ystrdg!

So, yr drunk in Eastown, GRap, Mich and the bar lights come up and you hear the bartender yell, “Time to go!”

After yr eyes adjust to the change in illumination, you look around and see that nobody has even moved to put on their coat. That’s because yr on bar time and its only 1:45, so you have fifteen minutes to finish that ultra-stiff scotch and soda you just ordered. You just barely manage that and are putting on yr coat when the ink-sleeved metalhead that checked yr ID on the way in yells “C’mon people, drink up!” and you stumble out the door into a arctic blast, barely dodging the black sludge thrown from the tire of passing car. Yuck, that was snow at some point…

So, yr not gonna drive home like this and yr kinda sick of the all night coffeehouse across the street and–shit–yr kinda hungry. Just then, a friend grabs yr shoulders and whispers in yr ear, “Yesterdog.” You want to weep it’s such a good idea…and an obvious one, since it’s right next to said coffeehouse.

I dunno if I can describe the genius that is yesterdog. Picture an old restaurant, ice cream parlor-like and covered floor to ceiling in vintage adverts, filled with drunkards yelling their hotdog orders to a ill-kempt young man who tallies them up by the dozen and yells to the cooks, all the while dodging a barrage of coinage the drunkards are throwing at a tip jar behind him even as he tells makes change without any digital aid. Imagine battling through a shoulder-to-shoulder crowd to get yr dogs first, cuz–jesus h. christ–you don’t want to get screwed if the order tally was wrong. Imagine getting stuffed with chili, relish, cheese, onions and 2 dogs at 2 am for three dollars. Imagine a 70 cent cup of soda pop to wash it down with. Imagine a mission statement that includes hangover prevention and prices that INCLUDE tax.

I hafta admit to falling off the freegetarian horse at this point. I guess this entry is a confession in that sense. But, dammit, sometimes life must be lived and ethical codes comprimised. I could’ve had the veggie, which has everything but the chili and the dog, but I couldn’t hold back. I was caught up in the moment and ordered two ultradogs.

Plus a veggie, just in case.

Also, I just found out that yesterdog can be my MySpace friend, which made me happy as a dollop of mustard rolling down a smoke-laden t-shirt…

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