my skin is all broken out again, it must be truly bad- my hotdog stand man pointed it out. literally pointed. He said something about knowing I am strong because I have zits. And then something about getting a boy. probably something about not getting one actually. I decided to pass on the hotdog today.
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did you pount out that he is the proprietor of a fucking hot dog stand and to shut up
point!
No. he is my buddy. he practices his english with me and I tell him things about Canada. hot dogs are free. Maybe I should have told him that in Canada, we dont point out such flaws, but let them fester like a big white elephant, no one mentioning anything, everyone catching secret glances.
Once when I was a kid, I drew a hilarious one-panel comic about a hot dog guy who looked suspiciously like a Eastern European version of one of the Mario Bros. I showed it to my father and he said that it was objectionable because it was predicated upon offensive racial stereotypes regarding street vendors. My moment of glee and delight turned to a memory of deep shame.
veg dogs?