22 June 2010

confessions of a hot dog lover

Surprisingly—or perhaps not surprisingly if you know me well—I have some more thoughts on hot dogs.  More specifically, I have a brief snapshot of hot dog love to share with you.

Picture it:  St. Louis, June 12, 2010.

No, let me back up.

Picture it:  a gas station on Roosevelt in Wheaton before I hit the road to St.  Louis.  I had a wedding to go to, and I was leaving just before lunchtime.  That morning, I'd run a 5k in my best time ever so I fully deserved a gas station hot dog.

My self-reward system is unique, I know.  I switch between rewarding myself with bad-for-me food and high-end cookware.  The next time I get a raise, I'm going for Le Creuset.  Or a funnel cake, haven't decided which yet.

I was about to buy my hot dog when the guy at the gas station tried to use his wiley salesman skills by saying, “Oh but miss, the hot dogs are 2 for $2.00.  Are you sure you don’t want another one?”

I will not tell you how seriously I debated this.

Then later, around dinner time in St. Louis, I was driving from the wedding ceremony to the reception—a dessert-only reception.  {Chocolate fountain.  I think that’s all I need to say on that topic.}

The QT gas station sign was what did it:  they were having a 2 for $2.00 deal, too.  I’d let that opportunity pass me by once already, and I am nothing if not committed to a good deal and processed meats.

Now picture it:  I’m in a dress from White House Black Market—a dress that should’ve cost $170.00, but I got it on sale for $40.00.  This dress makes me feel a lot like Laura Petrie from The Dick van Dyke Show and a little bit like Grace Kelly as a brunette.


And I’m having a one-girl hot dog eating contest.

Shoving it in—no time to chew.  I have a chocolate fountain and eight kinds of cupcakes waiting for me across town.  This is no time to worry about chewing.

I am careful, though.  Those hot dogs are dripping with ketchup and mayonnaise, and I even used some of those chopped onion packets.

{Note to self:  never use those again.  I may be able to put up with fake meat, but I can’t stand overly processed onions.}

One drop of ketchup and there goes my Laura/Grace feeling and I’m back to being a girl on a road trip, justifying her third hot dog of the day.


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