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I cope with the pressure of waiting for the judging results by watching the crowd. I've got nothing else to do. I can't eat. I'm on this stupid diet.
I can't ride the rides. I'm 62, a wimp and I quit going on rides in 1964 after I swallowed a wad of bubble gum when my horse on the merry go-round suddenly reared and bolted for the exit. I don't even go on the rides at Disney World with my grandchildren and assorted other family members every year. I pay, but I don't ride.
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