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Thursday, February 3, 2011

Sweet baby Jesus.

Hello world!! Oh how I’ve missed you all so. Pardon my absence. I've got a few projects I'm working on, but here’s a quick post to get us reacquainted. I promise there will be more to come.
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My co-worker and I love to stop by this pizza station in the cafeteria at our job to have fresh personal pizzas. From Pear Gorgonzola to Buffalo Barbecue Chicken – we love having a pizza option right on campus. Another perk – WHEAT CRUST – at our request. Ahh… just the best thing ever. Unfortunately, like the old saying, “All good things must come to an end.”

Lately, we’ve been noticing some rather unhygienic things about the server/preparer. From wiping his face to opening the kitchen door with the gloves he uses to prepare the pizza – we CRINGE more at the thought of the pizza station now than cooing at its fresh goodness. So, we decided no more pizza for us.

Well... so I thought.

The other day I decided that I wanted a pizza. Yes mama mia, my protest was over. I was going to politely ask that the server change his gloves or do whatever I needed to do calm my blood pressure.

As I approached the counter, all of my thoughts seemed to run together:

ok here I go, does his gloves look clean?, wait - he's making a new pizza, oh no does he have wheat crust?, awe sh*t, he doesn't, that means he'll have to go to the back and get it, he never changes his gloves, awe there he goes wiping the counter with the gloves again, why don't i just get a salad. 

(LOL)


Read the e-mail below that I sent my co-worker:


Damn it. Eating should not be this traumatic. (lol)