I WAS KILLING TIME BEFORE A PARTY IN LA (TECHNICALLY THE "LOS ANGELES PREMIER" OF A MOVIE I HAD WRITTEN,) AT THE BOOKSTORE NEXT DOOR. I WAS FLIPPING THROUGH THE NEWEST NOVEL BY ONE OF MY FAVORITE AUTHORS. IT WAS DEDICATED TO MY ONLY (SO FAR) DEAD FRIENDSTER. I CRIED. LATELY THESE KIND OF MOMENTS -- UPSETTING AND TERRIBLE, BUT STRANGELY EXHILARATING -- ARE BECOMING MORE RARE.

SOMEONE DOESN'T GET THE JOKE.

WHAT'S THE DEAL WITH WATERBEDS? CAN YOU STILL EVEN BUY THEM ANYMORE?