Posts Tagged ‘J-Rab



02
Aug
10

USOMFA Tour ‘10 Update: America is FULL of Viruses

What happens when you don’t blog for awhile is this crushing feeling of guilt sets in and slowly saps the life out of you until you find yourself blind drunk at 4 in the morning, running around the desert in Las Vegas, looking for strippers and cocaine.

Or maybe that’s just me 😉

Thing is, the day after that last post about our flight getting delayed and taking a badass detour on our way to USOMFA, J-Rab’s laptop got hit by about 5 really malicious, bloodthirsty viruses that fucked shit up but good.

Worst thing was I was mid-post when they struck so I look like Mr Badguy, surfing midget porn or something right when shit started going down.

We fought the viruses for a good couple of days during which I put my blogging on the backburner, thinking that it would just be a day or two before we got J-Rab’s machine back to normal. Sad truth is it’s totally fucked in every conceivable way, so I jury-rigged the computer J-Rab’s stepdad uses as their printer server to blog off and here I am, at 10pm on a hot summer night in Massachusetts, finally banging out a couple of words about this crazy trip.

I wish you could see this place, spend a day driving the green and leafy roads that connect one place to the next here because I’m not sure me writing about it is going to do it any justice.

 

 

The houses have no fences here and they’re mostly wooden and have two or three stories. Every third house flies an American flag by the front door and the cars are all fucking huge 4x4s that people drive at considerate speeds down the highways and byways so as not to upset the other drivers.

It ain’t Africa here. You won’t get randomly cut off by some maniac behind the wheel of a taxi and when you stop at traffic lights, there’s no one begging for change or waiting for an opportunity to rob you blind.

Those little things, those are the first things you notice.

When I first got here, I tried to see if I could spot some kind of key differentiating thing between Americans and other people, but came up with nothing. They are no fatter or thinner than people back home, they are no darker or lighter in skin colour and they are no taller or shorter in height.

They’re just people. There’s really nothing distinctly American about them except their accents, but I’m sure there’s a lot more under the surface, but you don’t get that stuff until you live in a place.

We visited Salem on Thursday and checked out the cemetery where the Judge from the Salem Witch Trials is buried, the sick fuck who condemned at least 18 people to death for being ‘witches’.

 

 

Craziest thing is that just around the corner there’s a second cemetery where they’ve engraved a number of stones with the names of the people who were hanged for being witches because they were never given proper graves with headstones.

Among the names I read was John Proctor himself, the protagonist in The Crucible. It was eerie reading his name in stone that day, it was one of those rare moments when the real world and the world of fiction collide and you find yourself in the middle of that collision, changed in some way you can’t quite grasp yet.

And from somewhere deep in my soupy brain, I remembered the words Elizabeth Proctor said to John in The Crucible and smiled.

“You’re a good man John,” she said, “only somewhat bewildered.”

 

 

I’m going to try do this again tomorrow and the next day and the next. My time here is fading fast, I need to capture these crazy days while I can.

-ST

26
Jul
10

USOMFA Tour Chapter 1: The Phenomenal Pilot

I tell ya, the tour kicked off on Thursday night to a fucking killer start. It was like something out of a movie, a whole host of shit going all wrong and fucked up, one thing after the next.

Craziest part was the accident that one of our crew members had a few hours before our plane was scheduled to take off. J-Rab heard it was one of our pilots – the poor guy got into a car accident and couldn’t fly.

So they had to get an emergency pilot to take the guy’s place which delayed our flight by 2 hours.

That pilot, the one in the accident, he has no idea what a party we had because of his accident, no idea. If I could meet that pilot, I’d fucking hug the man. I’d thank him personally for the badass time we had, a lot of which I filmed on my cell phone and am panning to cut up into a nice, shitty-quality show reel and put up for you crazy cats tomorrow.

In the meantime, here’s a clue where we wound up for the day because of that phenomenal pilot.

God bless that phenomenal pilot.

God bless his phenomenal pilot soul.

 

 

Watch for the video party people, it’ll be epic 😉

-ST

16
May
10

Saturday In Jonkershoek – A Photo Journey

It’s funny how ‘the real world’ has this way of catching up with you sometime in your 20s. One minute life is kinda breezing along like it always did, and the next you’re elbows deep in bills, car insurance, medical aid, deadlines at work, traffic, grumpy co-workers and then what? Marriage, children and a whole other heap of stuff I don’t really want to think about right now.

Sometimes you’ve just got to leave all that shit behind you and go for a walk. That’s what J-Rab and I decided to do on Saturday. We packed a backpack with a couple of beers and drove about 15 minutes to the Jonkershoek Nature Reserve where we had lunch and took goofy pictures of each other.

 

 

After lunch we entered the reserve, excited as kids at Christmas and got a killer picture of us getting ready to hike the SHIT out of that place.

 

 

The road we took meandered round in a wide circle past a huge dam and through a pine forest. The smell of pine needles, the cool, fresh feeling of winter’s edge biting through the dappled afternoon sunshine.

We talked about a different life for us, a different future where J-Rab becomes a rich and famous model and I become an award-winning novelist and script-writer, and we pose on magazine covers together and holiday in exotic places that we sail to on 500ft luxury yachts with all our friends.

“It’s on the cards babe,” I told her, “it’s fate, you can’t fuck with fate.”

All around us, mountains stretched up to the sky and I wanted to climb the highest one and stand on the top, my arms outstretched in the sunshine and shout down into the valley below in my own invented language until my voice got horse and the people listening all chuckled and, shaking their heads said, “Crazy fucker…”

 

 

I know Saturday is probably going to be a day I’ll remember for a long time because it was simple and easy and filled with laughter, J-Rab’s and mine. Days like that you lock away somewhere deep inside and, when times get bad, you take them out again and hold them up to the light and remember that life was better once, and it will be better again.

 

 

-ST

19
Apr
10

Today Was a car crash

Fahk, today was a car crash.

Didn’t see that comin’ did ya? Ol’ Slick calls the post ‘Today Was A Car Crash’ and then launches right into the opening sentence, ‘Fahk, today was a car crash’!

Hahahahaha! Um, why am I the only one laughing?

On the way to work this morning I saw two taxis all fucked up, twisted out of shape, people (dead people?) being packed into ambulances and driven to state hospitals to get nasty infections.

 

 

I drove on in the driving rain and I turned my fog lights on. I don’t know what I hoped to achieve by doing this, but it made me feel marginally more safe.

The whole day, my guts have been melting. They feel like hot coals inside me. The weekend was a harsh mistress and all I can say is thank the good lord that J-Rab was stone cold and able to get us from A to B cause I probably would have been lousy at it.

Friday night we headed out guns blazin’. Bottle of tequila on the backburner and a pile of beer you could build a fort with. We hit The Barbarian’s place first, then Da Vinci’s for the best goddamn pizza I ever tasted, then a house party with some good people, and a man, we’ll call him The Giant, who had hands that were so massive he could probably break your skull if he ever flat-handed you.

 

 

He reads this site everyday, The Giant. He said it keeps him sane on days when office life is too boring to handle. My life had a lot of purpose in that moment, and everything, everything was worth it and I guess it still is.

It was his lady’s birthday party and I arrived sprouting tequila like a leaking ship.

It’s not rocket science. If you’re going to a party where you don’t know a lot of people, take a bottle of tequila. The people that drink it, make friends with those people. The people that don’t drink it, tease them until they drink it, then make friends with those people.

No one remembers you this way. But somewhere down the line you’ll be at another random do on another random night and a person from across the room will call out, ‘Hey! You! I know you! You’re the Tequila-guy from that party that one time…’

We drove to Komemtjie after the party, we snuck into my aunt’s house, passed the hell out and slept like dead people.

Saturday my cousin, Captain Albatross, woke me with a beer and a firm pat on the shoulder. ‘Cuzzy’ he said to me, ‘come let’s talk.’

We sat on the upstairs balcony in my aunt’s old comfy blue chairs, sipping cold beer and watching the cloudshapes changing with time and he told me about his crazy night and I told him about mine.

 

 

I kicked a soccer ball with The Captain’s kids and taught them to strum a few chords on the guitar. Dylan is a natural. All of seven years old and already he can count a solid 4/4 signature. I could make a rockstar out of that kid.

We ate mountains of braaied meat and it was good. Jimmy’s marinade was the clear winner that day. We drowned everything in it, even the boerewors and fuck me it all tasted like sticky, glazed heaven. I ploughed through a lot of it and afterward I lay on the grass and didn’t do or think of much for a long time.

A few hours later, J-Rab drove us back home and I dozed like a kid in the passenger seat, waking only when we went over bumps, then gazing through half-shut eyes at the spaces where ocean and land met, those brilliant white beaches along Baden Powell, the greeny-blue ocean the sun reflecting red off the mountains.

We ate at Buena Vista that night with The Loub, a good meal, good company, good times. I kinda wished I wasn’t already half dead at that stage. Energy was hard to come by, it had been a long day.

 

 

Sunday I got up late, sat on our balcony and played my guitar for 2 hours to a rapt audience of Anatolian Sheep Dogs. The low chords made them growl and the high chords made them howl. I felt like a demon guitarist, dragged back out of hell to play auditoriums full of growling, howling animals for all eternity.

Not a bad gig come to think of it. Better than rolling a rock up a hill.

I met a man who reads this site from time to time on Sunday afternoon. We’re working on a project together, something that’s going to blow people’s fucking minds.

And that’s really where this is all leading up to.

There are things, big things, in the pipeline for this site. I’m stepping up and calling a couple of shots for once and if this works, if I can actually manage to pull this one off, you’ll be proud to stand and be counted as one of the first people that found this crazy, fucked up place.

‘Oh yeah, SlickTiger?’ you’ll say, ‘I was following his blog WAY before …………… happened. Yeah, those days he used to write differently, like he was talking to us, like it was a private conversation. We liked his stuff mainly, but sometimes he clearly had nothing to write about, so he’d just write about his own life.’

‘We enjoyed some of those posts…’

It’s happening people. It’s all coming together and I couldn’t be happier 😉

-ST

22
Mar
10

View from a porch

On this porch you can sit in the scorching midday sun and enjoy a beer so cold the sides of the bottle are frosted while you sit in the shade and watch distant cars glide by on the mountainside.

It’s peaceful here, you can sit with strangers and not feel that compulsive need that overrides all common sense to fill perfectly good silence with meaningless garble.

A warm breeze sweeps lazily through the leaves of the trees to the left of the porch, but when it moves through the bushes in front of us, the leaves flash silver as their undersides catch the sun.

We are surrounded on all sides by mountains thick with wild fynbos and at night the stars pepper the sky from horizon to horizon, forming countless constellations that J-Rab can name and trace but that to me just look like random and formless shapes.

You just don’t get this in Joburg. You can search far and wide for it, but you won’t find it.

I picked my way out over the rocks with J-Rab and her friend GoffGirl earlier today, we were looking for muscles on a beach in Pringle Bay. The ocean gathered in natural pools all around us and J-Rab showed me how sea anemone have these tiny tentacles that suck at your finger when you touch them.

 

 

Some of them were powder blue, I stared at those ones for a long time, trying to figure out how they came to be, by what evolutionary turn did they form like that, blue as the sky in those rock pools hundreds of years ago.

I stood barefoot in some of the pools, wiggling my toes in the sand as wave after wave came rolling in.

There was more, starting at Barbarian’s place on Friday, and then Buena Vista and then Stikey on Saturday, volleyball at Caprice, Little Red’s place and his new kid, good times all of them.

But it won’t come right now and I can’t force it. I guess I’ve just run out of words, they must have trailed away as I was driving the winding coastal roads back from Pringle Bay this afternoon.

It’s beautiful out there.

My girlfriend has just slapped me hard on the ass.

Instead of writing one more word of this waffly shit, I think I’m going to return the favour.

She is the best.

-ST

15
Feb
10

SlickTiger is THE KING of First Impressions

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

01
Jan
10

2010 And All Is Quiet

Guys, good news. I’m still alive and I’m proud of that fact because man-o-man, I felt rough as an ogre’s ass this morning.

Never again right? Hells no. Yesterday started out pretty calm and breezy but very quickly started spinning out of control.

It was late afternoon when the first few beers of the evening were cracked open here at our flat. Action Jackson and his buddy Q came over. I found J-Rab’s camera and got all creative with the following incredible result:

 

 

Then J-Rab and I did the cute, coupley thing where you take about 50 pictures of the two of you trying to get the perfect one while everyone else in the room vomits a little into their mouths.

 

 

The best part of the day though was the fact that my good buddy from highschool, Van Barman, was down here (across here?) from Puerto Rico, where he works as a rescue swimmer with the US Coast Guard.

I always respected him for that and always will. He jumps out of fucking helicopters into oceans that are sometimes rough as hell and saves people’s lives.

He makes a real difference in the world. He also gets to live in a tropical paradise, and from the pics he’s sent us I can tell you there’s nothing fucking wrong with that at all.

We headed up to our pool / braai area for a swim, but only Barman and I jumped in, everyone else was lame. It was a beautiful afternoon though, just the six of us up there while the sun set slowly, one last time for 2009.

 

 

From there, our merry little band of drunkards headed back to the flat and continued boogying on down, only Barman and his GF (pictured above) had a family dinner and had to leave, only to be replaced by Johnny D, another good highschool friend I haven’t seen in years.

We hit the liquor store just before it closed and I bought a gigantic bottle of champers to fire off at midnight. It’s not New Year’s unless some douche is shooting a bottle of champers like a shotgun, and I figured that douche might as well be me.

Back at HQ, we decided to lay a whole bunch of blankets out in the parking lot so we’d have a good view of the moon for the eclipse that was going down. Last night was not only a full moon, but it was also a blue moon (ie. the second full moon in one month) AND an eclipse.

I was stoked! Also, I was 100% convinced by superpowers were going to kick in the second that eclipse hit, fuck yeah! And so we lay on our blankets, drank, talked a load of shit and waited. And waited. And waited. And waited some more.

Finally, after about an hour, here’s what we saw:

 

 

Moments later I got a call from Barman cause his dinner thing had ended and I went to pick his ass up and kick things up another notch.

From there on in, it gets a little blurry. There was Jagermeister guys, there was whisky, there was red wine, there was brandy and coke. There were great conversations, life changing shit was discussed, I just can’t really remember whats.

We decided to head up to the pool again to ring in the New Year and I became fanatically obsessed with the sparklers J-Rab brought out and insisted that I light mine before New Years and then promptly dropped it in the pool.

When the countdown came around I was ready for it though and had my bottle of champers in hand to fire it off triumphantly as the countdown hit 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Pow! Off went the cork, my timing was immaculate, which was pretty surprising considering the fine form I was in.

 

 

Um, yeah. I’m sorry you had to see that.

Personally, I don’t remember that photo being taken, but it goes a long way to explaining why I felt like eating a 9mil for breakfast this morning.

Good times 🙂

Of course, everything ended in tears. I’m not sure if I’m just really acting well in this pic or if I did indeed suffer some kind of emotional breakdown. It’s quite possible that the awesomeness of the day was just too much for me to handle.

Good thing my old buddy Barman was there so pull me back together.

 

 

I don’t know what time it was when it all ended, but I think we were all more than ready to pack it up, pack it in by the end of it.

I was a good party. Good times were had, and I feel ready for 2010. I sure as hell didn’t this morning, but I do now. I bested my hangover, I came out tops, nothing can stop me.

Me and my lady spent most of today sleeping. It started out all sunny, but turned black and rainy just after lunchtime.

Now it’s drizzling lightly outside, we’re listening to The Dave Matthew’s Band and J-Rab’s curled up with The Persimmon Tree by Bryce Courtney.

Me, I’ve got a hankering for ice cream so I’m gonna wrap this up. Tomorrow I might actually get around to overhauling this site a little, but I won’t make any promises on that front.

Let’s just take it as it comes. I got 2 days left of holidays.

It’s gone by too fast, don’t you think? Let’s not go back to work on Monday! We can pull a sickie and stay home and watch DVDs, it’ll be awesome!

Fahk! I come up with THE BEST ideas sometimes!

Later masturbators, happy New Year!

-ST




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