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You know how they say confession is good for the soul? Well, my cousin takes that to a whole new level. He's the king of unsolicited confessions. Out of the blue, he'll start confessing things like, "You know, I once ate a whole cake by myself." Thanks for sharing, buddy. I once binge-watched an entire season of a reality show in one sitting. We all have our vices.
But he's relentless. "I once stole a traffic cone." Really? I once stole my neighbor's Wi-Fi password. Let's not throw stones from our glass houses, Mr. Traffic Cone Thief.
I've started avoiding family dinners just to escape the confessions. I don't need to know about your rebellious phase in high school, especially when I'm just trying to enjoy my mashed potatoes in peace.
So, here's to my cousin, the king of TMI. Maybe one day he'll confess to being the reason I started therapy.
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You ever have that cousin who thinks they're the family expert on everything? You know, the one who's got an opinion on your haircut, your job, and probably what color socks you should be wearing? I've got one of those. He's like a walking Yelp review, but for my life. The other day, he looks at me and says, "You know, you should really start investing. It's the key to financial success." I'm thinking, "Invest? I can't even commit to a Netflix series without checking Rotten Tomatoes first."
But here's the kicker. He's the guy who invested in Bitcoin when it was like a dollar, and now he thinks he's Warren Buffett's cooler, more successful cousin. I'm over here still trying to figure out how to use Venmo without accidentally sending money to a stranger.
And it's not just the financial advice. He's got opinions on relationships too. "You should settle down," he says. Dude, I can't even commit to a sandwich at Subway without changing my mind three times. Settle down? I can't even settle on a pizza topping.
So, shoutout to my cousin, the unsolicited life coach. If I wanted advice, I'd ask Siri. At least she doesn't make me feel bad for not having a 401(k).
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We recently had a family reunion, and you know what that means – a bunch of people you vaguely remember from your childhood suddenly acting like they know your entire life story. I'm standing there, minding my own business, when my cousin Susan comes up to me and goes, "You remember that time when we were seven, and you gave me a cookie, and I said I'd owe you one?" No, Susan, I don't remember. I also don't remember where I put my car keys this morning.
But apparently, she's been carrying this cookie debt for 20 years, and she's here to collect. I'm thinking, "Susan, if I could remember where I put my car keys, I'd have found that cookie recipe and baked you a whole batch by now."
Family reunions are like playing Russian Roulette, but instead of bullets, it's embarrassing stories and unfulfilled childhood promises. I'm just waiting for someone to pop up and remind me of that time I said I wanted to be a dinosaur when I grew up.
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You ever have that one cousin who turns everything into a competition? I swear, he could turn a game of Monopoly into a grudge match that lasts for days. We're at a family picnic, and he's like, "Hey, let's see who can grill the best burger." I'm thinking, "Dude, I just learned how to turn on the grill without burning myself. Can we not turn this into a Food Network challenge?"
But he's determined. He's got his secret marinade, his special rub, and I'm over here just hoping I remembered to take the plastic wrap off the cheese slices. And of course, he wins. I mean, who knew adding truffle oil to a burger would make it taste like heaven? I thought ketchup was fancy.
Now, every family gathering is a competition. Who can pick the best Christmas tree? Who can fold the laundry the fastest? I'm just waiting for the day we have a family Olympics. I'll be the reigning champion of napping.
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