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On the Brink

Sept ’83. Yes. I looked like a boy and my head was ginormous.

I love talking to great aunt rose and couldn’t not post the most ridiculous “conversation” we have ever had.

Me: I’m at the bank.
Rose: you’re on the brink?
Me: I’m at the bank
Rose: The brink of what? What’s wrong?
Me: I’ll call you back.

New call… 

Me: Hi. Sorry, I was at the bank.
Rose: What’s wrong?
Me: Nothing.
Rose: But you said you’re on the brink.
Me: The bank. I was at the bank.
Rose: (silence)
Me: I was at the bank. I said it 40 times.
Rose: You lost 40 pounds?
Me: No. I was at the bank. Where people take their money. And I said it 40 times.
Rose: I have another call.

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