My mom thinks it's entertaining, cute, and funny to take everything she's pissed off about and put them into a big story that she has to repeat over and over again to many people, as though the story is clever or funny.  She has no brain capacity to make up any other stories, other than about her cats.  But this time?  She took all her complaints and then included my cat in her big story.  And I didn't even let her finish.  

Her: Hey you guys, do you have a minute to listen to something?  You have to stay in the room to hear the entire thing!

My hubby is doing the dishes and I am cleaning the floor in the kitchen.  Her friend was coming over and the kitchen was a mess from the night before so I wanted to clean up before her friend came over.  

Hubby: *under his breath* Here we go again.

Her: So, I woke up this morning and was completely out of cigarettes.  

Me: *under my breath* Why are we talking about this?

The night before, I forgot to put her cigarettes out (I make them for her and forgot to make them the day before, even though I haven't forgotten in weeks).

Her: I didn't dare wake you guys up, so I had one single cigarette I had leftover from the night before.

Hubby: So, you were fine then?

Her: Not, really (she says in a shitty tone of voice). 

Me: But you got your cigarettes this morning, right?  So you are fine now?  So, why are we talking about me forgetting to put your pack out last night?

Her: Anyways, so I didn't know what to do with myself so I said to the cat (my cat) "Hey, let's go eat some breakfast instead!"  And lo and behold, I opened the cabinet and (and in an incredulous voice) all my cereal was gone!  I think the kids ate it all!"

Me: Why was your cereal in the kitchen?  

Her: Well, the kids were on their diet before, so I didn't think I had to hide it.

Me: But you're supposed to keep all the random food that you want to make sure nobody eats in your room so nobody eats it.  If it's in the kitchen, nobody knows it's specifically yours.  So, that's your fault.  It should be in your room. (she LOVES to put food where the kids can get into it and then complain they ate it all--she used to do this at her old house with candy)

Her: Well, I knew they were off their diet, but I didn't think they'd eat it.

Me: So, you knew that they could eat carbs and left your cereal in the communal cereal cabinet?  Again, that's your fault.  So, you're entire story is all about you complaining that either I didn't do something for you the moment you wanted it done or that the kids ate all your food?  Why are you telling this story?  You're just looking for a cute way to complain (I say, as I leave the room and shut my bedroom door).  

Her: I am not complaining!  I was laughing!  (she leaves and goes outside to smoke)

End Scene. 

This is how my mother tells stories and has since the dawn of time.  And by stopping her, she won't repeat it again, thank goodness.  It's so ridiculous that she thinks that we don't see right through her little game.  But, I called her out on her shit and she shut up.  So, that was nice.  

How freaking annoying. 

Then I went to the store and bought her FIVE boxes of cereal and threw it on her bed.  Also, 3 HUGE boxes of her favorite oatmeal.  Now she can shut up and eat with the cat in peace.