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We all have that one friend who turns into a stealthy ninja when it comes to food. You buy a delicious snack, hide it in the deepest corner of the fridge, and somehow they still find it. I've labeled my food with warnings like, "Property of NASA: Do Not Touch," and they still have the audacity to swipe it. I caught my friend red-handed the other day, munching on my chocolate stash. I said, "Dude, that's my emergency chocolate for existential crises." He looks at me and says, "Well, your existence is a crisis." Touche, my friend, touche.
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You know, they say you can choose your friends, but can you really? It's like playing friendship roulette. You think you're getting a charming companion, but next thing you know, you've got a buddy who thinks socks and sandals are a fashion statement. I've got this one friend who's always late. I mean, we joke that they operate on their own time zone. If they say they'll meet you at 7, just mentally adjust it to "sometime before midnight." I'm considering getting them a watch for their birthday, not as a gift, but as a public service announcement.
And then there's the friend who's always borrowing stuff and conveniently forgetting to return it. I lent them my lawnmower last summer, and now it's their "communal mower." I asked them about it, and they said, "What's yours is mine, and what's mine is mine." Friendship, right?
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Social media is a whole other battlefield of friendship. We've all got that one friend who overshares everything. They document their breakfast, lunch, and dinner like they're auditioning for a food reality show. And don't even get me started on their relationship drama. It's like a soap opera, but with more emojis. I asked my friend once how their day was, and they said, "Let me check my Instagram story." Really? I don't need a highlight reel; just tell me if you had a good sandwich or a bad date. Keep it concise, like a tweet, not a novel.
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Let's talk about group chats. We all have that one friend who abuses the group chat like it's their personal diary. You wake up to 99+ messages, thinking there's a family emergency, but no, it's just Dave narrating his dream about flying tacos. Dave, I just want to know when and where we're meeting, not your subconscious culinary adventures. And then there's the friend who never replies. You pour your heart out in a message, and all you get is the dreaded "Read at 9:23 AM." Are you kidding me? It's been three days, Karen! I know you saw it! At this point, I'm considering sending messages via carrier pigeon. Maybe they'll get a quicker response.
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