Now that you’ve had a weekend to recover from the numerous stories from last week about Nicholas and British Boy, let’s talk about something fresh and new.

Oh, I kid. Let’s just talk about how I had dinner at Cracker Barrel the other night with Nicholas and British Boy.

First of all, it wasn’t pre-planned mainly because I would have never been smart enough to plan something that spectacular. Nicholas, one of our friends and I were supposed to be going to a coffee shop downtown to do some studying but then we got hungry and, before you knew it, British Boy was waiting for us to pick him up for a nice family dinner at the Barrel.

Now anyone who has been reading this blog for awhile knows that I have an unabashed love for Cracker Barrel, though I recently put my love on hold when someone in higher management made the unfortunate decision to exclude their infamous Chicken Tortilla Soup from the summertime menu. It was an unprecedented decision on their part and, now that they’ve had time to look at their revenue from the summer months, I’m sure they realized their oversight and will ensure that said tortilla soup makes quite the comeback in summer ’10.

But bad menu choices aside, I cannot completely dismiss my love for Cracker Barrel and this is why:

Surely, surely you remember Trey? I mean, how could you forget the first time I introduced his darling curls to you? Or the time he became concerned that my petals might wilt? Of course, we then had to deal with the tragic loss of Trey moving away to law school but, thankfully, he finally saw the light and came back home to me.

As fate would have it, Trey happened to be our waiter that night and by happened to be our waiter I mean I totally requested for us to sit in his section. So there I was, British Boy sitting beside me, Trey as my waiter and about to dine at the South’s greatest restaurant. It was like all my dreams were coming true, and frankly, it was a wee bit overwhelming. I was quiet for a lot of the meal but managed to get myself together enough to ask Trey for some grape jelly for my biscuit.

Because, really, boys will come and go but biscuits are here to stay.