On Apr 18, 8:57*am, JeanineAlyse > wrote:
> On Apr 18, 4:41*am, Bryan > wrote:
>
> > On Apr 17, 9:16*pm, JeanineAlyse > wrote:
> > I see why you call yourself Picky. *My only problem with the "counter
> > mess" is knowing how much food gets wasted.
>
> When you see food being prepared by people with grease and sauce on
> their clothes, and taking prepared ingredients out of the counter bins
> bare handed and also talking on a cell phone while putting food
> together, methinks that is not at all too picky.

OK, the cell phone crosses a line, but the whole germaphobe, wear
plastic gloves thing is a product of American neuroticism.

It does remind me of a song I wrote about 10 years ago, but that never
got played or recorded. It's called Fast Food Man, and I'll share the
lyrics. Remember, this is punk rock, and folks might wish *not* to
read further:



Fast Food Man


V-1
The food tastes good and I'm lovin' my meal
But if I got to thinkin', it could really spoil it.
When I think about whether you wash your hands
When you scratch your balls or use the toilet.

Chorus
Hey, hey, fast food man
I wonder if you washed your hands.
With all the things that you could do
I'm gonna be real nice to you.

V-2
You cough a little, and you rub your nose
You wipe your forehead, and I suppose
If I ****ed you off, you could spit on my food.
And **** and shit and semen too.

(repeat chorus)

> ...Picky

--Bryan