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Stomach hurts. Why? Who the hell knows. Doctors don’t. They do know how to empty my wallet though, yeah, real pros at that. Coffee is the worst. Feels like I drank battery acid after I consume a cup of the dark black drink from the gods. No pizza, no tacos, no tomato sauce, my restricted diet is prison. I drool every time I smell spaghetti. Just one more bite of tangy meat sauce, that’s all I ask.

But, alas, it’s not worth the pain. Irritable bowels, torture, the older I get the more health problems appear. Maybe it’s time to get in shape, nah. Too much work, and I’m just not motivated enough to get on an exercise machine.

No way I’m going to a gym. Why? So fit people can watch the fat guy sweat to death on the treadmill, or so an old guy can stick his pee pee in my face in the locker room. No, I think I’ll just keep killing myself slowly with steak sandwiches and french fries. Yeah, that sounds good.

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