insert clever title here (stomach)

 Insert clever intro here

If your stomach is permanently pissed off, 

uh,

Road to hell paved with good intentions.

Death has a beautiful face (somethingsomething mumblemumble)

It's what I think about tons bee cause the medical community around me cares more about numbers on a blood test than what I ate last week.

It's hard to explain.

My body suck stinks isn't adjusted correctly because I eat the wrong stuff, and (etc) because it makes my stomach happy.

But it's reaching a critical stage, to achieve stomach nirvana the rest of my body is ganging up and forming a commission ("ommmm, we're telling")  that reports to the doctor on my next visit.

The doctor will blame indolence (and smoking) and ignore me for three more months, whereupon *I* will strive to make my stomach happy, killing off the rest of my body and earning a pointed lecture from you know who.

Say, here's a fucking idea, tell me how to make my stomach happy without killing off everything else.

Maybe it needs more blood, bigger veins???

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The only part (OK *one* of the parts) of this blog I dislike is the part about death having a beautiful face.

Reference a comedian and his routine about smoking crack (smoking something)

"Have another slice, bob"

Sugary tea, bread and occasional crackers  make me (my stomach) happy, and my mouth prefers more warm squishies, like peach pie.

Death really does have a beautiful face, hmm.