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I dig Half Price Books. I went there this afternoon and found a lot of great literature for cheap. It's all and all a good experience except for the stale fart smell that lingers in the store... poor ventilation and too many Tex-Mex places close by I suppose. Tonight was supposed to be a Camron night. Meaning, anything she wanted to do... it's her last night out on the town while here and I thought that we could paint the town paisley and have a great time. The sky is the limit... anything she wanted (except the male strip club because it is common knowledge that non-payroll penii are not allowed on premises). We got all dolled up and headed out for some Houston nightlife... what I like to call "hell" but I'm sure many a sequined Barbie doll would disagree. We stopped for a drinks at a local watering hole before heading downtown for dinner. Clayton had a simple Tanqueray and tonic while Camron enjoyed an ameretto sour with an extra glass of cherries (yes, I said glass.. ie. 30 or 50 or something). We ran into Danielle... that was unexpected, but nice (he bites tongue). I took Camron downtown for dinner. There was (of course) a wait, so we listened to some jazz samurai lay down the play quartet style while sipping some martinis. I'm still well in my fake, superficial people tolerance range at this point. It's all good. I dig the music, but I am big into people watching, so I visually wander and note. Our waiter was a pleasant country boy that fit in like a cockroach in a bowl of steamed rice. The restaurant was slightly upscale (ie. napkin layers, crumb dusters, please sir and thank you with your cock in their mouth) but this guy just seemed too just-got-back-from-fuckin-his-sister-in-the-doublewide to be there... maybe I was imagining it through all the He-Haw nuances in his speech. The food was ok. My people watching continued... busy place... incredible number of beautiful women with very, very unattractive men. This is interesting to me. Maybe Scooby and the Mystery Machine can unmask these Mr. Withers wannabes and explain what the fuck is going on to me. We finished up our meal and paid our Huck Finn before making it back to the car. Camron decided that she didn't want to dance, she didn't want to drink, she didn't want to bar-hop or socialize... she just wanted to go home. Hey, it's her night. We went home. I am relieved that I wasn't subjected to any chicky-boom music and I didn't have to look at one more rico suave Roxbury brother with a Brylcreem'd noggin and size too small silky slacks full off shoehorned ass. Merry Saturday to all and to all a good night.