"sometimes, i wonder if they've started selling something else," b said as i stood in her office making copies. "something like breast milk." we were talking about the company that shares the warehouse with us, and more specifically, said company's receptionist, who, according to b, is "always showing her breasts." her little tank tops and pigtails make b very upset.
"how old is she anyway? it's not right," b laughed as she realized how hilarious she'd just been.
this almost makes up for my not being invited to the first official meeting of the private club of associated surplus warehousers.
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