catching herpes from a tapas fork

apart from being chronically accident prone to the point of ridiculousness, lately whilst on my deep hermit sabbatical i've been privy to a recent wave of gastro... all around me. sometimes literally in a double M helicopter like sputtering spiral in elevating fits and starts.

what makes me excited is the idea of people doing all sorts of dirty dirty things, then handling food and subsequently making peeps really ill. i've witnessed numerous episodes in bars & restaurants. by staff. true there was no bestiality or strange manipulations involved with three day old dead rats or chickens but...

being a big fan of fundamentally filthy practices [one of my many nicknames is "stinky mummy" - apparently a term of endearment], i'd never be naive enough to suggest there's a time and place. make it forbidden, and i'll be lining up next to you for an all out splatter fest. it seems really obvious but weirdly enough these overtly common sense facts, like safe sex with strangers, seem to have been recently lost in the wash. AIDS like hep A have become diseases of the 80s.

all i'm saying is if you wipe your ass slumdog millionaire style or whatever else turns you on before you head into the kitchen, and then if you're going to then make tapas directly after could you please just run your smegma encrusted finger nails under the tap? that includes changing your tampon before pouring a fresh glass of that new zealand savignon blanc for me. try the soap. don't be shy. the germs you're transferring are not.

because if i get genital herpes as described in the above fear-mongering photo from eating marinated olives, i am going to feel very fucking ripped off especially if i have to spell diarrhoea [because it looks funny everywhere] and will feel it is my moral duty to bring back the free love generation all over your goddam bar counter. perhaps that is what sydney's night life is actually missing?