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Why did the cat sit on the computer? It wanted to keep an eye on the mouse.
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Why did the golfer bring two pairs of pants? In case he got a hole in one.
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I tried to write a joke about an elevator, but it was an uplifting experience.
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Why did the bicycle go the wrong way? It was two-tired of the usual route.
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Why did the tomato turn around and go the wrong way? It saw the salad dressing.
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When the GPS says 'wrong way,' I can't help but feel like it's not just talking about my driving. It's commenting on my life decisions, my fashion choices, maybe even my taste in music. Rude little gadget.
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The GPS scolded me for going the wrong way, and I'm like, 'Hey, I'm just taking a detour through the land of poor life choices. It's a scenic route, you wouldn't understand!'
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The GPS and I have a love-hate relationship. It loves to tell me I'm going the wrong way, and I hate to admit that it's usually right. It's like having a tiny, electronic mother-in-law on board.
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I tried to argue with my GPS once, you know, assert my dominance. It responded with 'In 500 feet, make a U-turn.' That's the most passive-aggressive direction I've ever gotten.
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You know you're in trouble when even your GPS gives you that disappointed 'recalculating' tone. It's like having a tiny, judgmental backseat driver who knows your life choices.
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My GPS is like a relationship counselor – always pointing out when I'm going the wrong way. 'Turn left in 100 feet' is basically its version of 'We need to talk.'
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My GPS said 'wrong way,' and I thought, 'You don't know me, GPS! Maybe I'm just taking a creative approach to navigation. I'm not lost; I'm avant-garde!'
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