Tuesday, May 03, 2005

My stomach is getting fired.

According to diet experts, my stomach is full for twenty minutes before it tells my brain that it's full.

What the f*&# is up with that?

The stomach is clearly the lamest of the organs. It sits there all day, whining about food, and then when it finally gets some, it says, "Oh my, that was lovely. I think I'll do nothing for 20 freakin' minutes while this moron keeps eating."

I mean, come on. My stomach is, like, two feet from my brain and it has its own built-in network. If I put my hand on a hot element, does my brain say, "Oh, my, poor Mr. Hand is burning. I better tell Hand to move in half an hour"? No. When my brain has something to say, it says it. Instantly. And the heart, why it never stops at all. No thanks to Mr. Stomach, I might add.

Why does it take my stomach 20 minutes to speak up? Does my stomach have a whole lot of other organs it has to call first? Is my brain so touchy that my stomach has to pause to consider the right words?

No, my stomach is a lazy, greedy, selfish bastard. That's the truth. And it's going to pay, believe me.

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