Posts Tagged ‘porn

26
Aug
10

In The Interest Of Boosting Site Views, I present to You: More Puppies

You want internet fame and fortune there are basically only three ways to go about it.

1. Porn
2. YouTube videos of people hurting themselves in hilarious ways
3. Babies

It’s a sad fact, but no matter how many great, funny and insightful posts I write about meaningful shit, I’ll still get 3 times as many hits by simply posting a picture of a hot girl with great breasts.

Such is life my friends. Such is life.

So with no further ado, here are pics of my favourite of the 14 puppies we’re looking after. This special little guy is the runt of the litter and I know it was fucking retarded of me to do it because we can’t keep him, but I went ahead and named him.

Ladies and gentlemen. Meet Rocko.

 

 

 

 

And just like that – KAPOW! Site views hit 1k.

My work here is done.

-ST

11
Aug
10

USOMFA Tour ‘10: This Is The End… My Only Friend… The End…

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

03
Mar
10

The Tiger Returns

I’ll tell you one thing about Christians, they’ve got the monopoly on guilt. Hell, I don’t even go to church or practise Christianity, but when I do bad shit, the guilt comes thick and fast.

I’ve been meaning to post for a long fucking time, I was in a good routine y’know? People they used to say, ‘Yeah, that SlickTiger guy, funny fucker. Posts every day, EVERY DAY. We love him. We want him in and around our mouths.’

 

 

Now they say, ‘Yeah, that SlickTiger guy, what a jerk. He had something going there for awhile, but it’s clear he ain’t got the stones to see it through. He’s dead to us now.”

Well, I got news Party People, like a cockroach scuttling out the drain after the last nuke wipes humanity out for good, I’m back, and I’m badder than ever 😉

Since I last checked in, crazy shit has gone down. I packed my life up in record time, jumped in The Red Baron and blazed a trail of fire clear across this beautiful, fucked up country of ours.

Joburg showed me its true face just as I left. I saw it the last time the sun set, just as I was about to get on the N1 to Bloem. Its true face looks like this:

 

 

I rolled into Bloem late, my schedule was tight as a drum because my new company had organised a 3 day conference that they really wanted me to attend which started ON the day I was originally going to arrive in CT.

Bloemfontein is a ghost town at 9 on a Monday night. I could count the other cars I saw on one hand. A stray dog nosed through some garbage. An empty chip packet blew scraping down the road.

The next day I got up at 4.30, showered and left by 5. There was about an hour’s grace before the heavens opened like a floodgate and I drove the next 6 hours in rain that fell so heavy it was coming down in sheets.

Try overtaking trucks in weather like that. Visibility is zero, but it’s ok because you can see the other car’s headlights right?

Fuck no. I counted about 15 trucks and cars that were driving with their headlights off, and in every one of those cars I saw my own death, splattered at 120 km/h all over the asphalt.

 

 

I’d be worm food if it weren’t for porn. It saved my life – click this sentence to find out how.

I hit Stellenbosch at around 4.30 and headed straight to Cheetah Outreach where I found her feeding four cheetahs. She had one by the scruff of his neck, a huge handful of fur between her fingers.

‘Hey!’ I said, ‘Stop hurting the animals.’

She turned around to give me a piece of her mind, but stopped mid sentence when she saw it was me.

Two and a half weeks – I could see the difference in her. She’s more tanned, she looks relaxed, more at home here than she was back in the Big Smoke, stuck behind a reception desk, whiling her time away filling in vet boards and staring at nothing.

 

 

She hugged me and the feeling of her all soft and skinny against me was good the way a cold drink on a hot day is good, the way a deep sleep after a hard day is good, good right down to your bones.

13 hours later I’m sitting in a bus with my new co-workers, singing ‘The Wheels On The Bus Go Round and Round’ into a microphone plugged into the dashboard.

6 hours after that I’m line dancing to ‘Sexy Back’ and smashing Jager-bombs into my face with what I can only describe as hordes of women.

In life sometimes, you just go with it. If you’re me, you take that a step further.

I could go on about the conference, a lot went down over the three days, but I think the word I’m looking for to sum it all up here is ‘radass’. I invented that word, you can use it but you have to reference this blog 😉

The weekend was amazing. J-Rab and I hit Bikini Beach near Gordon’s Bay and on Sunday went to meet my buddy Scatter’s 4 week old daughter.

It’s amazing how perfect babies come out. They’re finished so neatly, ten fingers, ten toes (hopefully) tiny mouth, fat arms and legs. Then they grow up and get all funny-looking and full of imperfections, flaws and fuck-ups.

And now I’m in the thick of things. The new job has started guns blazin’ but you know me, it’s nothing I can’t handle 😉 Oh, before I forget, here’s a pic of me on the first night I arrived at my new place:

 

 

Tune in tomorrow for a post I like to call ‘SlickTiger Meets Gary The Cannibal’.

Ka-Pow!

-ST

03
Feb
10

The Tale Of SlickTiger And Voodoo Demon T-Shirt

The tale I’m about to tell you is pretty damn incredible, so much so that many people, friends and family alike, have warned me against putting it out there. “Whatever you do, DON’T blog about this!” they warned, but seriously, what the hell do they know?

I tell ya, it’s EXACTLY like they said in Spiderman “With great power comes a tidal wave of shit you probably don’t want to deal with” (or something like that) and, well, I’m done picking the flesh of my loved ones out of my teeth, I just want my old life back, is that too much to ask?!

It all started with Vincent Hofman, that evil bastard. Him and his site www.moralfibre.co.za started ALL of this.

There I was one day, minding my own business on the internet, probably surfing some porn or playing Farmville or something, when he attacks me on G-chat about some competition or other that he’s running.

 

 

I don’t remember the conversation exactly, but I think it went something like this:

Vince: hey! you! buddy! hey! stop fucking around, i know you’re playing Farmville, stop trying to look busy
me: Um, hi Vince, how are you to-
Vince: you visited MF today?
me: Huh? No, not yet, but I was just about to I swe-
Vince: why not!
me: Dude, I was just about to, I swear!
Vince: whatever. you finished writing that piece i asked you for?
me: Um, which one was that ag-
Vince: fuck man! The one about how contemporary society has become eroded by the twisted moors of pseudo-intellectual, quasi-omnipotent, western corporate consumer masturbatory ontological fascist antidisestablishmentarianism?
me: Oh yeah, that one… sure, um, should be ready any day now…
Vince: good. i want it 8am tomorrow. also, i’m putting my name in the byline. but don’t worry, i’ll link it to your site, right at the bottom of the piece. in font size 3. in turkish
me: Ok, um, yeah, that sounds fair…
Vince: also, im running a competition on the site
me: Cool! what’s the prize?
Vince: a shirt
me: I love shirts!
Vince: yeah, a dude from that band the gallows designed it himself, sealed the print onto it with virgin’s blood in some kind of elaborate ritual sacrifice to Satan presided over by a Haitian voodoo priest or something
me: Fuck yeah!
Vince: for some reason not many people have entered the competition yet, so get your ass on the site and enter the competition and there’s a better than average chance you’ll win it
me: Fuck yeah!
Vince: um, there’s probably just one thing I should tell you first though
me: Eh? What?
Vince: the last guy to have the shirt tore his entire family limb from limb and was found crouching with nothing but the shirt on in the corner of his room, eating their remains
me: Huh. But the shirt’s free right?
Vince: yup
me: Fuck yeah!

And so it came to pass that three days later the announcement was made over Twitter that the winner of the Gallows Voodoo Demon T-Shirt competition was… me!

Having never won anything in my life except a 10kg bag of Epol dog food (which tasted like total crap, but made my coat really shiny) I was so excited I could hardly sit still!

 

 

For the first few days, my excitement levels were tolerable, and my friends and co-workers shared my enthusiasm and were genuinely happy for me as I jumped up and down excitedly and sang songs I made up about my new T-shirt.

However, two and a half months later, when the T-shirt still hadn’t arrived I had to be put on powerful sedatives after my booth-buddy at work screamed something about not being able to take ‘anymore fucking singing anymore’ and stabbed me in the neck with a pair of scissors.

About a month after that, the T-shirt arrived! I rushed home to put it on, and with trembling hands, slowly pulled it over my head and slid my arms through the sleeves.

The instant the shirt was on, this feeling of raw power flooded through my entire body! It was like this one time when my friends spiked my drink with liquid ecstasy at a high school social and I ended up with my underpants on my head gyrating wildly to “What Is Love? (Baby don’t hurt me)” while the other grade 8s ran screaming out of the school hall.

I turned to look at myself in the mirror and this is what I saw:

 

 

The Gallows T-shirt had transformed me into a bloodthirsty gargantuan beast! I immediately went on a rampage around the neighbourhood, smashing buildings down with my bare hands, swatting helicopters out of the air like flies and using tank turrets as baseball bats while I bashed army dudes over the horizon and clear into the ocean!

I also ate a few people. They tasted marginally better than Epol.

Of course it wasn’t long before they sent in the big guns and called a nuclear airstrike in on my ass and that’s when I realised that maybe I’d taken things too far.

It’s not right for one man to have so much power, and so I’m offering The Gallows T-Shirt, designed by one of the dudes in the band in some kind of dark, evil, blood soaked voodoo ritual, as an item to be raffled for the Nerdies 2010, because all the proceeds go to Wet Noses charity and puppies are cyoot.

But whoever wins the T-Shirt BEWARE! On wearing it you will become a bloodthirsty gargantuan beast, filled with murderous rage and a savage appetite for destruction and human flesh, but it sure beats spending your free time jacking off and playing Farmville right?

Let the bidding begin…

MUAH-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

-ST

21
Jan
10

The One Thing I Feel Is Missing From The Interweb

I’ve been using the interweb since the day it was first launched way back in 2007, and as such, I consider myself one of the leading experts on anything to do with the literally hundreds of things you can do on the interweb.

 

 

Don’t believe me? Fine. Here’s a list of all the things I’ve mastered on the interweb so far:

  • Gmail – remembering my password and login name, sending, receiving and forwarding electronic mails and spotting scam emails in a second, Fishers beware!
  • Facebook – becoming friends with people from as far afield as Cape Town, Bloemfontein and Durban in real time. Also, I’ve ‘friended’ three people from outside the continent, all of whom are influential businessmen from thriving countries such as Nigeria and Zimbabwe. These businessmen are trusting me with literally millions of dollars of money they’ve inherited now that I’ve given them all my banking details. Can you say CA-CHING!
  • Google – searching for online information on anything from stock markets to unit share prices to Federal Intelligence Agency files, you name it! Have also mastered boolean algorithms like TYPING SEARCHES IN ALL CAPS TO MAKE IT GO FASTER
  • Porn – watching any kind of porn I want, like robot sex machines, or midgets FOR FREE, ANYTIME I WANT! Um, except for at work… some guy used all our bandwidth in two days awhile back, right after I first started, and now certain sites are banned…
  • Twitter – getting thousands of followers by clicking a simple link. I’m definitely winning at Twitter, the aim of which is to get more followers than your friends so you can tell them what song you’re listening to, what you’re eating and what it was like the last time you went to the loo

Now that I have your respect and you can see the mad interweb skillz I have, I’ll tell you something that I always thought was missing from the interweb.

If you’re instant chatting with a friend or family member and are in a friendly mood, on the interweb you can send them a ‘^5!’ which isn’t some kind of strange maths equation (don’t worry, I also thought that), but actually a really ‘sick’ way of writing ‘high five!’.

 

 

Off the chain.

There is even a variation which I managed to decode in a mere matter of weeks which is ‘v5!’. No, this doesn’t mean Version 5! it actually means ‘low five!’, which people use to indicate that they want one ‘down-low’ instead of ‘up-high’.

What I believe is missing is the kind of ‘five’ you see in a lot of sporting games like rugby, soccer, cricket, hockey, ice hockey, football, American football, tennis, croquet, darts, badminton, judo, pole vaulting and shuttlecock when the one guy does scores a goal or shuttles his cock really well and his team mate gives him a jocular pat on the arse.

 

 

My buddy Stikey felt the same way and actually took things a step further and went ahead and invented the ‘*5!’ which is used to indicate a jocular pat on the arse.

So far I’ve tried it out on a number of my buddies with pretty damn hilarious consequences. Here’s some IM chats copy / pasted for your reading pleasure. In this one I was mid sentence when I did a complete 360 degree turn and launched into it:

me: sure, im down with that we’re organis- hey, what the fuck?!
  dude, it’s Elvis!
name withheld: where?!
me: (*5!)
  hahahah! too easy
name withheld: hahaha
  you threw me off guard there
  i even looked!
me: you have no idea what just happened, but you feel violated
name withheld: i feel let down that elvis hasnt showed up 🙁

Classic! Then there was this chat that happened yesterday:

me: have you been there with [name withheld]?
  be honest
name withheld: no. some married complication.
me: cool
  never cross that line
  shit gets ugly
name withheld: you been there?
me: nigga please!
name withheld: did his wife find out?
me: actually,
her wife found out
  and joined in!
name withheld: ^5!
me: ^5!
  hahaha!
  hey, look it’s elvis!
  (*5!)
name withheld: *facepalm

See what I mean?! Flip, I really think I’m onto something here. Thing to do is start *5!-ing all your friends as soon as possible, and let’s spread the word of this awesome way to interact / practise borderline sexual harassment over the internet.

 

 

I really think this has legs guys, I really think this could be the thing that I will be remembered for in days, nay, weeks to come over the interweb. So let’s all band together and sprea-

Hey, what the fuck?! Is that Elvis scrounging around in that dustbin?

(*5!)

Heh heh heh.

It’s THAT easy 😉

-ST