American Idol

I gotta admit - it was pretty damn'd good.

Morning Kids - tiz your old pal Scrub.

Sittin' here this morning bleary-eyed and bangin on the keyboard. Hmmm? Bleary-eyed? Oh - well, lets not forget, Scrubbie is an old fart. He likes to hit the sack early. Wake up a dozen times to piddle in the potty. Then get up at 6am to suck back his early morning cuppa tea. But - stayed up last night to take in American Idol. And, I gotta admit... for a show that is a lot about eye-candy... it was pretty damn'd good last night.

Sure - there's a whole lotta talk about the whole Adam vs Kris thing - but, really kids - as history has shown... if u'r in the top two or three or so - and u'r a half decent singer - you've got a career ahead of ya. I'm sure we haven't seen the last of Adam Lambert.

Most impressively though was the line up of talent on the show last night. I mean c'mon... Lauper, Ritchie, KISS and more? Geez Louise! And, for those young'ens on the show to have a shot at sharing the stage with them all... gave 'ol Scrub here the goosebumps. Pretty exciting stuff.

So - also on last night (thank gawd for Pix in Pix television) was the Memorial Cup hockey playoffs. Hurricane Rona was over. Of course. And, as regulars will recall, Hurricane's nephew is one of them thar hockey hot shots playin' for Drummondville. Mike Hoffman is the lad. He ain't half bad on a pair of skates.

Actually - I know young Hoffer there when he was just outa diapers. Ya - a little hellian. If you looked away for more than 10 seconds, the wee fart had already climbed up the wall and was dancin and gigglin' on the fireplace mantle. His mother... Mamma Hoff.... ya, pretty much a prozac candidate. But - there ya go - it's in his blood.

Anyway - last night... despite the fact that most of them either have strep or the flu (don't worry - not H1N1) the boys did good and scored in OT to take them to the finals on Friday. Oh - exciting times! Scrub's gots his TV watchin' planned out already.

Today - Scrub's flippin from one ISP to another. Yep - all this just to save 4 bucks. WooHoo! Scrub's gonna go git himself an ice cream!

It's the 2-4!

Howdy boys and girls - your old pal Scrubbie here.

Oh, yes, it's the May 2-4. There's just somethin' so darn'd wonderful about the May 2-4 weekend. Here is the Great White - it's the first "official" long weekend of the summer season. We Canucks turn to canvas shelters and campfires, try desperately to bugger off work early on Friday to capitalize on as much long weekend as possible and we seek out meat of all kinds to grill to perfection on the Barbee's. Some of us also remove as much non-essentials as possible from the chill-chest and fill up all that empty space with wobbly-pops. It is, after all, the "2-4 weekend" and 2-4 don't necessarily refer to 2pm to 4pm. Scrub - well, to kick off the 2-4, he's gonna hop in the go-kart and make his way to see his cuzin - Dolphin. Ya'll remember Dolpin, right? Country hick, built like a brick house, all 'round decent fella. Yep - that's him. On the agenda: meat, grilled. wobbly pop. hot tub. movie. few laughs. kibbitzin' about the fam. few more laughs. yep - all good times. The wife, the kid? Nope - just a cuzin's night tonight. Scrub'll return to the igloo tomorrow to tackle the Honey-Do list.

Speakin' of the Wife - she gots the place to herself tonight. The kid - out with Bing and Bong tonight. Or maybe it's just Bing. Not sure. The Wife has suggested a houseful of her gal-pals. I don't think it's gonna happen. Generally a night with the place to yerself 'round here means jammies, big comfy marshmallow chair and a little quiet time.

So - bein a Canuck - weather is top on the list of things to talk about. And, we are just bein spoiled rotten here. Snow's gone. Flowers poppin' up. Trees are buddin'. I tell ya kids - it's downright fantastic here. Love it.

Huh? Oh - no. I haven't seen Trek yet. I know, I know - I can't believe it either. But, we're hopin to correct that situation this weekend. We'll see.

Oh hey - speakin of eye-candy... it's crunch time on 24 with Jack Bauer! Oh goodness - it's been a helluva show. Cant wait for Monday!

And, on the note of helluva shows - ya'll catch Grey's Anatomy? Yep - it was a good one!

So - time to pack up some clean briefs, pair of swimmin' shorts and my brush for the pearly whites. Scrub's gonna hit the road.

Cheers

Yo' Mamma

Happy Mothers Day!

Howdy kidlings - Scrub here once again.

Ahhhh yes. Mothers Day. Mom's Day. Celebration of Motherhood. All those things.

So - Scrubbie is dedicating a few megabytes of interweb space to do just that - Celbrate all the mom's that are floatin' round Scrubbie.

First up - the Wife. Well, of course she ain't MY mom. Sheesh. But, she is the mamma of junior there. I just lov'er. Happy Mom's Day Wife! Thanks for bein a great mom to the Kid. Gawd knows - I could'nt do it alone.

Next up - Mamma Scrubbie. Oh kids... let me tell ya... I am most definately my mother's son. Mamma Scrubbie there - ya, Scrub and her are on the same wavelength. What does that mean? Oh - well, it means that I drive her insane just as much as she does me. Seriously. Don't get me wrong - we get along great. I'd go to the ends of the earth for the ol' broad. Give up my left... uhhhh... well, maybe not that. But, pretty much anything else.

*giggle. Nah... just joshin' ya. I lov'er to bits. She knows it too.

Happy Mother's Day Ma. I promise to cook up somethin' special for ya.
Mwah!


The OutLaws. Ya - that's the Wife's mamma right there. Mamma Lou. If there's one daft ol' gal that Scrub can have a good ol giggle with - it's Mamma Lou. We gots a standin date to go and hit the new Trek film together. No kiddin'. Think I'll insist she dress up as a Ferengi or somethin. Don't worry - I'll grab a pic. *snicker...

Mamma Lou - thanks for bein a great ma. I know you are cause yer offspring, the Wife - well, she ain't half bad at all. Smooch.


Last but not least - here's a couple 'a mamma's for ya.

These are Grandama Scrubs. One of the left there - that's Nana Scrubbie. The one on the right... well, that's Nana Scrubbie. Ummmmm.... Oh well - you get the idea, right?

Left - ma's ma. Right - pa's ma. Ok.

Can't leave out a cocktail liftin' moment without including these two whacky gals. They ain't around for me to make fun of no more. Well, not around in body anyway. But, I tell ya... when Scrub's gots his fingers smooshing up somethin on the stove that has hints of India to it - there's Nana Scrubbie... ummmm... (one on the left)... there's Nana Scrubbie - right there with me. Never fails. And, when it comes to pretty much anything that involves dry humour with a good Brit accent - I can feel Nana Scrubbie... ummmm... (one on the right)... standing at my right shoulder looking over. Wish you both were here right now. I'd get a real kick out of knowing that you were using the interwebby thing to peek into life here at my igloo.

So - that's a wrap kids. All the mamma's that hit closest to home.

Happy Mother's Day Wife, Ma, Mamma Lou, Nana and Nana. Scrub loves ya.

I don't even know what to call this post.

Sometimes... I'm embarrassed to be a dude.

Hey kiddie winks - Scrubbie here.

It's a short post tonight. Don't take yer finger off the mouse. You'll be clicking soon.

The wife and I were sittin back, havin' a cuppa tea, taking a few moments in front of the tube.

Flippin' channels..

Ya know what it's like on a Sunday afternoon.

Flippin' channels.

Come across one of them thar shows 'bout fellas that fish and hunt and... well, ya know... that kinda stuff.

This episode: ducks.

Fellas in the show have done their huntin and stuff. Headin back for a 'lil drink together to celebrate... or whatever.

They're talkin about drinks.

They're talkin about a specific drink.

Bailey's Irish Cream and Crown Royal.

Guess what they call it?

A Duck Fart.

A DUCK FART.

Ok...

1. You don't mix Crown with Baileys.
2. Even if you did - why DUCK FART?

Hmph.

Duck Fart. Sheesh.

Scrubbie's Fav Five

Evening boys & girls - Scrub here yet again!

Ok... I just gotta tell ya - here in the Great White (or at least Scrubs part of the Great White) we were treated to summer weather. Ya-frackin'-hoo! All us Canucks were out there without our skins and furs on. Pastey white caucasions everywhere. Looked like mole-people that had just come up from underground. Scrub even fired up the Q tonight and seared up some animal flesh and shoved it 'tween two halves of a bun. MMMMM tasty. ONLY thing missing - cold, frosty and frothy barley, malt and hops blend. OH - and the Wife... she even whipped up a lil' somethin' somethin' in the kitchen too! Huh? Oh - c'mon, don't be shocked. It is, after all, April. So, the Wife - whipped up some onion strings. Wha's that you ask? Oh - just git yer imagination hats on and dig this: BIG sweet onion, sliced up thin, soaked in buttermilk, tossed in a flour, salt, pepper and cayenne dusting, then tossed into some hot oil to sizzle up for about a min or two, taken out of the hot oil, on to paper towel just long enough to cool down. Crispy, seasoned, onion-y. Holy Crap! DO IT! We ate 'em just as a companion to our charred animal flesh on buns. But, I can just imagine those buggers on top of a Philly Cheesesteak, or on smashed spuds. Oh my goodness.

Oh, hey... few of the folk 'round these parts of the Great White see Scrub now and then in the flesh. No, no... not nekkid. Just 'in person'. Ya know. And, there has been some talk 'bout Scrub's most recent post about Hurricane Rona. Not sure what I mean? It was the post just 'fore this one. Scroll down - it's there. Promise. Too lazy to scroll? Ya, don't blame ya. Here's the summary:

• Hurricane Rona
• Ditz with directions, just like Scrub
• Takes magic box of directions to find her way to gal pals house few hours from here
• Gets there
• Magic Box of directions says "You have arrived"
• Hurricane goes stormin into the house 'cause she gots to pee after long trip
• Hurricane, proudly annouces her arrival to houseful of people - asks where is the bathroom
• Person at house tells Hurricane that she is in wrong house. All the people there - ya... for a wake. Their pappy just passed.

So - the answer to the question is: YES - rediculous as it sounds - it's true! Believe me - with the cast of characters that Scrub has 'round here - I don't need to make up a thing. (And ya wonder why Scrub's gettin grey 'round the temples...)

But - on to the topic at hand for a Saturday night. Thought ya'll might like to know Scrubbie's Favourite Fives. Sure - now and then, I'll throw out a little list of Scrubbie's Favourite Fives. It's self explanatory. Here goes.

Scrubbie's Favourite Fives: SANDWICHES
1. Clubhouse - on toasted white bread, real bacon, cheddar cheese, 2 tier, sliced diagonal with a frilly toothpick to hold it together. Heaven.
2. Assorted Cold Cuts, Italian Sub. Again - toasted. Onion, lettuce, tomato, hot pepper rings, cucumber slices, mozz cheese - all melty. Salt, pepper and Italian Dressing as a sauce. Sweet mother of Mary. Take me now.
3. Cheeseburger. Homemade, of course. Half ground pork, half ground beef. Salt, pepper, Ketchup, Mustard powder, few drops of Louisanana Hot Sauce, chopped onion, chopped coriander, minced garlic, wee little bit of ground ginger, and egg and some seasoned bread crumbs. Squish like yer makin mud pies. Form deelishush burg patties. Cook 'em up good over fire. Slice of cheese on at the last minute to get gooey on top. Served on a kaiser roll. This, kids, tends to be Scrub's birthday dinner of choice.
4. Grilled Cheese - a classic. Couple slices of bread. Slice of cheese in between. Butter up the outside of the slices. Toss it in a fry pan till golden brown. Diagonal slice. Dollop of ketchup for dipping. Few Bread N Butter pickles on the side. Cold glass of milk. Total comfort food.
5. The grand-pappy of all sandwiches: The PB&J. Yes. Peanut Butter and Raspberry or Strawberry Jam. No description required. And, no better way to feel like a kid.

There ya have it. Scrub - LOVES sandwiches. When I expire - the Wife... she is gonna bury me 'tween two slices of bread.

Those are gonna be BIG frilly toothpicks.

Hi! Gotta Pee!

Global Position Systems: A curse or a blessing?

Scrubs, Scrubettes - How are ya!?

Take it from yer Uncle Scrubbie - yer gonna need somethin' to drink and yer gonna need a chair. Go ahead - I'll wait. By the way - that drink... make it a double.

Ok, back? Good.

Hurricane Rona. Gawd lov'er. It's not like she goes out looking for adventure. It always just kinda comes to her. Know what I mean? Oh - sure - somewhere in there it IS her fault. But, in an ever winding twist of fate, it's not her fault. I can't explain it - I gave up trying oh so many years ago.

Before we get into it... there's always somethin I gotta set up. Today - yep, no different.

Hurricane - she's a bit like Scrubbie. But, aren't we all? Directions. Gettin' from here to there. Like Scrub - not the sharpest stick in the bunch when it comes to figurin' out left, right, left. Scrub - seems to end up in other cities or in the middle of a field when headin to the local trading post. But, since GPS - I tell ya, the incidents of finding myself calling the Wife and sayin "Hunnneeeeee - I don't know where I am" has dropped considerably. I got this little magic box of directions in the car with a smokin hot voice that just tells me "left turn in 1 kilometer" and so forth. Awesome. When I accidentally miss the turn - doesn't get snippy with me. Doesn't call me a dope. No - just announces that she is "recalculating route". Love it.

Hurricane was off to visit gal-pals last weekend. Gal-pals that were off in another burb here in the Great White. So, Hurricane, recalling tales of Scrubbie makin' it to somewhere and back again without so much as a single panic moment of "where the frack am I?" told Scrub that she wanted the magic box of directions to assist her in her trek 'cross country. Good idea Hurricane! While you give me grey hair, I'd hate to see ya lost in the wilderness, never to be heard from again. Hurricane pops over, grabs the magic box of directions, and heads off into the sunset. Well - not really sunset, but it just makes for such a pretty picture, dont'cha think?

Then, came the phone call a short while later where Hurricane yells in the phone "Oh Gawd... I think I did somethin' wrong!" (she, in fact, was only about 10 mins from Scrub's igloo when that call came. Ya. Don't ask.)

Apart from that - all went well. The magic box of directions told Hurricane: Left, right, left, go straight... and so forth. Then... couple hours later... the magic box of directions announces "You have arrived!" WooHoo!

Hurricane hops out of her go-kart and goes struttin' up to the shack. Bursts open the door and yells "HI! Gotta pee!"

So far, so good, right? Not uncommon. Long trip. Gotta pee. Yep... so far, so good.

Whoops - wait a minute. This is Hurricane. The following conversation ensues:

Hurricane: Gee... lotta people here. Can't talk. Gotta pee. Where's the washroom?

Woman at the house who we shall henceforth simple call WOMAN: Just down the hall.

Hurricane: Thanks!

Woman: No problem. Ummmm - who exactly are you?

Hurricane: Huh?

Woman: well... I'm just wondering... who are you?

Hurricane: Isn't this "Joan's" house?

Woman: No

Hurriane: Oh. I saw all the people and thought this was it.

Woman: No - we are all family. My father just passed away.

Hurricane: Huh?

Woman: Yes - it's a wake. I don't know "Joan"

Hurricane: Oh. Soooooo... I guess I'm in the wrong house.

Woman: Yes. It appears so.

Hurricane: Wellllll.... I'll just go then. Don't worry about the bathroom.

Scrubbie had to explain to Hurricane that while the magic box of directions is a wonderful doo-dad to get you to a certain spot, and that it really is a magical box considering it does get you to that certain spot when you could end up ANYWHERE on the planet earth, it is always advisable to LOOK AT THE GAWDDAMND NUMBER ON THE HOUSE before barging in to tinkle!

Sheesh.

What's that you say?

Failure is the mother of awesome sex.

Boys & Girls - Scrubbie here. How are ya'll doin?

Goodness gracious... Scrub's been a busy boy lately. Been hob knobbing with Mayors and Chiefs of Police and all kindsa people! Big change from Hurricane Rona, Geek and the Kid.

Oh - speaking of Geek... Geek Junior was over at Scrub's igloo just the t'other day. See, my bro-in-law had this laptop that was kuputz. Woudn't do nuthin. So, I puppy-eyed JR and asked if I could have his laptop to use for this charitable organizaton Scrub got himself sucked into. JR told me we had to fork out a couple 'a hundred bucks to git one of them there legal copies of Windows and everything should run just tickety-boo.

Well, as you know, Scrubbie is a cheap 'ol bugger. So - I went on a FREEBIE hunt to see what there might be. Well, sure enough - I found it. Open Source software called UBUNTU. Go ahead - Google it. It's there.

Anyway - Ubuntu is a linux based operating system. Oh gawd - get me the tylenol... all this techno-speak is givin' Scrub a headache. OK - in language that I understand: Every puter needs gas in it's engine to make it go. Some, well most puters that I have laid my paws on run Windows. Ya know... XP, Vista... that sorta thing. But, it doesn't HAVE TO run on Windows. It can also run, quite nicely, using this Ubuntu thing. And, it's free! Not even a coupon required!

So - Geek Junior came over to send Windows to the recyling bin and juiced up the laptop with this linux thing. Not quite as simple as all that. Turns out JR's hand me down laptop was kinda ill. Had to do a Grey's Anatomy thing and yank out half it's memory. Somethin' about RAM, corrupted, sticks, discs, blah blah blah. I dunno. Again - techno speak. So, after some surgery, and further mucking about - Geek Junior turned up with this laptop that is working alright now. Go figure! Junior is all of 15 and rivals his Geek papa for geekness in the world of geekdom. Thanks Junior! (Scrub's even doin' the bloggy thing on the newly tricked out laptop! - Betcha didn't even notice!)

The Wife and I had a coiffeure date today. We both went out before lunch to have our do's done. The Wife - ya, lookin smokin' right now. Scrub - ahhhhh.... pretty much the same with shorter hair.

Then, we toddled on down the road to take in a little Kung Pao, Veg Fried Rice, Sweet & Sour Chicken - the usual. As my Chinese friend calls it "white people Chinese food"! Bwahahahaha! Oh Ricky - u'r too funny pal!

It was here that life took an interesting turn. Don't know 'bout you all - but round these parts after enjoying a rather scrumptious meal, that I didn't have to go out and catch first,... buddy waiter guy brings the little black plastic tray that has two lovely stripey mints, the bill and yummy vanilla fortune cookies! How do you pick yours? Scrub's fam - we look to see which cookie is facing us to choose. Ya know - the open end has to be pointing in your general direction - then THAT one is your cookie.

Scrub read his - something about happiness is the start of somethin'er other. Schmalz.

The Wife - reads hers. "Failure is the mother of awesome sex".

Ummmm - huh?

"Failure is the mother of awesome sex."

Goodness - Scrub feels a 'lil tingle startin. I don't know what the fortune means - all I heard was "awesome sex".

Well - Scrubbie, right then and there, whipped it out. The $20 dollar bill that is.

And, suggested that maybe he and the wife should be gettin' goin. Maybe home.

Scrub is grinning.

I think Scrub's furrowed brow prompted the wife to probe a little about why I was gettin' all a giddy over a silly fortune cookie.

"Honey" I says..."awesome sex. The fortune cookie... Failure is the mother of awesome sex. Awesome. Sex. Honey...."

Well, the wife falls off her chair and hands the fortune over to me while reading it a little more clearly.

"Failure is the mother of all success."

Frack.

We went shopping.