VD and Hot Dogs. Not a metaphor.

Valentine's Day was a lovely affair. If you're ever wanting to hang out with adolescents on their first awkward group date or old men with gambling addictions, might I suggest Nickel Mania on Valentine's Day? It was seriously the best. David and I went NICKEL INSANE. 

For Valentine's Day, I tracked down a hot dog toaster for Dave. He got me a Kindle, so it's hard to tell who really came out ahead here. It was partly as a nod to "How I Met Your Mother" and partly because I thought it was not a real thing until I bought it online.

It's real. Now, a little precursor before I tell you about our hot dog feast last night. Ever since I was little I have had this weird thing about hot dogs. I seriously can't stand the smell, look, taste, etc. of them 90% of the time. The other 10% it's like hot dogs are made of every delicious food in the world and if I don't eat 100 in one sitting I will never be happy again.  My mom feels the same way, so it might be a genetic thing. 

So. This all led to Hot Dog Binge 2011.  I'm going to play out the rest of the night through a series of conversations:



First scene, entering the grocery store. 
Dave: "What should we get at the store besides hot dogs and buns?"
Me: "I'm probably just going to have one hot dog. I don't really like them. So maybe I'll just buy a little salad or something."
Dave: "Okay, I'll just get some chips then."


Ten minutes later, after I have chosen aforementioned salad and we head over to the hot dog section.
Dave, staring at the wall of hot dogs: "What kind?"
Me, starting to get the hot dog fever: "Um let's get the most expensive because they probably taste the best. What about these? or these? Are these real beef? Are these? No. Oh, these look good! Yeah...real good...I'm starting to get really hungry."
People behind us: "grumble grumble"


Later, in the chip aisle.
 Me, feeling really anxious to eat a hot dog, losing all sense of rationality: "GET THE SOUR CREAM AND ONION. I'm going to eat these chips and hot dogs TO DEATH. I want AT LEAST five hot dogs. HOT DOGS UNTIL I PUKE!"
Dave: "Okay I'm just going to grab a dr--"
Me: "HOT. DOGS."

At home, with the hot dog maker all plugged in and ready to toast some hot dogs.
 Me, desperation in my eyes: "Hot dog machine I NEEEED a hot dog. Please, please, please, I'm begging you. Why is it taking so long?!???"


Fade to black. An hour later, the salad sits forlornly in the fridge.
 Me: "I want to die. Why did I eat three and a half hot dogs."
Dave: "My stomach hurts. So. Many. Hot. Dogs."