I haven't even finished 21 Dog Years yet -- even though it's less than 200 pages -- because I only read it during breaks at work. Still, I can wholeheartedly recommend it if only for a perfect and hilarious scene over halfway through the book. All I can tell you is that it involves the narrator, a temp, and toy reviews. I laughed out loud in the employee break room (which is the working world's version of "laughing out loud in the computer lab") for more than a minute.

Now that I don't hang out with friends every single day, and I don't go to school, most of my recreational meatspace conversations take place in that employee breakroom. A few days ago I realized both this and the fact that this situation is the norm for many proletarians. You live alone, maybe with cats, and at work you talk to your fellow employees and people put funny pictures on the bulletin board. And those people become your friends.