Posts Tagged ‘J-Rab



27
Dec
09

How to listen to the White Stripes

Buy every album they’ve ever recorded (which, in chronological order are: ‘The White Stripes’, ‘De Stijl’, ‘White Blood Cells’, ‘Elephant’, ‘Get Behind Me Satan’ and ‘Icky Thump’), throw them all into a playlist and play on shuffle for an hour.

People are so bitchy about them, but The White Stripes are a great band. There’s enough variation in the music they write to keep their sound interesting, and Jack White’s lyrics are a cool combination of insightfulness and inanity.

 

 

I’m kicking back with some White Stripes now spending the day swimming, eating mind blowingly good couscous salad (with bacon in there, avo, feta, rocket, chopped butter lettuce, salad dressing and baby Italian plum tomatoes), tidying the flat and playing Torchlight.

It’s the first day that’s actually felt like a holiday since I went on leave on Wednesday.

The weather has been better than perfect. Not a cloud in the sky or a breeze on the wind. Warm and bright and it feels good that J-Rab and I spent the day outside enjoying it and not cramped up inside like we do sometimes.

 

 

Tonight I’m thinking of going bowling. In the words of the Great Lebowski. ‘Fuck it dude, let’s go bowling.’

Later masturbators.

-ST

23
Dec
09

The Home Stretch

These are the twilight hours of 2009 in the office. Right now it’s only the Irish man and the Irish woman and me left.

It’s been a good year for our little company and I’ve been proud to be a part of this award-winning outfit of badass PRs. Nothing can fuck with us, there’s nothing we can’t PR, you name it, we’ll PR it and we’ll PR it well.

In other news, this is post number 91 guys, that means in another 9 fucking days we’re gonna hit post 100, hol-ee shitballs! I just used my advanced skills of a mathematician and worked out that that means post no. 100 will happen ON FUCKING NEW YEAR’S DAY!

Wow, that’s rad… except I think I’ll be so fucking wizasted I’ll be incapable of anything, possibly not even living.

 

 

I get these hangovers man, they come creeping up on me in slumber, close their evil claws around my brain, my internal organs and try squeeze the life out of me.

But I always come out tops. Slipping through the cracks, the guy who manages to just squeeze through the closing escape pod door as the spaceship explodes behind him.

I’m listening to Modest Mouse as I write this and I swear to God, ‘We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank’ is one of my all time favourite albums. Just fucking buy that album please, I’m not sure if we can stay friends until you listen to it.

 

 

In fact, I think what’s missing from this year is a post dedicated to SlickTiger’s most underrated albums of 2010. I might get onto that tomorrow. Today it’s 30 degrees outside and all I want to do is hit the open road with J-Rab, drive until we hit the coastline, strip down and jump into the ocean. Then lounge in the sun with a couple cold beers, stare at the sky awhile, think of sweet, sweet fuck all.

My Christmas shopping is about 80% complete, all that’s left to do is wrap everything, which is a total nightmare in itself.

I’m a pro at wrapping stuff up with bubble wrap. Give me 5 meters of bubble wrap and a mountain of product and I’ll work wonders, but normal wrapping paper? That shit is evil. Ask any man, he’ll tell you that getting that shit right is like trying to wrestle a pig lubed up to the max with axel grease.

It gets messy.

Also what’s fucking scary is that I’m getting glasses for Christmas from my old lady. Glasses guys. As in ‘four-eyes’ fucking ‘urkel’ god, how’d I get so old?

 

 

Actually I’m fine with getting old, as a man it’s much cooler when you get older cause you accumulate power and wealth, and therefore men have a way longer shelf life than women because of this.

Sure, there are exceptions to every rule, there are millions of women who become more powerful as they get older and are able to bag young hot guys, but they still have to be in kinda good shape. I’d wager that there are a lot more old, siff fat dudes dating 20 year-olds than the other way around.

Reason why is simple. Women are naturally attracted to powerful men because men like that offer security, wealth and a comfortable lifestyle. The uglier the guy the better in some cases because then the young hottie in question can really get her claws deep into him and control him more easily.

But I tell ya, for everyone of those young hotties that hooks up with a big fat rich older guy there’s probably a young, hot, poor dude in the wings who she’s banging. What do you think kept Europe’s royal bloodlines so strong over the centuries? It was the archers and castle guards and infantry men that the queens were shagging behind hubby’s back.

The world is governed entirely by one ruling principle and that is irony. You need to have a healthy sense of it to get by without losing your mind completely.

Laughter is all we got. You want to fight back against the tyranny and injustice of this world, learn to laugh.

I mean, even from a scientific perspective it makes sense. The world is ruled by opposing forces, we all know this – light dark, god and evil, blah, blah, blah. But we totally overlook the most powerful one, GRAVITY.

Fucking gravity, that relentless bastard, bearing down on us, working all the time, pulling us slowly toward the ground and our final resting place. It’s fitting that we bury people, it makes sense that eventually gravity drags you 6 feet under.

Morbid I know. So what’s the opposite of gravity? Levity, lightness and what’s the most powerful form of levity?

Laughter. It’s laughter. If you ain’t laughing, you ain’t living. It’s the only weapon we have.

 

 

Learn to laugh and the world will be a better place because of it.

Ok, enough philosophising from your tiger pal, I got a couple things to get done before I blow this popsicle stand for the year, but tune in tomorrow for more cu-razy shenanigans!

-ST

20
Dec
09

Johnny Cash and the lazy SUnday

Johnny Cash found me sometime during my second year at varsity and we became pals.

 

 

I think the first song of his that I really dug was ‘A Boy Named Sue’. That song strikes a chord with me, if fact any piece of literature, music or film that deals with troubled father/son relationships resounds with me.

Also, the song was fucking badass. Here are the lyrics:

“A Boy Named Sue”:

My daddy left home when I was three
And he didn’t leave much for ma and me 
‘Cept this old guitar and an empty bottle of booze.
Now, I don’t blame him cause he run and hid
But the meanest thing that he ever did
Was before he left, he went and named me "Sue."

Well, he must o’ thought that it was quite a joke
And it got a lot of laughs from a’ lot of folk,
It seems I had to fight my whole life through.
Some gal would giggle and I’d get red
And some guy’d laugh and I’d bust his head,
I tell ya, life ain’t easy for a boy named "Sue."
 
Well, I grew up quick and I grew up mean,
My fists got hard and my wits got keen,
I roamed from town to town to hide my shame.
But I made a vow to the moon and stars
That I’d search the honky-tonks and bars
And kill that man who gave me that awful name.

Well, it was Gatlinburg in mid-July
I’d just hit town and my throat was dry,
I thought I’d stop and have myself a brew.
At an old saloon on a street of mud,
There at a table, dealing stud,
Sat the dirty, mangy dog that named me "Sue."

Well, I knew that snake was my own sweet dad
From a worn-out picture that my mother’d had,
And I knew that scar on his cheek and his evil eye.
He was big and bent and gray and old,
And I looked at him and my blood ran cold
And I said: "My name is ‘Sue!’ How do you do!
Now your gonna die!!"

Well, I hit him hard right between the eyes
And he went down, but to my surprise,
He come up with a knife and cut off a piece of my ear.
But I busted a chair right across his teeth
And we crashed through the wall and into the street
Kicking and a’ gouging in the mud and the blood and the beer.

I tell ya, I’ve fought tougher men
But I really can’t remember when,
He kicked like a mule and he bit like a crocodile.
I heard him laugh and then I heard him cuss,
He went for his gun and I pulled mine first,
He stood there lookin’ at me and I saw him smile.

And he said: "Son, this world is rough
And if a man’s gonna make it, he’s gotta be tough
And I knew I wouldn’t be there to help ya along.
So I give ya that name and I said goodbye
I knew you’d have to get tough or die
And it’s the name that helped to make you strong."

He said: "Now you just fought one hell of a fight
And I know you hate me, and you got the right
To kill me now, and I wouldn’t blame you if you do.
But ya ought to thank me, before I die,
For the gravel in ya gut and the spit in ya eye
Cause I’m the motherfucker that named you "Sue.’"

I got all choked up and I threw down my gun
I called him my pa, and he called me his son,
And I came away with a different point of view.
And I think about him, now and then,
Every time I try and every time I win,
And if I ever have a son, I think I’m gonna name him
Bill or George! Anything but Sue! I still hate that name!

 

I love it! ‘I knew you’d have to get tough or die’ – classic! ‘Kickin and a gougin in the blood and the mud and the beer.’ That’s the only way to fight.

That’s what real fights turn into, just watch UFC Fighting – in most fights, they’ll go to ground and the one guy will try and squeeze the living shit out of the other guy, or just pummel him in the head as hard and often as possible and THEN pop his shoulder out of its socket.

 

 

But anyway, I digest.

What was today like? How did it begin and how did it progress from that point? What did we learn from it? How will it be remembered 20 years from now?

Will it be remembered 20 years from now? Sure it will 😉

I jumped like a jack-in-the-box out of bed at 9:25 and started furiously cleaning the flat. Landlord was coming over to do something or other he’s had planned for a few weeks now. Without getting into too much detail, it involved steel skirting brackets, hot glue and waterproof silicone putty.

I just kinda looked on in confusement, but not for long. Landlord usually has these things all figured out and he doesn’t need any help, so I don’t offer any. Instead I knuckled down and got in some solid game-time with Torchlight which is a must for any Diablo fans out there I mean, it was developed by a few of the team that actually worked on Diablo so it’s got a really cool look and feel and for $20 it’s really worth it.

Ok, how was that? Nailed it? The sales pitch, nailed it? Damn straight I nailed it 🙂

Meanwhile, outside the sun shone like nobody’s business, hot and clear, not really a breeze at all. Fuck, it was a perfect summer day. Leaves shone above us, the heat shimmered, the sun felt like it was filling me up, like I was a battery charging.

 

 

Fuck, the minute I’m on leave and it’s sunny I’m heading up to the pool to chill to the max. You guys can come too, but bring your own booze and LSD. You aren’t allowed any of mine, remember what happened last time? Yeah, exactly.

J-Rab and I had the funniest fucking Christmas Shopping outing at Design Quarter. Like I said yesterday, I’ve pretty much finished up the Christmas shopping for my folks, the only thing left to get were these Maxwell Williams mugs my old lady wanted.

I saw them at a Boardman’s yesterday and thought they were pretty average so I decided to get Ritzenhof mugs for her instead, hence the trip to the Design Quarter.

We parked out in front of the DQ, in the hot sun and walked down the parking lot toward the shops. As we got near the end of the parking lot we both saw this kickass huge ad on the side of the Nike store there with a golfer crouching and blowing fire and while his buddy hits a ball through it on a golf course at night time.

I must admit, I was pretty entrance by it, but not quite as much as J-Rab who walked right into the curb. I just heard this abrupt scuffing sound and felt her grip my hand tight as she stumbled and then was like ‘I’m cool, I’m cool’ as she went back for her flip flop.

I laughed my ass off and she was a little embarrassed, but I said, ‘Fuck it, it’s not like the place is completely packed FULL of people or anything."’

Of course, it was packed to the rafters, hahaahah!

 

 

Then we find that Ritzenhof moved away probably over two years ago. Fahk! Luckily J-Rab said to just walk around and see if we could find another place that sold mugs like that and what the fuck did we find? A Boardman’s in Design Quarter, a MASSIVE one!

They had way more variety when it came to these Maxwell mugs so we found cool ones for my old lady.

After that we noticed a whole bunch of upmarket food stalls had been set up in the centre courtyard and went to take a look.

There was this really cool honey stall that we made a bee-line (fuck, read that last bit slowly, yes, I just did that) straight for. When we got there, the lady behind the stall gave us these short yellow straws and asked us if we wanted to taste the honey.

She had part of a honeycomb there, dripping with the stuff, so we dipped out straws in and tasted some of the raw honey and damn, it was sweet and rich and good.

 

 

As J-Rab was tasting, the wind blew the corner of the tablecloth up so she carefully pulled it down again not realising that one of the small glass pots of honey had gotten stuck and tumbled gently down in the fold of the tablecloth.

To J-Rab’s credit, she caught the pot before it fell and broke on the ground, but by then about a third of the honey inside had dribbled all down the tablecloth and was already making it’s slow and syrupy way toward the floor.

She quickly put the honey pot back on the table and apologised, laughing nervously. The couple standing next to us looked on mild horror at the gloopy mess of honey, I laughed, ‘I swear to God, you can’t take her anywhere!’

J-Rab and I laughed and bought the nice honey lady’s mead ever though she wasn’t phased at all. Good stuff that mead actually, it’s called Honey Sun mead and damn! It’s worth every cent of the 85 bucks we paid for it.

We had lunch at the ‘rents after that and swam a little, nothing too amazing to report there. After that we came home and had a nap and now I’m banging this out and watching Die Hard 2, which is such a killer movie and definitely the best part of Christmas every time it rolls around.

 

 

John McClane – that man is the best kind of action hero. So many others have fucked up both the genre of action movies and the heroes themselves, but good ol’ McClane was the original and Bruce’s portrayal of him is totally flawless.

He’s so cool because he gets fucked up. He makes fuck ups, by the end of all the movies, he’s cut up, punched up and shot up but he just doesn’t fucking die. Just like the name says!

But now it’s time to knuckle down and saw a couple logs.

Later party people 🙂

-ST

16
Dec
09

Car Wreck

Today’s a public holiday so J-Rab and I slept in late, but at about 10.30 a white BMW crashed right through the perimeter wall of our complex.

J-Rab and I jerked awake, but it wasn’t until J-Rab left the house later to get groceries that she saw the car wreck, parked halfway through the wall.

I only saw it this afternoon, chunks of cement and glass and the spikes that used to be on top of the wall all twisted and useless on the ground.

 

 

I stared at the mess in front of me for a long while. I tried to figure out what might have caused the accident, but I couldn’t. The security guard now posted at our new entrance wasn’t much help either.

‘Hey man, were you here when this happened?’

‘Eh?’

‘Were you here when this happened?’

‘i-Yes’

‘Was the person OK? The person driving the car?’

‘Eh, what?’

‘Was the person driving the car OK? Did you see him?’

‘Eh, no. I wasn’t here when it happened.’

I walked back to the flat. I thanked whatever Gods may be that it wasn’t me in that wreck. I’ve been in enough wrecks in my life and yes, I have the scars to prove it.

Last night was a whole other circus. What started off as a civilised soiree in our flat with Graumpot and M-Class and a COLOSSAL plate of 60 pieces of sushi degenerated over the course of the next few hours to a scene that could have been stolen right outta Jerry Springer.

 

 

We decided to go to Jolly Cool’s to shoot some pool, have a few drinks, nothing too crazy.

We arrived, put some coins down on a table of four dudes playing and asked if they could give us a shout when their game was done so we could play.

Of course 20 mins later I go back to the tables and they’ve started the next game and completely ignored us. So we stand by the table and wait for them to finish their game and when they do, the fuckers put another coin in and play another game while we just stand by and watch.

‘Fuck these guys,’ I said to J-Rab, ‘let’s go to Defcon4.’

The easiest way to fuck up a guy’s shot when he’s playing is to get a girl to either stare at his ass as he bends to take a shot, stand in front of him as he’s taking the shot and show maximum cleavage or have a girl make snide remarks behind his back that are just loud enough for him to hear every time he fucks up a shot.

 

 

I call this Defcon4. J-Rab played her part perfectly and soon enough the guys were playing the most shocking game of pool I’ve seen in ages.

Awesome. Now they were on our level.

We sauntered up to the table after they were finally done and started shooting a game to decide who keeps the table. All I can say is thank fuck Graum was on my side cause I sank nothing. I was too interested in man handling J-Rab between shots to really give a shit about the game.

Coolest thing though was that Graum cleaned up for us and got us onto the black ball while they still had a ball on the table. I walk up to play my shot. It’s a total mess, I can’t see any pockets and can’t double the black ball either because their ball is in the way.

Fuck it. I hardly even aim as I slam the white right into the black and their ball and KAPOW! sink the black and win the game.

For the next five minutes I was a hero. Five minutes after that the douchebags left.

Too-de-loo muthufukkus.

We shot another couple of games, Guitar Jon and The Glaze joined us, good times were had by all until this crazy bitch in a green top started throwing glasses and other assorted bar paraphernalia at this black girl who the green top girl had decided, for whatever reason, it was her mission in life to kill.

That’s when we knew it was hometime.

Now we’re gonna make some noms for supper, chill with a movie and enjoy the good life on this breezy, warm and beautiful summer evening.

Until tomorrow.

-ST