I've noticed an evolution in the food industry's policy on plastic gloves. When initially implemented this prophylactic measure protected consumers from any contaminants the server may have been exposed to. Now their primary function seems to provide a protective barrier between the wearer and the public at large. Back in the day, you'd see employees swap these gloves out with surgeon like ethics, donning a fresh pair with each new customer or task. As of late I get the impression, they go on in the morning and are discarded out the car window on the way home.

This morning I watched a gloved waitperson pause from her chore of preparing turkey sandwiches for the lunch rush, to ring me out at her register. In this side-mission she handled my beverage, the cash register, the cash I gave her as well as the change she returned only to resume her prior burden of piling mounds of shaved turkey on cheese-laden buns with the same gloved hand. The only thing I'm certain to have left that transaction germ-free was her epidermis. Now don't get me wrong, as I've alluded to in the past, I would more than consider sporting a form-fitting body suit made of the sheerest, yet non-permeable material possible, so I don't blame them, I simply take issue in that I am not one of them.

About four months ago I surrendered to the bally's hype. Now while you may wonder why someone who can lift 40% of his body weight would pander to such frivolities, I have unfortunately arrived at an impass. My physical state has reached a point where I have actually considered returning to my college ways when my vegetable-free diet and weeklong periods of inactivity proffered the physique of a Ni...