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Let's talk about selfies. Is it just me, or do we all become professional photographers when taking a selfie? Suddenly, we're experts in finding the perfect angle and lighting, but ask us to take a group photo, and it's like we've never seen a camera before.
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You ever notice how the "snooze" button on the alarm clock feels like a magical time machine? You press it, and suddenly you're in the future, 9 minutes ahead. I think we all need a "snooze" button for Monday mornings – just hit it, and you skip right to Friday!
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Grocery shopping is a workout, especially when you forget your shopping list. It becomes a game of memory, like a mental obstacle course. And let's not even talk about the produce section – it's the wild jungle of decision-making.
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I've realized that my bed is a lot like a black hole. Once I'm in it, it's nearly impossible to escape its gravitational pull. I have the strongest intentions of being productive, but my bed just gives me that seductive look, and suddenly I'm binge-watching a series.
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Lastly, let's talk about finding something in your pocket. It's a mystery every time. You reach in, hoping for your keys, and instead, you pull out a random assortment of receipts, a crumpled napkin, and maybe even a ticket from that concert you went to three months ago. Pockets are basically small, personal junk drawers.
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Speaking of time, why is it that the last minute of a workout feels longer than waiting for your food at a drive-thru? You're on that treadmill, checking the clock every 10 seconds, convinced it's broken because time has officially decided to take a coffee break.
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The length of a minute is directly proportional to how fast your internet is working. Waiting for a webpage to load? It's like time is on vacation. But ask someone to hold a plank for a minute, and suddenly it's the longest minute of their life.
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Have you ever noticed that the volume on the TV has a completely different scale than the real world? I mean, if I turn the TV volume up to 20, it's like a rock concert. But if I accidentally sneeze too loudly at home, suddenly I'm the disruptive neighbor.
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You know you're an adult when you get excited about a new sponge for the kitchen. It's like, forget the fancy gadgets; give me that sponge with the extra scrubby side, and I'm living my best life.
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