Eating a Hot Dog on Independence Day says I’m a true American

Ya know, cos we’re all diabetic and dying early and shit. In my office there are a few overweight women, and I told them that the veterinarian said my dog was fat and to put him on a diet. The temperature dropped twenty degrees instantaneously. I didn’t realize that word wasn’t okay to say, even if it wasn’t about a human or in a harsh tone.

I guess it’s similar to a racial slur, or a female endearingly referring to her close friends as “sluts.” I suppose it doesn’t help that I am quite thin. I’m not a part of the group who can say that word and have it be un-offensive. Thin women have no insecurities and should keep their thin lips shut, glide past and concentrate on not being blown away by a breeze.

Surprisingly, I love hot dogs. I lived in Boston for a few years and there was this great hot dog place named Spike’s Junkyard Dogs, and they had this phenomenal hot dog topped with bacon and barbecue sauce and all sorts of other cholesterol soaked deliciousness. The thing that really brought it over the edge, though, was the thick bun they seared with butter in a pan. Oh my god, butter, how delectable you are.

Do yourself a favor and eat there if you’re ever in New England.

I used to go there pretty often [yes, I was depressed]. I’d bring my dog and they’d already be typing in my order for a Texas Ranger–“hold the round house kick to the face”, is a joke I never made, and now regret.

Once I picked up a Texas Ranger to go and went to see Eat, Pray, Love. I was alone and the theater was packed, opening weekend, I guess. I had to sit between two couples and eat my hot dog and french fries. They may or may not have been jealous/annoyed.

I didn’t care. I don’t often care about the perception of strangers. It’s easy, if you don’t respect most people. Which is also easy, since most people don’t respect themselves.

Is that awful? I absolutely love and cherish the people I love, immensely. I even love humanity, their coalesced flaws and ideas and ability to relate and understand each other.

But the world, the world I do not love. The world is an evil place, it’s a cesspool of the worst of humanity blacking out all of it’s struggle and beauty. It’s a place where no one is allowed to be human and fallible, where criticism and suicidal thoughts abound.

I’ll stay in my humanity pocket, shield my eyes from the biting dust storms kicked up by the world. Wrinkle my face and become less and less approachable each year.

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