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Home phone call transcripts, detailing how bad a storyteller my mom is.

"I heard you had a picnic with the choir this weekend?"
"Yes, it was nice. Liz couldn't come though - [her husband's] family had their own party over Memorial Day, and apparently they found his niece at the bottom of the pool."

"Oh no."

"And it was one of those things, you know, the dad is in the pool with her, she's on a noodle, he turned to talk to his wife for a moment, turned around again and they couldn't find her."

"That's horrible." (at this point I'm feeling sick to my stomach)

"I guess it was one of those slant bottom pools and she must have lost the noodle over the deep end and gone to the bottom."

"Geez."

"They had her on a respirator for the week but finally took her off of it."

"Oh, huh. That's-"

"But even though they're still watching her, it sounds like she'll be okay. The first thing she said when she woke up-"

"Wait. She's alive?"

"Yeah. She got better and they didn't need the respirator. Apparently she was mad that she had to stay in the hospital and her brother got to go outside."

"MOM. YOU ARE TERRIBLE AT TELLING STORIES. HOLY CRAP."



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