Twas the night before Jay-mas and all through the house…
The liquor cabinet was opened and boy was I soused.
No stockings were hung; the chimney was bare,
Oh Beverly, I miss you and wish I was there.

The beagles were snuggled; up all in my business
The three of us alone, I wonder who missed us.
With Jake at my feet, and Daisy in my lap
I woke up at 4am no longer able to nap.

When out on the lawn, there arose such a clatter.
I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter.
Away to the slider I tripped on a shoe.
Out ran the beagles to eat frozen poo.

The sky is all foggy and the 40-year storm.
Meant snow for the first time in Oregon on a white Christmas morn.
When, what to my wondering hand should appear.
A beer fridge in the garages and a Christmas morning beer.

“Now Sam Adams, Boston lager, Now Fat Tire, I shiver.
Down Mirror Pond and Hefe Weizen, all the way to my liver!
To the back of my throat, to the bottom of my bladder
Now make a good buzz, don’t make me feel sadder!”

No blogging for months. No words and no wit.
This year I’m not celebrating. I’m just not feeling it.
I’m sorry in advance, for sounding depressing.
You shouldn’t have come here expecting a blessing.

This year has been a tough one, no kidding no shit.
A colonoscopy made it very hard for me to sit.
Three polyps removed, a tumor benign
Would make most feel happy, to know they were fine.

A sphigmoidoscopy and forty odd feet of cable.
My colon I’ve seen with a camera so able.
The gastro-internist thought I a newb
Offered a video to upload to You-Tube.

The timing not perfect, I stayed home alone
No trip to Canada, instead a kidney stone.
It hurts when I pee, I bleed at both ends
If you’ve made it this far, we must be good friends.

The weather was frightful from the 40 year storm.
No tree, no gifts, no fun Christmas morn.
The packages unsent, since I didn’t fly to the East
A jerk do I feel, a burden, a beast.

Soon it will be New Years; it is something I don’t mind.
This year like the rest, let’s put it behind.
I’m hopeful and giddy. Can’t wait for two thousand and nine.
When Beverly flies ‘home’, I always feel fine.

Two stanzas remain, I’m struggling to write.
I hope you’re surrounded by family this Christmas day night.
If you’re home alone, then welcome my friend.
One stanza remains, and this poem will soon end.

Good luck and good health, I wish you the best!
Be happy, love others; get plenty of rest.
Good fortune awaits you, if you believe with all might.
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”

… or something…

Don’t say you can’t get what you want!

Jay wishes all the Canuck Hosers a Happy Canadian Thanksgiving! Tis ‘a boot’ time the world learns Canada was discovered by Pilgrims on zambonis. Take off, eh…

(Yeah… I know… I’m so going to hell for that one!!!)

Bev made some changes and it appears that I can add media now? We’ll see how this works (read as fails).

Behold! A Canadian Smoke Detector

Last evening was the first night I’ve had to shut all the windows in the house since May aside from the few times I used the central air this year. When I go to work, the sun is already setting. When I’m getting ready to come home from work, the sun is barely above the horizon. Soon the weather will change where no windows will be opened throughout the day and I won’t see the sun during my weekdays. Sometimes I wonder why this makes sense to me and why I don’t rise up and revolt against myself and do something different with my life.

I’m having these moments where I seem to evaluate every little thing in my life. From what type of milk I buy to the why I fold the towels the way I do on laundry days. I have a library of nearly six thousand MP3 and I can’t seem to find something that can hold my attention long enough to listen to a single song in its entirety. I’ll set of to do chores around the house and instead of taking 3-4 hours to do them all, I’ll spend 20 minutes doing dishes and take an hour break to watch something I recorded on tv during the week. I’ll change laundry and gather the products to clean the bathroom, but stop to read my email or surf the web before making it to the bathroom. I’ll gather all the trash in the house and instead of taking it 30 feet out my front door to the trash, I’ll put it in the garage and sit in an old recliner out there and look at pictures of my parents or sort through the countless boxes of their things and forget that I was just passing through to the trash can.

I’m at the age my father was when I was born. I was his final child of five that survived seven pregnancies and I haven’t even so much as had a scare. I’ve been making the rounds at everyone’s sites and Kayla is started school, Lucien started pre-school, Evelyn bounces to music and is learning SOOOO BIG!, and mini-JC blows bubbles now instead of grunting to kill his own baby bordum.� Despite the fact that I have two freaking awesome beagles that give me more comfort and joy in my life with the exception of when they chew each other’s ears or eat their poop, I’m childless and nowhere near where I thought I’d be at this point in my life�in creating my own family.�

Once again,�I think I’m ovulating.� More on this topic another time when I figure out what it means.

… the International…. Talk Like a Pirate Day!!!

So this peg-legged pirate complete with a parrot on his shoulder stumbles into a bar.� And as he approaches, the barkeep notices a limp that seems to be more pronounced than he would expect from the average stump-humpin-swashbuckler that normal frequent this juke-joint.� Just as the buccanear reaches the stool the grog-slinger spies the source of the hop in the pirate’s gait and he strikes up the following conversation:

“Excuse me for inquiring, Cap’n… but it appears that there is a steering wheel protruding from your zipper…”

The pirate steals a swig of swill from the glass in front of him and he bellows out his reply in a deep raspy voice, “Aaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggh… I know… ‘Tis driving me nuts!”

… well… sort of.

I had a phone call on Saturday night.� No “Hello!� How are you?” or “How was your week, Dear?”� She just blurted out, “I need you money now!” and I laughed my ass off.� It was bound to come to this sooner or later.

Beverly has had my crediti card info for a few years now.� She never charges anything on it without asking me, which I appreciate, but I wouldn’t be so offended if she bought her something (within reason) from time to time.

Long story short, my domain and webhosting expires on Wednesday and we’ve been talking about migrating my account to a new host as the level of service with the current host has gone downhill in the last year.� We both log onto the prospective new host’s websites to check their offerings.� I figured since I’ve paid for her domain and hosting for the last few years that we might as well select a package plan that will allow us to be hosted under the same account so we can sync up the billing, share the bandwidth, and have more functionality that we can both access.� Truth be told, she’s the brains behind things.� Despite having countless hours of training in developing websites for work using FrontPage, I have zero luck or desire to know what Bev knows to make things happen on the website.

And so know our relationship has taken a huge step.� We met on-line… became friends on-line… dated on-line… and now we’re moving our homes under one roof on-line.� This is huge commitment.

How huge?� Let’s just say this… I couldn’t read the three digit security code on the back of my card when Bev was typing in the information.� I guessed incorrectly…� Bev entered the incorrect digits… the new host rejected the application process… my bank instantly sent me an e-mail about suspicious charges… and within ten minutes I received a call from the fraud department of credit card services.� In the end I did the right thing.� It took an hour, but eventually the bank unlocked my account and the RCMP didn’t knock on Bev’s door to arrest her.� Life is good.

Changes are afoot here at copathetic.� We’ve found a new layout template that Bev is going to install and upload once I find a picture for the masthead so she can adjust the color scheme and make the subtle changes we’ve talked about.� Should be interesting… and should happen within a month or so if all goes well.� That is all.

I don’t make the rules… I just follow them.� So should you if you know what’s good for you:

Open up your music player application of choice, please.

��� k.�

Now, in the search box, type in the following common words and see what you get (if more than 5, select your favorites). Likewise, some words may come up that are part of a longer word. Those are fine, too:

1) Love (total: 676 songs found):

• Feel Like Making Love by Bad Company
• Cradle of Love by Billy Idol
• I’ll Have to Say I Love You in a Song by Jim Croce
• Let My Love Open the Door by Pete Townshend
• Nobody Love Me (Massive Attack Mix) by Portishead

• Honorable Mention to:� I Don’t Believe in Love by Queensryche & Rhythm of Love by Scorpions, both song of which I’ve heard more than the others combined, they just didn’t come fast enough by artitst in the line up.

2) Hate (total: 42 songs found):

• Hate Me by Blue October
• Wasting My Hate by Metallica
• She Hates Me by Puddle of Mudd
• She Hates Me by Richard Cheese (spoof of the above and awesome!!!)
• I Hate Everything About You by Three Days Grace

3) War (total: 226 songs found):

• This Means War by AC/DC
• War Pigs by Faith No More
• War on Sound by Moonbabies
• The Dogs of War by Pink Floyd
• War? by System of a Down

Read the remainder of this entry »

Momma phant and baby phant have been reunited.� One of the sweetest things I’ve ever heard is the lil’ fella crying out for love in the video below:

http://www.kgw.com/video/video-index.html?nvid=275784&shu=1�