Them's Fightin' Words

I had a lot planned for the USOMFA Tour – in-depth interviews, investigative profiles, daily updates, you name it, but the truth is I never got around to actually writing any of it.

That’s the thing about holidays, you make all these plans about how you’re going to spend them and then before you know it they’re over, you haven’t done any of the stuff you had planned and life’s moving on.

My brain is having none of that though. For the first time in my life, I’m experiencing chronic jetlag and it ain’t pretty. Here’s an intricate graph I drew to illustrate my sleep patterns since I left America on Saturday:

 

 

And here’s an equally intricate graph I drew that shows how many people give a fuck about my sleep patterns since I left America:

 

 

You could have at least faked some kind of interest guys, seriously. You could have at least done that for me.

A big question on everyone’s minds though has been “How did it go meeting J-Rab’s parents and brothers for the first time, I mean you guys have been dating for what, like three years now? That’s a flippin’ LONG ASS time to not have met her parents, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Well the great news is that it went really, really well. J-Rab’s parents are warm, friendly and very easy to get along with, which is more than I can say for DEATHCAT!

 

 

All DEATHCAT did was miaow angrily at me and threaten to die (at this point I feel it might be pertinent to mention that DEATHCAT is a 22 year-old feline that is made up of mottled fur, leathery skin and jutting-out bones that send a shiver down your spine every time you see them).

As for J-Rab’s brothers, they are way smarter, more wholesome and a shitload better adjusted than I was at their age. This is a great thing because otherwise most of our holiday would have been spent trawling dive bars to find them, bailing them out of jail, and engaging their enemies in vicious knife fights to the death.

Speaking of which, should you ever find yourself in such a situation, always remember to hold your knife blade-down when stabbing, that way you can stab quicker and harder whilst using your forearm to shield your opponent’s stabs.

 

 

I got back to the office yesterday to find they’ve moved me right into the corner of the room so I now sit with my back to the entire office and am no longer able to surf porn and quickly hit Alt+Tab when I see someone approaching in my peripheral vision. I can’t put into words the profound effect this has had on my morale and motivation in the office.

How is a grown man expected to get through a day’s hard slog without a little lesbian gang-bang action? It just ain’t right I tell ya. It just ain’t right.

In other news, I’ve finally been approached to write material for another site and getting paid for it to boot! If I can just land a few more gigs like this one, I’ll be able to use my writing talent to bring home the bacon, which should free up a crapload of my time to surf porn. A man can dream…

So all in all life ain’t too bad for your buddy ol’ pal Slick, but it’ll be even BETTER if you nominate me for the upcoming SA blog awards.

Best new blog, best post (Klapping Gym Boet) and best overall blog are the ones I’m gunning for, but I can’t do it without you guys.

So click this link http://website.sablogawards.com/2010/ and nominate SlickTiger to fucking KILL EVERYTHING!

I ain’t no Panjo. Set me loose at the SA Blog Awards gala dinner and it’ll take more than a dead chicken and some gentle words of encouragement to get me back in my cage 😉

-ST