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You know you've had bad Chinese when the soy sauce looks at you and says, "I'm not taking responsibility for this meal." It's the only cuisine where the condiments form a support group on your kitchen table.
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The fortune cookie from bad Chinese places should just say, "Expect the unexpected... and maybe keep some antacids handy." It's like a culinary choose-your-own-adventure book, but every ending involves regret.
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Bad Chinese is the only cuisine where you find yourself thinking, "Maybe I should have just made a sandwich." It's like they have a secret ingredient called "regret," and they sprinkle it liberally.
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Ordering bad Chinese is a bit like going on a blind date. You're hopeful, excited, and by the end of it, you're left wondering if you'll ever trust your instincts again.
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You ever notice how "bad Chinese" is like a mysterious warning sign? It's like, "Hey, let's order some takeout!" and then someone says, "Nah, last time I had bad Chinese, I saw things no fortune cookie could predict.
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I ordered Chinese food the other day, and the delivery guy handed me the bag with a look that said, "Good luck, my friend." It's like playing culinary roulette. Will it be delicious or a questionable life choice? Who knows!
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You ever get bad Chinese and think, "Did they just use a magic eight-ball to determine the ingredients?" I asked for General Tso's Chicken, not a gastronomic adventure into the unknown.
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Bad Chinese takeout is the only food that can unite people from different walks of life. You could be arguing about politics, but if someone mentions a shared traumatic experience with bad Chinese, suddenly you're all on the same side.
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Bad Chinese takeout is the real test of friendship. If your friend suggests it, they either have an iron stomach or secretly want to see you suffer. It's a culinary trust fall.
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