Saturday, February 28, 2009

Therapy - here I come.

Morning Kids!

It's time for another SCRUBBIE SURPRISE! Have fun.

PS - there is something slightly disturbing about knowing when your parents were doin the nasty. Dont'cha think?

Friday, February 27, 2009

And we didn't even need Pepto Bismol.

So... You gotta ask yourself... "Do I feel lucky?"

Well... Do ya? Punk!

Grin. Heya boys & girls - Uncle Scrubbie at the keyboard once again.

C'mon - ya gotta love Clint as Dirty Harry! Well - at least us testosterones do. And, that's what Scrub's got on the tube tonight - some Dirty Harry. Fantastic! "The Dead Pool". I know - no the greatest of the Dirty Harry flicks - but, it's Clint with a big gun and good 'ol classic gunfire sounds on the soundtrack.

The wife took off tonight with gal pal Karen to git some stuff ready for another full day of Scrappin' tomorrow. The kid - hangin in the engine room. The kid downloaded some game and is in his glory right now. Lunatic dog - where else? Curled up on the couch with Daddy.

Scrubbie made Chocolate CupCakes for dessert tonight. OMG - they are deelish!

Hey - speakin of food. You'll never guess... ya'll recall our friend Hurricane? Well, Hurricane - when we first met the 'ol girl - used to use her oven as a place to store extra shoes. Kitchen cupboards - shoes. Pantry... yep... shoes. Fridge.... no, not shoes. That's silly. No, the fridge housed her phone book, instant coffee and coffee cream. Huh? Oh no - nothing else. Just that.

If you went to visit - had to be sure to bring somethin' along with ya if you didn't want coffee or wanted ANYTHING else. It was her way.

Then - out popped the kids. No, she didn't instantly become a morph of Martha Stewart and Julia Child. But, she did manage to figure out how to toast bagels. Ummm - not much else.

Gawd lov'er.

Anyway - point of all this... Hurricane - she don't really cook much. When she does - we are generally frightened.

But - oddly enough - The Wife, the kid and Scrub got invited to Hurricane's igloo yesterday for some grub. We accepted. (On the way - stopped at the local trading post to grab some grub to throw in the hot box - just in case.) Well - blow me down - if it wasn't deelishush! I know - couldn't believe it myself. Damn'd good!

Anyhoo - only 49 minutes till BattleStar Galactica! WoooHooo!

So - Scrub finally is doin some digiscrappin' again. Feels good. Haven't done the digi thing for a little while. (Been busy. Seriously. Ya'll know how it is here in the Great White - Whaling, Fishing, makin' Maple Syrup, brewin' beer. It's what we do.)

This dude. Wish I could remember his name. Larry. Or Gordon. Or somethin' like that.

Last summer, The Scrub Fam and the wife's gal pal Judy's fam (Hubby- the ear suckler, her two punk testosterone kids - BasketBall and FootBall) - we all went together for a summer vacation. Grand times. Buckets of fun.

On the way back to our respective igloos - we had to stop off to drop off trash. Can't just leave it lyin' round - bears and all. Anway - so on our way out - stopped off and found this fella keepin' vigil over the trash depot. Gotta check in with him prior to droppin' off. Gotta check out with him when leavin. The Wife and I got a'chattin' with him - and what a character! Old retired fella who has been in cottage country there forever and just loves hangin' out at the dump there. Particularly enjoys all the summer visitors to the area who get their giggles stoppin' to see the bears when they come out foraging round the garbage at 6pm like clockwork. We just had to snap a pic of this guy cause he just looked so - well - I dunno what. Sorta like a National Geographic photo, ain't it? hahahahaha.

Monday, February 23, 2009

You want me to do what???

Oh - this should be hysterical.

Afternoon boys & girls - Scrubbie here, yet again! I know - a second posting in the same day. I am feeling guilty for not having bloggeroo'd the last few days. It's been busy 'round the igloo.

The wife, she was gone this weekend with gal pal Judy flogging their IN A PINCH DESIGNS Scrappin' Kits. I took advantage of the time to do a blast through the igloo and fill up 8 garbage bags of stuff. Can't tell ya what's in them though - not until Wednesday. Wednesday is garbage day here. Better off for everyone involved if the contents of the black bags remain a secret.

Then, there was laundry. Sheesh. Ok - so everyone's arch nemesis in laundry is socks, right? I am sure you are all noddin' in agreement. 4 pairs go in - 3 pairs and a single come out. Where the hell does it go? I dunno. Then, as a matter of course, the kid and I wear our socks till the space occupied by holes is greater than the space occupied by fabric. So - this weekend, Scrubbie ran round the igloo and grabbed every sock he could find - even clean ones - and seperated them out - white and dark. Then, washed 'em. All of 'em. Then - did a "match 'em up" game. For every pair I found - a sip of Crown. It was a fun game. Really fun. REALLY fun.
Then - the leftovers and those that have been blessed by the clergy (holy. get it... holy?) - toss'd 'em out. Gone. Done. Finally. Ahhh - felt good.

Hoovered the floors. Washed the dishes. Scrubbed the joint down. Yes - it was a full full Saturday.

Had the Bro-In-Law and his punk Whoagun sleep over Saturday night. Ya see - their punk girly Dancer - turned 9 - and it was pawwwty time at JR's place. 9 little girls. One stressed mommy. Monster In Law and overbearing Sis-In-Law - all under one roof. Scrubbie felt sorry for 'em - so had those with a penis (giggle) hang out at the Scrub pad. Pizza for dinner. Hours of Wii gaming. Hockey game. Movie. Yep - life is good. In the morn - bacon and eggs, Froot Loops, coffee coffee and more coffee. And, like a good guest - JR and his punk kid buggered off nice 'n early.

Anyway - on to the reason for the posting. (I just wanted you to know that I wasn't sittin' on my arse the whole time thinking about, but not actually blogging.)


Bwaaa-haa-haa! I know! Hysterical, ain't it. Scrub's gonna go do some Yoga. Tomorrow. With the Bro-in-Law at the gym. Oh my goodness. Just catchin' my breath here after that giggle.

Ya, the the Bro-In-Law, JR, - he's gonna do a cycling class with Naked Guy as the instructor.

(excuse me for a second... Bwaaaaa-haaa-haaaa!) OH goodness, again. hehehe. Hard to type here with the tears in my eyes.

So - yes - yoga. After the cycling class, we are gonna give a Yoga class a whirl.

Scrub's gotta go and git him some of them thar skimpy tight things I guess. Ya know - the ones that display one's religion. Ohhhh - well, maybe not. I look fabulous, but I'd hate to make the other fellas jealous or git some of the girls fallin for me. Quite happy with the Wife.

Ummmm - ya - we won't be doin' THIS.

It's that time of year.

There are many "marker dates" - times of the year that roll around once every three hundred and sixty five.

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

Yes - every year it comes. Like the night. A dark shroud that falls upon Scrubbie and his existence. A time where, despite my best efforts, nothing changes. It remains the same. The results are consistent despite pro-active changes in behaviour. (Gee - I guess I paid attention in Psych 101 back in University)

It is... *gulp... Roll Up The Rim To Win time here in the Great White.

Canucks - ya'll know what I'm talkin' about, right?

For you non-Canucks and landed aliens alike - allow me to explain. (Canucks - ya'll can grab yourselves a Timmies for a min or two - you won't miss much. We'll be here when you get back.)

Here in the Great White - we Canucks are obsessed - I mean REALLY obsessed with our National Franchise - Tim Hortons. Not only was Tim a really cool Hockey Player (Hockey - that's reason #1 we are get stiffies over this place), but it's the home of our coffee. Dark, deep, delicious, nectar of the gods, sustainer of life, blood plasma substitute - coffee. The phrase "Large Double Double" is actually a part of the Canuck dictionary. In the Great White, it's prit' near impossible to travel more than a couple 'a city igloo blocks without comin' across one. We Canucks simple refer to the stop as "Timmies".

We love our coffee.

And, each and every year, Timmies puts on a lil' promo (as if they need it - we Canucks freak out without our Timmies. Even set up a Timmies overseas for our fightin' boys in uniform just so they have a taste of home. Crazy, eh?) called ROLL UP THE RIM TO WIN.

The plot: git yerself a cuppa. Drink it. Then use your pearly whites to unroll the lip of the plasticy-carboard up to see if you win somethin'. There are 1000's - 10's of 1000's of prizes. Everything from another cuppa the liquid gold to treats that give us Canucks extra blubber to beat the cold, to new dog-sleds and even gas-sucker vehicles. A car! I know - just for drinkin' a coffee. Wild eh?

So - there ya go - that's the low-down on it all. Got it? Good.

Now - here's the kicker. Of all the 100's of thousands of prizes available to be won - I don't win any of them. Nope - none. Nadda. Zip. Zilch. Ever.

Seriously - Not kidding. In fact, it has become a running joke amongst the Scrubbie Fam.

The wife - she wins. No, not a car, dog-sled, Flat Screen or any of those big boys toys. She wins Coffee, Doughnuts, Muffins, Bagels - stuff like that. But, she wins. And, she rubs it in.

It has become a source of pain in our relationship. Each year, the risk runs higher that the 20 odd years we have invested in each other is close to coming crashing down.

She calls me. On the phone. When she wins. And, just "mentions" it. Or, we'll be headin' out somewhere and stop off at a Timmies - place our order and then quietly pull out the winning tab and gives it to me. In other words - she not only stabs me in the chest, but twists and turns the blade to inflict maximum pain and damage. Exaggerating? Me? Nooooooo. Never. It is what she does.

Friends also call me to let me know that they have won. "Scrubbie..." they say... "have you won yet?"

"No". I am blunt with my answers.

"Scrubbie..." they say... "awww, that's too bad. We were pulllin' for ya. Honest. By the way... I won a coffee. Ain't that great?"


Being the eternal optomist, however; last year I decided to change my attitude. I'll do the same this year. Now, when the blaggards call... "Scrubbie..." they'll say... "have you won yet?"

And, Scrubbie will answer: "Why, yes, as a matter of fact. I did."

"Scrubbbie..." they'll say... "Way to go bud! At last! What'cha win?"

I'll answer... "I won another chance to play."