Wednesday, February 18, 2009


Let me explain.

Heya boys & girls - Scrubbie here.

I'm SAD.

No - it's not that I am unhappy, or disappointed, bereaved, bitter, blue, cheerless, dejected or despairing. Not despondent, disconsolate, dismal or distressed. Not doleful, down or forlorn. Not gloomy, glum, heartbroken, heartsick or hurting. Not Melancholy, morbid, morose somber, sorrowful, sorry or troubled. Not wistful. Not woebegone. And certainly, most certainly, not lugubrious.

No - none of these.

I'm SAD.

Seasonal Affective Disorder.

Well, yes - I do have that. Hooray Happy Pills!

But - no, in this case - not what I am talkin' about.

I'm SAD.

No, no - I am not pining the death of a friend or missing terribly an old soul from my past with whom I had a wonderful connection that completely fulfilled my very existence. Actually - I've never had that. I don't like people, remember?

But - ain't this picture just frackin' hysterical! HAHAHA

I'm SAD.

Special And Demented.

Yes. Ask the wife. She'll confirm it.

Not what I mean.

I'm SAD.

Yes - in this case I am referring to being a Stay At-Home Dad.

So - what is the point to all of this, you might ask. Go ahead - I don't mind. Ask.

Ok - let me tell ya.

There is no point. Just thought I'd put it out there.

Truthfully - I am a "Work from home Dad". But - that wudda been WFHD. And, really - what fun is that to say? Wuh-fuh-aich-duh. See - nuthin.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Can you read this?

If you can read this - you are in the minority.

Hi Kids - Scrubbie here.

Apparently, most people coming to my blog are not able to see any text. Or pictures. Or anything.

Weird eh?

They are probably thinking it is some weird Scrubbie joke. Would I do that to ya? Ok Ok - maybe I would.

Truth is - I don't know why that is happening.

But - I am kinda wondering something. If people can't read what I have written, then why am I writing about it. It's not like you are going to see what I have written. Or pictures that I have posted. Or anything about me. Or the wife. Or the kid. Or the lunatic dog. Geek boy. Hurricane. Naked Guy. Scrubbie Mama or Scrubbie Papa. The out-laws. Bing. Bong. Mutt. Many other assorted punk pals.

I am gonna have to go and call them all on the 'ol Alexander Graham Bell and tell them not to do anything odd, strange or bizarre. In fact, I am going to tell them not to do anything at all.

I'd hate for you to miss a thing.

Monday, February 16, 2009

We're no angels. But I wouldn't change a thing.

It's Family Day here in the Great White.

Heya kids - Scrubbie here.

Family Day. No, not just a phrase coined to talk about Monday. It really is FAMILY DAY. In the province of Ontario - we have it as a Provincial holiday. Stores are closed. Stuff is shut down. There are various Family-ish activities hosted around the community.
Nice, eh?

The kid - slept over at Bing and Bong's last night. The night before - slept over at some pre-pubescent girls' place. I know. I know. The wife and I were kinda freaked out a bit too. He came home smiling. We are terribly concerned.

Now - he is down in the engine room workin' on a project for school.

The wife - upstairs in her Scrappin' room. Workin' away on instructions for the pre-cut Scrap kits that she and gal pal Judy flog on the interweb and in person through IN A PINCH DESIGNS at events througout the Great White.

Lunatic dog - curled up for afternoon naps on the kid's bed. Don't that sound temptin'?

Scrubbie - in his big marshmallow chair, on the ground floor, banging away at the keyboard after coming home from another session at his local workout facility.

Now - you might be sayin somethin' like "Sheesh - that Scrubbie fam has it all wrong. They should be all gushy and lovey and be playing Yahtzee on the dining room table together." Sure - that's an option. In fact, it might even happen 'fore the day is through. But - this is the family. And, this is what we do. Everyone has their thing - then we all come together and have our connecting moments. It's all good.

Family Day aside for a moment - In just a couple of hours - there will be a flurry of activity 'round the igloo. You see - the kid - has to finish off homework. The wife - has to get ready for her first day at school. Scrubbie - networking breakfast in another city tomorrow morning (disgustingly early I might add). Hurricane Rona (Wife #2) - should be calling shortly asking what we are having for dinner. (She's gonna FREAK when I tell her it's Bacon & Eggs for dinner. She'll think we've gone mad or have contrived a plan to eliminate her from our lives). The Wife and Hurricane - The Bachelor and True Beauty tonight on the tube. And, 24 as well as Heroes. The kid - soccer tonight at 7. Game 1 of the end of season tourney. Oh yes - a flurry of activity.

Perhaps, just perhaps, this all explains the receding hair line and silver strands that grace Scrub's noggin.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Big Love

A disturbing and alarming situation has been brought to my attention.

Howdy Scrub-nation. Big Daddy Scrubbie here.

Yesterday, while Hurricane Rona was here sharing a lovey-dovey dinner with Scrubbie and The Wife, she mentioned some squealing in her go-kart when she turned the steering wheel. So - having testosterone, wibbly-wobblies and one X chromosome, I, of course, had to go outside, lift the hood and take a look-see. After some careful inspection, and attracting the attention of the other X-Chrome's on the street, I found that Hurricane's go-kart was a little low on Power Steering fluid. Simple fix.

So, this morning, Scrub went out to one of our local Trading Posts to pick some magic steering juice.

Grabbed it. Paid my 8 colourful Canadian dollars and went on my merry way.

Drove down the street to Hurricane's place. Popped the hood. Topped up the fluid. Checked the oil. Got my hands all black and greasy. (GAWD I love that!) Dropped the hood and rubbed my hands together in that "Ahhhh - a job well done" gesture. Know what I mean? Good.

Knocked on Hurricane's door - told her what I did. Washed up my hands and toddled off for a visit to my local work-out facility. Worked up a sweat. Got cleaned up. Came home. La-dee-da.

Sounds all kinda normal. Don't it?

Well - here is where the alarming and disturbing starts to come in.

Ya see - Scrub started prepping dinner for the Wife and the Kid. Wife - she came downstairs to check and see what I was whippin' up. I asked her if Hurricane was comin' for dinner tonight. Yep. She is. (Amazing Race starts tonight! WoooHooo!)

When I told the Wife what I had all done earlier today - the Hurricane thing etc - she then said... "Ahhh - fixing up the "other" wife's car eh?"


Oh my GAWD! She's right.

Hurricane - she has me fixin stuff round her place. Tending to her vehicle. Escorting her to the local police station when she has to go and report destruction and damage. (That's another story). Cookin' for her. Geek'in out her computer. Pickin' up her kids. Takin' them all to our playgrounds.

HOLY FRACK! I'm a polygamist! Kinda.

I got's 2 Fam's! 3 kids. 2 wives. 1 lunatic dog.

Oh my.

Suddenly - I'm exhausted.

Where's the aspirin?