Posts Tagged ‘J-Rab


The Cub Speaks!

The CubI can’t say I’ve been having many great days this month (as you might have noticed by the lack of posts), but I had a great moment yesterday, one that has made everything else worth it.

I’ve been trying to get The Cub to say a particular word. I’ve been pretty tenacious about it – making sure I repeat it and point to what it describes at least 5 times a day.

I think about two weeks ago she figured out exactly what the word meant and why I want her to say it because every time I said it to her, she got this naughty little grin and immediately clammed up.

Then yesterday, during a break I was taking from work (yes, I was working on a Sunday) I was doing something in the bedroom, the late-afternoon light streaming into the flat and turning everything golden, when J-Rab walked in holding The Cub and told her to say the word.

I turned around expectantly like I always do, hoping that this would be the time, and in her tiny baby voice my little girl grinned and said:




Ain’t that wonder.




The Tiger Family Photoshoot

6660267355_c1f8412e1e_oIf you have a baby, the golden rule is the minute that little bundle of poop joy can smile, you HAVE TO take him / her to a professional photographer and shell out a small fortune to have family pics taken.

If you don’t do this, print the pics out on canvas and block-mount them in the most visible place in your house, you are a total failure as a parent.

People will judge you, especially other parents who are pissed that they went ahead and dropped a couple of thou on their family photoshoot and you have the audacity not to follow suit.

When you’re a teenager you have to deal with peer pressure, which is bad enough, but once you’ve bred you graduate to “parent pressure”, which is about 1000 times worse.

J-Rab is smart as hell though and came up with a brilliant plan to get some amazing family photies without having to hire a professional photographer – hell, without even having to leave our flippin HOUSE YO!

We just set up her camera in our spare room, balanced it on some books, set the self-timer and fired away.

It worked well because we were totally relaxed and could take as many pics as we wanted. If you’re a new parent and have a half-decent camera, I would highly recommend going this route rather than hiring a pro.

Check it:








There were others I also loved but I’ll save them for Facebook. In fact, many would argue that this entire post should have been saved for Facebook but those people are jerks.

I’m proud of our little family. J-Rab and I have come a very long way to get to this point, we’ve braved some rough seas and have come out the other side stronger for it.

And I’m especially proud of my little girl. She’s changed so much in the 4 short months since she was born as the pic below, taken when she was a few weeks old, perfectly illustrates:



How I got so lucky I’ll never know. What I do know though is that I will fight tooth and nail for my girls to provide for them, care for them and keep them safe.

That’s all that really matters. Everything else takes a backseat once you bring a new life into this world.

The game has changed. I have changed and I swear to God, life couldn’t be better Winking smile



To J-Rab On Our Five Year Anniversary

IMG_2267Ain’t it funny babe? The way every time I write one of these I make all these promises of how stinking rich I’ll be one day and how much I’ll spoil you on our anniversary and then the next one rolls around and I’m still pretty much broke?

Thank Christ you’re not with me for the money. It’s always been a source of great happiness for me that you’re not one of those girls.

The ones obsessed with material bullshit. Obsessed with shopping and girly pop music and puke-worthy rom coms and things that are pink.

It’s always been a great source of happiness for me that above everything, you are real.

You have the courage to speak your mind and are incapable of lying or putting on false airs for the sake of impressing people too shallow-minded to accept others for who they really are.

That takes real guts. I’m sorry I don’t give you more credit for just being you, in this photo-shopped world of glossy fabrication, that’s a rare quality.

So here we are, five years down the road, living in our little flat in Vredehoek with a stray cat you brought home that has since become a part of our family of two, and no shit, I couldn’t be happier.

What a rare thing to find in this life. True happiness, the kind that flows effortlessly and in abundance and fills your life with purpose and a sense that this crazy fucked-up world ain’t so bad after all.

When I walk into a room I stand that much taller and prouder because I know that no matter what the people there may or may not think about me, I must be worth a damn because you love me.

You’ll never know the calm strength that gives me.

Before you I was a piece of loose shrapnel, bouncing off the walls, tearing everything around me to pieces, getting slowly crushed by my own vices and full of so much rage babe, so much unfocussed anger and hate at the world for all the times it chewed me up and spat me out.

I was a time-bomb. Dramatic as it sounds. I was a statistic waiting to happen.

After that first weekend we spent together all those years ago, I went around to Peggles’ place and the change I’d undergone after just two days with you was written all over me.

He could see it, plain as day, the inferno had died down, the churning maelstrom inside had finally grown still.

Sure, that age-old rage still wells up in me sometimes, that powerfully destructive energy I’ve fought to control my whole life, but one look, one touch from you and it subsides.

Thank you babe, for dating a fucking maniac like me. The world needs to know how brave you are because there isn’t a woman I know who would have toughed out the hard times with me like you have.

You might have the nickname Jessica Rabbit, but deep inside you’re a lioness. The Tiger and the Lion. When we have kids they’ll be Ligers.

I know we came close this year to ending it all and we went through some dark and heavy times, but we made it through all that shit and I swear, we’re stronger for it.

I know this because despite everything we’ve been through, I’m still the happiest man alive to fall asleep with you in my arms every night and wake up next to you every morning.

This is the real deal babe. The giant L-word people search their whole lives for and in some cases, never find.

But I know I’ve found it with you. You’re my companion, my lover, my strength and my sunshine.

You’re my perfect piece of DNA, caught in the flashing rain.

I love you Jess, happy anniversary.





A Post For J-Rab

In another life, we caught moths together late one summer afternoon. The light slanted through the giant windows of the old manse I used to live in, catching tiny dust particles and turning them silver and gold, a haphazard universe only her and I could see.

She had this big glass jar with acetone-soaked cotton balls in it and every time we caught a moth, we’d carefully usher it into the jar and screw the lid back on. She’d put on a brave smile and try to ignore the muted tapping of the moths against the glass, but I could see it was getting to her.

She was catching them for an art project and I was helping her because though she didn’t realise it, she had caught me too.

I remember standing so close I could taste her, I could feel her scent sparking synapses like a lightning storm in my brain, triggering a dizzying rush of something so pure my heart started hammering like a maniac against a padded cell door.

In another life I remember driving with her to Kenton, my shitty golf packed like a sardine tin with all our friends, the Violent Femmes blasting over the speakers as we blazed through those pack-marked Eastern Cape roads singing, “I held her in my arms, I held her in my arms, I held her in my arms but it wasn’t you…”

We got hammered on the beach that day, splashing in the waves, building sand cities, getting good and wasted and laughing, always laughing. I never told her how badly I wished she was mine that day. Everything about her haunted me, her berry-brown skin, her flashing eyes, her floating hair.

I had to physically tear my eyes away from how goddamn gorgeous she looked in that bikini, an immaculate collection of curves, impossibly perfect in every way. The longer I stared the wilder my mind ran until there was nothing for me to do but throw myself headlong into the ocean in a futile effort to pull my shit back together.

How long did I carry that torch for her? That slow-burning flame that ignited the inferno that now burns like a sun inside us?

In one form or another I carried it from the moment we first met, first as blind passion, then as friendship, then as something deeper, something I kept hidden for a long time.

And then one night in the spring of 2007 I found myself at the airport, waiting to pick her up after nearly two and a half years of leaving varsity and moving a continent apart.

This old man was waiting next to me. I never told her about that old geezer. To be honest I never thought about him much until now. I couldn’t even tell you what he looked like, but I’d say he was in his sixties, he was waiting to pick up his son.

“Who are you here for?” he asked, “I’m guessing it’s your girlfriend?”

“What?” I said, caught completely off guard, “No, it’s just a friend. I mean, yes, she’s a girl, but she’s not my girlfriend, she’s just a girl friend I’ve known for a long time.”

“I see…”

“What made you think it’s a girlfriend?”

“You can hardly stand still! And you keep looking at the gate every time someone walks through it.”

“I do, don’t I?” I said and laughed. “I’m a bit nervous to see her, it’s been a long time. I’m kinda hoping she’s put on a lot of weight while she’s been over there.”

“Hahaha!” the old man chuckled, “That’s a strange thing to hope for.”

“There’s always been something between us, some kind of underlying tension. But until she left she was dating a good friend of mine, she dated him for nearly four years, so nothing ever happened between us and she lives in England now, so nothing can happen between us…”

“Hahaha, boy-o, you’re in trouble,” the old man said.

And right then as if on cue, she walked through the gates and my heart lurched against my ribcage, that old maniac had woken up again and was throwing himself, shoulder first with all his weight against that flimsy, splintered cell door.

“I think you’re right,” I mumbled back to him, utterly fixed on her.

She was every kind of beautiful in that moment.

I remember her in motion and just how close she was getting. And how every little thing anticipated her…

If it were a movie, I would have run up to her and lifted her off her feet in a big hug, twirling her around while the people gather there clapped and cheered.

Instead I jumped out of the crowd, not realising that she hadn’t spotted me yet, and scared her shitless. We still laugh about it to this day.

That was four years ago, four years to the day that our lives collided in a moment that had been built up since we’d first met.

And later that night, when both of us had imagined for five years finally happened, entire city blocks were levelled in the resulting cataclysm. A tidal wave of pent-up energy rolled through the streets, tearing up the asphalt, rupturing water pipes and collapsing the concrete skyscrapers of Jozi like they were card towers in the wind.

If we knew on that day that this is how things would have worked out, if we had known what we were getting ourselves into, all the good times, all the laughter, all the passion, and all the bad times too, all the heartache, the hurt, the careless things that people in love do to one another, God knows why – if we had known all that back then would we still have embraced like we did in that airport? Would we still have gone home together and later that night, fallen so effortlessly, so completely into each other’s arms?

If I could do it all again, everything the same, would I?

Of course I would.

She’s the best thing that ever happened to me and I know I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again, I still, to this day have no idea how I got so goddamned lucky.

Happy anniversary babe Winking smile

Your man,


A Post From SlickTiger To The Women Of SA

Decker1We’re going to keep today’s post nice and quick because it’s a beautiful day in Cape Town today and I’d rather be out spoiling my woman somewhere where we can soak up the sun and sip a cocktail or ten.

Today is about celebrating women for the beautiful and crazy creatures they are because even though they might drive us completely insane from time to time and are basically nearly impossible to figure out, the love of a good woman can save even the most wretched of souls.

And besides that, if you had to take women out of the equation completely and just fill the world with men I think it would very closely resemble hell.

We’d probably fill our time with war, death, torture, fighting, killing, maiming, destroying, obliterating, eviscerating and sodomy. More sodomy than you could shake a rubber ball gag at – does that sound like fun to you?



Fuck no. So the next time your girlfriend busts your balls because you’re left the dishes for three days or you spend too much time getting rat faced with your buddies than you do hanging out with her buying shoes, just keep that thought in mind.

Girls bring balance to the force. Life without them would be fucking miserable.

So thank you girls, all of you out there (and especially the ones who read this site. You are a rare breed and a continual reminder that not all girls are about lip gloss, the Ellen Degenerate Show and celebrity gossip. I salute you).



Please never decide to leave this planet en mass because you’ve had enough of us. I know we can be retarded sometimes, but we can also be strong, brave, understanding and great at opening pickle jars.

We need each other. Let’s both never forget that Winking smile

Happy Women’s Day.




africa-photos-284You guys aren’t going to fucking believe this, but I found out yesterday that the video I scripted, acted in, directed, half-shot and edited for the Nandos “How Far Will You Go” campaign fucking won!

I got the call yesterday from someone who introduced herself as a person handling Nandos communications, at which point I thought, “Thank fuck! They’re finally gonna give me the free meal vouchers they owe me” because I’m poor and I could really use some free food.

Then she tells me she has good news for me and I immediately think “YES! Chicken dinner tonight bitches!” but then she tells me I’ve won a R20 000 holiday anywhere in Africa and I instantly lose my shit completely!

So I guess the big question now is, where the hell do I go?! In a few days time a travel agent is going to contact me and send all kinds of options through for different travel packages all over Africa. It’s fucking crazy, the way I understand it all I have to do is pick and choose the packages I want that add up to R20k, book some leave and unleash myself on the continent!



So help me out here guys, the only place in Africa I’ve ever visited is Swaziland, that’s IT. Where would you go if you had a R20k travel budget?

I hear ZANZIBAR is fucking sick. I just like saying the word – ZANZIBAR!

Leave suggestions in the comments or hit me on

You gotta love this crazy fucked up thing called life. Run around hungover with your underpants on the outside the one day and you’re jetting off across Africa the next.

Here’s the video I submitted if you’re wondering what the hell that last sentence means:



A HUGE thanks to my loving girlfriend J-Rab and Jennyjenjen for helping me turn that fucking weird idea for an ad into a reality. You guys rock, I seriously couldn’t have done it without you.

Have a killer weekend party people. If anyone’s heading through to Assembly tonight, come hunt me down for a celebratory drink or five Winking smile



SlickTiger:2 Moving:0

Compared to the shenanigans of Part 1, Part 2 of our epic move from Stellenbosch to Cape Town was executed with military precision.

In one day we managed to move every remaining stick of furniture loaded in a solid brick of stuff on the back of the bakkie I was borrowing from a buddy of mine.

It was every Tetris player’s dream – a double bed, a fridge, a two seater couch, a TV cabinet and a table all stacked and packed so perfectly together you couldn’t even squeeze a hand between any of the gaps and that was before Captain Albatross got to work tying it all down.



I now know that J-Rab and my life can be packed up, uprooted and moved anywhere in 3 car loads and 2 bakkie loads as long as one of those bakkie loads looks like this:



And so, by 3 o’clock on Saturday afternoon there wasn’t so much as one toothpick of our stuff left in the shed which over the past year we’ve come to call home.

Funny how you can still feel nostalgic about leaving a place that drove you completely insane every second that you lived there. Our little wooden house had a certain charm to it and when all the animals living around us finally shut the hell up it was peaceful out there.

I got some great writing done there. Sundays would roll around and J-Rab would go off to work and I’d get up early, make myself some fresh coffee and wander out onto our balcony into the blue morning and soak up the vineyard and mountains surrounding us.

We walked out to the secret dam near our house for the last time before we left. Captain Albatross, J-Rab and I stood looking over the giant Lillie pads that dotted the surface of the dam and watched some ducks float on by while a Cormorant swooped silently overhead and way off in the distance a car glided past on the R44.

I asked the Captain to get a picture of J-Rab and I before we left.



And so we left Stellies and finally moved to the Mother City to start a new chapter in our lives. My morning commute has now gone from roughly an hour to 6 minutes and the flat we’ve moved into has actual cupboards! And a kitchen! And a spare bedroom! And no rats!

Life couldn’t be better Winking smile



My Girlfriend Fell Down The Stairs

For real.

On Sunday night, J-Rab slipped on the top step of the wooden staircase and ended up scraping the shit out of her right arm as she caught the balustrade whilst landing squarely on her bum on the edge of one of the steps.

She also gave herself mild whiplash, bruised her left forearm and tore a lot of muscles in her side, so the poor girl is a bit of a mess.

What’s bad though is it happened really late on Sunday night so we ended up going to sleep at a ridiculous hour cause we stayed up while I bandaged her up and treated her scrapes. When we did eventually get to sleep, it wasn’t very restful because there was basically no way she could lie that didn’t hurt like shit.



I arrive at work on Monday tired and unshaven and so naturally when people asked me why I looked like hell I told them I didn’t get much sleep the night before because my girlfriend fell down the stairs.

Just pause I moment and read that sentence again.

Yeah. Now I’m one of those guys.

“Wow, how did your girlfriend get all those bruises dude?!”

“Um, she fell down the stairs.”

“Really? Oh well that settles it then. Fell down the stairs. Sure, that sounds legit… I’ll just be over here if you need me… calling the police…”

Luckily her clothing covers most of the bruises so you can’t really see them. Thank God for small miracles right? Hahhahaa… wait, that sounds bad too…

Let’s just end this post shall we?

Send good vibes J-Rab’s way and pray she heals fast because at this rate, I’ll be in jail by the weekend.



SlickTiger:1 Moving:0

They say that moving is right up there with the most stressful things life can throw at you like losing a loved one or getting fired. They’re all supposed to be on the same level which I always thought was a little over dramatic.

I mean moving ain’t that bad right? Load up a bakkie with all your stuffs, drive from A to B, offload, rinse, repeat.



So Captain Albatross and myself borrowed a bakkie from a buddy on Saturday and got rolling.

We loaded up two couches, a bookshelf, the washing machine (FAHK those things are HEAVY!), a couple of boxes, a heater or two, and tied it all down so tight you could pluck the ropes like guitar strings.

We nailed the drive from Stellies into Vredehoek and everything was easy breezy. We get to the other side and started unloading stuff and taking it upstairs and even that was going well until we hit one major fucking snag.

My one couch is fucking HUGE.

It’s the Triple H of couches, nearly two and a half metres of soft, maroon leathery goodness that is the most comfortable basterd I’ve ever had the pleasure of passing out on. I mean, I’ve written some of my BEST posts lying utterly inert on that radass couch. Through the good times and the bad, that couch has always been there, it’s like a long, large maroon extension of myself.

(That’s what she said.)



Anyway, you think we could get that couch up the narrow, twisty stairwell leading up to our flat? Not a fucking chance. We wrestled that thing, we twisted it, we pushed it, we tried to walk it up the stairs one goddamn step at a time and eventually all we managed to do was wedge it in there so tight, we couldn’t get it out.

Which was when we came up with our killer idea of removing the sliding doors to our flat and hoisting the basterd up the balcony with ROPES!

I love rope. I’ve always loved rope. The old-school hemp kind is the best. Soon as I get my hands on that shit I just wanna lasso a fucking horse or climb a mountain or hang a guy. Ropes are the answer to EVERYTHING!



So we set the couch down the way it would normally sit, made two loops around each side of the couch, went upstairs and got hoisting.

CHRONIC fail. Don’t try that shit without gloves yo! What the hell were we thinking?! Also the couch kept twisting and turning and refusing to cooperate in any way, so we set it back down and had a beer.

Second time around we got the bright idea of standing the couch upright to do the hoisting and tying ropes around it like ribbon around a Christmas present. Right about then, the dude who lives downstairs arrived home and offered to help us, which I found pretty hilarious considering he looked like about 70 kgs of cookie dough and admitted to having just come back from Ratanga Junction where he smoked a joint and went on all the rides by himself.

We told him to go upstairs with J-Rab and to hoist for everything he was worth while we pushed from the bottom. At this stage, drenched in sweat and tired from taking all the other stuff up the stairs, I was pretty convinced the couch was going to kill us all. Soon as J-Rab and the Ratanga Junction Stoner yoinked it up, the weight would pull them off the balcony and they’d end up landing, couch and all, right on top of me and the Captain.

“RIP SlickTiger. His favourite couch killed him.”

All I remember after that was dicking around with the ropes, checking they were all alright before we commenced the yoinking and then BAM! the couch was halfway up the building and into the lounge!

I bolted upstairs, grabbed a hold and helped the Ratanga Junction Stoner and J-Rab get the rest of it in and stared in total amazement at the RJS who had basically single-handedly pulled our entire couch up a second story balcony and into the flat faster than I could blink.

“Babe,” I said triumphantly to J-Rab, “whatever that man is smoking, I want some.”



I tell ya, you haven’t lived until you can honestly say you’ve yoinked a couch up to a second story balcony with ROPES!

SlickTiger:1 Moving:0

Next week we haul the final load so that’s the bed, fridge, other couch and TV cabinet, so stay tuned for the next enthralling update because you know as well as I do that there’s nothing better to do on a Monday morning back at work than read stories involving stubborn couches, Ratanga Junction Stoners and ROPES! 😉



Goodbye Rocko

I knew it was going to be rough for J-Rab when she eventually had to say goodbye to Rocko, our favourite of the fourteen Anatolian Sheepdog puppies we’ve been raising, so it was no surprise to me when she called in tears to say he was gone.

But what killed me was how fucking unhelpful the Express Air staff were. They left J-Rab completely by herself to pack the four puppies who were too little to be proper sheepdogs into these tiny crates so they could be flown up to Joburg.

The crates were full of shit-covered old newspaper and were so small the puppies couldn’t turn around in them, so naturally J-Rab lost it completely, tore all the newspaper out the crates and used the puppy blankets she’d brought with to line them instead.

And all the while the puppies didn’t make a peep and let her put all four of them inside their crates without making a sound because they’ve learnt to trust her and they know she’d never hurt them.

But when she had to shut the crates and lock them, one by one the puppies started crying and there was nothing she could do, nothing at all except walk away and probably never see them again for as long as they live.

Fuck, I felt all choked up when she told me the story and I wasn’t the one who watched every one of them be born and who fed them from when they were little furry worms right up until today, when J-Rab kissed them goodbye for the last time.

Life is just plain fucked up sometimes. On Wednesday the rest of the puppies go and I guess life just goes back to normal, like none of it ever happened.

I’ll miss Rocko though, he was an amazing dog. I just hope he gets a good, loving home and people who’ll look after him and treat him right.

Good luck to ya Rocko little buddy, grow up big and strong and brave. Life ain’t gonna be the same without you, but for as long as this junkyard site stands we’ll remember you and probably even if it doesn’t.



Your dad.