Reenactment

So I'm hula hoping while I'm watching American Idol last night. I do that sometimes, when I really want to smoke a cigarette. I figure I'll 1) Not smoke and 2) Be working my way toward some killer abs. Anyway, they get ready to announce the bottom three. Lisa Tucker, no surprise there. Ace Young, a surprise but a pleasant one, because homeboy's a tool. Then it's down to Boyfriend Bucky (That's right, I said it.) and McPhee. I'm sad at this point, because even though I know it's inevitable, I'm not ready to say goodbye to Boyfriend Bucky. (That's right, I said it again.)

When they called McPhee's name, I gasped, dropped my hula hoop and then tripped over it. This is what American Idol does to me.