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Joke Types
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Why did the pathological liar become a gardener? Because they were excellent at planting rumors!
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Why did the pathological gambler go to therapy? They needed help with their serious case of 'betting on the wrong horse' syndrome!
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Why did the pathologist go on a diet? They wanted to cut back on the excess fat—especially in their jokes!
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Why did the pathologist become a motivational speaker? They knew how to dissect negativity and find the humor in every organ-ized situation!
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Why did the pathologist become a chef? They loved cooking up stories and stirring the pot—literally!
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Why did the pathologist start a band? They wanted to dissect the music scene and find the heart of rock and roll!
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Why did the pathological comedian become a doctor? They were tired of making people laugh so hard, they thought they were going to need medical attention!
Pathological Weather Predictions
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I tried predicting the weather, but my accuracy is pathological. I told my friend, No need for an umbrella; it won't rain. Five minutes later, we were in a downpour. I'm thinking of starting a weather forecasting service called Wild Guess Meteorology.
Job Interviews and Pathological Honesty
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I went to a job interview and decided to try this new thing - pathological honesty. They asked, What's your biggest weakness? I said, Job interviews. Surprisingly, they appreciated the honesty, but I'm still unemployed. Maybe they wanted someone who lies about weaknesses.
Pathological DIY Projects
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I attempted a DIY project at home, but my skills are pathological. The instruction manual might as well have been in hieroglyphics. I ended up with a bookshelf that looks like modern art – functional but open to interpretation.
Pathological Memory Lane
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I walked down memory lane the other day, but my memory lane is pathological. I bumped into someone I hadn't seen in years and said, Wow, you haven't changed a bit! Then I realized it wasn't them; it was their twin.
Pathological Procrastination
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I have this pathological procrastination issue. I'll tell myself, I'll start the diet tomorrow. Tomorrow comes, and I'm like, Eh, maybe next Monday. My fitness journey is like a GPS that keeps recalculating the route to the gym.
Dating and Pathological Optimism
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I tried online dating, and let me tell you, the optimism on those profiles is pathological. One guy said he's an aspiring astronaut, but his profile picture was taken in his mom's basement. I guess he's reaching for the stars while sitting on a beanbag chair.
Pathological Chef Confessions
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I love cooking, but I have a pathological confession. When a recipe says, Serves four, it serves one in my world. I have a gift for turning family-sized portions into solo culinary adventures. My microwave is my accomplice in portion reduction.
Pathological Gym Resolutions
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I joined a gym with all these resolutions, but my commitment is pathological. The treadmill looks at me like, Oh, we're doing this again? It's gotten so bad that my fitness tracker sends me sympathy messages instead of achievements.
Pathological Technology Troubles
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My relationship with technology is pathological. I bought a smart fridge, but it's too smart for me. It sends me notifications like, Your milk is about to expire, and I'm like, Well, I guess I'm having cereal for every meal today.
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