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I Wish I Were Hungry

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I Wish I Were Hungry

Oh, man, you know what would be great right now? A big bowl of chili, swimming in tabasco, with diced onions, grated cheddar, and Saltines. Damn. I just wish I wasn't so stuffed from that big lunch, or I could dig into one of those big-time.

Or this would be even better: a full Italian dinner. Salad, lasagna, garlic breadsticks, bottomless Coke. God, if only I was hungry, that would kick ass. I'd walk into the restaurant, my stomach would start growling right as I sat down, and I'd proceed to stuff my face for a good hour or so. I'd kill to have room for something like that.

It just sucks having all this extra money in my pocket, and no food to spend it on. I stopped at the ATM yesterday afternoon, and I still have three twenties in my wallet. Worse yet, payday is tomorrow. I mean, I'm not complaining about having lots of money, but I just wish I had the stomach space to blow some of it on an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet with General Tsao's chicken and pork fried rice. In my current state, I'd be lucky to get a fortune cookie down.

My big mistake was getting the full-blown gyro platter at the Parthenon. That always fills me to the roof. I'm usually not hungry for four or five hours after that. I guess that's what I get for overdoing it.

Oh, my God. I just remembered. The Old Towne Steakhouse is having the special this week on the 12-ounce Porterhouse. One of those, a baked potato, green beans with slivered almonds...

Curse this full belly!

Damn me for a fool, why did I have to gorge on the whole giant gyro platter? With the fries and a huge piece of baklava for dessert, no less. If I'd only had the one gyro and a drink, I might be able to eat a calzone or something now. The night ahead promises to be a grim, foodless ordeal.

I don't believe this. Dark Angel is on in 10 minutes, and if I can't summon up some hunger, it's going to be a less-than-total sensory experience. Just sight and sound. I mean, I could snack on some chips, but whoop-dee-doo. That's not eating-eating. I want to be legitimately hungry. Hungry enough for one of those big-as-your-head chicken molé burritos from Burritoville. Man, those starving peasants in other countries have it so good. They're so hungry, I bet they can eat whatever they want.

Why couldn't I have gotten up earlier today? Then I could've had that big western omelette around 9 a.m., then lunch around noon. Oh, man, my stomach is yearning to be yearning for something to eat right now!

In America, the hungry man is king! His city's downtown district is a palatial theme park of tantalizing eateries, all competing for his dollar! "Friday Night Fish Fry"? Hmmm... not today, thank you. "Serving Award-Winning Ribs And Chops For 35 Years"? Could be good, I'll make a note of it. "World's Best Peanut Butter Pie"? Eh, the line's too long. What's this? "Specializing In Moroccan And Tunisian Cuisine"? Here I choose! Fill my belly, merchant! That is the life of the American man blessed by hunger! But packed as my craw is with food, I might as well be living in Communist Russia.

Maybe if I drink a lot of seltzer, I can hurk up some gas and make room. Then, I could at least have a sandwich or something.

Damn this satiated gut!

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