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You ever try one of those yoga classes where the instructor insists you contort your body into shapes it has no business being in? I went to this yoga class the other day, and I swear, by the end of it, I was bent out of shape in ways I didn't even know were possible. The instructor was like, "Now, breathe deeply and fold yourself in half like a pretzel." I'm looking around like, "Is this a yoga class or an audition for Cirque du Soleil?" I mean, I'm just trying not to fart in a room full of strangers while bending like a human origami.
And then there's always that one person who's like a yoga prodigy. They're folding themselves into these complicated shapes, and I'm over here struggling not to fall over while attempting a basic tree pose. I'm just waiting for the day they introduce a pose called "The Human Knot" because, at this rate, I'm a shoo-in.
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You ever go grocery shopping and get bent out of shape in the produce section? I mean, there's this unspoken rule that you have to inspect each piece of fruit like you're choosing the next pope. I'm over here squeezing avocados like I'm a detective interrogating a suspect. And then there's the dilemma of choosing between plastic and paper bags. I always panic and choose whichever one the person in line behind me isn't using, as if my bag choice is some profound statement about my character. "Oh, she went with paper – she must be environmentally conscious." Little do they know, I just didn't want to be the odd one out.
And don't even get me started on the checkout line. It's a high-stakes game of "Can I unload my cart faster than the person in front of me?" I feel like I'm in a supermarket Grand Prix trying to break the world record for fastest grocery bagging.
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Have you ever noticed how technology can bend us out of shape? I recently got a new phone, and the setup process was like solving a Rubik's Cube blindfolded. It asked for my fingerprint, my face scan, a retina scan – I felt like I was signing up for the witness protection program. And then there are these password requirements. I swear, they want me to include the square root of my high school crush's phone number, the last digit of Pi, and a hieroglyphic just to unlock my email. By the time I'm done, I'm so bent out of shape mentally that I forget what the password was for in the first place.
And don't get me started on autocorrect. I can't type a simple "hello" without my phone suggesting I'm secretly a wizard trying to cast a spell. "Hello" becomes "Hobbit," and suddenly, I'm on an unexpected journey to fix my text message.
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You ever notice how people get bent out of shape in traffic? I'm driving, minding my own business, and suddenly everyone's honking like we're in the middle of a goose parade. I'm just trying to get from point A to point B, but apparently, I missed the memo that we're all participating in the world championship of horn blowing. And then there's the person who weaves in and out of traffic like they're auditioning for the Fast and Furious. I'm over here just trying to merge without causing a 10-car pileup, and they're treating the freeway like a NASCAR track. I'm just waiting for them to pull out a trophy at the end of their commute.
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