SCOOP ON POOP

You think it's all about Idol, right? Wrong! See, just when you think you know someone, I can still whip out a surprise or two.

I'm talking sh&t. Poo. Bowel Movements.

EEEEEWWWWW

That said, those boys were pretty crapola last night - Chickezie and the youngster aside - but this is about real poopoos: my 2.5 year old son is toilet training himself.

What??

It started about a month ago. Sounds like no (ahem) biggie but it was. Our eldest refused to go near a toilet until he was well past 3. And even then, it was a negotiation, a struggle, a bloody nightmare. You'd think sitting in your own sh&t would be somewhat, erm, uncomfortable. Apprently not. Puh-lease: don't try it at home....

But I digress. This isn't about the first-born. (Strange, but true) Back in January my baby told me he wanted to "make a poo". I told him to crawl under the table like he usually does, but he was adamant. He wanted la toilette. Who was I to argue? I plopped him down, he plopped one out and we were off to the races.

Except we weren't.

Seems my boy has picked up the habits of....boys. The sitting around, lounging on the can, taking your sweet-ass time kind of habits. All he needs a paper and he's ready for the men's room. Have you noticed that? Boys have no issue picking up the sports section and heading to the john. They'll even wave, stop to chat and tell you where they're going. In public!!! Girls would never. N.E.V.E.R. They'll wait for the comfort of their own homes. And if they must, they'll find a hotel. Or, better still, a WC with floor to ceiling doors. In the workplace, repeat flushings, water running, even faux coughs - the ladies stay lady-like in the loo.

Not my boy. Not any boys I know. Announcements made, they saunter off, close the door (or not) and let 'er rip. My son's new thing is to take at least half an hour. I worry he'll get hemorrhoids from sitting so long (unless that's a myth.) But he will not be moved. And of course the urge to purge comes at the most inopportune moments. Bedtimes, mealtimes, ready-to-walk-out-the-door-times. So far, so good - we've been at home. He's not manly enough to dump in public. Yet. (Thank god. Half an hour in a public bathroom? Pas pour moi.)

I know I should count my blessings - he wants to ditch the diaper and join the big leagues. But when you're held back by BM's? That's just no fun.

Unless of course it's your own.

Eeeeeewwwwwwww

HEY HEY PAULA

OK, I know many of you are sick 'n tired of my Idol rants. But I can't help it. I just can't. At least not today. I didn't pick over the girl on ladies night, did I? Mostly because they kinda sucked. Alexandrea, Asia'h, and Syesha aside. Oh, and the rock'n roll nurse who, while channeling Dilana-I-don't-wanna obviously wishes she'd gone whole hog for Rockstar SuperINXS when she had the chance. Did you see how uncomfortable she was in the group sing-a-long? Did you blame her?

But I digress....

I want to apologize for those of you sick of this "shizz" (yes that's a direct quote) and let you know that I will try to hold off further comments 'til the Top 10. T-R-Y. Trouble is, I get so caught up in Idol Fever and my usual sounding board is away... What's a girl to do but turn to her blog? But this is the last one. For the time being. I hope.

Okay? Can I get on with it now?

So, didya see her? Were you blown away by her? Who, you ask, who?!? Why, the trainwreck that is Paula Abdul of course! No, I'm not talking about her seal claps or lame advice or overall Paula-ness. Not this time. It's that vid! Her triumphant return to pop! Hideous? Hilarious! I couldn't get over it. What was she thinking?

Oh, I know - she was thinking about the audience. The millions, held captive and forced into watching a Paula Abdul video. A new one. Bring back the cat. Bring back Arsenio. Bring back the Lakers. But this? Who styled that sucker?? And the wind! What was with the wind? Afterwards Ryan brought out a massive fan! Not a human who loves her-fan, but a thingy with blades going round 'n round-fan! She laughed like she was in on the joke, but I don't think she was. And to see Randy playing alongside her...And then Simon and Shortstuff showing up at the end. Crude, rude, I'm not in the mood.

But I did think it was funny.....

Otherwise, show was lame. Garrett Lief Garrett is gone. Who? Exactly. And Chuck 'n Buck guy too. Should've been Luke Perry Luke (Who? Exactly). And the wonky-eyed non-beauty is gone. She looked hotter on her family's t-shirts, no? What happened? Keep an eye out for her in Playboy. You heard it here first. I was a bit sad to see Joanne the large-and-in-charge beauty queen go. Thought for sure one of the carrie Underwoodettes would've left the building...But no such luck.

Anyhoo, the con is on....People with labels, accents, all kinds....Tho' no convictions yet. And nothing too too trashy. Aside from Paula, that is.

That's it. 'Til the top 10. MOAM out.

ANDROGYNY IDOL

The writers are back. The Oscars are a-go-go. And American Idol has gone....Androg?! What?

I know it's been on for a couple of weeks now. And yes, I watch it and love it with or without writers striking. I cried for that poor girl who lost her dad and auditioned two days later. Come to think of it, it is a bit weird but hey, that's TV. And that poor boy who lived in his car? The Leo DiCaprio lookalike? He was ever so Christopher McCandless, but striking out for the wilds of Hollywood instead of Alaska. Devastated when he didn't make it. But there's always next year. And that guy from the town of 220? The one whose mom wanted a homecoming queen, but just got...the queen? What happened to him? I'll be looking for both boys in Season 8.

But let's discuss the boys of Season 7. Mostly forgettable, to be sure. But so many ladyboys! And so many girlymen. I'm not just talking sexual orientation. I'm talking s/he. I'm sorry, but Danny Noriega would make for a stunning woman. And tho' he channeled Jonathan Rhys Meyers rather than Elvis last night, I loved him. He's got my vote.

As does the Youngster. David Thingy. Usually they get some young dude who blows (not in a good way). But this time, the 16-year old of the week (or did he say he turned 17?) was unf&ckingbelievable. He has my vote too.

As does Dreads Travolta, the stoner of the group. Did anyone else notice how, despite the crazy locks and the hippy vibe, the guy is a shoo in for our beloved Danny Zuko? Who wouldn't vote for that? I would.

And finally, my fave, Michael Johns. Or is it John Michaels? Y'know, the last guy. The Man. The only one of the lot who ooooooooozed it. Love love love him. As a tv crush only of course. And maybe because he looks like my favourite hockey card, the almost-has-been, Darcy Tucker. (Long live #16! Long live no trade clauses!)

But my guy Si was right on the money, all night long. The Manly Man from Oz has "it". It = sex. There were the guys who radiated Christian country and/or 50's whitey pop groups. Or some wholesome combo. And the indistinguishable boy band graduates, nary a T-lake among 'em. Or that horrible Axel Rose wannabee. Who wears a bandana that screams "botox me?" Seriously, didn't that strange design look like eyeborws that needed lifting, or at the very least, plucking? Eeeeew, I nealry forgot about that other faux-rocker with the terrible comb-over. And don't get me started on that theatrical Chuck 'n Buck fellow. Gross.

Oh Idol....I'm so glad you're back. Bring on the androg, the youngster, the dreads. And of course, the hottie. They've all got my vote. Too bad it doesn't count.

Oh wait! I almost forgot to mention Chickezie Jacuzzi. He of the orange suit and lovely demeanor. He's sweet. he can sing. But does he have what it takes to be remembered? I thought so last night, but obviously in the cold light of day he falls a little short....

Last year, the ladies kicked butt - Be Bop Blake notwithstanding. And tonight, it's Ladies' night. Show 'em girls. I dare you....

IT'S A KIND OF MAGIC

My name is MOAM, and I'm an addict.

It's the bullet. The Magic Bullet. I've been shot.

Huh? You don't know from Bullet? Wha? Where have you been? Obviously not hanging out in flea markets or watching late-night shopping channels. Well, neither have I. So there.

Niether grinder not blender, cuisinart nor mixer, it's combo. A sit-on-the-counter, throw-in-your-dishwasher, who-knew combo.

My intro to the Bullet came through a friend. A friend with fantastic taste and an immaculate kitchen. She swears by the Bullet. Claims she uses it every day. Don't ask how we got on to the subject. I haven't a clue. I don't know how I end up talking about half the crap I come up with. I just do. But back to the Bullet....So she swears by this thing and I humour her. Like I need another gadget.

And then I went trolling through my mom's house looking for an extra hand held blender. Yes, she stocks small household items in her house. My job is not to ask why. But if she's got an extra Braun, I'm all over it. Turns out, she didn't. But what she did have, sitting on her counter in all it's TV-endorsed packaging glory, was The Magic Bullet.

Again with the Magic Bullet!

Call it fate, call it curiosity, or call it shamelss consumerism, whatever. The Bullet came home with me. And then...and then it sat on my counter, in its box for a week or so. I didn't get it. I didn't buy it - literally or figuratively - so I was hardly impressed. Until one Saturday afternoon. It was freezing. It was snowing. I was home alone, and I opened it. And I made a Pina Colada. I did! And I was hooked - on cocktails, maybe. On the Bullet, for sure.

Sucker for smoothies? Now you can make 'em, in about 30 seconds. And you can customize them too in yur own Magic Bullet mugs. It come with four. Pop your ingredients in, screw on the blender bottom and, well, bottoms up. Salad dressing? Five seconds or less. Grating cheese? (I didn't think I'd do it either, but I did). Done like, well, dinner. And it even comes with a shaker top, should you be so inclined. Throw in a garlic clove, a handful of brocolli and some chicken stock. Put on the steamer lid and pop it in the microwave for two minutes(carcinogens be damned). Then, press, presto - soup! Chopped herbs? Check. Salsa? Check. Hummous, fat-free hummous, bean dip and guac? Check, check, check and check. You can also grind coffee beans, nuts, and - god knows who would or why - meat. It's incredible. It's handy. Abracadabra!

It's.....maaaaaagic.

I now call my friend, the original Bullet-head, for the daily Bullet report. And it's not just me. My Man has also, erm, bitten the Bullet. He's ready to go all Oprah and buy one for everyone. (Don't get too excited. It'll never happen. ) But we'll stand proud and say it loud: we're a Magic Bullet Family.

Look, I know you think I've become an infomercial. And I kind of have. Without the show. Or the daily make-up 'n hair. Or the big pay day. But what can I tell you? I'm obsessed. And you will be too. For now, forever, or until the next great American gadget comes along....

FOOD TEN, SERVICE THREE

I thought I discovered a new restaurant the other night. Surfing the web, looking for an answer to that all-important Saturday night question, "where should we go", I thought I was stymied. Everywhere seemed to be booked. Post-snow-day-in-Feb-not-yet-winterlicious. And booked. Was everybody going out for dinner? More importantly, where were they going?

Anyhoo, found this spot, read a couple of announcement blurbs - as opposed to reviews. And booked 'er down. And it was delicious. Flawed, but delicious. And as I sat down to share my so-called discovery, I received an email from the local daily listings thingy... Guess what they were writing about? MY discovery.

Granted, I didn't open it, I don't know the owners, and I have nothing to do with it in any way. But I didn't know anybody else who'd been there and, aside from a couple of head scratches and that-sound-familiar's it was mine to share. At least it would've been if it wasn't for those damn kids.

So I read through their review, kept my opinion mostly to myself and then thought, f&ck it. I've seen the pictures of those staffers and they certainly didn't look like foodies to me. Exercisers? Yep. Makeup experts? Maybe. But most of 'em looked like they could use a good meal.

So, if anyone out there is looking for a good meal - and you're in Toronto (sorry internationales)(and locals too, have you seen it outside?) head on down to Eleven. Guy from Xacutti closed up shop on College (I didn't know either. It's winter. Who knows anything.) and he moved south. No, not south south, just Jarvis and Front. I don't know why either, but he did. And, though there are some, ahem, service issues, the food is DIVINE. Most of it.

They call it Global Comfort Food, but really it's just tasty plates. To share. Or not - go ahead and be piggish. Especially if you have the honey glazed chicken on sesame rice. I doubt I'd share that next time. Share the goat's cheese and mango salad - or give it a miss entirely. Yam fries are good. A little thick and need to be double-dipped, but good. Mushroom rolls are good too. But it's all about the chicken starter. And that sauce! You can dip the other apps in there too. Not that I did. Much.

We had the famous cinnamon-guava ribs - a little gristly. And they don't hold a candle to the BBQ'd beef or the cod on coconut lentils. Spectacular. Also recommended were the duck and halibut, but on of our gang don't do duck, and the table next to us ordered halibut and it smelled a little...high... for my liking.

HAVE DESSERT. You'll want to anyway since you'll be sharing so you never won't really be that full. Ginger donuts are like fancy Tiny Tims. In a good way. We had some kind of chocolate cake - can't remember if it was flourless of what -but it was ish. And then there was the carrot and toffee pudding?! I know, you're thinking "carrot?!" but just think toffee. And get one. Or two. Lick-the-bowl tasty.

Unfortunately, the service was a little challenging. Cocktails arrived with McD-like speed. Wine was so slow you'd think they were stompin on the grapes in the back. Which would also explain why the food took so bloody long. At times. Things arrived in drips and drabs. One thing. Long pause. 3 things. Long pause. One thing. Longer pause. Well, you get the picture.

So go for the food, stay despite the service, and only share with those you love. Especially the bill. STEEP.

Better still - get someone else to pay, accidentally sneeze on the honey chicken, and grab that carrot-toffee-goodness before anyone else notices.

Or do take-out. They do that too.

Bon appetite.