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You ever notice how rebellious holders can be? I mean, I put my toothbrush in there, and the next thing I know, it's doing acrobatics, spinning around like it's auditioning for a talent show. I'm just trying to maintain good oral hygiene, and my holder's doing interpretive dance. And it's not just me; I've seen holders in other bathrooms staging full-scale revolutions. You walk into someone's house, and their holder's like, "We're not holding toothbrushes anymore. We're holding art installations. Get with the program!"
I feel like I need a toothbrush holster just to keep up with my rebellious holder. Maybe add a little holster music as I draw it – "Dun dun dun dun, here comes the toothbrush!" It's like a showdown in the Wild West every time I brush my teeth.
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I think my holder and booker need therapy. Yeah, couples therapy. They have this dysfunctional relationship going on – the holder's too clingy, and the booker's too controlling. I can imagine them in therapy, the holder saying, "I just want to hold things peacefully," and the booker responding, "But I need to schedule everything!" I tried to mediate between them, but it turns out, holders and bookers don't communicate well. The holder just spins in circles, and the booker starts flipping pages aggressively. I'm stuck in the middle, playing the role of the toothbrush peacemaker.
Maybe I should get them a self-help book, but then again, that might just make things worse. Can you imagine the booker adding "self-help sessions" to my schedule? It's a comedy of errors every time I step into the bathroom.
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You know, I recently had a run-in with my holder. Yeah, you know, that thing you put your toothbrush in. It's like, every morning, it's holding my toothbrush hostage. I reach for it, and it's like, "Not so fast, buddy! You're not going anywhere without me!" And don't get me started on the booker. I mean, I don't know who appointed it the official scheduler of my life. I open it up, and it's like, "You thought you had a free weekend? Think again! You're booked from sunrise to sunset."
So here I am, caught in the epic battle between my holder and booker. The holder wants me to have a clean smile, and the booker wants me to have a chaotic schedule. It's like a sitcom in my bathroom every morning, complete with laugh tracks and conflicting agendas.
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Let's talk about the booker, that sneaky little scheduler in our lives. I swear, my booker has a master plan for world domination, one appointment at a time. It's like, "Oh, you thought you had a relaxing Sunday? Surprise! You're booked for a family brunch, a dentist appointment, and a surprise visit from the in-laws." I open my booker, and it's got this diabolical laugh, like it's saying, "You thought you were in control? Think again, mere mortal!" I've tried to rebel against it, but the booker always wins. It's like having a personal assistant who's both overly ambitious and slightly sadistic.
Maybe I should start a support group for people trying to break free from their bookers. We'll call it "Booked and Baffled Anonymous." Because sometimes, you just need a little help to reclaim your weekends.
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