Italians stain it best

My house is full of people from The Lob. They're weaving in and out of doorways, packing up all my stuff and enjoying drinks and conversation at the same time.

Mags and Zephyr are on my bed and we're gossiping about the boss's latest wild accusation. His wife apparently put together a yearbook (complete with a video of sketch comedy) in which I'm clearly the star. I look great in every picture and am the funniest of all the spoofers. Our manager, however, is portrayed as a thief. I try to talk to her about it, but she's pissed.

When I return to my room, Mags has spilled ravioli all over my bedspread. Actually, it looked more like gnocchi, which is delicious.

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