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I'm not saying I'm always late, but if procrastination were an Olympic sport, I'd at least get a bronze medal. Maybe. If I ever got around to competing.
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My friends told me to embrace my inner child. So now, I'm always fashionably late, just like a toddler who insists on tying their shoes by themselves for an hour.
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You know you're late when even your alarm clock hits the snooze button and goes back to sleep. It's like, "I can't deal with this guy today either.
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I'm not saying I'm a time traveler, but whenever I arrive, people look at me like I just stepped out of a DeLorean. "Great Scott! He made it to the meeting... eventually.
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Being late is a unique talent. It's the only skill you can master without any practice or effort. You just wake up one day and go, "Yep, I got this.
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I tried to be on time once. It was a disaster. I walked in, and people were like, "Are you okay? Did you just come from the future? Is it safe out there?
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Ever notice how being late turns every chair into a potential obstacle course? It's like a game show: "Will they make it to the meeting without tripping over their own shoelaces? Stay tuned!
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Being fashionably late is one thing, but I just invented a new term: chronically late. It's when you're so late that even time itself starts tapping its foot impatiently.
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You know you're running late when your GPS says, "In 10 minutes, you'll arrive at your destination... unless you're driving, then it's more like 20 minutes.
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