That's Entertainment?

We have a new game in town. Well, maybe not in town, but definitely on my street in the tiny little Cleveland suburb, Concord Township. By the way, township officials and developers describe Concord as "semi-rural". This is a euphemism for "semi-overcrowded, semi-overdeveloped and semi-where the f*&$%@* did all this *%&#$*ing traffic come from." But, as ususal, I digress.
The new "game" on my street, actually consists of a pool, the wagering on which consists of guessing the exact number of times Sandy and I will exit our house (usually in the morning) and then go back for whatever damn thing we have forgotten. You know, keys, purses, trousers and the like. The game evidently has gotten quite sophisticated and morphed into sides betting which of us will go back into the house more times, and having a tie breaker which consists of guessing how far up the street the car will actually get before turning around and coming back some forgotten item.
For those of you not from Cleveland, you can see how desperate Clevelanders are for some form of actual competition from its sporting teams (by the way, this game is not to be confused with Milton Bradley's popular "Where the Hell Is My Coffee Cup" game or Hasboro's "Who's Got the Most Cuts and/or Bruises From Unkown Sources" game). On weekends the atmosphere has gotten positively festive. In the summers, neighbors have taken up sitting on their lawn chairs, waving Bob or Sandy banners, signs saying "We Are Witnesses" and cheering each of us on. Several unruly "tailgaters" have had to be dispatched by threat of incarceration or being forcibly made to watch C-Span for an hour. Any more than an hour has been determined by the Supreme Court to be "cruel and unusual" punishment. Sandy's fan base is, as God has seen fit to bless me with the physical attractiveness of a gnu, much more than mine. Although, I have cornered the "short, fat, bald guy" demographic.
I can't speak for Sandy, but I find that the best way to increase my score is by not hanging around the front door, scratching the top of my head thinking "What am I forgetting..." No, that wastes crucial seconds. I boldly stride to my car get in, sit down and apply pine tar to the steering wheel. Sure enough, as soon as my ass hits the seat, I remember and dash back into the house for my sunglasses, regular glasses or my actual eyeballs. In my prime, Sandy clearly had me beat for sheer numbers of return trips, but as I get older I find my capacity for thinking of two things at once as well as my curveball, alas diminishing. This means that nowadays there is real competition between us.
I'm sure none of you other "boomers" play this game but, we have been struggling to come up with a name for this soon to be national pastime and would appreciate your input. In memory of my dear mother I was thinking something like "You'd Forget Your Head If..."well, you know the rest. For those one or two of you actual readers any post your ideas in the "Comments" section below. The winner will receive two free tickets to absolutely nowhere and the decision of the judges is moronic.
My original intent in all of this (but I forgot) was to let you know that I have finally figured out the meaning of life. It's entertainment. We are put here to enterntain others. First we entertain our parents, then our friends, neighbors and co-workers and in old age we entertain our children. Everyone, from the lowest to the greatest among us is put here to make people laugh. Except maybe congressmen.
So much for pathos, I gotta get going except I forgot where.

Love
Dad