American Idol Drinking Game, 2008 Edition
By now, these seasons of American Idol have become so boring and predictable, so pitchy, so safe, that I can get through a typical 90-minute episode in about 15 minutes, with all the fast forwarding. I watch the beginning of a performance, and if it's good, I'll watch the whole thing. If I'm bored, which usually happens within the first five seconds, I fast forward. I'll watch the judges' feedback, fast forward through anything Ryan Seacrest has to say, the commercials, and any other extraneous filler (see: Paula's craptastic video) that gets thrown in along the way.

In order to make things interesting, I have thought of some phrases and occurrances to use for the American Idol drinking game. If you are unfamiliar with the rules, whenever one of the following happens, *swig*:

Use of the words:
safe
pitchy
Paula uttering the phrase "in the pocket"
relevant
"(NAME) is back this week"
"after the break"
dreadful
cabaret

References to:
Simon's accent
Simon's wardrobe
someone's performance being likened to a lounge act

During performance:
singer begins on stool, then stands at chorus of song
singer begins on top of stairs
singer points to the band
audience waves their arms in the air
swirly graphics behind singer

I has been warned
Driving Doodle to day care this morning, I got a stern talking-to.
"Mommy, don't hit me," Doodle said from the back seat.
"Don't hit you? I would never hit you. It's not nice to hit," I said.
"Don't hit Daddy," he said. "Go to time out."
"I would never hit Daddy. It's not nice to hit," I said.

I was also instructed not to pull Doodle's or Daddy's hair, and finally not to bite Doodle's or Daddy's finger.

I guess he told me!

Fall Out Boy
I knew this day was coming.

Doodle is still in a crib, despite other kids his age being in big boy and big girl beds already. There hasn't been a reason for us to switch him over. He's been perfectly content in his crib, and we've been perfectly content knowing that he isn't going anywhere in the night.

The thought of escaping just hasn't occurred to him. I'm told that I hightailed it from my crib at 18 months of age. Doodle is a year past that mark, and still, nothing.

Nothing until yesterday.

He woke up from his nap while my husband and I were in the midst of preparations for the Super Bowl. We were having the in-laws over for the game. I went to his room, and he said he didn't want to get up. He playfully slung one leg over the side of the crib and said, "I play horsie!" But then he took his leg down and sat back down in his crib.

I went back to the kitchen and resumed working on making my homemade guacamole. The kitchen is within shouting distance of Doodle's room, so I answered his constant calls of "Mommy! Mommy!"
"What?"
"Come here."

I'd go to his room and he'd say, "No, Mommy, go away."

So I went back to guac-making. And, with any good guac maker, the truth lies in the testing. I needed a chip to make sure the guac was up to snuff. When I reached for the bag, it fell off the counter.

"What happened, Mommy?" Doodle yelled from the bedroom.
"I dropped the chips," I called back to him.
"I want chips," he said.

Five seconds later ...

BOOM

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!!!!!!!"

I ran into Doodle's room to see him on the floor, screaming his head off. I picked him up and comforted him, and asked if he fell boom. He nodded through his tears. Miraculously, when the offer of chips was brought up, his tears dissipated and he even had a sampling of the guac. (And double dipped, I might add.)

This morning, he put his leg over the side again, when I was watching him. But then he said, "don't want to fall boom."

So maybe he won't try it again any time soon. On the other hand, it may be time for us to consider the big boy bed.