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"Blow me It's
show business."
Fat chance!
You can't be grown-up.
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"Some people think they have to put on the
glitter."
Fat chance!
There's only so much you can do.
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"Yeah! Tell it like it is, baby!"
Fat chance!
Okay, so? ... Did we do anything wrong?
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["This is not an asthma symphony!" After
asking you one question about your asthma, your mother thinks she
can proceed with an unrelenting barrage
of intimate questions about your asthma in front of your girlfriend]
Fat chance!
It's good when people know what they can't
do.
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[Someone reciting poetry
in your face. (You can see this as one of the compulsive utterances
of Tourette's syndrome) What they really want is attention; it's
up to you which way you pay attention to them]
Fat chance!
In a hundred years it will be fabulous.
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"Can you call me a cab? You've got a
radio."
Fat chance!
I must be delusional.
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"Are you a candidate for sainthood?"
[From a well-dressed gentleman ambushing you at your car with an
elaborate, swiftly changing story]
Fat chance!
Aaron T. Beck says, "There is more
to the surface than meets the eye."
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"Then they go into the rest room and swap tickets
with one of their buddies That's why he's all angry."
Fat chance!
It's so nice out, I could leave it out
all day.
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