Food is a savage, unforgiving beast.



It's true. I haven't eaten in two-going-on-three days. (Don't ask me how going-on works, it's not on any calander, but it's there just the same.) Part of the reason is because it really does hurt when I eat, and the other part is because I'm just a huge yellow bellied (well, pale crayola peach colored belly, but it dosen't sound as smooth when you say it that way) chicken. Actually, I've been shunned by yellow bellied chickens everywhere. I think I now fall into the catagory of yellow bellied skittish housecat on Meth.



You can just call me The Gutless Wonder. (Striking fear into the heart of no one but herself!) It's my sad, sad, only claim to fame.



Anyway, that's beside the point...kind of. I know I should eat, because vast numbers of starving people throught the world have pretty much given solid proof to the theory that we've got to eat to survive. On the other hand, I've got the pain tolerance of a pansy and deep down inside I'm pathetic.



The choices ones forced to make when one has a tummy that should be returned for a full refund.