Oh no! Esks lost. This makes me feel like poo. And the food I had at the Grey Cup Breakfast yesterday morning had me puking all night, which is like pooking, but much worse.
Anyways, I have found this scientific survey that I encourage all you poopieheads to fill out:
www.griot.net/house/toilet/survey.htm
Sorry, I tried to make that a hotlink, but all I did was wreck my blog, so you will just have to cut and paste. I need to learn a bit more about poogramming.

Oh yeah, for the following piece of Delving and Penetrating Journalism, I hereby award myself a Poollitzer Prize.

The Eskimos are in the Grey Cup, and all over town this week the important prediction has not been who will win the game (everyone already knoews it will be the Eskimos), but what the weather will be like on Game Day. And it's actually been quite warm the last few days. Not quite Mexico warm, but pretty good for Edmonton in November.
The last time Edmonton hosted a Grey Cup, in 1997, I was on my Cross-Canada hitch-hiking trip.
Once, I was heading for Fredericton from Halifax. This was around October 21 or so. My first ride came quickly enough, which surprised me since I had a hard time IN Nova Scotia. Plus there had just been a couple of prisoners escape frm the Cape Breton Penitentiary, and one of them looked a little like me. Anyways, this guy asked me right away where I was from.
"Edmonton," I said.
"ESKIMOS!!!!!" he yelled.
"ESKIMOS!!!" I yelled back. When you hitch-hike, you have to have the ability to adapt quickly to any situation. This situation was agreeable enough- I had just been picked up by the Maritimes' biggest CFL fan.
"You like the Eskimos?" he asked.
"I sure do!"
"Yeah the CFL rules, eh?"
"Yup."
"The NFL is for shit, right?"
"Yup." Well, I actually don't mind the NFL, but it does pale compared to the Mighty CFL. One might say the NFL is Poo-tball compared to the Canadian game.
"Yeah. Hey man, you think the Esks will get to the Grey Cup?"
"Of course they will!" They didn't.
"That will be the best Grey Cup ever! The Esks playing for the Cup at home in the Commonwealth!" He was right, just five years early.
"Yeah, I kind of wish I could be there, but I'll still be hitch-hiking."
"Oh man, you should go to it. Hey! Maybe I should go!"
"You should! It'll be the best Grey Cup ever!" Enthusiasm is so infectious.
"I will!"
"Cool!"
"Oh wait." All of a sudden the bubble burst.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"I got a little guy, he's only four. It will probably be too cold for him."
"Oh well. You can always watch it on TV."
"Unless . . . what do you think the temperature will be?"
"Uhh . . ." I decided I'd better try and explain some basic meteorological principles to him- namely that it is impossible to predict the weather a month in advance. "It could be anywhere from plus ten to minus ten, maybe even minus twenty in Edmonton in November."
"No, man, I need to know. I can't have my little guy sitting there if it's too cold. Are you sure you don't know?"
"I wish I did, but I just don't. No one does."
And for the next ten minutes we had the same conversation over and over- him trying to get me to commit to a Grey Cup weather prediction, me trying to convince him that I couldn't do that. IN the meantime, I missed my stop. Like I said, you have to pretty adaptable.
"See, I can get the time off and book a couple of tickets no problem, i could do it today. But I need to know what the temperature will be. What do you think it will be?"
"Minus ten degrees." I said, firmly.
"Oh man, are you sure?"
"Yup."
"Oh that's great man, thanks. I can dress my little guy up nice and warm. He'll love it, right? Best Grey Cup ever, right?"
"Yup."
Anyways, the rest of the ride went smoothly. We decided that Halifax needed an expansion team. We even named it, though I can't quite remember what we called it. Something with black in it- The Black Schooners or something like that. The Black Bluenoses maybe. I don't know. I eventually made it to Fredericton, and hopefully my new friend (he said his name was Spider) made it to the Grey Cup. Actually, I hope he skipped it, and that he'll be there this year for the best Grey Cup ever. The weather report calls for it to be a nice and toasty 3 degrees.

I have no idea why, but for some reason this original Poo page is what shows up now. To read new poosts, I guess you have to click the archives for the current month, off to the left there.

Here I am in Mexico. Astonishingly, I have not yet been stricken with Montezuma's Revenge.
Maybe my stomach has finally adjusted to the years of abuse I subject it to. But I want to grant
this little village (called Comoapan) where I am staying Pooeblo of the Year Award. Pooeblo is
Spanish for little village, for those of you in linguistic limbo.
Comoapan is a sleepy little town in a sleepy little county in a sleepy little state in Mexico, and
it's where my sister lives, and where my Mom is from. So props (oops I mean poops) to Comoapan.