Tapinoma Sessile

It's Saturday!

Hey kids - Scrubbie here. How are ya'll doing?

This is a picture of Ant. He's a comedian. His real name is Anthony somethin-er-other.

However, this is not the ant I am talking about.








This is Aunt Cora. Aint she da bomb.

Love the hat.

Again - not the ant in question.




Aunt Jemima.

Damn- I just love Pancakes. Hot Cakes. Griddle Goodies. Flapjacks.

That pat of butter gettin' all melty and oozing it's golden goodness across the dotted surface of those delishush rounds of hot, fluffy heaven.

Golden Maple Syrup. It flows like water here in the Great White. We got oodles of the stuff. Use it to warsh our dishes sometimes. Best however when drizzled on pancakes.

Yes - I love this woman. If the wife didn't come along when she did, I wudda gone on Walkabout just to find her and court her and ask her to be my sugar-darlin' forever and ever.

Alas - not the ant I have to discuss either.

No, no - I am talking about Tapinoma Sessile. Class Insecta. Order: Hymenoptera. Family: Formicidae. Yes - I am talking about the common house ant.

Ya - that's the wee bugger - right there.

Nasty.

Before I continue - the wife has a thing for bugs. No - you filthy monkees - not THAT kinda thing. More of a "icky" thing. She don't like bugs. How do I know this? I am told on a daily basis. Including today - that makes... ummmmm.... 7665 days in a row that I have been told that she don't like bugs. Scrubbie's no genius... but even HE gets it after being told that many times. It is crystal clear. No question. No wiggle room. Definitive. She don't like bugs. This includes, of course, ants.

Why is this important? Well - cause the kid is 50% her fault. And, since she don't like bugs... c'mon... work it out.... YEP - you got it. The kid is pretty much on par with the wife in terms of his feelings on the little critters.

So - now that we have that all established... also important to know that the igloo here - cause we got the whale blubber gently burning in the corner - is all toasty warm inside. The wife, the kid, Scrubbie - we all like it like that. Toasty warm. The lunatic dog - ya, she is pretty much paws up on it too. BUT - it seems the little critters - ants - ALSO like it. And, the wee buggers have decided to share space with us.

And, every now and then, they pop on out for a bit of a visit.

The wife - ya, not too keen on that. The kid - equally horrified.

(lots of background info for ya here, aint there?)

Well - Scrubbie has one of those newfangled outhouses - right here inside the igloo! No kidding! INSIDE! No more running out through the snow to do the do. Seems "buggus horribleus" or "ants" have found their way through a tiny crevace and poke their little antennae out now and then to have a look-see.

The kid - not happy. Not at all. Came a'rushin' to mama and papa the other day to let us know that the igloo had been invaded by these monstrous creatures from the deep. Scrub and the wife told the kid to calm down - relax - take a Valium - "they're ONLY ants" we said. "What are you afraid of?"

The kid - in his usual goofy way - tells us that he believes they will all come out when he is there on the pot and - get ready for this - might attack his 'area' (while using his hand to demonstrate the particular place he is referring to.... ya know - the naughty bits - wibbly wobblies - ya, you get the idea.)

Might attack his AREA! Bwaaa-haa-haaa!

Well, the wife and I were in hysterics. (His 'area' - sheesh!)

Anyway - I guess Scrub's gotta go find his bug huntin' spray and put on this camo outfit and get busy.

Wish me luck. If there are no further postings - it means not only did they get my 'area' - but carried me off into the netherworld, never to be seen again.

Just in case - it's been a blast kids. Thanks for reading. Scrub loves ya.

Scrubbie sings...

Happy Birthday to You!
Happy Birthday to You!
Happy Birthday J. R.!
Happy Birthday to Youuuuuuu!

Hey kids - Scrubbie here.

Yes, Yes - it's JR's birthday today. Ya'll know JR, right? He's the Bro-in-Law.

The young feller turns 38 today. My oh my.

By the way - don't he look BUFF!? He's my gym buddy. He met Naked Guy. And, he is also the fella that Dude #2 last week at the gym was suh-weeeeet on. hehehehe.

Oh - and guess who else was here? Hurricane Rona.

There she is in all her glory - sittin there beside the Wife.

She found out Scrub was preparing a Curry for JR, by request. And, where there is Curry - Hurricane will not be far behind.



Whoagun and Dancer - JR's offspring - they are there. The punk there with the smirk - ya, that's mine. The kid.


Scrub even whipped up a special cake for JR. He's got a fav - chocolate cake with strawberry jam smeared between the layers. MMMMM - don't that just sound deelishush? Oh, and it was.

Honest to goodness boys & girls - is there ANYTHING better than a slab of choclate cake (double fudge cake, as a matter of fact), chocolate icing and colourful candy coated chocolate chips and a tall glass of cold cold milk? I think not.

Blowin' out the candles.

Why is it that when bloggers post pics - they always, and I mean always state the obvious? It's not like you look at that pic and say - "Oh look - there's JR shaving an ape." No. It's pretty obvious he is blowing out the candles on his birthday cake. Or blowing kisses at it. My guess is that you were thinking more along the line of blowing out candles. Call me psychic.

I know ya'll are probably wondering what the wife and I got JR for his birthday. Glad you asked. Regulars will recall that JR and Scrubbie both get our giggles doing Geocaching. Well - the wife and I put together a special Geocache just for JR. We have hidden it out in the world somewhere and we are uploading the coordinates to Geocaching.com so sometime in the next week or two, the old boy should get an email (along with the rest of humanity) with HIS own dedicated Cache that he'll have to go and find. Kewl huh?

Well, kewl if ur a cacher.

If not - it's way up there on the stupid gift list.

Google Search: digi scrapping plumber freebie

Morning Kids. Scrubbie here again.

This morning, let me start this post by quoting some Jerry Seinfeld.

Most men like working on things, tools, objects, fixing things. This is what men enjoy doing. Have you ever noticed a guy's out in his driveway working on something with tools, how all the other men in the neighborhood are magnetically drawn to this activity. They just come wandering out of the house like zombies.

Men, it's true, men hear a drill, it's like a dog whistle. Just.. you know, they go running up to that living room curtain, "Honey, I think Jim's working on something over there." So they run over to the guy. Now they don't actually help the guy. No, they just want to hang around the area where work is being done. That's what men want to do. We want to watch the guy, we want to talk to him, we want to ask him dumb questions. You know, "What are you using, the Philips head?" You know, we feel involved. That's why when they have construction sites, they have to have those wood panel fences around it, that's just to keep the men out. They cut those little holes for us so we can see what the hell is going on. But if they don't cut those holes - we are climbing those fences. Right over there. "What are you using the steel girders down there? Yeah, that'll hold."

Ok - ya'll have the giggles now. Me too.

Well - Scrubbie is all a titter here. Why? Glad you asked...

Ya see, the igloo here was experiencing some water issues. Scrub - while incredible at many many things - ain't so incredible when it comes to water issues in an igloo. (Although he did replace a kitchen faucet last year. The celebrations for that lasted a week and involved his best friend - Crown Royal)

So - Scrub called in the plumber. ("and visions of plumber crack danced in his head" Eeeewww) Luckily - no plumber crack here. Matt turned up and got to work. Fixed the igloo up in no time flat. Had to cut a wee hole in the wall. But - overall - the young feller did a great job.

I mentioned about bein' all a titter. Well, ya see, 'cause the job was in the igloo - there were no "keep out the men" fences! Woooooooooooo Hooooooooooo! And, I, of course, was in there like a dirty shirt. Even got to help out! Holding this, glueing that. Ohhhhh yaaaaa baby. Do it to me one more time.

Even got a pic for the 'ol Scrapbook!

See the bucket over there with all the plumber stuff in it. OOOOOOO!

Reciprocating saw. Snake light. PVC pipe - a big'un too! And - SHINY new fittings!

Time to do a google for a freebie or two and spend the day with another glass of crown and the keyboard. Damn - life is good.

Ichthyophobia. Try and say that with a mouthful of marshmallows.

Ichthyophobia - The fear of fish.

Weird, eh? I know.

Hey boys & girls - Scrubbie here. How are ya'll ce soir? (that's French - our other official language in the Great White)

The fear of fish. This wee blog of mine has become many things. A showcase of my digi-scrappin' activities. A report of daily activities. A reflection on the art and science of bein' a hubby and dad. The never ending drama of being a brother, son, in-law, cousin, uncle, nephew and friend. Hell - sometimes - it's nothin' more than the ramblings of a person with a penis. (giggle - I said "penis") Like the tag line of my title says - "A guys perspective on everything including scrapbooking." So - what does all of this have to do with ichthyophobia? Well - nothing really.

Well - something. You see - Scrubbie... he don't like fish. Nope - not in any way, shape or form. The devil's spawn. In a word - blech.

Eeeeewwww - I can't even BEGIN to tell you how much I hate fish. The look of 'em. The smell of 'em. Nasty little buggers.

Throw me in a lake and you'll actually get to see a grown fella sweat in water. (A grown fella with INCREDIBLE pectorals - but a grown fella none-the-less)

Nope - don't like 'em at all.

Eat fish? Oh hell no. But, thanks for askin'.

Here's the kicker though. Aquariums - don't mind 'em. In fact, kinda like 'em. The gurgling. The light. The serenity of it all. Ya - I do kinda like 'em. Even had one or two in my life.

(This is where Mama Scrubbie is cringing cause when Scrub and his baby bro were wee little farts - they drove a riding car - one of those "plunk a kid in it and they pedal their little arse's off pretending to be race car drivers - ya.. one of those. Anyway - they drove one of those right into the 35 Gallon tank in the living room where all 35 gallons of fishy water and all the beasties in it came a-crashing down onto the 1970's shag rug. Yep. Icky, huh?)

Had one when Scrub was an adult too. The wife and I had a tank when we lived in the boomin' metropolis of Brantford, Ontario. Ya - go ahead... google it. Brantford - home of Wayne Gretzky and Alexander Graham Bell. Ya know - the phone dude. Ya, him. Anyway - we lived there for a while. So - our fishtank.... had a bunch of devil spawn in there. Here's somethin' weird. Kinda X-file's-ish. My cuzin whom I shall henceforth call Dolphin, would come to visit. He's a Brantford boy. When he would come to visit - one of the beasties would invariably end up floatin' upside down. Dolphin wasnt pouring bleach in the water or anything. Seriously. But - it seemed like everytime he came over - dead fish. Somebody call Mulder and Sculley.

I know what you are askin' yourself. How, on earth, did Scrubbie deal with a tank when he is so - well, just so BLECH about fish? The wife. LOL. Yep - the wife had to stick her hand in there. I wouldn't. Gawd only knows what those little buggers would do if i did. Nope - won't take the chance.

And, my fish thing - well known amongst those that know and love Scrubbie in the flesh. Went canoeing along the Grand River (go ahead.... google it. I'll keep writing. You can catch up later) a few years ago. Well - quite a few years ago. Anyway - my buddy - Logan - he and I were canoodooling along there when Satan himself jumped right out of the water and shot across the bow on the canoe - only inches from Scrubbie. (All seems to fit, doesn't it. Scrubbie. Great White North. Canoeing. The whole bit - all very Canadian, isn't it?) Anyway - Logan saw this. As did Scrubbie. And, there were others with us in other canoes. They all saw it too. EVERYONE stopped immediately and there was DEAD silence. They were all waiting to see what Scrub would do. Time ticked along for what seems like forever. Until... Scrubbie yelled - OH MY GAWD! Pity? Sympathy? Nah - not these jokers. They all just burst into hysterics. Shitheads. (Scrub's gotta put a Quarter in the quarter jar. He said "burst")

Swimming? Well, as you know - here in the Great White, we are blessed with oodles of H2O that is all natural like. Lakes, oceans, puddles and ponds. Fish in all of 'em. Ya - not too keen on all that. Fortunately - in the Great White - somebody came up with a wonderful idea of pourin concrete into a hole, fillin it with H2O and dumping enough chlorine into it the bleach coal. Ya - now THATS what Scrub calls a swimmin hole. Even better if it's warm enough to steep tea.