Wienery, 18 July 2018, National Hot Dog Day

We got time for story time? I got time for story time. Let’s do story time.
Once, back when Daddy Charlie was dating ex number four, he and ex number four went to the Wienery and Charlie ordered a pair of slaw dogs, there called Clevelands. Fourth ex ordered French fries.
(This is why I’m a bad son: I can’t remember my mother’s birthday but I can remember what an ex girlfriend ordered at a hot dog joint two or three years ago.)
Anyway, something about the dogs wasn’t sitting right with me and I started feeling a bit grody while I ate my second dog in the car on the way to Target. No 4 kept telling me to just stop eating it, just throw it out the window but it was too good and I kept telling her, no, I could make it.
She told me she didn’t want me getting sick so just stop eating it already.
We got to the parking lot and I’m burping and groaning and No 4 keeps telling me to throw it out and I’m finally like, “OK.”
We get in to Target and No 4 goes to the customer service counter to return something, I walk over to a waste basket, look over my shoulder, see No 4 is occupied with the lady at the counter, and tuck the fucking dog in my mouth.
We’ve established this about me: All my partners are smarter than me and I am a glutton.
Anyway, I’ve been to the Wienery a few times since and never put myself in any distress, so it must have been something else.
Since today is National Hot Dog Day, according to Twitter (@CharliePauken), I decided I wanted to get a really good hot dog. I didn’t want a chili dog since I’ve been eating those for dinner all week - when you live alone, one can of chili dog sauce lasts a lloonngg time - and I didn’t want a plain dog, Walkin’ Dog didn’t have any “holiday specials”, so I checked out the menu at the Wienery, even though I already know it alright, checked the Google Map, ten minute bike ride away, looked at the non-dog part of the menu and saw “Philly Cheese Steak”.
How had I not seen their cheesesteak before? Well now I had to go, it’s been eons since I last had a cheesesteak. So I get to go here, get a hot dog on the appropriate holiday and also get a cheesesteak.
A cheesesteak.
I had practically given up on ever finding one again.
OH.
RAPTUROUS.
JOY.
I biked over there, there was only on other person in there, I must have missed the lunch rush. The guy behind the counter helped me out right away. I got the Cleveland, the cheesesteak, and fountain drink. (I opted for Mello Yello. Mello Yello, For When You Want Mountain Dew But All They Have Are Coke Products. Mello Yello, For When You Look At Coca-Cola Down At The End And You Think, “Meh.” Mello Yello, Because You Know The Chances Of Blowing The Bag Are Pretty Nil Compared To The Others. Mello Yello, Because These Diabetes Aren’t Going To Develop On Their Own. Mello Yello, Because, Look, You Just Felt Like It, Alright?)
It took me one solve of my 3x3 Rubik’s Cube and one solve of my 2x2 Rubik’s Cube and then the guy brought my food over.
Let’s start with the slaw dog. The Vienna Beef frank had a salt-cure tone riding on top of a rich umami underneath and the coleslaw was creamy and tangy and, almost most importantly, crisp. The poppy seeds on the bun were pretty much there for aesthetics.
The cheesesteak gets points docked only because they don’t use Cheez Whiz (and whatever this was* was there I think just for the dreaded “stretchiness factor” because it sure wasn’t there for flavor). Otherwise, the meat possessed a rich flavor under a perfectly balanced seasoning and the onions and peppers were chunked largely and perfectly grilled, imbuing a semi-sweetness to the sandwich. It was also large enough that I wasn’t sure I would finish it three quarters of the way through.
I griped yesterday about my ten dollar lunch and today I’ll sing about my ten dollar lunch: A slaw dog, a cheesesteak, and a fountain drink with refills. I am completely satisfied with what I ate.
I was overdue to bully review the Wienery and there was honestly no better day than today. Go to the Wienery where they got six kinds of franks served sixteen ways. It’s the best decision you can make. As long as you don’t tell your doctor about it. Because he looks at you funny for eating potato chips once a week. Imagine the look he’ll give you if he finds out you’ve been eating nothing but fucking hotdogs since Monday. He’d positively go into fits of apoplexy.
Go to the Wienery.
Don’t tell your doctor.

* I was going to do the Sysco joke again but I can’t say for sure that it is and Sysco would seem to run contrary to the literature on the “About” page of their site. So let’s hope.