Last weekend, The Roommate and I decided to sample a little city life, so we drove on up to St. Louis to see Lynn and James. It felt a little like Country Mouse, City Mouse, but soon we were comfortably sipping Coca-Cola and discussing something we all had in common: the artist formerly known as Prince.

It started when Lynn slipped a Prince CD into her CD player, which is part of a vast entertainment system. My portable dual cassette player pales in comparison. We listened to all Prince's greats -- 1999, When Doves Cry, Little Red Corvette. Reminded Lynn and I of days spent at Sikeston High School.

Of course, the musician's name isn't Prince anymore. It's a symbol with no known pronunciation. One day, His Royal Strangeness apparently awoke and decided he no longer wanted to be Prince. He wanted to be a symbol that looks something like the male and female signs combined with a little swirl running through them.

If any one of us in that room decided to change our names to symbols, we would be called weird and forced to seek employment in the entertainment industry. Prince, however, was dubbed progressive by his fans and only eccentric by everyone else.

Life isn't fair.

Trouble is, you can't really call him Prince anymore, so writers call him "the artist formerly known as Prince," as though he's dead. The really artsy publications actually have the symbol in their files, but the Southeast Missourian doesn't have much use for it. For our purposes today, we'll just call him Prince.

Lynn and James got into a heated debate about Prince's gender while The Roommate and I sat wondering if we could play the R.E.O. Speedwagon CD next."Prince is the most beautiful man," Lynn said. "There's just something about that little 5-foot frame.""What?" James shrieked. "Beautiful? And he's not even a man! He sang a song about the most beautiful girl in the world and wore more makeup in the video than SHE did!""It's a statement," Lynn retorted. "He is universally attractive. Listen to his music -- definitely written from the male point of view.""It's a ruse."Ironically, when I returned to work, there was a fax advertising Prince Fest 1995, slated for Feb. 18 and 19 at the Holiday Inn in Toledo, Ohio. The mega-event will feature a memorabilia show, a souvenir shop and rare video clips of Prince in action.

But my favorite part read:"At 9 p.m. during Saturday nights party, be prepared to go crazy when his royal highness appears for a one-hour performance! Yes, that's right!! The one and only Julian Stefon, world-renowned Prince impersonator, will be performing for us all! It is one of the most captivating Prince shows ever seen."This is frightening. It lets us know that Prince impersonators exist. More than one, apparently. Whoa.

On to better topics. I have some ideas for my homemade valentine for Ex-Mr. Dreams. The best one came in the form of a poem written by Wanda Lee Flynn of Scott City. It says, in part, "Read your paper, and you'll see, This Valentine's Day, Brad Pitt's marrying me!"If I thought Ex-Mr. Dreams would believe it, Mrs. Flynn, I'd have the poem in the mail tomorrow.

I think I'll order him a free Prince impersonation by the world-renowned Julian Stefon instead.

Heidi Nieland is a member of the Southeast Missourian news staff.