So Sonya and I were laying in bed the other night, and somehow the topic of conversation got around to washed-up heavy metal bands.

She said, "...and what about that other one, Croaker or whatever?"

I raised an eyebrow at that, then said, "do you maybe mean Krokus?"

"Whatever," she said, "I never listened to that crap, anyway."

I thought it was really funny, anyway. We tend to cut up quite a bit when we go to bed.

Let's see here...random things I need to mention...

For my legion of English readers:

1) I just love that Eddie Izzard! Sonya and I are watching Glorious right now. You people sure do know how to make comedy. Thank you. And

B) Where should I stay in London? As my faithful readers know, the Wife and I will be making a trip to England next spring - in March, particularly. I've narrowed it down to about ten hotels or so, but I sure would like some inside information on where to stay from a local. If you have some insight, please write me and share your information.

Continuing on in the "Help from the English" phase, if any of my lovely and intelligent English readers are members at Slimelight (or have any pull with the management there) we need to talk. I intend to go while in London, but standing around outside trying to get someone to sign me in doesn't sound like fun. I'm coming from America, for Christ's sake! How about a little help for the kid, okay?

The house smells very good this morning. Sonya and I are going tailgating tonight! Tailgating! Kathy (Sonya's boss) and her parents are parking an RV in the Liberty Bowl parking lot this afternoon in anticipation of the Memphis - Ole Miss game tonight. I'll cheer for the home team, of course (the only time I don't support Memphis is when they play Tulane - go Green Wave!), but the odds are not good. I would imagine the oddsmakers are saying Ole Miss is a 14-point favorite. Let me go ahead and say now, then:

Anyway, we're going tailgating. Beside the requisite beer and coke (for to drink) we're taking doo-doo cookies (or oatmeal no-bake cookies, if you don't want to be simultaneously infantile and gross - whatever you call 'em, though, they're yummy) and baked beans.

These are no ordinary baked beans, though. These are my grandmother's baked beans. The baked beans that disappear with headspinning swiftness at family reunions and Thanksgiving. They are truly delicious, though it was a bit difficult, getting the recipe out of my non-measuring grandmother.

For those of you interested, all you need is:

• a big can of pork and beans
• an onion
• about a cup of brown sugar
• a few slices of bacon

Dice the onion. Then put the onion, the brown sugar and the beans in a big baking pan. Mix well. Lay the slices of bacon on top of the beans. Cook for a while, until the bacon and onions are done.

I don't know if the Wife and I got it quite right or not. The house does smell good, though, and the beans look pretty damned tasty. We'll see. I bet they'll be a big hit at the game.

In other news....

Sonya's grandfather is out of the hospital. Way to go, papaw! His doctor's are nothing short of amazed at the speedy recovery he's made from a fairly traumatic surgery. Basically, they cut the man in half, did their business, and sewed him back together. I'm exaggerating, but not by much - I've seen the staples. Anyway, he's at home now and resting comfortably.

A friend of mine whom I did go to high school with saw my list of high school memories and wrote me an e-mail, reminding me that I did, in fact, have some good times in high school without being drunk. Well, Lauren, it's full disclosure time!

Full Disclosure: From May 18, 1987 until June 23, 1993 I, by nine-thirty each morning, would ingest the following drugs:

• a pint of Johnny Walker Red
• a marihauna cigarette
• a large peyote mushroom
• a half-tab of acid on a Bart Simpson temporary tattoo
• a tube of airplane glue (inhaled, not eaten)
• a thimble-full of cocaine (for clarity)

Therefore, Lauren, for the entirety of my high school career I was totally twisted. The memories I listed are, in fact, the only memories I have of high school.

Thankfully, that all changed when I found Jesus.

Speaking of finding Jesus (and huffing airplane glue) has anyone out there seen Citizen Ruth, the coal-black comedy starring Laura Dern? I like ol' Laura - so sexy in Wild at Heart - and this is her funniest role, easily, as she plays a drunk, pregnant drug-addict torn between pro-life and pro-choice groups who see her as more of a symbol than a real person. Burt Reynolds has a great turn, too, as a travelling preacher whose fawning catamite almost steals the show.

Anyway, I'd heard good things about it for a while now but I never quite got around to seeing it until this morning. I laughed. A lot. It is recommended.

I want to go to Burning Man. Not this year, of course (they burn the man tonight - I doubt I could be there in time for that, and then it's over Monday) but I'm thinking I could make it next year. Jen and Sonya have no interest in going with me. I figure I could take James (who, with his military experience, would make an excellent desert companion) and Christie, the Good Witch (who is a member of the counterculture and knows how to speak the lingo). Of course, transportation is a problem, as is vacation time and supplies, but it's something to think about. Just go out in the desert for a few days and be a freak. Sounds like fun, right?

Me and Sonya and Jen went out last night to do some running around. In the course of our stops we went Hancock Fabrics.

It may sound a bit strange, but I love Hancock's. While Sonya and Jen did their fabric-related business I happily wandered around, spending a great deal of time looking at their selection of beads. Beads have always interested me.

I think it goes back to when I was small and my grandmother (who kept me a great deal of the time) was always sewing on something. This necessitated many trips to Hancock's, which I associate now with the happy childhood I had. Also, Hancock's is one of the rare stores that hasn't changed much in the last twenty years - it's almost creepy, it's so much like it used to be. You rarely get the chance to stroll through a spot of your childhood when you grow up, you know?

So we went to Hancock's, and then we went to Just For Feet, which was supposedly having a sale on Doc Marten's. The first JFF we stopped at had sold out, but the second had a large selection. Unfortunately, their large selection was primarily of tiny sizes for people with miniscule freak-feet. I found only two things that nearly fit; one pair was a touch too small and the other was too big and hideously ugly. I also tried on some low boots in a lovely purple suede - they were too small for me, but Jen found a pair in her exact size. Lucky Jen!

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