The massage therapist at Andre's office is named Tinez and she plays jazz while she works. Being an unrepentant conversationalist (motormouth) I asked about her favorite artists. She was vague in her response, which is just as well since I wouldn't have recognized names if she had offered them. The only jazz I listen to these days is performed by Patricia Kaas, and her stuff is more piano-bar sultry-vocal I'm-so-sophistocated-and-Frrrennnch cabaret-fare. My only other jazz experience, and I told Tinez about it, was my after-prom evening at the Cafe Carlyle hearing Bobby Short on piano with his bass and drum accompaniment. Tinez was impressed, if ever so slightly. After she was done ripping tendons from my back, I asked Andre what he did after the prom. He had a hard time recalling much past the limo entering Central Park. Somehow I suspect he remembers more than that, but didn't want to say it in an open office. He cracked my back like a bastard tonight.