Stoned at the Wiener's Circle
[edit: Sorry, I had never been there before and didn't know that the bad service was part of their whole deal. Sorry.]
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[here is where the part was about getting stoned and having a beer. Since it appears to offend people that others get stoned and drink beer at work sometimes. Jesus.]
[here is where the part was about the cupcakes, since apparently that's irrelevant.]
A block or two later, as I'm finishing the best cupcake I've ever had in my life, we pass "The Wiener's Circle."
The Wiener's Circle, for those not in the know, is a charming place on Clark Street where they have no indoor seating and a tip jar covered in duct tape on which someone has sharpied, "HAVE A GOOD FUCK'N NIGHT SOMEPLACE ELSE." There are four picnic tables outside where people eat their hotdogs and burgers and fries. They are open until 4 a.m.
So I slow and think to myself, "You know, maybe..."
My friend is a vegetarian.
We stop to check the place out though, since there are SO many people outside eating, or standing in line to order.
So I go, after getting straight the difference between a Vienna Red Hot and a Char Dog, I go in and order a Char Dog. There is no "Hi, How are you," there is no "What would you like," there is no "Here's your change," and there is no "Thank you, have a good night." Nothing. When I get to the front of the line, the very large (this is relevant to my emotional scarring later) woman manning the register looks down at me and says, "Whatchoo want?"
I tell her, and she then says, "Three eighty." and takes my money, gives me my change. A hot dog appears in my hand thirty seconds later. During those thirty seconds, one of the cooks looks at me and just says, "You look so happy." He doesn't appear to be doing anything, just standing there wondering why I am so happy.. [here is where the part was that explained why he said that]
I thank her, drop my change in the tip jar (another one, which says something like "Show the woman who made your food some love"), and get the fuck out.
Then this thirty-something drunk guy walks in to the place while screaming "AAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!!!!!!" at the top of his lungs, in excitement over the freaking hotdog he was about to get, and then the woman who gave me my hot dog starts screaming too and jumping up and down with her tits out!!! They're bouncing up and down in these mesmerizing loops of fat that you just can't look away from even though you really want to! [edit: it's true, i couldn't make this up if I tried.] and everybody who worked there was like, "Yeah, whatever, she does that." and all the customers were like "What the bleeding fuck!!??" and laughing and it was absolutely insane. All this over hotdogs?
.
.
.
[here is where the part was about getting stoned and having a beer. Since it appears to offend people that others get stoned and drink beer at work sometimes. Jesus.]
[here is where the part was about the cupcakes, since apparently that's irrelevant.]
A block or two later, as I'm finishing the best cupcake I've ever had in my life, we pass "The Wiener's Circle."
The Wiener's Circle, for those not in the know, is a charming place on Clark Street where they have no indoor seating and a tip jar covered in duct tape on which someone has sharpied, "HAVE A GOOD FUCK'N NIGHT SOMEPLACE ELSE." There are four picnic tables outside where people eat their hotdogs and burgers and fries. They are open until 4 a.m.
So I slow and think to myself, "You know, maybe..."
My friend is a vegetarian.
We stop to check the place out though, since there are SO many people outside eating, or standing in line to order.
So I go, after getting straight the difference between a Vienna Red Hot and a Char Dog, I go in and order a Char Dog. There is no "Hi, How are you," there is no "What would you like," there is no "Here's your change," and there is no "Thank you, have a good night." Nothing. When I get to the front of the line, the very large (this is relevant to my emotional scarring later) woman manning the register looks down at me and says, "Whatchoo want?"
I tell her, and she then says, "Three eighty." and takes my money, gives me my change. A hot dog appears in my hand thirty seconds later. During those thirty seconds, one of the cooks looks at me and just says, "You look so happy." He doesn't appear to be doing anything, just standing there wondering why I am so happy.. [here is where the part was that explained why he said that]
I thank her, drop my change in the tip jar (another one, which says something like "Show the woman who made your food some love"), and get the fuck out.
Then this thirty-something drunk guy walks in to the place while screaming "AAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!!!!!!" at the top of his lungs, in excitement over the freaking hotdog he was about to get, and then the woman who gave me my hot dog starts screaming too and jumping up and down with her tits out!!! They're bouncing up and down in these mesmerizing loops of fat that you just can't look away from even though you really want to! [edit: it's true, i couldn't make this up if I tried.] and everybody who worked there was like, "Yeah, whatever, she does that." and all the customers were like "What the bleeding fuck!!??" and laughing and it was absolutely insane. All this over hotdogs?