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Who here is a master of the clearance section at the store? You know, that magical place where everything's cheap, and you convince yourself that you desperately need a neon pink toaster. I've made some legendary bad decisions in those aisles. I once bought a discounted DIY furniture set. The box said, "Easy Assembly," but what they meant was, "Good luck, you amateur carpenter." Two hours and a dozen curse words later, I had a lopsided bookshelf that looked like modern art. My friends walk into my apartment and go, "Oh, you're into abstract furniture, huh?" No, I'm just into making bad decisions with a side of frustration.
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You ever feel like your life is sponsored by bad decisions? I mean, I must be the CEO of Bad Decisions Anonymous at this point. It's like, every time I have a choice between the right thing and the fun thing, I'm like, "Hey, why not both?" I recently tried to impress a date by cooking a fancy dinner. I Googled a recipe, got all the ingredients, and thought, "How hard can it be?" Well, turns out, when the recipe says 'a pinch of salt,' it doesn't mean emptying the entire salt shaker. My date took one bite and looked at me like, "Are you trying to melt my taste buds?" It's safe to say that night ended with a visit to the nearest fast-food joint.
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Let's talk about procrastination. I'm the Usain Bolt of putting things off. It's like my brain is a professional athlete in the Procrastination Olympics, and it's winning gold every time. I had a paper due last week, and what did I do? I discovered the fascinating world of celebrity pet Instagram accounts. Yeah, I can tell you everything about Lady Whiskers, the cat of a B-list actor, but ask me about my paper topic, and I'll stare at you like a deer caught in headlights. I guess I've mastered the art of making bad decisions when it comes to prioritizing my time.
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Let's talk about midnight snacks. You know, those moments when you're standing in front of the fridge, wearing your pajamas like a superhero cape, ready to save the night with a snack. Now, I've mastered the art of bad decisions during these midnight snack attacks. Last night, I decided to have ice cream. Now, I knew I had work the next day, but my brain went, "Hey, who needs sleep when you can have a triple fudge explosion in your mouth?" So, I devoured that ice cream like it was the cure for adulthood. Cut to this morning, and I'm staring at my tired reflection in the mirror, thinking, "Maybe I should've invested in an adulting manual instead.
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