Oregon coast, Lincoln City.

Every time I see this thread I hear that song All My Exes Live in Texas in my mind.

But I don't have any exes in Texas.

Yet :-)

always the optimist.

Want one? I hear Mano is available!

So are you :-)

Sorry to so rudely interrupt, but my friend Paul has written this lyric some time ago:

"Every time I pick my nose
I lose a piece of me;
Every time I see your pentihose,
I see a stream of pee."

I am definitely not pointing fingers, my only reason to post this was the apropos to CnW songs. And the recurrent phrase "every time I..."

Yep....you're BACK! Mr. Fixit!

I would prefer not to have anymore exes at all. I would like to find the one I can keep.

"keep the ex, max,
leap to bex, rex,
and don't you cry no more.

Your ex got his backs up the axe
by his girl from tex, yeah, it checks.

Tsk, tsk, laughs the ex,
I don't mix facts with fax,
Come here, both of you, you good little ex-licking fax."

I just made this up. It still needs some polishing before I can send it in to the New Yorker.

My Ex

He came in a tux
Drove a marvellous lux
Ury car

He loved like a candle:
Hot, burning, melting wax,
Oh, how sweet it was.

All night, this ex,
would wane and wax,
For each one he carved an X
on the bedpost.

We lived only for sex,
He called me a fox.
We never lacked in fax.

Then the ex got the axe
He paid no more tax
And the children cried for pax
of hotdogs.

I left the ex in Essex
Went to Jackson to buy a Lex
And wound up with six more exes.

Coz it's easy to get married
In Jackson.

This was penned not by my ex,
But by a serious hex,
Who goes by the penname of Wux.

I can take care of that for ya

always

I wish I could fix my hip so easy

Are you off your meds

Carol, pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.

ManO, when are you picking me up?

if you mean literally, it'll be about a year

Right on, sister. I am glad to have received an acknowledgement of my existence. Thanks. I was beginning to doubt that Descartes was right in saying "cogito ergo sum".

Now, having regained my peace of mind, I can go back to my crypt, lie down into the cold hard comfort of my marble casket, snuggle in under the granite cover under the pale moonlight that filters through the lead-inlayed window, fall asleep to the call of the black-hooded crow and rest for another thousand years.

P.s. Hold all calls, and don't wake me please, unless a busty blonde is walking past.

Its okay. You can lean on me. I make a good crutch.

Doh!