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You ever notice how lobsters are like the high-rollers of the seafood world? I mean, they're basically the billionaires of the ocean. But here's the thing, we're over here cracking jokes about them like they owe us money. I went to a fancy restaurant the other day, and they handed me the menu with this smug lobster illustration on it. It's like he's saying, "Yeah, I know I cost a fortune, but you're gonna order me anyway." I'm just sitting there thinking, "Do I really want to go into debt for a seafood dinner?"
I mean, you order a lobster, and it's this whole production. They bring it out, and you're trying to figure out how to tackle this thing without looking like a Neanderthal. You got the bib on, the fancy lobster-cracker in hand, and you're praying you don't shoot lobster juice across the room.
And then there's the moment of truth when the waiter asks, "Do you want it boiled or grilled?" Boiled or grilled? I'm just trying to avoid a financial crisis; I didn't realize I was making life-altering decisions at the dinner table!
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I read somewhere that lobsters mate for life. Isn't that sweet? I mean, if I had a dollar for every time someone told me I should be more like a lobster in my relationships, I could probably afford to eat lobster more often. But think about it – lobsters are the relationship experts of the sea. They hold claws and walk around the ocean floor like they own the place. Meanwhile, I can't even get a text back without overanalyzing it for three days.
Maybe the secret to a successful relationship is the occasional shell shedding. You know, just let go of all the baggage and start fresh. Although, I'm not sure I'm ready to molt in front of my significant other. That's a level of vulnerability I'm not prepared for.
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I heard about this new therapy trend – lobster therapy. Apparently, people are paying big bucks to have lobsters as their emotional support animals. I mean, why not? They're always calm, collected, and never judge you for eating an entire tub of ice cream. Can you imagine going to your therapist and just sitting there with a lobster on your lap? You spill your guts, and the lobster just stares at you like, "Tell me more, my friend." The only challenge would be finding a therapist willing to share their office with a crustacean.
And then there's the issue of bringing your emotional support lobster on a plane. "Sorry, sir, your lobster can't sit there; it's blocking the emergency exit." I can already see the headlines: "Flight Delayed Due to Emotional Support Lobster – Passengers Shell-shocked.
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I've been thinking about starting a lobster liberation movement. You know, like a group that breaks into fancy restaurants and sets the lobsters free. We'd be like seafood superheroes, fighting for the rights of crustaceans everywhere. Picture this: a group of activists in ninja outfits, sneaking into a high-end restaurant. We'd be armed with butter knives and determined to free those lobsters from their buttery demise. The chef would walk in, and we'd be like, "Release the lobsters or face the wrath of the Claw Crusaders!"
I can see the headlines now: "Lobster Liberation Group Strikes Again – Lobsters Rejoice, Chefs Beware!" I mean, it's time someone stood up for those lobsters. They didn't sign up for this life of luxury and then end up as someone's Instagram post.
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