A Little Help Please

It's mid morning in the Great White. And Scrub needs a little help.

Morning Boys & Girls. Scrub here again.

So, last evening, the kid, Hurricane's eldest, D and the kid's punk pal Bobby all crashed at the Scrub Shack.

Here, they are scarfing down a manly breakfast of sausage, eggs, toast, yogurt, orange juice - ya know.

The wife - upstairs. Dollin' herself up.

Here's the situation: Today is a holiday 'round here. Makes for a nice long weekend in the middle of the summer season. Nice eh?

So - in keeping with a holiday and long weekend... there are a host of things that could happen.

The wife - something heritage-ish. There's an Ice Cream Festival in a local burb. People dressed in old world clothing. Lots of demos and displays of life in the 30's. Vendors (of course). And, Ice Cream. Prepared in the old fashioned way. And flavoured not with the trappings and tastes of Y2K. But, rather, with hints of flora found here and there. Personally - sounds like a peachey idea.

The kid and his punk brat pals - ummmm... not so much. They are requesting an afternoon at the local fun park. When asked why they want to go there so much rather than spending some quality time with the folks - the response, from these three teenage, hormonal, voice cracky boys was a resounding: "Scrub - ummmm... Dandylion ice cream or girls swimming... let me think".

Please bow your head in prayer with me.

God - Your old pal Scrubbie here. God - give me the strength to deal with teenage boys and their mothers. Enough said. Thanks God. You 'da man.

Ok - Scrub's back.

Thanks folks. 'Preciate your thoughts and best wishes.

Smile and Say Cheese.

Smile. You're on Candid Camera.

Whassup kids? Uncle Scrub at the keyboard here.

Gotta tell ya - oodles of fun. The beach. That's where we were.

The wife and me packed up the kid and Hurricane's two punks, D and H2, and made our way to a local swimmin' pond to enjoy a day of picnic'in and swimmin'. It was grand.

Now - bein a Canuck, as ya'll have come to learn - we red and whites talk about a select few things. Tim Horton's - their closest location and what to order. And, the weather.

So - we grabbed out Timmies and took full advantage of what seemed to be one of the few full out, sunshine blazin', not having to wear the woolie underthings, summer-type days goin' on 'round these parts of late.

Oh - boys and girls - Scrub doesn't mean to make ya jealous or nothin - but it was buckets of fun.

Scrub filled the picnic basket full of goodies. The wife gathered towels and sunscreen. The brats were well sugared and ready for a good time.

About D and H2: it is pretty much bred into our offspring that their primary mission in their young lives is to bug the hell out of each other. With constant pokes, jabs, drool (yes, drool) and more - their isn't a 5 min span where one isn't givin the other the business. These two - no different.

A note to parents: I often find a cattle prod an effective tool. You don't even need to use full voltage. They are kids after all. No - a couple of medium intensity shocks with the prod work wonders. Try it.

So - at the beach - good times all around.

But... there was this dude. Nice enough lookin. Sittin quiety by himself under a tree close to the wife and me. Had this camera with one of them thar lenses that was long enough to see the warts on a frogs arse a million miles away. Ya - one of them. Anyway... dude caught our eye. Well - specifically, the wife's eye.

Mother's instinct. Ya know what I mean.

So - dude was snappin a few pics. Then, would put his camera down. Beside him. Then snap a few more pics. Then, put his camera down beside him.

Harmless enough.

But - it was the WAY he was doin all this. Kinda sneaky like. Specially when other folk would saunter by his tree. Camera... kinda put down as if to hide it.

Then there was the fact that he didn't seem to be aiming his point and shoot across the pond to capture the wonderful foliage or whatever.

No - it seemed, from an onlookers point of view, that he was snappin pics of - well, I don't know.

I doubt it was the warts on a frog's arse a million miles away.

And, he was solo. No family or friends comin' up to splash water on him. Or giggle at the jiggle of some of the beach folk. Nope. Alone. Sole. One. Just him. With a camera. And a lens.

Add to all of this - he was just kind creepy lookin. Know what I mean?

Mostly though - the wife and her mother's intuition... just somethin not right there.

The wife - alerted Scrub. The protector. The provider. The MAN.

So - Scrub swallered the last bit of cookie he was enjoyin. Took a swig of his bottled water. Dusted off his hands for what was to follow. And, got up outa his chair.

Chest out. Shoulders back. Fists - clenched and ready to go.

I tell ya - the testosterone was pumpin. Could feel it! It was EXHILERATING.

This, my friends and readers, is what we boys LIVE for.

So, Scrub, now up outa his chair, begins to march. Aggressively. Purposefully. So that all those who see him or stand in his way know, without even a single word spoken, that this dude means business.

And, Scrub promptly finds the closest 16 year old beach attendant chickeyboo and says "that man is scaring us."

Grin.

Nah. Seriously - just got security and advised them of the deal. Creepy dude - gone in 5 mins.

So - the kidlings, the wife and me - we beached. we picnic'd. we played. we went home.

Yep - Scrub loves them summer days.

Less than 5 hours.

4 hours and 44 minutes.

Howdy kids - yer old pal Scrub here at the keyboard.

It is a Friday morning! And, here in the Great White - it is also the lead up to a summertime long weekend. We all gots Monday off here - Civic Holiday long weekend. But, us Canucks all like to try and sneak in a couple extra hours here and there for long weekends. And Scrub ain't no different.

The 'ol Scrub timeclock is shuttin down 'round 2pm today (Eastern Standard Time, in case ya'll wanna grab a cocktail to celebrate with me). And, the long weekend will begin. Oh - dudes and dudettes... this is somethin that yer Uncle Scrubbie is lookin forward to.

The wife and me - thinking of checking out some tall ships this weekend. (I know... exciting eh? Control yourselves). There's also a "lighted kite" festival. (Again - control your hysteria) Hurricane and her two punks will likely be in the picture. No doubt the kid will drag along a couple of his punk pals here and there. Cocktails. Some tunes. Oh ya baby. Bring it on.

4 hours 31 minutes.

Hey - I promised ya a couple of pics.

Here they are.

Ya'll recall DUCT TAPE TRUNK GUY?

Ya - he's the knob that fancies motorsports speed in a parking lot filled with punk kids. Sure - there's points to be had in takin a few of them out. But - seriously...

So - here's DTTG's go-kart that I was mentioning.

If ya'll please direct your attention to pic 1. Notice the hood unlatched. But, in the interest of safety, DTTG has utilized one of Scrub's favouritist things - the bungee cord - to ensure the hood don't fly up into DTTG's field of vision while taking parking lots at high speed.

Now, if you'll glimpse your gaze on to pic #2. You can see here why DTTG has earned his monikor.

Again - the trunk (or boot for ya'll visitin from across the pond) - ajar - BUT, safely and securely held down by means of duct tape.

Sure - I have a Y chomosone and do appreciate duct tape. Seriously. I do. Love the stuff.

Use it all the time. (even love the smell of it. Guys - back me up here. )

The sound of it shhheppping off the roll as you tug. Takin yer teeth to one edge to get that rip. The joy of battling the sticky when you have a strip of the stuff more than 30 cm (or 12" for all the imperials in the room) long. Oh ya.

And the ultimate satisfaction of running yer paw along the tapes silvery, textured backside as you firmly press it to achieve full adhesion. Be right back. Gotta have a smoke and grab somethin to eat.

Ok - I'm back.

BUT - even with my sincere love of duct tape... ya'll gotta admit - this is a bit over the top.

Personally - I'd prefer to see DTTG cover the whole gokart in duct tape. Make a statement.

4 hours, 24 minutes.

Oh hey - our pals, the Tattoo people who live in the middle of nowhere (and are also the kid's punk pal Eddy Haskell's inked mamma and inked pappa) - it's their 10th wedding annie today. Happy Anniversary! We love ya! (Ink'd Mamma - I know what the 'ol boy has planned for ya! Nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah!)

4 hours, 19 minutes.

Ink'd Mamma is gonna kick Scrub's arse when she sees him next. *grin

Nothing. Nothing. And more nothing. Seriously - nothing.

It's wet. Really wet. I mean REALLY wet. And, stop thinkin naughty thoughts.

Hey kids - Scrubbie at the keyboard once again.

No - it's not a prelude to some porn entry. By wet, I mean that the rain has been bucketing down round Scrub's part of the country today. And, of course, Scrub was at the local trading post exchanging furs and skins for a potato and some fruit when it was gushing down. Gotta keep that scurvey at bay.

So - whilst exiting said trading post and pausing to wait for the sky to close up a little, Scrub took a moment to do a little people watchin' - as he frequently does. And, I wasn't disappointed. To my delight, chickey-boo was standing under the overhang to keep herself dry, as was the hoards of other skins and furs traders today. But, chickey-boo was waving down her gal pal, or progenitor - it was hard to tell. And, madame driver of the go-kart decided to stop traffic for a good couple of minutes while she BACKED HER GO KART RIGHT UP ONTO THE PEDESTRIAN AREA and DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF THE TRADING POST DOORS. I know! Seriously.

So - chickey-boo with her cartful, was giggling away and when the driver came to a complete stop, just inches from the door and a number of onlookers who were, to be frank, just AGOG by all of this, loaded up her trading post treasures and promptly ran into the go-kart, leaving her shopping buggy right there in the doorway. All of this without even so much as a "by your leave".

Ahhhhh. There's nothin Scrub loves more than a twit in the afternoon to bring a giggle to his sourpuss face.

Well - after that bit of entertainment, Scrub came home to the Scrub Shack where he is prepping up a nice little dinner of pasta with meat sauce and all the delish fixuns. Hurricane and her youngest punk, H2, are comin' for sup tonight, The eldest - Big D - well, he went back to frenchville last week. Apparently, the lad - a strapping 14 yrs of age - had to go break up with his girlfriend and hit a couple 'a parties. He made it just in time too. The choo-choo drivers all decided not to go to work the day after Big D got home. Othersie - it'd been a helluva walk.

The wife - poor thing - bustin her scrappy hump this weekend. As you recall, her and gal-pal the Joodster gots themselves a bit of business goin on and the wife is up to her scrappy armpits gettin stuff done. But - give the ol gal a couple of hours and she'll have everything needin' done - done.

Oh - the wife and me - little date the t'other night. Went to see the latest Harry Potter flick. Darn'd good. I'll give it two Scrubbie thumbs up. Then, last night, the kid went to crash at Bing and Bong's place. So, the wife and me did a little cuddle up in front of the tube to catch an 80's flick with Glenn Close and Jeff Bridges - Jagged Edge. Gawd I love the 80's. It's all about the hair, aint it.

And, 'tween it all, Scrub put mouse to mousepad and threw together another scrappy page.

Wanna see?

There ya go.

Oh - and the lunatic dog is dead. Well, not deceased. Just flopped. Here, in front of me. On the floor. Ya know how they get.

And, to be honest - Scrub could pretty much do the same.

Gawd, I love Sundays.

FOUR!

"Please, oh please BLOG me!"

Morning kids. Yer old pal Scrubbie here.

Gotta tell ya - this whole interweb blogging thing - oodles of fun. And, the fam

all knows about it. Well - most of them do. Some of them dont. Which, if you have read some of Scrub's entries, is a good thing. I get to say what I want and still enjoy a good curry dinner now and then.

And, the fam - Gaw'd love 'em - like to plant blog seeds with Scrub. Sometimes they even do it on purpose.

Ya'll remember the Bro-In-Law, JR, right? Handsome, buff, slightly warped but happily medicated, and a magnet for naked-guy at the gym. Yep - him. Well - JR loves playin with his balls.

What?

Geez - ya'll need more coffee or somethin. GOLF! JR likes playin' golf.

Scrub - not so much. In fact, and I think I might have mentioned this once before... Scrub was invited to play in one of those golf tournies a while back. I advised my coworkers and team that Scrub ain't a golfer. But, they insisted I'd have fun. So - went.

Well - shortly into the round, probably about the 9th hole or so, my good pal PornStar (so called cause his name is the same as a rather famous adult entertainment star with a rather long... ummmm.... schlong. There. I said it) - uuuhhhhhh - oh ya: my good pal PornStar actually said to me "Scrubbie..." he said... "Please don't EVER play golf again."

From that point forward, and in subsequent tournies - Scrub was officially the course bartender and gots to drive the golf cart thingy ensuring that everyone was socially lubricated. Yep - good for me.

Anyway - back to JR. And, his balls.

So - JR, bein a lover of the game, gets his giggles from living, breathing and eating the game of golf. And, up here in the Great White - when we are treated to a few days without the fluffly white stuff on the group - actually have a few patches of lawn set aside for people to run around and whack a few balls around and call it a game. Sure - most of the time, we just use gopher holes as targets, but, in some cases, we actually take a few mins to tidy things up and turn the lawn into somethin' quite attractive to those that do play golf.

One such case is in a burb in Ontario called Oakville. Ya - another Great White city named after nature. We are really quite fond of doing that. Makes ya wonder if we have Birch-ville. Or Pine-ville. or Daffodil-ville. Doesn't it?

And, in Oakville, this week, there is a fancy-schmancy game of golf going on. Ever heard of Mike Weir? If not - he is a golfer. Pretty darn'd good at it too. No gettin around it. Anyway - In Oakville, there is this game... the Mike Weir Charity Golf Classic. All kindsa folk joined in to play. Kevin Costner. Michael Jordan. Few other big name Golf types.

Why mention all this? Well, cause as you recall... I said JR likes the game. ALOT. So - in order to get the giggles, JR takes a few days off work to volunteer to be a hole jockey. Or whatever it is called. Basically - it's like he is the host of a hole. GawdDam - how funny does that sound. I dunno - he makes sure peoples dont get in the way. Stay behind the "keep out" fence. Dont make farty sounds when the golfers are takin their swings. That kinda stuff.

So - put all this together - and you now have the picture. Scrub's dear Bro-In-Law, JR, was hob-nobbin'! Seriously! The kid was hob-nobbin. Right there. With all them famous peoples. Geez.

JR - he's a quiet hob-nobber though. Doesn't run up for autographs. Pictures. Dinner dates. Nope - just takes a few snaps and calls it a day.

But - then again... JR is a Canuck. And, if there is one thing that we Canucks have a reputation for... it's bein polite. Ya know... don't get all in-your-face kinda people. We like it that way.

No - Canucks are not rude, obtuse, obscene.

You'd never catch us talkin all nasty and dirty. Specially on the interweb.

So, just to recap this post: Booze. JR. Naked Guy. Knobs and Balls.

Have a nice day.

Sweet Sounds and Sweet Sights

Hey kids - Scrub again. It's a lazy Sunday 'round the Scrub Shack.

Laundry. Gots a chunk of meat in the hot box in prep for the Sunday Family Dinner. Old flicks on the tube.

The kid - stayed at Bing and Bong's last night. Again. And, it at this very moment crashed out on the couch on the lower level of the igloo.

The wife - sauntered off to meet a couple 'a gal pals from High School days. One of them - genuine Canadian Forces. The other - RIM exec.

So - was fartin around with a bit more digi-scrap stuff and had another pic from Jazz Fest.

Ain't she just gorgeous.

Ya, I know.

So - time to bugger off once again. Gotta tend to the meat in the hotbox. Sort *gulp* socks. Socks suck.

Scrub thinks this lazy Sunday deserves a wee drop of the hooch.

Later.

Another of Scrub's Fav Fives

"Honey! Where's my Metformin?"

Hey kids - tiz your 'ol pal Scrubbie here.

My goodness... ya'll gots one of these where you live? A Dairy Queen? (NO - not some woman magnate in the milk industry... geez.)

Well - we here in North America - we gots lots of 'em. Been around for a while too. 'Course in the Great White - there are quite a few of them closed up during the snowy seasons. I dunno - seems as though alot of us Canucks are just not in the mood for icy cold treats when it is negative 400 degrees outside.

But, when the 'ol DQ is open - geez louise... we go lining up.

The DQ is an evil place for diabetics. You can always tell the diabetics too. They are the ones that either go in with a mask on just in case we're spotted and get the lecture on managing blood sugar, or they are the ones that start yawning instantly after finishing off their sinful treat. You'll often find us hiding in the bathroom scarfing down our metformin tablets in order to keep the numbers from reaching into the high double-digits. (Ya - in the Great White, we measure BG levels a little differently than our neighboureeno's to the south.)

Anyway - The DQ.

So - Scrub has decided to share his fav five DQ treats with ya. Ready? Ok... here they are:

#5 - The Banana Split. Oh joyous mounds of soft-serve ice cream with multiple flavours dripping down your mountainous heaps - how do I love thee?

#4 - The Banana Split Blizzard - Bit of a cheat - I know. It's a Banana Split thrown in a blender for 6 seconds.

#3 - A chocolate cherry sundae - the kids behind the counter have a bit of a fit if I order this. See... it's not actually on the menu. I usually end up having to explain to them how to make it. "You make a chocolate sundae and put a scoop of cherry topping on it". Usually solicits some kind of blank stare. I order this as much for the entertainment as the taste.

#2 - The chocolate dipped cone - Pure, simple - nothin' beats it. That soft ice cream with that chocolate coating on it - mmmm... deelishshus.

And... My #1 fav treat at DQ is...

A Pineapple Milkshake. I tell ya kids - if there is one thing that screams summertime to me - it is the taste of a pineapple milkshake.

Lets close this posting with a little prayer, shall we?

"Dear Lord... It is yer old pal Scrub here. How you doin? Hey - Lord... Seriously... Thanks for Pineapple Milkshakes. Well - thanks for pineapples and ice cream and cows for milk and stuff. Lord - Pineapple Milkshakes, Beavers, Trees, Flowers - all great ideas. Cheers."

And - Amen to that.