2002-02-01 || 1:08 p.m.

|| friday, sweater vested with the keyboard under my arm ||

sigh. today is my last day with the work ladies. for six months at least, an admin assistant exchange program of sorts. i am moving down the street and. sigh. they threw me a party. catie got out the ukelele and she and bev sang georgia girl with the words switched to jenny girl and i blushed and blushed and howled at the end. oh, work ladies. marionberry mousse and salami and cheese and crackers and strawberries. i got out my polaroid camera (i want to take pictures of all the work ladies. i very much want to construct work lady trading cards but am unsure how i could get away with that. picture on the front and vital stats on the back: bev, 56, cuts fingernails at desk with very loud chirpy clippers. marilou, 45, escapes at 10:30 every day to go shoe shopping.) and everyone kept telling me to take pictures of the spread. taking pictures of food is very important in suite 100. as is the quality of the spread (two different types of orange juice, wow!). but i resisted. i took one of me and kay, favorite work lady/segregate mummy/scandalous scandalous hot lady, and my head looks three times bigger than hers and i am very very pale and she is very very black. and i typed 'jenn and kay best friends forever!!!!!' and handed it to her and she said, ' 'i look like a chocolate covered peanut.'

there will be other work ladies. at the office i am moving to there is a woman with star trek paraphernalia and framed portraits of her cats and dogs. we will have a lot to talk about, what with the mutual love for cats and jean-luc picard.

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