I am coming out

For those of you who thought what I think you thought when reading the headline, well, we'll talk later. No, I am coming out of the closet as a hot dog lover. I know that at the ripe old age of 39 I am supposed to have outgrown the taste for hot dogs, but I can't help it. To my shame (and to many people's dismay) I will choose to eat a hot dog over a perfectly cooked cheeseburger any day of the week. I am especially fond of the Zweigle's white hot dogs but the red hot dogs will fit the bill as well. I put way too much ketchup on mine and often reapply the ketchup if I happen to run out and there is either leftover hot dog or left over bun to be eaten.

I have read (and continue to read) about all of the supposed grossness that goes into making hot dogs and about the shortening of my life by "x amount of years" due to the consumption of them, but I would rather die with my stomach full of hot dogs than the best and brightest cheeseburger. I doubt that any non-hot dog lover will understand, but there are more than a few of us around. I know this because we have a secret handshake.

I feel much better now.


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