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You know, I recently learned that there's a term people use to describe those folks who breathe through their mouths all the time - they call them "mouth breathers." Yeah, it's not the most flattering title, is it? I mean, it sounds like an insult you'd hear on a middle school playground. I've realized that being a mouth breather is like having a built-in soundtrack for awkward moments. You can be in the quietest room, and suddenly it's like you're sitting next to Darth Vader at a meditation retreat. It's a symphony of sniffles and heavy breathing.
I tried to imagine what it would be like if there was a support group for mouth breathers. Picture this: they'd all sit in a circle, and instead of saying, "Hi, I'm Bob, and I'm an alcoholic," they'd go, "Hi, I'm Bob, and I breathe through my mouth." The group response? A collective, "Hi, Bob."
But seriously, being a mouth breather is tough. I mean, how do you explain to someone that you're not sighing dramatically, you're just trying to catch a breath? It's like a constant battle between the nose and the mouth for air supremacy.
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I heard they're starting a support group for mouth breathers. Can you imagine the first meeting? They'd all sit there, breathing heavily, and the moderator would start with, "Welcome, everyone. Before we begin, let's take a deep breath... or as some of us prefer, a shallow one." They'd have group therapy sessions where they share their struggles. "Today, Jerry overcame his mouth breathing addiction and used his nose for a whole hour. Let's give him a round of applause!" It's like a rehab program, but instead of a chip for staying clean, you get a nose-shaped sticker.
And you know they'd have merchandise too – T-shirts that say, "Proud Mouth Breather" and bumper stickers that read, "I'd rather be breathing through my mouth." It's a movement, people – a wheezy, open-mouthed movement.
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You ever been stuck next to a mouth breather on an airplane? It's like being in a horror movie where the monster is not trying to eat you but suffocate you with every exhale. I had this experience recently, and I thought I was in a survival situation. I looked around for the oxygen masks, ready to pull them down and declare an emergency. And the worst part? They're completely oblivious. They're sitting there, reading their book or watching a movie, while the person next to them is gasping for air like they're on Mount Everest.
I tried everything to escape the mouth breather apocalypse. I faked a coughing fit, hoping they'd offer me their water, but nope, they just handed me a cough drop. Thanks, but I'm not choking; I'm being slowly suffocated by your respiratory choices.
And you know, it's always the people who breathe through their mouths that want to have a conversation mid-flight. They turn to you with that open-mouthed smile, and you're just praying they don't ask, "So, what do you do for a living?" because at that point, my profession is surviving this plane ride without passing out.
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I was thinking, there should be a Mouth Breather Olympics. Imagine the competitions: synchronized mouth breathing, long-distance mouth breathing, and the grand finale, the stealth mouth breathe-off. Contestants would have to breathe through their mouths without anyone noticing. The last person detected wins. It could be a global event! Countries would compete for the gold in mouth breathing, and the winner gets a trophy shaped like a giant inhaler. The medal ceremony would be hilarious, with everyone standing there, trying not to gasp for breath while proudly holding their medals.
But you know, the real challenge would be the interview after the competition. "How does it feel to be the world champion mouth breather?" And they'd respond, "Well, it's a breath of fresh air!
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