I want to eat a hot dog, but not sure that’s a very good idea.
I want to go down on you, but not sure you’d even allow me to after how we left things the last time we tried to be intimate and failed miserably.
I’ve always dated shiksas and though I’m not sure why that is that’s just how things worked out.
It’s 3:01 AM and I’m finding myself hungry. Or maybe I just feel like doing something with my mouth.
It’s 3:02 AM and I am quickly losing this battle to not get up and make myself a hot dog.
It’s now 3:03 AM and any second I am going to stand up, make myself a hot dog and then watch another episode of The Bridge. And in case you’re wondering I am talking about the original Danish/Swedish TV series and not one of the remakes which are also quite good.
I want to talk about something other than food, but what’s the point when I’m finding myself with this unappeasable craving.
Will power has never been my strong suit especially when we’re talking about an all-beef kosher hot dog.
You can take all of your fillings and whatever other garbage they stick into run of the mill hot dogs and send them to China for all I care because I’m only interested in 100% kosher beef and the deliciousness that goes along with it.
I want to eat a hot dog and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
I’m not talking about just any hot dog. No siree bob no normal, boring hot dog will do.
And please try and forget what I said about shiksas in the first verse of this poem because there actually were a few Jewish women I dated and they were just as wonderful and just as nice as the non-Jewish women I spent time with.