Merry Christmas

No naked guy. No icky people. No complaints about other drivers. Not even commentary on the whackball family. Nope - not tonight.

Instead - Hopin' ya'll have a really Scrubbie Christmas! It is a special time of year at the Scrubbie pad and the whole Scrubbie fam wishes you and yours the very best.

Cheers - Scrub

PS - knowing that for the next 48 hours or so I will be neck deep in family both local and from afar - me and my valium will be reporting back soon on the events. Gotta make sure the 'ol Duracells are charged and ready for the camera. This is gonna be a doozie. Wish me luck.

PPS - thank Gawd for Happy Pills

PPPS - just realized I said I wasn't gonna do any family digs and I just did. Sheesh - cant stop myself.

PPPPS - for all you internationals who love Canadians... Merry Christmas, eh.

PPPPPS - all these P's are makin' me gotta go wee. Gotta go. Wee. Seriously. Gotta go.

You won't believe me... but it's true.

I am a mean, horrible and terrible person.

Now, now - I know you can't believe that. You have come to know me as nothing short of a saint. But, you see, there is a dark side as well. Allow me to explain.

In my 42 years of life here on this planet - there have been many incidents that have lead me to the shocking statement just made. More on that in a moment...

First: Snow, snow, snow. No, I am not singing that famous song from the train scene from Irving Berlin's WHITE CHRISTMAS. I am referring to the plethora of fluffy white that is gracing our fair countryside here in the Great White. (In honour of my Bro-In-Law, JR - I am talking about the storms. He LOVES talking about storms.) We had a whollop of a storm the day before yesterday. 19 centimeters of the stuff floated down from heaven. Today, another one. And yet another on it's way for Christmas Eve. Kids - that is a lot of shovelling.

And - I gotta hitch up the dogs to the sled and make my way to the Big City - Toronto - today. Hurricane Rona's two youngsters are comin' in via the train today into Toronto and Scrubbie here is afraid for their lives should Hurricane try to make the trek herself. So, Scrub's gonna take Hurricane up there to retrieve the punks.

Second: Christmas shopping. Yep - we celebrate Christmas. Not "Holiday Seasons" - Christmas. Sheesh. The shopping - done. To all Scrubbie's family and friends - if it ain't bought now - you ain't gettin' it. Simple as that. Besides, most of the retail stores here in the Great White - including the ones in our fair community here - don't take buttons in exchange for items. They all want cash. Hmph.

Now - back to Mean, Horrible and Terrible.

As a youngster - I tore the wings off flies.

I have used a magnifying glass with the power of the sun to see what would happen to an ant.

I have fed beer to the dog.

I blamed broken lamps on my brother.

I was involved with an incident at home where 32 gallons of water and a whole tank full of fish came crashing down onto the living room floor. My poor mother.

I have lied.

Cheated.

Stolen.

Smoked silly stuff.

Drank underage.

Pre-marital carnal relations. Naturally.

Tried to teach my young child that the big red truck that goes whizzing by when there is a fire somewhere is called a Kitty-Kat - imagining how funny that would be when he hits kindergarten.

Yes - I have basically broken every rule there is. The ten commandments - more of a challenge, really.

And, since hitting the tender age of 40 - have decided that I don't really like people. They generally drive me nuts. (Let's face it - when you go out shopping and such - don't ya just look around and wonder how on earth some of those whack-balls survive on a daily basis? Some of them MUST need a reminder just to breathe.)

But - what really takes the cake... what is the cherry on top... what is the definitive reason that your beloved Scrubbie, whose fabulous pectoral muscles are the envy of all, is really and truly a most horrible, terrible and just plain 'ol nasty example of the human race
...













Fillings for Christmas.

Yep - Scrubbie took the kid to the dentist at Christmas time.

giggle, giggle.

Grab yer pencils and start jotting this down...

With just a few minutes to spare 'fore headin' out into the tundra to take the kid to Monday night Soccer - thought I throw a few letters up on the good 'ol Scrubbie board to say hey.

Nope - have not done the recipe pages yet - but here's something to get you started:

English Toffee

In a saucepan, combine 1 cup of butter - not margarine - BUTTER. Real, deelishush, fattening, creamy butter. Combine that with 3 and 1/3 cup of white sugar - not Splenda - real, deelishush... well, you get the idea. Medium to med/high heat should do 'er. Stir. Stir some more. Once all melted, drop in a tablespoon of corn syrup and 3 tablespoons of water. Stir like a witch on halloween night. Keep stirrin'. Get that puppy bubblin'. Watch it start to turn golden. Frothy. More golden. Feel your mouth start to water. Be sure to hum or sing somethin' happy while doing this or it wont turn out. Honest. Now - somewhere in that drawer filled with those weird utensils you hardly ever use but wouldnt throw out has to be a candy thermometer. Keep diggin' - it's in there. Good. Now - make sure you keep this batch of golden goodness goin' till it hits 300 degrees. Not 299. 300. Throw a sheet of parchment paper in a cookie tray. Then real careful like - pour out this sugary goodness onto that tray. Ya - that's it. Oh ya baby. Use a spatula to get out every last bit of ooze. (Note - you dont really NEED a spatula - but by using it - you get to have your first taste of the toffee cause it hardens and cools on the spatula REAL QUICK) Let 'er sit for a while. A good while. It needs to cool and harden. Then - crack that sheet of heaven up into delish shards. Go ahead. DO IT.

Now - if you not on the naughty list yet - melt some chocolate and just dip some of those shards into that chocolate. You know you want to.

I know - I know - this is too good to be true. But, have I ever lead you astray? No. Of course not.

Damn - just talkin about it... Scrubbie needs a cold shower.

Gotta run boys and girls. The kid's gotta be on the field in half an hour. Later gater.

Hey Kids - Sunday night - oh what a night!

Yesterday, Scrubbie was babysittin' at the wife's gal pal Judy's pad. Her two lads are just a riot and I don't mind hangin' with them anytime. Drivin' home was a bit of a challenge... when I left, there was a sheet of ice everywhere and on everything. So - Scrubbie took the go-kart up to a whopping 60 km/h all the way home.

Hey - tonight - Survivor's finale is on. WooHoo! Can't wait to see the fireworks. Nothin' better than a group of people gettin' their grump on and makin' fools of themselves. hehehehehe. Better them than me. *grin

Hey - I have been asked for some recipe cards for the yummy goodies that are slowly being consumed 'round the igloo here. Mostly the kid and his punk friends nibbling at chocolate while they are here. (Wanna know a secret? Just between us. I LOVE sendin the punks home to their caretakers all whoop-ass'd up on sugar. Snicker-snicker!) So - I'll see if I can get creative and put together the recipes into some kinda' digi-scrappin somethin-er-other. If not - I'll just throw them up. Ya know how it is - Christmas comin' up and all. Time is a precious commodity these days.

So - work wise - things are windin down now till January. Ahhhhh. But, come Jan - holy mackinaw - I gots me hands full.

Now - I gotta go and find the electric cattle prod that I keep lyin round the igloo here somewhere. What? Why do I need it? I have a 12 yr old son who has homework and a bedroom resembling a WWII diorama. That's why.

The Day After

Ahhh - survived. Hurricane Rona and the wife. I survived.

Perhaps I have lead you astray somewhat though. You see - Scrubbie is a bit of a cook too. In fact, I sorta like the kitchen. Love cooking. Being an adult ADHD kinda guy - cooking is great 'cause I end up with a finished product immediately. And we scatter-brains get off on that sorta thing.

There is something disturbingly wrong with yesterday however. You see by the end of the night, Scrubbie's igloo was filled with scents and tastes that are just - well - fan-frackin'-awesome! Here's the rundown:

- chocolate/orange truffles dusted with cocoa and confectioners sugar with a hint of Grand Marnier oozing through each delectable morsel
- rum balls that'll make ya blow over if ya ever got stopped by the fuzz
- chocolate haystacks that are way more chocolate than they are haystacks
- "Stained Glass Windows" - weird name for a chocolate log that is chuck full of mini fruity marshmallows and peanuts and cut into slices to look like wee lil' stained glass windows
- turtle bars - caramel, chocolate, pecans and more chocolate - need I say more?
(Hurricane Rona is a chocoholic - can you tell?)
- real english toffee - a lovely concoction of a half pound of butter and 3.5 cups of white sugar - boiled up with a bit of corn syrup and poured out into a pan to harden and break apart into mouth watering shards of heavenly goodness

And, there are still ingredients left over for a couple 'a other tidbits that I am 'sposed to whip up today or tomorrow.

So - back to the disturbingly wrong portion of this rant posting. You see - I am diabetic.

You can see my dilemma.

The Wife, Hurricane Rona and an oven.

Dear Lord in Heaven,

It's me - Scrubbie here. Lord - I don't often come 'a callin'. You know that's true. And, when I do - ya pretty much know it's a doozie that I'm askin' for. Well - it's one of those days.

The wife and Hurricane Rona - you know the one... she's the one who blows things up. Lighting strikes her house - not once but twice. Planes crash in her yard. Unexploded dynamite lies under her driveway. Ya - that one. Anyway - she and the wife are making attempts to do come Christmas baking in the 'ol Scrubbie kitchen.

And, I am frightened.

Lord - watch over this igloo and all those in it. And, if it be your will that the curse of Hurricane Rona should fall upon us - make it a time when Scrubbie's out gettin' his lottery ticket tonight.

Thanks buddy. 'Preciate it.

Your faithful servant - Scrub.

Amen.

Brrrr. Jesus. Brrrr. Gooooooaaaaaal! Shoppin'. Snow. SUV's. Money. You got it all.

Let me tell ya about cold. Sheesh.

So - the Scrubbie fam all went to Bethany Missionary Church last night to see their presentation of the Living Nativity. 40 animals and 150 of the congregation putting on a 20 minute tah-dah of the story of the birth of the big J. It was awesome. Go ahead - google Bethany Missionary Church in Kitchener Ontario. They have a few pics there from a couple of years ago. None of this year - not yet anyway. But, through the glory of it all - Scrubbie's toes were damnd near frozen little stubs. Yikes. I got enough fat on me up top to keep me toasty warm, but the legs and the toes - ya, not so much. Came home and it took a good while to thaw out. Even dug into the good 'ol Scrubbie bar to have a nip or two to get the insides warm. Anyway - it was great. Nuff said.

Then, tonight - the kid was playin' soccer - as he always does on a Monday night. And, the lad managed to get his foot flyin to put a goal in and then came back for an assist. Well - it was smiles from ear to ear. Sadly - the wife wasn't there. Hurricane Rona gathered a few of the hens tonight and coerced the wife into bein there.

Funny though - anytime the wife does happen to miss a game... the kid scores. Then, when she is there, nothin. The kid has noticed this. Now, there is talk about tryin' to convice ma that games are going to be on Tuesday's so she misses the Monday games. Ya - that ain't happenin.

So - tomorrow I think Scrubbie's gonna try and hit a shop or two cause apparently our little region here is gonna get whacko'd with some additional fluffy stuff on Wednesday. Ya - the go-kart just doesn't like the fluffy stuff.

Think I'll go and buy a lottery ticket this week. I am pretty sure it's my turn for a win and I need the ability to go out and buy one of those vehicles that makes the tree-huggers cringe and then I need the ability to just willie-nillie buy go-go juice for it without even thinking twice about the price of gas. Yep - my turn.

Don't worry - I won't forget ya'll. I'll just use a more expensive font. That's all.