18 Years.

September 7th, 1991

Scrubbie & The Wife are hitched.

Heydee-ho Scrubs & Scrubettes! It's yer old pal Scrubbie here on a glorious day.

Golly gee... 18 years. Seriously. 18! And, that's just how long Scrub and the Wife have been hitched. We've been playmates for some 23 years.

So... today is our Annie.

Scrub might have mentioned this one or twice before... but, just in case some of ya'll are poppin' by for the first time... I'll just mention it again... The Wife - she 'da bomb.

There just ain't anyone else for Scrub. She's it.

Excuse me for a second here kids... Be right back.

Sweetheart... Nothin' makes me happier than being able to tell the world that I
am in love with you. Today... even more than yesterday. Happy
Anniversary darlin'. Scrub loves ya. Mwah!

For you readers, followers and lurkers - thanks for yer indulgance.

Happy Anniversary Sweetheart!

Always & forever... I Love You

Handmade Films Presents...

Always Look On The Bright Side of Life.

Howdy kiddy-winks. Yer old pal Scrubbie here...

I dont know the date. It was such a long time ago. But - sometime between when dinosaurs roamed the earth and present day, Scrub was living with Mamma Scrub and Pappa Scrub when he was but a Scrubling.

See... back in them days, we here in the Great White would light the tallow candles and sit 'round gawking at each other, huddling together to keep warm 10 months of the year. Then... one day... Pappa Scrub brought home this magic box. This glorious magic box.

"What is that!?" Scrub and his baby bro squealed.

"Why... children... this is a Video Cassette Player" Pappa says.

"What does it do Pappa?" the children queried.

"Watch this..." Pappa says.

And... there before us... wonderful moving pictures! We were gobsmacked. Absoultely, positively gobsmacked.

And, I recall the very first flick that went into that magic box. OHHHH - I remember.

I remember laughing my widdle bum off. I mean SERIOUSLY laughing.

And - I can tell you... that first flick in the magic box spawned a lifetime passion.

Yes, my children, it was... LIFE OF BRIAN. Monty Python's LIFE OF BRIAN.

Now... I can just imagine all you x-Chromosones out there rolling your eyes right about now. And, all you Y-chromes are giggling quietly to yourselves. I know, I know... for the most part, it does seem that Python tends to appeal to those with wibbly-wobblies. I did say "for the most part" - I know there are a few gals out there who get a good chuckle out of it as well. I don't know any though.

So - Scrub is sittin here. Right now. And what is playing before him on the tube? YES! Life of Brian. In full glorious technicolor and rich booming sound. To his left - sits the Kid and punk pal Bobby.

The Wife and the Lunatic Dog - nope... not interested.

So - at 11:09pm on a Friday nite... Pappa Scrub... should you be readin this... just wanna say... Thanks. Life of Scrubbie wouldn't be the same if it wasn't for that glorious day when you brought home that magic box. It's been 40 years of laughter. Pure stupidity... but stupidity inspiring laughter.

Now - time to grab myself a bag of wolf nipple chips and enjoy the rest of the show.

Weekend Wrap Up

'Ello m'darlin's... It's yer old pal Scrubbie here.

So - it's the weekend wrap. No particular topic tonight kids. Just you and me hangin out.

Oh - maybe some speed topics. That's always fun, right? Ok ... here we go.

BIG BROTHER

Oh yes! The wife and me get the giggles watchin' those folks. It's the ultimate of bad TV, we know. But - we can't help it. It's reality TV and we just think reality TV is da bomb.

LUNATIC DOG

Needs a hair cut. $50. Yikes.

WEATHER

Dang... it's chilly out there in the Great White tonight.

THE KID AND SCHOOL

The countdown is on. Next week. He goes back next week. HE GOES BACK NEXT WEEK! Wooooohoooooooo!

THE WIFE

Smokin hot and love her to bits. 'Nuff said.

THE WIFE AND SCHOOL

Yep - the 'ol girl is still goin strong. Hittin the books this week - but has next week off. She's lookin forward to it.

BING AND BONG

Ya - they're still around. In fact, the kid is crashing at Bing and Bong's place tonight. Yep - it's quiet round here tonight.

WEBCAM

Ya - got one

BLACK LICORICE

Not a fan.

CHILI CON CARNE

Had it for dinner. Dang - was uber tasty.

Now and then, enjoy sweetening up the chili a little bit. Trick learned from MammaLou - Scrub's in-law ma. This time, sweetened with apple and a wee tich of brown sugar. Deelish.

ON THE TUBE RIGHT NOW

The Mummy Returns. Great fantasy flick. Wife cuddled up in a blankie. Lunatic Dog cuddled up in mommy.

IN MY MUG

Tea. Sweetener and Milk. One each.

So - there ya go. The speed post tonight.

And, on the scrapbookin' front - couple other layouts whipped up. More of Hurricane's punks. Why? No reason - just happen to have the pics handy. Hurricane and me took the boys to catch their train home. They start school tomorrow, Monday. The Kid is already missing Big D - they kinda became good buds this summer. Sure - they have hung out in the past - but this summer they just seemed to click. It was good times.

$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.

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.

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".

Argh.

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.)

Ugh. Grunt. Ugh.

Lord Gawd Almighty - it's great havin' a penis.

Howdy Kids. Yer ol pal Scrub here on the Toshiba this morn.

Ya know... the whole premise of this blog thingy is to give ya'll a wee peek into the life of Scrubbie. I give ya all the fam. Give ya the friends. Give ya the weirdos. Give it all.

And, Scrub also likes to give it to ya'll from a guy's perspective. Scrub's perspective.

Now... there's no gettin' around it. There IS a distinct difference between Scrubs and Scrubettes. We think differently. And, that's ok.

In fact, in some ways, this little corner of the web thing is kinda a public service... providing some insight into the Y chromosone.

See - we boys are simple folk at heart. We're easy to deal with. We're easy to get along with.

Give us a beer - we're happy. MMM... beer.

Give us meat - we're happy. Specially if we kill it first.

Give us a tree to whiz upon - we're happy. It's how we mark our territory.

Give us puurty things to look at - we're horny. Whoops - I mean happy.

See. Simple. Right?

But... give us toys. And we're REALLY happy. I mean... goosebumps, hair standing up, nipple exploding kinda happy.

Toys. Love toys.

Electronic toys. Gizmos. Things we can shoot. Cars, Trucks - well, anything with an engine really.

It all comes down to control when it comes to toys. We, with winkies, like to control and dominate things. Have total and complete power to weild. You can see it. Give us a toy and our chests burst forth. A grin creeps over our face. The veins in our forearms bulge with glee. And, we should not be spoken to at that time. We are fully engaged in our toy.

Let's go for a bit of a history lesson, shall we?

Many years ago. I mean MANY years ago... we boys were stompin' around and at some point, we discovered somethin. We discovered somethin really kewl. We discovered somethin that gave us the ultimate power. It was... fire.

We grunted. We giggled. We killed each other for it. Oh ya baby - those were the days. Pure, unbridled testosterone.

We had fire.

We used it. We flaunted it. We controlled it. We were happy.

Sure - over the years - those with willies have had to adapt and change. We learned to tame some urges. We learned to eat with a fork. We learned about manscaping.

But - if any of you think that we boys, underneath the deodorant and jockey shorts, shaved chins and designer colognes, are not still neanderthals... think again.

Oh - c'mon. It's true.

Huh? Proof you say? Ok - well... lets turn our attention back to fire then.

We boys STILL, to this day, so many thousands of years later, STILL get stiffies when it comes to controlling fire.

Alright - well... just take a look at this if you still don't believe me.

There. Told ya.

Look at the little sh*t there - tauntin' me.

Now... Scrub's off to get his shotgun, get in his 4x4, and to take out his dear Bro-In-Law and steal his fire.

Ugh.