about that) and also not posting sooner today, it’s been too hectic.

 

 

But enough of that crap. I’m done grovelling, time to tell you why I’m the KING of first impressions. This is pretty epic.

Here’s the dealy-o (skip this bit if you know me / read this blog often): I’m packing up my life and heading down to Stellenbosch in exactly one week’s time so that I can join my gorgeous lady J-Rab down there and start a new life together, VERY exciting times for your buddy ‘ol pal Slick.

I’ve even got a new job lined up that starts at 8am sharp next week Wednesday because no, I don’t fuck around, I kill everything I see, that’s why God has a hard-on for me (name the movie I bastardised that from and win a prize!).

What’s pretty damn cool is that my new company wants me to start so soon because they’re going on a 3 day conference to kick the year off where we get to know the company, our colleagues, and even have guest speakers come in and speak about industry trends, etc, etc.

I couldn’t possibly think of a better way to start out at a company. After those 3 days of team-building exercises and ‘getting to know you’ sessions, I’ll start work on Monday pretty much knowing EVERYONE! SORTED!

 

 

Only thing I’m a little nervous about is the high female to male ratio at this conference, which I estimate to be about 20:3. I don’t like standing up in front of an entire audience of women because I get really self-conscious and say really stupid things that make me cringe when I think back on them.

One of the first things we’re doing is a ‘getting to know you’ game where you have to stand up in front of everyone and show them a ‘hidden talent’ you have.

I thought of doing a couple of one-arm pushups at first, cause those are pretty amazing, until I realised that I can’t do one-arm pushups. What? You try it! That shit’s HARD!

Then I thought of telling everyone I’m really good at smelling stuff and when they ask to prove it I’ll take a few deep whiffs and then say, ‘Yep. Definitely smelling stuff.’

But then fuck! Outta nowhere! I finally figure EXACTLY what I’m going to tell them.

Before I launch into it, I’d just like to thank The MAEN! for inspiring this one. I am nothing without you, this blog is nothing without you. Is it ok if I show them the picture of your penis? It is? Cool, you just boosted my viewership by probably about 350.

 

 

So anyway what I’ll tell them is that I’m really good at sex.

‘I’m really good at sex,’ I’ll tell them, ‘you laugh, but it’s true. The other day I was having sex with a woman in Haiti and she said it was so amazing, it felt like the earth was moving beneath her.’

Here I’ll pause for a moment while everyone laughs politely.

‘Ok, hahahaha, yeah, she didn’t really say that…’ I’ll concede sheepishly.

‘She was dead.’

Da doom…

TSSHHH! 🙂

-ST

12
Feb
10

Valentine’s Day Post

By SlickTiger 1 Comment
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Valentine’s Day is definitely my favourite Hallmark Holiday because it very neatly divides the world into two factions – people who are in a relationship and people who aren’t or, in layman’s terms, people who will get ass and people who wish they were getting ass.

 

 

So logically, when V-day rolls around one of two things will happen to you, (please keep in mind I’m writing this from a male perspective because, well, that’s what I am):

Thing Number One

A sudden and inexplicable panic will strike you. “Fuck!” you’ll think to yourself, “is it Valentine’s Day already?! Fuck! What the hell should I get her? No wait, screw that, why the fuck should I get her anything just because some greeting card company says so? Fuck it, I’ll just explain the retarded logic behind it all to her and suggest we just forget it this year…”

This will not end well. Your girlfriend is not stupid, she knows it’s a bullshit marketing ploy, BUT she’ll be damned if her friends are being spoilt rotten by their boyfriends while she files her nails and watches you play X-Box.

 

 

Play along. If you get it right she might reward you by inviting that friend of hers who posed in FHM once over for a threesome. Not likely, but hey, a guy can dream.

Thing Number Two

A sudden and inexplicable hatred will strike you. “Fuck!” you’ll think to yourself, “it’s Valentine’s day and I’m single – AGAIN! I hate everyone in a relationship right now! They make me want to puke! Valentine’s day makes me want to puke! Romance is shit! I’m going to a ‘fuck Valentine’s Day party’ to get wasted, I’m not even going to try to hook up with anyone I’m so pissed off! But y’know… if it happens I won’t say no… could be quite nice actually…’

For the longest time in my life I was a ‘Thing Number Two’ kinda guy, a TNT man if you will, because I have chronically bad luck when it comes to Valentine’s Day and have only spent ONE Valentine’s Day with a girlfriend.

How. Sad. Is. That?

Remember Valentine’s Day back in highschool? What a giant clusterfuck of competing adolescent egos, man-o-man! I remember slouching my way over to the school hall with my buddies with this feeling of mounting dread welling up inside me as we took our seats and our school prefects (who all got dressed up in drag for some ungodly reason) started pumping rave ‘choons’ and handing out valentines to the lucky assholes whose girlfriends / crushes had decided to make a public display of their affection.

 

 

And there the rest of us sat, our hearts full of hope, our heads bobbing like meerkats every time we thought we’d heard our names called, only to have that hope crushed into the dirt when yet again, we left the school hall empty handed and went behind the school bathrooms to smoke some heroin.

I call this the ‘Charlie Brown Scenario’ because let’s be honest, that kid’s a big, fat loser that nobody, not even the kids watching the show, ever liked. Where the fuck is his hair?! Fucking Progeria-ridden motherfucker – wear a wig for chrissakes!

Anyway, I call it the Charlie Brown Syndrome because of the fucking infuriating way he would always run up to kick the football Lucy was holding, only to be duped by the bitch, time and time again, as she pulled away at the last minute.

EVERYONE saw it coming. EVERY kid watching that show was like, ‘”Charlie Brown you fucking moron, don’t fucking fall for that sneaky little whore’s tricks! Get the fuck outta there, go! Run away! Eat some rocks you got from Halloween or something, anything!”

 

 

But the goddamn tard never listened to reason, did he? Well, I felt like that goddamn tard every time Valentine’s Day rolled around, convincing myself that this time, Lucy was going to keep her finger on that football but no, the slut never did and I left the hall with nothing but a desperate longing to burn the school to the ground.

And surprise surprise, this year’s no different. I’m stuck up here in Joburg while J-Rab is down in Stellenbosch and yes, I know it’s just a dumb fucking fabricated event to encourage mass consumerism, but I’d give anything to spend it with her.

We’ve been dating for three years in October and never spent Valentine’s Day together, but you bet your ass when that day finally comes there’ll be a fucking parade in the streets!

There’ll be all the roses in the world built up into massive, red, heart-shaped floats and hundreds of fat little dwarf dudes in togas with tiny white feathery wings on, and when we reach the city centre we’ll release a hundred thousand red and white balloons that will float toward the clouds and into jet engines everywhere.

 

 

It will be epic 😉

But until then if you, like me, are spending Valentine’s Day away from your loved one, just remember this: yes, it may be lonely and depressing and yes, there’s a good chance that you’ll feel like a big fat loser but it’s nothing, nothing a little heroin can’t fix 😉

Happy Valentine’s Day.

-ST

08
Feb
10

The Voodoo Demon T-Shirt – An Update

By SlickTiger 2 Comments
Categories: Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot about this whole voodoo demon T-shirt thing and I may have inadvertently scared all of you out of actually bidding for that godawful, demon-possessed piece of hell lovely and stylish piece of clothing.

Let me just say this once and for all so you don’t all get nightmares and wet the bed – the T-shirt I’m offering for the Nerdies ’10 raffle isn’t actually possessed by demonic spirits, it’s just a normal T-shirt. It won’t make you turn into a gargantuan, destructive force of nature when you put it on and I promise it won’t make you want to eat anyone.

 

 

See, what I was doing there was indulging in a little bit of fiction (you can read the original post here) a flight of fantasy if you will, in order to pique people’s interest in what is otherwise a normal T-shirt (a seriously radass T-shirt, but it doesn’t give you superpowers) so that you guys would go wild and in a frenzy of bidding, end up buying the shirt for somewhere upwards of R5k.

Then I realised I didn’t really explain the auction itself very well and maybe that’s what the real problem is here, so here’s the dealy-o. You have to go to this website and scroll down in the comments section (scroll right to the bottom) and find my thread about the shirt and start bidding. Don’t be a stingy fucker, if you give money with an open heart it comes back to you x3, fact.

I can’t really say I’m surprised though. I did some charity work before once, trying to raise money for the Walter Sisulu Paediatric Cardiac Centre for Africa. The MAEN! and I dressed in drag and ran the Spar Women’s Race and while it wasn’t a pretty sight, we got a damn good time and more wolf whistles than either of us could really handle.

 

 

Before I ran, I got people to sponsor me and managed to get about 50 people or so to sign and pledge an amount per kilometre, whether it was R5 or R50. I was stoked by people’s response and it gave me a lot of faith in the generosity of the human spirit. That is, until it came to collection time.

Out of all the people who sponsored me, you know how many actually paid up? Two. Two people, that’s it.

It was quite a wake-up call in a lot of ways because it got me thinking about all the times I’ve donated money to charity and I can’t say it’s been very often, so I’m just as bad as all the people who never paid up. Actually no, I’m not that bad because usually if I say I’m going to do something, I do it.

So let’s do this people. Right now there have been a grand total of (wait for it) THREE bids on the shirt – Angel, SheeBee and my main man, Supa_Dan. We’re currently sitting on R40 for this shirt, which is pretty damn cool as it was designed by Laurent "Lags" Barnard, the guitarist from the English hardcore punk band Gallows.

That fact in itself should fetch at least R150 for this shirt. All proceeds go to Wet Nose Animal Rescue Centre. So let’s lend a helping hand fer chrissake.

 

 

I’m re-opening the bidding at R60. Anyone have the stones to top that?

There are upwards of 150 of you who visit this site every day, don’t think I don’t know who you are, I know exactly who you are. I know where you live, where you go to work, your banking details, the whole deal.

Not that I would use that information to, say, destroy your life or anything, all I’m saying is think of the puppies guys, think of the puppies.

-ST

06
Feb
10

Not dead yet

By SlickTiger 1 Comment
Categories: Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , , ,

I’m not dead yet! This last week was a bad week for blogging and the posts I wrote smacked of mediocrity, but I’m only human and not yet the blogging machine I hope to one day be, but I’m getting there, one post at a time 😉

So what’s been going on in my crazy-assed life the past few days? Well, for starters I visited the dermatologist yesterday and he nailed this big skin tag that’s been growing on my forearm with some liquid nitrogen and now it looks like this:

 

 

Fuck blogging is awesome! Guess what else!? I had a salami sandwich for lunch today! I know! Stop the fucking press right?

Ironically, there are actually major changes happening in my life right now, like the fact that tomorrow at 9.20 I drop J-Rab off at Lanseria Airport and don’t see her again for two and a half weeks.

I’ll tell you one thing for free, I fucking hate long-distance. It’s hellish – the missed calls, the smses, the g-chats, the Skype calls, I wouldn’t fucking wish it on my worst enemy. J-Rab and I did it for a year and a half, I was here and she was in London, then after that she moved to Boston, that’s a 6 hour time difference kids, 7 in winter.

You think we’d be used to it, but the truth is you never get used to it. You get used to being close, coming home to the person you love, the little things y’know? Brushing your teeth together, curling up to go to sleep, all that retarded shit, the shit you never bother to put into words, you get used to that stuff.

And then she’s gone and you’re finding tiny pieces of her for weeks afterward – strands of her hair, maybe a pair of earrings here, some lip gloss there, her scent on your pillow, and you’re remembering the feeling of her breath on your neck and what it looked like to watch her disappear through the boarding gates the last time you saw her.

 

 

And then the phone calls, fuck I remember them well. The first month or two it’s bearable, but by month three, month four, it feels like you’re dating a ghost, a voice on the phone and not much more.

People said we’d never last, but we found a way, just like we’ll find a way through the next two and a half weeks.

I hope it goes by fast. The weekends are the worst and there’s two of those to get through, so hopefully it won’t be too bad, and even if it is, I’ll fight on through cause that’s what I do.

If nothing else, it should free up a little time for me to write some great material and I already have ideas bouncing around for a couple of killer posts, so watch this space 😉

Later Party People.

-ST

03
Feb
10

The Tale Of SlickTiger And Voodoo Demon T-Shirt

By SlickTiger 8 Comments
Categories: Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

The tale I’m about to tell you is pretty damn incredible, so much so that many people, friends and family alike, have warned me against putting it out there. “Whatever you do, DON’T blog about this!” they warned, but seriously, what the hell do they know?

I tell ya, it’s EXACTLY like they said in Spiderman “With great power comes a tidal wave of shit you probably don’t want to deal with” (or something like that) and, well, I’m done picking the flesh of my loved ones out of my teeth, I just want my old life back, is that too much to ask?!

It all started with Vincent Hofman, that evil bastard. Him and his site www.moralfibre.co.za started ALL of this.

There I was one day, minding my own business on the internet, probably surfing some porn or playing Farmville or something, when he attacks me on G-chat about some competition or other that he’s running.

 

 

I don’t remember the conversation exactly, but I think it went something like this:

Vince: hey! you! buddy! hey! stop fucking around, i know you’re playing Farmville, stop trying to look busy
me: Um, hi Vince, how are you to-
Vince: you visited MF today?
me: Huh? No, not yet, but I was just about to I swe-
Vince: why not!
me: Dude, I was just about to, I swear!
Vince: whatever. you finished writing that piece i asked you for?
me: Um, which one was that ag-
Vince: fuck man! The one about how contemporary society has become eroded by the twisted moors of pseudo-intellectual, quasi-omnipotent, western corporate consumer masturbatory ontological fascist antidisestablishmentarianism?
me: Oh yeah, that one… sure, um, should be ready any day now…
Vince: good. i want it 8am tomorrow. also, i’m putting my name in the byline. but don’t worry, i’ll link it to your site, right at the bottom of the piece. in font size 3. in turkish
me: Ok, um, yeah, that sounds fair…
Vince: also, im running a competition on the site
me: Cool! what’s the prize?
Vince: a shirt
me: I love shirts!
Vince: yeah, a dude from that band the gallows designed it himself, sealed the print onto it with virgin’s blood in some kind of elaborate ritual sacrifice to Satan presided over by a Haitian voodoo priest or something
me: Fuck yeah!
Vince: for some reason not many people have entered the competition yet, so get your ass on the site and enter the competition and there’s a better than average chance you’ll win it
me: Fuck yeah!
Vince: um, there’s probably just one thing I should tell you first though
me: Eh? What?
Vince: the last guy to have the shirt tore his entire family limb from limb and was found crouching with nothing but the shirt on in the corner of his room, eating their remains
me: Huh. But the shirt’s free right?
Vince: yup
me: Fuck yeah!

And so it came to pass that three days later the announcement was made over Twitter that the winner of the Gallows Voodoo Demon T-Shirt competition was… me!

Having never won anything in my life except a 10kg bag of Epol dog food (which tasted like total crap, but made my coat really shiny) I was so excited I could hardly sit still!

 

 

For the first few days, my excitement levels were tolerable, and my friends and co-workers shared my enthusiasm and were genuinely happy for me as I jumped up and down excitedly and sang songs I made up about my new T-shirt.

However, two and a half months later, when the T-shirt still hadn’t arrived I had to be put on powerful sedatives after my booth-buddy at work screamed something about not being able to take ‘anymore fucking singing anymore’ and stabbed me in the neck with a pair of scissors.

About a month after that, the T-shirt arrived! I rushed home to put it on, and with trembling hands, slowly pulled it over my head and slid my arms through the sleeves.

The instant the shirt was on, this feeling of raw power flooded through my entire body! It was like this one time when my friends spiked my drink with liquid ecstasy at a high school social and I ended up with my underpants on my head gyrating wildly to “What Is Love? (Baby don’t hurt me)” while the other grade 8s ran screaming out of the school hall.

I turned to look at myself in the mirror and this is what I saw:

 

 

The Gallows T-shirt had transformed me into a bloodthirsty gargantuan beast! I immediately went on a rampage around the neighbourhood, smashing buildings down with my bare hands, swatting helicopters out of the air like flies and using tank turrets as baseball bats while I bashed army dudes over the horizon and clear into the ocean!

I also ate a few people. They tasted marginally better than Epol.

Of course it wasn’t long before they sent in the big guns and called a nuclear airstrike in on my ass and that’s when I realised that maybe I’d taken things too far.

It’s not right for one man to have so much power, and so I’m offering The Gallows T-Shirt, designed by one of the dudes in the band in some kind of dark, evil, blood soaked voodoo ritual, as an item to be raffled for the Nerdies 2010, because all the proceeds go to Wet Noses charity and puppies are cyoot.

But whoever wins the T-Shirt BEWARE! On wearing it you will become a bloodthirsty gargantuan beast, filled with murderous rage and a savage appetite for destruction and human flesh, but it sure beats spending your free time jacking off and playing Farmville right?

Let the bidding begin…

MUAH-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

-ST

01
Feb
10

Ploughing into the hurdles

By SlickTiger 1 Comment
Categories: Uncategorized
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He was an athletic machine. His legs pumped like pistons as he sprinted and he was miles ahead of the competition by the time he came to the first hurdle. His legs scissored over each hurdle flawlessly, it looked like he was going to break his own personal best and all around the stadium the crowd started cheering and screaming wildly as they stood up, fists pumping in the air.

Tension was high as he deftly reached into his gay little running shorts and pulled the hip flask out. The spectators all saw it and a hushed silence fell over the stadium as they stared at him, their mouths still hanging open, frowning in confusion.

He turned to his loving audience, winked and tipped the hip flash to his lips, gulping its contents greedily as he leaped over the last few hurdles, already starting to get a little wobbly on his feet.

He sucked the hip flask dry and threw it over his shoulder in a long, slow arc that ended abruptly as it struck one of the other runners in the face.

The crowd gasped in horror. What the hell was he doing?

He turned his head back and focussed his attention on the last two hurdles, but already the booze was taking effect.

He ran straight into the first hurdle without any attempt to jump it whatsoever and came crashing to the floor in a tangled heap of limbs and splintered wood. The crowd gasped a second time and started shouting and booing loudly.

He picked himself up shakily, laughing all the while, limped over to the last hurdle, kicked it flat as the other runners passed him by, and went to lie down on the grass by the side of the track for a bit.

He’d never seen a sky so blue before…

I didn’t post on Saturday or Sunday, the guilt of which is making me feel a little lousy. But in my defence, the party on Saturday was INSANE! One minute everyone’s all cool, all chilled out, next minute everyone’s in the pool going wild!

 

 

But more about that later, watch this space 😉

-ST

26
Jan
10

It’s raining planes

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

The world we live in is one crazy place, that’s for damn sure. I walk into the office this morning and read on the front page of The Star that yet another plane has crashed, this time in Beirut. Authorities are saying the plane exploded after take off because of adverse weather conditions, which boggled my mind completely.

How exactly does a plane EXPLODE because of bad weather? Was it struck by the mother of all hail stones, which in turn ignited the fuselage and turned what was once a plane into a blazing ball of fire?

 

 

Sounds a little fishy to me, especially considering how many planes seem to be plummeting from the heavens these days. Just check out the site http://www.planecrashinfo.com/ for all the most recent plane crash statistics… or maybe don’t, depending on how terrified you want to be the next time the plane you’re on starts experiencing turbulence.

In 2009 alone there were three major plane crashes in which over 150 people died in each one – the Air France crash, the Yemenia Airlines crash and the Caspian Airlines crash. In the case of the Air France crash, it’s largely a mystery as to exactly what happened that caused the Airbus to plummet into the Atlantic Ocean, but I got’s me a theory, hot damn!

My buddy Mus is a pilot and he’s told me some VERY scary shit about the planes he’s flown. From what he’s said, there’s hardly a plane in the sky that doesn’t have some kind of fault or other that the pilot sometimes only finds hours into the flight.

 

 

In most cases it’s something minor, maybe an instrument here or there that isn’t reading accurately, but in other cases there can be seriously fucked up shit going on, and it’s in cases like that that an excellent pilot will make the difference between everyone ending up dead in the ocean, or back safe in their homes.

And that’s not to mention other shit that could go wrong. Take US Airways Flight 1549 for example. One minute they’re taking off and climbing steadily toward cruising altitude and the next BAM! Flock of geese outta nowhere!

The pilot of that flight, Captain Chesley Burnett "Sully" Sullenberger III became a legend when he safely landed the plane on the Hudson River and saved all 155 people on board. He was ranked second in Time Magazine’s Top 100 Most Influential Heroes and Icons of 2009, I just read the Wikipedia entry about him and it’s really inspirational stuff, I definitely think you should check it out.

 

 

But anyway, back to my theory.

I reckon with the recession that hit last year, aviation companies started cutting corners when it came to maintenance and proper safety checks of their planes, which is why planes seem to be literally dropping out of the sky all over the goddamn place.

So yeah, think about that the next time you climb in a giant steel bird and ascend heavenward, but don’t let it bum you out too much cause let’s face it, if a plane crashes and explodes in a blazing inferno it’s tickets for you pal, no matter how tight you do up your little seatbelt.

-ST

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