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You ever notice how life is just a constant battle with visuals? I mean, have you seen the signs they put up in public places? They're like hieroglyphics from an alien civilization. I walked into a restroom the other day, and the sign had a person with half a skirt and half pants. I was standing there, trying to decipher it like I was solving a puzzle. Do they want me to wear half a skirt and half pants? Am I in a fashion experiment? And then there's the universal symbol for "Don't Slip." It's a stick figure doing a splits maneuver that even Jean-Claude Van Damme would find challenging. I don't know about you, but if I see someone attempting that pose in real life, I'm not thinking about safety; I'm thinking they should audition for the next action movie.
We need a universal symbol for "Confused," so we can just stick it on our foreheads when we're faced with these visual conundrums. It could save a lot of embarrassment.
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Can we talk about emojis? I feel like our communication has become a secret code that only the emoji scholars can decipher. I sent a simple text the other day, and instead of a reply, I got an emoji novel. I had to hire a translator to figure out if they were happy, sad, or planning to take over the world. And what's the deal with the dancing lady emoji? Is she celebrating life, having a dance-off, or summoning an ancient emoji spirit? I need an emoji handbook just to navigate through a conversation. "Chapter 3: The Hidden Meanings of the Smiley Face."
I miss the good old days when a colon and a parenthesis were all you needed to express joy. Now it's all about decoding the emoji Rosetta Stone just to say, "I'm hungry.
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Zoom meetings, huh? Can we talk about the pressure of looking presentable from the waist up while the bottom half is living its best sweatpants life? It's a visual deception like no other. I've got a suit jacket on top and party down below. I'm business casual in the front, Netflix and chill in the back. And then there's that moment when you accidentally turn the camera on and realize you're sharing your messy room with your colleagues. It's like an episode of MTV Cribs gone wrong. "Hey, welcome to my crib! Ignore the laundry mountain in the corner; that's just modern art."
Zoom should come with a warning: "Objects in the camera are messier than they appear.
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Let's talk about selfies. Everyone's taking them, right? But have you ever noticed that the front camera on your phone is like a sneak attack on your self-esteem? You open it, and suddenly, you're face-to-face with a close-up version of yourself that you didn't sign up for. I'm convinced my phone is in cahoots with my mirror, and they're both conspiring against me. And what's with all these filters? I tried one that promised to make me look like a movie star. Instead, I ended up looking like a movie star who got hit by a truck. Filters are like Instagram's way of saying, "Hey, we know you're not happy with reality, so here's a fantasy where your skin is smoother than a baby's bottom, and your eyes are bigger than your dreams."
I miss the good old days when a selfie was just a poorly lit photo where you hoped your mom didn't see the mess in the background.
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