So, to review...

Thursday night found Sonya and I at the Hi-Tone to see the Iguanas. I believe I've described the Hi-Tone in an earlier episode; it's a fairly new bar, Memphis-wise, and I think it's trying to appeal to the swing dancing/cocktail nation demographic. Since both of those crazes are dying a slow, agonizing death on a national scale I'd hate to wager on where the Hi-Tone will be a year from now. The place may thrive for a while yet. The lateest thing comes slowly to Memphis, and leaves with equal speed. If it ever catches on at all.

Anyway, I say all that to say this: Sonya and I got there about nine-thirty, when the festivities were supposed to commence. The Iguanas, for those of you unfamiliar with them, are a New Orleans-based rock/funk/Mexican/folk kind of thing. They don't fit into any category too well, but their music will make you shake your butt. They've released four albums, none of which have done terribly well. I expected the crowd to be sparse.

Imagine my surprise when we got there on time and the joint was packed! Sonya and I got some beers and amused ourselves watching the crowd.

A diverse crowd at the Hi-Tone, as I think I've observed before. College kids, middle-aged folks, lesbians, hipsters, beatniks, geeks, dweebies, sportos, dickheads...they were all represented. We also saw a guy in drag ("drag queen" would be far too flattering a term), a fellow who could have come directly from 1956 and Mr. Creosote from Monty Python's The Meaning of Life.

I couldn't tell if

A) the Iguanas are popular with Memphis scenesters and my musical tastes were terribly hip years ago, or

2) the Hi-Tone is where all these goombays hang out and the band on stage (and corresponding cover charge) is irrelevant to them. This, somehow, I doubt. The cover was ten bucks (high for an obscure band in Memphis) and the crowd seemed genuinely excited to be there. I had no idea they were so popular.

Oh, and there was this one guy dancing whose moves would have looked more in place on a Las Vegas stage than a Memphis dance floor. Add this to his floppy mane of greasy hair, scraggly beard and a body shape that could only be described as "egglike" and you've got something that seemed to amuse everyone, even the band.

Friday I took off from work to tend to some bidness. Hair cut (where I gossiped with the other folks at the stylist's shop about birth control and tattoos), car inspection and groceries. I did make a little time to wander through CompUSA, fondle the snazzy blue and white G3s and buy a copy of Ultimate Doom. It was only ten bucks in the sale rack and I've already beaten it. You get what you pay for, I suppose.

Also, I went into a nearby Home Depot to get a screwdriver. Simple, right? Walk in, get a screwdriver, leave. That's what you think, smartass.

Have you ever seen the episode of Beavis and Butthead where Mr. Anderson gets lost in a store called (coincidentally, I'm sure) Home Labyrinth? Well, it was just like that. I walked in and had a vague idea of using their bathroom. I started following the signs that said Bathrooms. After a great deal of walking I came to the area where they sold actual toilets. I was grimly unamused. After one of their employees told me I couldn't get to the tool department from where we were talking I knew it was time to leave. I went to AutoZone for my screwdriver instead.

Saturday was Harold is the Wife day. I got up and immediately put some potatoes in the over to bake for lunch. I made lunch (steak and the aforementioned potatoes), did several loads of laundry, cleaned the kitchen top to bottom and then made dinner.

"Would you like me to put on some heels and apron, too?" I asked Sonya.

"As long as it's short and frilly," she replied, eating another bon-bon and not looking up from her book.

Speaking of Sonya's book: she's reading Vittorio the Vampire, Anne Rice's latest fang opera. She says it's excellent. I can't wait to read it myself. When I have a more well-developed review you'll read it here first.

Today was pleasant: lunch with Kent and James, former neighbors that we have a terrible time keeping in touch with. We had a long lunch at Friday's and caught up on all the latest. They've bought a new house in Midtown which we visited and were quite impressed by. The house-lust strikes again. Must...acquire...thirty...year...mortgage...

After that I went to see my family. No weekend is complete without a trip to West Memphis. Here's a quote from my grandmother, on one of my sister's high school boyfriends who still calls her every year on her birthday:

My grandmother's bullshit level is set down right around zero, I believe.

This is pretty funny. I thought so, anyway.