Saturday, August 29, 2009

$25 bucks for an hour with a tramp.

Large Double Double please. And, a chair.

Evening boys & girls. Yer old pal Scrub here at the laptop on a Saturday night.

Sure, the wife and I could be out wing-dinging it... but, here in Scrub's part of the Great White - Summer has called it quits for the year. I mean.. Geez Louise.. it's frackin' cold out.

So... our son, the kid, goes trampin' once a week. Huh? Oh - good heavens. Ya'll are filthy. No No - that THAT kinda trampin'. (Although some of these 13 and 14 yr old skanky girls that are creepin' into our lives "might" qualify...)

No - the wife and me signed the kid up in this gymnastics class thingy. Well - not full gymnastics. Ya gotta remember - our kid is the "one-handed wonder". So... that makes stuff like swingin' on the uneven bars... ummm... kinda challenging. But - when it comes to the trampoline... no problem.

This summer, the kid started doin' these whackball flips and stuff on the home version of a trampoline... so the wife and me thought it might be a good idea to throw the child into some kinda structured class and learn somethin'. Ya know - safe stuff. Know what I mean?

Anyway - every week for the past few, we have been truckin on down to a nearby burb - well, not quite nearby - in fact, with all 3 of us flappin' our arms wildly out the windows of the go-kart for maximum speed - it's still a good 45 minutes away. But - it's the only burb anywheres close to the Scrub Shack that offers up some semi-pro coaching for younglings who wanna bounce on a trampoline.

Oh... first.... ya'll recall Scrub sharing with you the Great White's fav watering hole... Tim Hortons, right? We red & whites affectionaly call it simply "Timmies". We have one on every corner. Seriously. I some places, you can grab yer large double double coffee, stand outside, look down the street and see the sign for the next one. No kidding.

Anyway - every week when we go trampin'... ( oh, now you have got me thinkin dirty thoughts sayin that. Trampin'. Sheesh.) So, every week when we go trampin' - we have to pass... well... oodles of Timmies restaurants. Simply oodles of them.

But - there's one in particular. Close to the trampin' place. This one Timmies... every week... there's a group of folk that I suppose have formed their own little club of sorts. It's "their" meeting spot. It's their place to hang. It's their place to kick back and share a giggle or two with their chums. Bully for them.

However - you'd think they'd go for somethin a little more comfy instead of just whippin out the lawn chairs and setting up shop in the parking lot, wouldn't ya? Gawd love'em.

For all you readin' from places other than the Great White - we Canucks... this is what we do. Yep - we're a laid back bunch, with a thang for Timmies coffee, and we're ready to git a coffee clutch set up whereever and whenever.

It's been a couple hours since my last injection of caffeine... think I'm due.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

I Love Thursdays. So Fresh and Clean.

Yo! Yo! Oh - and that doesn't refer to the kewl toy that goes up and down a string.

Hey kids - Scrub at the keyboard. Whassup?

No - it's not the toy. It IS, apparently, the preferred method of greeting one's parents however.

Yes - we'll be putting a stop to that in short order. Sheesh.

So - ya'll remember that cute little fart that was The Kid?
Awwww - look at him!

Oh - don't be jealous. Chalk it up to remarkable DNA and a good shot of tequila. (And a smokin hot woman who is quite simply mommy-licious).
Anyway - that was last years Back-To-School shopping adventure.
The Kid - well, as regular Scrub's will know... things have changed a wee bit over the past summer. The kid - ummmm... grown up a little.

This year's bank-account-drain... whoops, I mean Back-To-School shopping, took place yesterday.
Well - some of it did.

Scrub's still gotta hit the local trading post and swap some skins, and his right arm, for some of the basics still. Ya know - socks, underwear... that kinda stuff.

Apparently the local family and childrens services office will throw both Scrub and The Wife in jail and place the Kid with some other poor sap if the wee fella should land in hospital and they cut off his jeans with scissors and find a pair of gotchies that are in less than pristine condition.

According to the wife anyway.

Reminds me... it's Thursday.

Time to turn mine inside out.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

65 Front Street West

Area code 416? Are you kidding me?

Well howdy Scrublings. Yer old pal Scrub here this mornin'.

So - the kid and I hopped in the go-kart yesterday to pick up our dear friend Hurricane's offspring yesterday after a short trip back to the land of the French here in the Great White.

Took a little trip to the big smoke - Toronto. Found a parking spot (surprise, surprise) and took the kid for a tour of Union Station and the surrounding area.

We were there late afternoon - which means that 1.5 million people were bustling around and making their way through the station - connecting on trains, transit and just general bustle through the downtown core of Canada's humungousest city.

The eyes - sparkly and glowing. The blood - pumping. The imagination - firing.

So, I asked the kid - "could you live here?"

"Oh ya!" he says... "I'm home".


The wife and me - nah, we don't have a problem with the kid picking up and plunking down somewhere's other than next door to the Scrub Shack at some point in his life. But - the point here is... it has become even more apparent that despite the fact that 3 and a half minutes of fun some 13 years ago and a serious investment of time and money since... the kid is growin' up and will, in fact, at some point, regardless how much we balk, will... *gulp... no longer be under our control.

(there's that control issue again. damn'd penis.)