why are you calling everyone mo, mo?

I was sitting in a café of a Barnes and Noble yesterday. I love a good small bookstore full of identity but how many places will leave you alone with books, food, chairs, and tables? Play place olé.
There was a boyfriend visiting a green-aproned café clerk and a table of friends off to my right. I had lost a couple at a Thai food restaurant and another girl was somewhere shelved and reading. Probably in the political section.
I was "browsing" through a book of E.B. White essays (although I knew, even then, it was a joke to even suggest that book was making it back to the shelves. ka-ching)
and listening to a mix of Cat Power, Bob Dylan, and the Lovin' Spoonful. All I needed was my Fly Wild sweatshirt (complete with mallard ducks in V formation) and I would have been so golden cozy. I looked up from my book at one point to see the sign above one of the bookshelves "Diseases." Underneath was a book with title "It's your Hormones."
Diseases?
Oh well. I saw a book about Geisha's in the African American section.