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You know you're in for a good time when the family decides to have a reunion. There's always that one relative who brings a ruckus with them. Uncle Bob, he's the king of ruckus. He shows up with his karaoke machine, like it's a portable party on steroids. Last reunion, he starts belting out "I Will Survive" like he's auditioning for a Broadway musical. And the rest of us are just trying to survive the ruckus he's causing. I'm convinced there's a family handbook that says, "Thou shalt not have a reunion without at least one family member causing a ruckus." It's like a tradition.
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You ever notice how the word "ruckus" sounds like something your grandma would say when she's had enough of your nonsense? "Stop causing a ruckus!" Like, what even is a ruckus? Is it a disturbance, a commotion, or just a fancy word for chaos? I imagine it's the kind of word they used back in the 1800s to break up bar fights. So, the other day, my neighbor's dog decided to have a ruckus at 6 AM. I'm trying to sleep, and all I hear is this barking that could wake the dead. I stumble out of bed, half-asleep, like I'm ready to confront this canine conductor of chaos. I open the window and yell, "Hey, Fido, it's too early for your morning ruckus! Go chase your tail quietly!
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Ever been in the office when there's a ruckus? It's like a jungle with people fighting for the last cup of coffee in the break room. Susan from accounting is throwing elbows like she's in a wrestling match just to get her caffeine fix. Meanwhile, the poor intern is cowering in the corner, wondering if they should just switch careers and become a hermit. And don't get me started on office politics. You know there's a serious ruckus when someone accidentally hits "reply all" to an email that was meant for their therapist. Suddenly, the entire company knows about Brenda's emotional support llama.
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Dating is tough, especially when you're trying to impress someone and not cause a ruckus. I took this girl out for dinner, thinking it would be a quiet, romantic evening. But no, the restaurant had a live mariachi band. Now, don't get me wrong, I love a good mariachi band, but not when I'm trying to have a conversation. We're sitting there, yelling sweet nothings at each other over the trumpet and guitar, and I'm thinking, "Is this a date or an audition for 'The Voice'?" I swear, if I ever hear "La Cucaracha" again, it'll be too soon.
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