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Granted: You're completely happy with your "looks/figure/body/face/hair/etc." but the human race dies out. You are the last one left... except for a disturbingly fat man who follows you everywhere. You eventually pluck his eyes out while he's sleeping so he will stop oggling at you.
I wish I could whistle operas with my armpit.
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"I'm right"
"No - it's more like - wow, isn't enlightenment great?" - Doug Henning
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