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Mrs. Geller: (to Monica) Your
grandmother would have hated this.
Monica: Well, sure, what with it being her funeral and all.
Mrs. Geller: No, I'd be hearing about 'Why didn't I get the
honey-glazed ham?', I didn't spend enough on
flowers, and if I spent more she'd be saying 'Why are you wasting your money? I
don't need flowers, I'm dead'.
Monica: That sounds like Nana.
Mrs. Geller: Do you know what it is like to grow up with someone who is
critical of every single thing you say.
Monica: ...I can imagine.
Mrs. Geller: I'm telling you, it's a wonder your mother turned
out to be the positive, life-affirming person
she is.
Monica: That is a wonder. So tell me something, Mom. If you had
to do it all over again, I mean, if she was here right now, would you tell her?
Mrs. Geller: Tell her what?
Monica: How she drove you crazy, picking on every little
detail, like your hair... for example.
Mrs. Geller:
I'm not sure I know what you're getting at.
Monica: Do you think things would have been better if
you'd just told her the truth?
Mrs. Geller: ...No. I think some things are better left unsaid. I think it's nicer when
people just get along.
Monica: Huh.
Mrs. Geller: More wine, dear?
Monica: Oh, I think so.
Mrs. Geller: (reaches out to fiddle with Monica's hair again,
and realises). Those earrings look really lovely on you.
Monica: Thank you. They're yours.
Mrs. Geller: Actually they were Nana's.
(There is a cry of disappointment from the crowd of men.)
Mr. Geller: Now I'm depressed!
...(To everyone) Even more than I was.
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pick on |
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to criticize, punish or be unkind to the same
person frequently and unfairly |
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get along |
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If two or more people get along, they like each
other and are friendly to each other |
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fiddle |
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to move things about or touch things with no
particular purpose |
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