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Let's talk about relationships. They're like that piece of gum you step on and then it's stuck to your shoe. You try to shake it off, scrape it off, but it's like, "Nope, I'm here for the long haul." I envy octopuses; they can detach a limb when things get tough. I can't even detach myself from a bad conversation. Ever been in a relationship so sticky, you feel like you're carrying a stick of emotional baggage? "Oh, this? Just my stick of unresolved issues. No big deal." It's like trying to break up with someone is as difficult as separating two pieces of superglue. You're just there, stuck together, wondering who's getting custody of the Netflix password.
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Technology, the modern stick of frustration. We live in a world where a simple software update feels like you're trying to break a stick in half. You click "Remind Me Later," and it's like, "No, remind you now!" Your computer becomes the stickler of the office, demanding attention like a toddler with a candy craving. And passwords, don't get me started. They're like the stick in the mud of our digital lives. "Must contain an uppercase letter, a number, a hieroglyphic, and a strand of unicorn hair." I just want to access my email, not summon a mythical creature! I swear, one day, they'll ask for a blood sacrifice to log in.
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You ever notice how life is like a stick? I mean, not literally, unless you're in a forest, then yeah, there are lots of sticks. But seriously, think about it. We all have plans, right? Life plans, career plans, weekend plans. We make these elaborate plans, and then life comes at us like, "Oh, you had a plan? That's cute!" I tried sticking to my diet once. Bought a bunch of healthy food, made a meal plan, the whole deal. But then I found myself at 2 AM, standing in front of the fridge with a stick of butter, thinking, "Well, it's technically not on the 'no' list." Stick to the plan, they say. Yeah, sure, if the plan involves late-night rendezvous with dairy products.
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I tried getting in shape once. Bought a gym membership, got some fancy workout gear, and then realized I had the coordination of a stick figure trying to breakdance. I walk into the gym, and there are people doing acrobatics on the treadmill. Meanwhile, I'm struggling to find the "start" button. Fitness classes are the worst. They say, "Grab a stick for this exercise." A stick? Really? I'm paying you to teach me aerobics, not reenact the caveman era. I'm just waiting for the day they introduce "Stick Yoga" – because nothing says inner peace like trying not to poke your neighbor's eye out with a stick.
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