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Relationships are like smartphones. At first, everything is shiny, new, and exciting. But after a while, you start to notice the cracks, the glitches, and the sudden drop in performance. Unlike my smartphone, though, at least my partner still pretends to like me.
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Ever notice that the more options you have on Netflix, the longer it takes to actually choose something to watch? It's like a digital menu that mocks you for not being decisive. My remote control must be conspiring with my refrigerator to see how many times I can aimlessly stare into nothingness in one evening.
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Have you ever noticed that the only time your car starts making weird noises is when you're trying to impress someone? It's like, "Come on, car, this is not the time to be auditioning for America's Got Talent. Just behave for once, like that WiFi signal at home.
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I've realized that my refrigerator light is a lot like my motivation – it's either on the verge of burning out, or it's completely out, and I'm left in the dark, questioning my life choices. At least the snacks in there still seem to appreciate me.
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You know you've hit a new level of adulthood when your WiFi signal is now the most consistent thing in your life. I mean, even my own cat isn't as committed to liking me as that little signal bar!
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I've come to the realization that the only reason I go to the gym is to justify my love for pizza. It's like a guilt tax – I lift a few weights so that I can lift a few extra slices without feeling like my body is silently judging me. Unlike the gym mirrors, which are definitely judging me.
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You know you're officially an adult when you get excited about a new sponge for the kitchen. I mean, the level of joy I feel scrubbing those dishes is almost as surprising as my cat's occasional burst of affection – both equally rare and cherished.
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Trying to fold a fitted sheet is the adult equivalent of trying to solve a Rubik's Cube. It starts with good intentions, but after a few minutes, you just want to crumple it up and throw it in the closet. Maybe that's why my sheets never seem to like me back.
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Has anyone else noticed that the most productive conversations with your cat happen when you're both avoiding eye contact? It's like we've entered a silent agreement that we can coexist peacefully as long as we don't acknowledge the fact that I'm the only one paying the rent.
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