While I admit that I haven't updated lately, I must defend myself by saying that nothing terribly interesting has happened. The Fourth of July weekend was, for the most part, quiet.

For the record, the people at the Taca Bell at Third and Crump are total morons. The other day I was there and I ordered a taco salad, no green onions. I get to the window and the woman charges me, like, a dollar more than it's supposed to be. For a toy, apparently.

I knocked on the drive-thru window.

"Um, I didn't order a toy," I explained.

"That's okay," the woman explained curtly, "I didn't charge you for it." And she slammed the window shut.

But she did charge me for it!

So I'm waiting (impatiently, I might add) for her to open the window again so I can continue our witty, sparkling conversation. The manager opens the window, though, and thrusts a mexican pizza into my hands.

"Thankyouhaveaniceday," he says. I hold up my hands, refusing the pizza.

"I didn't order a mexican pizza," I told him, speaking slowly and clearly, "I ordered a taco salad, no green onions." I showed him my receipt. "And no toy."

"You didn't order the Mexican pizza?" he asked slowly.

I seethed, shut my eyes, took a deep breath (and took strength from my breathing, as the Zen Master Erica suggested) and explained my situation. Several times. Finally I was given a taco salad and a great deal of attitude from the increasingly surly staff.

I opened it halfway home, just to make sure it wasn't made entirely of phlegm-globbers and dogshit. Surprisingly, it was perfectly made. With no green onions.

Oh, yeah! My brother, Jack, is in town for the holiday. He's got a great big loud truck, his standard porno moustache and a selection of tattered t-shirts.

Thursday night I went to West Memphis to see the Prodigal. I stopped by my sister Dawne's house first to get her. Jack is much easier to deal with when you have sibling back-up.

I walked into Dawne's house. She immediately thrust a drink into my hand. I repeat, I love my sister.

So we went to my mom's house and listened to Jack hold forth for an hour or so. During that time he had me ride with him to the store in the aforementioned great big truck. We listened to very loud Marilyn Manson (Jack was introduced to Mechanical Animals by a biker friend of his; he loves the album now) and Jack smoked a joint as he drove, none to steadily, to the store and back. Absolutely par for the course.

"I'm like you," Dawne said as we drove back to her house, "I love Jack, but I love him more when he's back in Texas."

So my family has been tense about that this week.

Friday? I can't remember Friday. Wait! I rented movies. Friday night we watched Suspiria and Evil Dead. Suspiria was okay; it had Janet from Shock Treatment in it, so that was pretty cool right there. It was, overall, a stinker in a long line of stinkers from Dario Argento. I should have rented Demons instead. Evil Dead was good, gory, funny fun. Bruce Campbell is a compelling hero. That damned bookcase just keeps falling on him, doesn't it?

I f I have to look up one more thing on IMDB I will go batshit. No more links today, okay?

Saturday? A bit more quality time in West Memphis with the family (I showed both the sisters the nipple ring; they pretty much approved, I think), then tuxedo window-shopping for the upcoming Bowien-Wood Wedding. Then back out for the the Firecracker 5K, a sweaty event held in the neighborhood around the Memphis Racquet Club, one of Memphis' more snooty social clubs. The party afterwards was held around the Racquet Club's pool itself.

"You know," Kathy (Sonya's boss and friend of the family) said, her feet dipped in the pool, "I bet they never meant to let all these sweaty runners lounge around on their property."

I think she had a point.

More horror on Saturday night, as Jen and James came down for a showing of The Hunger. Sexy, sexy, sexy. And Bauhaus in the opening credits, which most movies just don't have.

Sunday we went to see Star Wars: E1 with Kathy and Robbie. That's it. Happy Fourth of July! For the record, Kathy seemed quite upset with my piercing.

Yesterday we slept late, then went to Bookstar to get some books (what else?) about London. Sonya and I have decided that will be our next big vacation, probably in March of next year. I've never left the country. How exciting! Watch for developments right here - it will no doubt be a topic of great import in these pages.

This afternoon I went to Cole-Haysten for my summer grooming. Shawn, the lovely and talented stylist of choice, regaled me with stories of his trip home this past weekend.

He told me about the manic sale-announcer at the Wal-Mart in his hometown.

"Lordy, Lordy!" she bawled through the intercom, "look at these prices at Wal-Mart! Potatoes and tomatoes on sale! You can slop the pigs at these prices!"

"This," Shawn intoned seriously, "went on for ten minutes."

"It was like a monologue," I observed.

"Wal-Mart performance art," he said.

Then he told me of the options available to young people in east Tennessee:

• eat
• drink
• fuck
• shoot fireworks

"At least the kids have lots of options," I quipped.

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