Of Tough Choices

This is like the Red Pill or the Blue Pill.

No, wait, this is far worse.

You have to eat Arby's every single meal for the rest of your life.

The Beach Boys' Song "Good Vibrations" is stuck in your head every single second from now until the day you die.

You develop an incurable condition where your hands are constantly covered with itchy, painful sores prone to bursting and leaking large amounts of pus.

You develop a singular fixation on talking about the history of ventriloquism when in the presence of the opposite sex.

You have in insatiable craving for fresh clams every waking moment of your life.

Your arms and legs are switched but you are in otherwise good health.

You mistake every non-white person you meet for Lou Bega and feel compelled to ask for an autograph.

Giant swarms of angry insects follow you wherever you go, biting, stinging, and vexing you to no end.

Something about the sound of your voice causes people to instantly lose control of their bowels.

Something about the sound of other human voices causes you to instantly lose control of your bowels.

You permanently lose all sensation in your genitals.

You gain heightened sensation in your genitals, but it is a sensation of unrelenting grief and despair.

Whenever you talk, live shrimp begin crawling out of your mouth.

Whenever you talk, you speak as an unparalleled expert on Japanese animation, but you have absolutely no idea what you are saying and can never truly enjoy or take pride in your wisdom.

You get $50,000, but you have to spend two years eating only cottage cheese and ketchup packets.

You get $50,000, but you have to spend one year wearing sweatpants and you have a boner the entire time.

You are convinced that you are in a musical and sing everything, even though you have the voice of a young boy going through puberty arguing about Transformers on Ventrillo.

The entire world thinks that you are a rapist, though you suffer no legal repercussions.

You have to work the word "herculean" into every single sentence you ever speak or write or your loved ones will all die horrific deaths.

Your senses of taste and touch are reversed and you spend the rest of your days getting punched and force fed sauerkraut.

Your entire music library has to consist of nothing but TV show theme song compilations.

Your entire music library has to come exclusively from Starbucks.

You constantly excrete a foul-smelling paste out of two discreet ducts on your forehead.

You have to constantly chew tobacco at all times or you will die.

You become convinced Leprechauns are trying to steal your wealth and dignity and lose sight of the important things in life.

You spend the rest of your days as an asexual libertarian string theorist with a blog.

You get $250,000, but you have to spend a year living inside an iron lung.

You get $250,000, but you have to save and store every ounce of your urine for one whole year.

Regards, Boombaye1