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.

Just got back from the Eskimos game- we won 27-21. But that's not all! Me and Tom were up singing the Eskimos fight song
and I was doing my usual amazing rendition when Tom noticed we were on the big TV screen they have! Yay!
And I was wearing this killer pooncho, so it was triply cool. For this Bold and Inspiring Achievement I hereby promote myself to
Empooror!!!

Plus, Tom gets a Super Pooper award for telling such an amazing poo-related story in the course of his sermon at Shine today.
Which reminds me of my own Heroic Poo-related reference duiring my last sermon at Shine. Truly I am a Poo Pioneer.

A great pooker night last night. Classic. We debuted three brand new games- Lithuanian Limbo, Black Market and Mafia. What great games,
even if I got a little burnt at Mafia for not totally being on the ball. I was still up at the end of the night, though, so all is well.

Anyways, when I proudly announced to the table that I made a Poo Blog, Steve immediately asked, "In the backyard?"
And then Cal said he had a poo blog of his own a couple weeks ago, when he couldn't go for a couple of days.
So after I explained what a blog is, they all expressed amazement and awe. And then Cal asked how many hits I get, to which I responded I don't know.
Then he said they shouldn't be called hits for a poo blog, they should be called wipes!
For this Legendary and Daring Insight I hereby award Cal the title of Super Pooper, First Class!

It's pooker night tonight. Heehee.

OK, already there is a submission for a Poono, from Alex. He is well acquainted with all things poo, and he sent me this:

Sometimes my cat gets poo stuck to his fur. This can be troublesome sometimes.
One day I woke up and went up the stairs to do a poo of my own and there at the top of the stairs was a poo streak the length of my arm.
Turns out there was a poo stuck on my cat and the only way to get it off was to drag his bum across the carpet and he applied a lot of
pressure to get the poo off.

For this I will give him Poo Bear status.

Introducing the Poono awards! These will be given out for displaying excellence in the field of pooing.
Actually, I will just arbitrarily give them out to whoever I feel like. First, I hereby award myself the
Grand Poombah.

OK OK, there is far more to life than just pooing. I was just practicing. But I will have more poo updates as warranted, though.
In the meantime, congratulations to Cory and Lauren, who are expecting! Babies are great. Plus they poo a lot, too.

A big happy 9th anniversary to Rowan and Jason.
Only one more year and we'll all be able to poo in our own toilets.
Or the woods, wherever.

The three of us will be celebrating tonight, even though Jay is in Costa Rica.
Rowan is coming over here and then we will hook up with Jay via Messenger.
I tried to buy a Costa Rican cigar in honor of Jason's locale, but the closest I could get was Dominican.

We have a no pooing rule in effect at our house today.
Some people are working on the sewers outside and have requested that we not use any water.
Luckily there's some woods just outside . . .

Speaking of poo, it sure is nice to be winning my hockeypoo. Currently I am in first place with 98 points.
Followed by Cal with 94. Alex is in last with 81. He is EMP- Eating My Poo.

A bear was sitting on a log in the woods, having a poo.
Along came a rabbit, who sat down at the log next to the bear, to poo too.
The bear says to the rabbit, "Don't you hate it when poo sticks to your fur?"
"Poo never sticks to my fur," replies the rabbit.
"Really . . ." says the bear.
Then the bear picks up the rabbit and wipes his bum.