I finished "Music for Chameleons" this afternoon and started reading it again immediately afterwards. This book is so great because it isn't a typical book. It's not a novel. It's composed of seven "conversational portraits", six short factual stories, and a true crime novella. My favorite being "Nocturnal Turnings, or How Siamese Twins Have Sex". Here's a section: Presently, the woman approached me and asked me to sign a paper napkin. All this seemed to anger her husband; he staggered over to the table, and after unzipping his trousers and hauling out his equipment, said: "Since you're autographing things, why don't you autograph this?" The tables surrounding us had grown silent, so a great many people heard my reply, which was: "I don't know if I can autograph it, but perhaps I can intial it." Jenn, Shay, and I went to the Omelet Shoppe twice today. Once before going to see "13 Going on 30" and then afterwards. The movie was suprizingly good but a definite chick flick. I don't think many guys would find it appealing. Still feeling down.