Archive for February, 2011


Don’t Let Monday Get You Down

If you live in Cape Town you’ve probably just had a killer weekend. It’s been sunny and beautiful throughout, great weather for floating in large bodies of cool water not thinking about anything.



The longer you live here, the easier it gets to really enjoy your weekends on a level people who live and work in Joburg will never understand.

I’ve always said there’s an art to getting weekends right and since we’ve moved to Cape Town and out of the wooden shitshack we used to be holed up in in the middle of a wine farm in Stellenbosch, we’ve had a pretty good run.

Of course it makes Mondays tricky, but they needn’t be.

Just put your headphones on and listen to my good friend Devendra Banhart’s chilled out melodies and take a deep breath.



Feelin’ better? Good. Now calmly pack your desk up, walk out of your office and never go back. Buy a ticket to somewhere sunny and make a living mixing cocktails on the beach and spear fishing in your free time.

We don’t need to be here.



It’s The Weekend Baby!

Here at TFW he love taking things as literally as possible with very little room for liberal interpretation.

That’s why all I’m posting today is this flippin’ whoresome video sent in by Civilian of what I like to call a ‘weekend baby’.

Don’t do what the baby does this weekend. Behave well, stay at home, watch a sensible DVD and clean the house. DON’T drink the draincleaner!

I’m watching you.



Party on Wayne Winking smile




Who wants to die? What a load of crap! One day you’re you, walking around, hanging out with your buddies, doing whatever it is you do to kill time and the next BAM! You’re worm-food and that crazy, unique, fucking cool person that was you is just gone.

Of course, religion steps in at this point and tells us that there’s some amazing imaginary place that we go to (or some dreadful, torturous, fire-and-brimstone hell-hole where you spend eternity on the worst acid trip EVER) and that’s fine. If that’s what you want to believe, by all means believe it – I would too if I could, but hinging all my hopes on something that may or may not exist after this life is already over seems a little futile.



This is now. I got bills to pay goddamnit, I got a life to live! Heaven, hell, God, Satan those are just words to me. I try to do good and live well and not screw people around – those things are more important to me than what may or may not happen after I die.

I stumbled on this site the other day that takes things to the extreme and poses the question, what would happen if ALL of us died? If there was some cataclysmic event that wiped us all off the face of this planet for good and what I read was pretty amazing.


  • After 2 days without pumping, New York’s subways would impassably flood
  • After 7 the emergency fuel supply to the diesel generators that circulate cooling water to nuclear reactors would run out
  • After 1 year a BILLION annually doomed birds would live when radio and communication tower warning lights ceased blinking and high tension wires grew cold. Animals will begin to return to the sites of nuclear reactors which would all have melted down or burned. Human head and body live will have grown extinct
  • After 3 years buildings will start to collapse as their innards expand and contract. With no heated shelter, cockroaches in temperate cities would die after one or two winters
  • After 20 years the Panama Canal would have closed, reuniting the Americas. Common garden vegetables will have reverted to unpalatable strains
  • After 100 years populations of small predators (weasels, raccoons, foxes, etc.) will diminish due to competition from a human legacy: immensely successful feral housecats (kitteh!)
  • After 300 years, New York’s bridges would fall. Dams worldwide will have silted, overflowed and collapsed. Cities built in river deltas will have washed away completely
  • After 500 years, forests would stand in the place of most suburbs. Amid the trees aluminium dishwasher parts and stainless steel cookware would lie, their plastic handles splitting, but still solid
  • After thousands of years, the only human structures still intact would be underground
  • After 35 000 years all the lead deposited during the smokestack era will have finally been cleansed from the soil
  • After 100 000 years, CO2 levels will have returned to pre-human levels (could take longer)
  • After 250 000 years the levels of plutonium in plutonium bombs would be lost to the Earth’s natural background radiation
  • After hundreds of thousands of years microbes will have evolved to biodegrade plastic
  • After 7 200 000 years vestiges of Mount Rushmore will still be intact, barring asteroids or violent earthquakes. Toxic manmade substances such as PCB will still be intact, though mostly buried
  • After 10 200 000 years, bronze sculptures will still be recognisable!
  • After 3 billion years, life, albeit in forms we can’t even imagine, would still thrive on earth
  • After 4.5 billion years the half-million tons of depleted Uranium-238 in the US alone would have reached its half life. Earth would begin to warm as the sun expands. Microbial life forms resembling the first life forms on earth would out-last everything
  • After 5+ billion years the Earth would burn as the dying sun swells to envelope the inner planets


There is one final point at the end of the timeline, one that has had a profound effect on me ever since I read it because it proves that immortality in a certain form, is possible.

Right at the end, it simply says:


  • Forever: Our radio and television broadcasts, fragmented as they may be, will still be travelling outward.


Humans will never fade into complete obscurity. There will always be some trace of us, some proof that this beautiful and fucked up race existed, it’s already out there, reverberating through the ether like a dog without a bone, an actor all alone…



And THAT’S why, more than anything else, I need to get famous Winking smile

What the hell would space be without your Tiger pal bouncing around up there like a piece of loose shrapnel, freaking out the aliens?

Hold my hand, we’re going to Vegas.



New Radiohead album – What’s The Feeling?

It dawned on me the other day that in almost every aspect of my life I’m probably in the early majority / late majority hump on the adoption curve, except music.

With music, I need it NOW! A new album gets released and I have to have it inside my skull as quickly as possible. That’s how it was with the new Radiohead album, King Of Limbs. They released it for internet download on Friday and by 2pm I’d already heard the album twice.

What’s my overall opinion thus far? I’m not sure it can hold a flame to In Rainbows. As with all their material, maybe it will grow on me, but my initial impression is that they’ve backslid into Amnesiac territory on this one and musically, guitars have taken a backseat to pianos, electronic blips and beeps and shuffling drum machine beats.

The first single, “LotusFlower” is a great track though and Thom Yorke’s spazzing out is something you gotta see to believe.



Sadly though, the main topic of conversation doing the rounds on the interwebs right now seems to be, “Is Radiohead the most overrated band of all time?”

I didn’t think so before King Of Limbs, but this paltry 8 track effort has disappointed me on the first few listens and shown an uncharacteristic lack of inspiration from this band, who have always rated highly in my top 10 bands of all time.

What do you guys think? Anyone out there heard the new album yet?



The Melissa Riso Police Nailed Me!

You guys might have noticed that last week Friday there was nothing on this site which may have seemed a little weird if you’re a regular reader and had noticed that I’ve gotten into a badass routine of posting every week day, sometimes more than once!

Well kids, the reason why there was no post last week Friday was because WordPress had BANNED me from posting on my own goddamn site! Can you believe that shit?!

I had banged out a seriously inspiring, thought-provoking post about immortality (still saved in my drafts, I’ll probably publish it later this week) and the second I tried to upload it I got the following bullshit message:



So I jump into my site’s back-end (God that sounded wrong) and the following message is sitting there, glaring at me like my boss when I show up at work drunk:

“Warning: We have a concern about some of the content on your blog. Please click here to contact us as soon as possible to resolve the issue and re-enable posting.”

It felt like I’d been called into the headmaster’s office for innocently lifting the cute English teacher’s skirt with a stick to see if she was wearing undies or not (she wasn’t).

It later transpired that WordPress had been served a legal notice because I’d posted a picture of this belter called Melissa Riso last year in October and I was in violation of some copyright law or other.

So they unceremoniously axed the picture from my FTP server and let me post on the site again. Thanks WordPress. You just made me realise for once and for all that it’s time to host this crazy-assed site elsewhere.

Until then, here’s a picture of a belter I found on the internet, not sure if you know her? Name of Melissa somebody-or-other Winking smile



So yeah, if there’s no post tomorrow you know why.



The Tiger Hits The U2 Concert, Has The Time Of His Life

I wouldn’t call myself the world’s biggest U2 fan, so it’s safe to say I went in there with pretty much zero expectations and had my mind blown in every conceivable way.



J-Rab and I hit the Cape Town stadium at about 4.30 to beat the (non-existent) traffic and make sure we got into the VIP lounge that Nokia very kindly provided us with tickets for. Problem was the lounge only opened at 6pm so we bought a couple of beers and killed a bit of time wandering around the stadium and checking out THE CLAW.



THE CLAW has gotten a shiteload of press over the last two weeks and for good reason. It’s possibly the single coolest staging rig I’ve ever seen. It’s colossal and looks like it could get up and start walking like some giant killer spider-robot, blasting the audience with intense death rays at any minute.

We got a lot of pics of it before it was all lit up, much to the dismay of one of the security guards we had a chat with who was like, “You’re not allowed to take pictures.”

“What?” I said, “We’re allowed to take pictures?”

“No,” he replied, “not allowed.”

“Ok,” I said, and took some pictures. He smiled at me, I smiled back. What a rad guy.

Once they opened the VIP lounge, I was so excited I bounded in there and immediately ordered two suitcases (what?! They didn’t have any tequila ok?) and a couple more beers. Nokia really pulled out all the stops – for the next two hours I was like a kid at Christmas, munching all manner of froo-froo finger ding-a-lings, taking goofy pictures with J-Rab and drinking suitcases like there was no tomorrow.



At 8 they closed the VIP lounge and we headed upstairs to catch some of the Springbok Nude Girls set, which would have been a lot better if the sound was sorted out. As it was, it sounded a little like the guys were playing underwater which is apparently an old trick that’s been used for years in the industry – the headline act gets the killer sound and the supporting guys play through amplifiers made of rusty tin cans.

After the Nudies finished up, J-Rab and I went in search of some more free drinks and were immediately drawn, like moths to a flame, to this mesmerising green light that was glowing at the Heineken VIP bar.

“What do you think that is?” J-Rab asked in awe.

“I dunno…” I replied, “but Jeannie D’s in there so it must be important.”

“Go see if you can get us some free drinks.”

“Roger that.”

I approached the security guy at the entrance with the kind of total confidence only 7 suitcases can give you and proceeded to walk straight past him.

He gripped my arm like a vice.

“Where’s your wristband?”

“Right here brother,” I said, proudly displaying my white Nokia lounge VIP wristband.

“That’s the wrong colour,” he said, sternly.

“What! I’m the wrong colour?! What the hell is this, the Apartheid Bar?”

“Your WRISTBAND is the wrong colour.”

“What in God’s name are you talking about?”

“It’s white. It’s supposed to be black.”

“So it’s the REVERSE Apartheid Bar? Man, I can’t wait to blog about this unfair discrimination!”

“Please step aside sir, this is for people who were invited to the Heineken bar ONLY.”

“Cool. Whatever. I’m too white for this bar. It’s cool, I understand…”

As I was sulking off to tell J-Rab the bad news, I saw a MAJOR flaw in the security setup. White blocks.



They were at the perfect height for sitting on and then, when no one was looking, casually swinging your legs over onto the other side and then casually standing up and WAPOW! You were in the Heineken Reverse Apartheid Lounge.

The second both J-Rab and I had executed this security-defying manoeuvre we whipped out the camera and took about 15 pictures of ourselves pulling more goofy faces while we talked to each other in very snooty voices indeed because we were in the HEINEKEN LOUNGE BABY!



We swanned over to the bar to start klapping some more free drinks and very quickly froze in our tracks. The people here, they all had cards. Heineken cards! And these cards, you had to produce them to get the sauce – no card, no sauce. J-Rab and I hovered at the bar, furiously trying to think up some way to beat the system when who stepped in front of us? Liesl Van Der Westhuizen, that’s who!

Now, I know what you’re thinking, Liesl V, Schmiesl V, who cares. Well, I’m here to tell you that Liesl Van Der Westhuizen is a fucking cool person. The second her and her boyfriend stepped in front of us she turned around to apologise for cutting in front of us to which I calmly replied, “No sweat. We’re not even supposed to be here, we slipped past security to score some free drinks but apparently you need a green card or something…”

“Do you guys want some drinks?” she said, without even skipping a beat, “We’ll get you some!”

And that’s how we ended up drinking in the Heineken bar for free with Liesl V. Until security kicked us out. That was kinda embarrassing. But we met up with Liesl outside again and they got us a SECOND ROUND OF DRINKS!

What a lovely person, seriously. I don’t care what anyone says about her, Liesl is cool in my books. She helped a Tiger out so I’ll have no more Liesl-bashing on this site thank you very much. Um. Not that there ever was any to begin with, but yeah. Just so you know.



After that U2 took to the stage and THE CLAW came to life in a multitude of colours and images and flashing lights. Unfortunately by this stage J-Rab and I were about twelve sheets to the wind so it’s hard to recall the exact details of the concert, but I can confirm this much – U2 put on an INCREDIBLE show and no, I’m not just saying this because I was there and you weren’t.

About halfway through the set, J-Rab and I somehow managed to get into the outer golden circle to get some pics from the ground just in time for them to play “Sunday Bloody Sunday” and “One” which, I’ll be honest, was an emotional moment for me. It’s my favourite U2 song of all time and hearing the guys play it live right there in front of us was intense.



Not sure if I was cool with all the Nelson Mandela / Desmond Tutu references and imagery that we were bombarded with and the snippets from interviews with both of them, I just think it’s a pretty obvious ploy to get the crowd all gooey with emotion (it worked like a bomb).

But I’ll let it slide because U2 have always been a political band and have actually done a lot of good in this world. Also, in all fairness, I don’t think I’ve ever watched a band play in this country and NOT mention Nelson Mandela or Desmond Tutu in some way so I’ll reserve judgement on this one.

It was a brilliant experience and an amazingly well-executed concert. Big up to Nokia for making it all possible, you guys spoiled us and we really appreciated every second of it, let’s be pals forever.

In closing, here’s a pic of THE CLAW in its full glory after a massive CONE of TV screens extended down towards the stage like it was going to tractor-beam the band into space.



Good times Winking smile



Three Great Reasons Why Never To Watch The Human Centipede

Here, in no particular order, are three great reasons why never to watch the horror movie The Human Centipede:

Reason No.1: Only One Person In The Entire Film Can Actually Act

I don’t think I have to go into too much detail here except to further explain that that one person also happens to be the mentally deranged surgeon who is the film’s main antagonist and who randomly decides one day that it would be fun to kidnap three people and surgically attach them to each other ass-to-mouth to make, well, a human centipede.

I’m not joking. Someone actually made this film.


Reason No.2: Who The Hell Wants To Watch A Movie About People Who Are Surgically Attached To One Another Ass To Mouth?

Who indeed. Shelve your morbid curiosity for this one, you’ll be a lot better off in the long run without the mental images of three people crawling around on all fours, “feeding” one another.

Reason No.3: You See The Deranged Surgeon’s Naked Butt

Which is pretty much twice as terrifying as the actual monster he creates and then spends the rest of the movie hanging out with.

“Fetch the newspaper human centipede! Fetch the paper! Goooooood human centipede!”

I shit you not. This is the worst movie ever created. EVER.

Final Verdict: 1/10



Something For The Mid-Week Grind

Two posts in one day?! Has the Tiger lost his flippin’ MIND?!

No. Calm the fuck down. Two posts in one day is going to happen from time to time so I want you guys to be ready for it and to definitely come back TWICE everyday just, you know, in case I’ve put something amazing up Winking smile

Here’s a little track that perfectly sums up how I feel today. It’s a rare one from Nirvana that Civilian sent after my post on Friday entitled “What If Kurt Cobain Was Still Alive?”



The song’s called “Curmudgeon”, enjoy!





Nokia Loves The Tiger

Why is it that of all the bajillion brands out there, Nokia is the only one that has the balls to approach a crazy basterd like me, jump into bed and bang me like a salvation army drum?

Actually wait. I think that last sentence might have just answered itself…



Still though, it really says a lot about a brand when they aren’t afraid to associate themselves with someone who doesn’t follow the 2OceansVibe formula to becoming a successful blogger, ie. towtheline towtheline towtheline ADVERTISE towtheline towtheline ADVERTISE towtheline ADVERTISE ADVERTISE!

That’s what blogs do. That’s the South African (and in many cases international) way of blogging. You build a brand by writing deliberately controversial tabloid-style posts about scandalous topics (that aren’t really that scandalous), you post funny YouTube videos of people getting kicked in the nuts, you put boobs on the site, you pretend to be this smarmy asshole until you are one, and brands fall over themselves to associate themselves with you.



But not Nokia. They never incentivised me, they never made me feel like I was selling my soul to Satan, none of that bullshit. They just read the site, liked my style and started showering me with free shit.

On Friday I’m checking out U2 thanks to Nokia. J-Rab and I are heading through to what people who caught them in Joburg are saying is one of the best concerts SA has seen in a long time and it’s all thanks to Nokia.

You guys rock. Nearly a year and a half of blogging and you’re the only brand that has proven yourselves to be different from the rest because you have the stones to associate yourselves with a guy who is stupid enough, or crazy enough, to blog honestly about what he thinks and feels.

So yeah, this post serves no purpose other than to punt Nokia, but I’ll gladly do that because while I don’t believe in selling out, I do believe in paying respect where it’s due.



Saturday At Sidewalk Cafe

If you don’t already know Sidewalk Cafe in Vredehoek you need to head on down there one Saturday and grab a bite because the food is incredible, the vibes are awesome and if you’re lucky enough, Dave will be your waiter and for however long you stay there, life will be about as perfect as it can be.



For us life was as perfect as it could be for about five hours. We rolled into Sidewalk at about 9.30 on Saturday morning, J-Rab, Jennyjenjen, Barbarian, Goff-girl and myself after waking up hungover as hell from our housewarming the night before and marvelling that we were all still alive.

We went to meet up with friends of Goff-Girl’s who were just finishing a scrumptious breakfast of fresh fruit juices, muesli, yoghurt, honey and tea, so naturally we all sat down and ordered a round of beers.

From there the wheels came off completely. By 10.30 we were onto the Bloody Marys and sometime around lunchtime a round of tequilas came out followed by a police van that parked in the street right next to us. We knew we had total immunity as long as we stayed put though so that’s exactly what we did and sooner or later they moved on, all of us smiling and waving at them like a bunch of asylum escapees.



It felt good not to give a shit. It felt good to spend the morning getting loaded at a ridiculously early hour with my friends while other people went jogging up the street or came to Sidewalk in their loafers to enjoy a quaint little meal and saw the chaos that was unfolding at  our table.

And all the while, Dave endured. Like some stalwart captain of a ship full of maniacs, he stood his ground because he’d seen this before many, many times and at least we added a random element into his day that he seemed to enjoy.

“I want a big flower for behind my ear,” J-Rab turned around and randomly blurted out as Dave was walking past and I swear to God, the man didn’t even flinch or look surprised or perplexed or off-guard in any conceivable way. He just said “Sure” like it was the most normal request he’d ever heard, walked over to a nearby tree and came back with the perfect flower.



It was good times I tell ya, Sidewalk Cafe gets the Tiger stamp of approval. Go there every day this week and the week after and the week after. Dig the view from the stoep outside and have a Bloody Mary or 10.

Life really doesn’t get much better than that Smile