Humor: Life as a hot dog

By Parker Murray | 3/30/16 11:11pm

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by Sara Carte / Grand Valley Lanthorn

Four weeks of class. Four weeks of class after this week of class, four weeks until summer, four weeks until we can all live lives with significantly less stress, four weeks left of being a hot dog.

We all feel like hot dogs sometimes, some of us are high class dogs outfitted with banana peppers and made of “real meat,” some of us are a low class dog that only tastes good under moments of extreme stress, some of us are corndogs. Nonetheless, we’re all just some weenie’s disguised as people trying to get through the day.

Some of us have ketchup, some of us have mustard, some of us have relish, some of us come from Yesterdog and some of us come from Fresh Food Co. At the end of the day, we’re all hot dogs here. We’re all trying to make it to the end of the day, take off our buns and lay on the grill.

Before you get in a pickle about being a dog, think about it - how often do you feel like you know what you’re doing? How often do you walk from class to class and think “this is fine, we are all fine, we are fine as people.” Probably not very often, because hot dogs don’t consider themselves as people and you’re a hot dog.

None of us are people, none of us have this under control, look at your hotdog brothers and sisters, your hotdog mothers and fathers, look at the grill that you lay upon and look at the bun that you lay in, you’re a hotdog. We’re all hot dogs, and that’s okay.

What it means to be a hot dog is to not have anything under control, what it means to be a real weenie is to never know what’s coming next - hot dogs don’t have foresight, hot dogs can’t think about what’s coming next, they’re hot dogs.

Whether it be you failed an exam or the person you like turned you down, it’s best to recognize that you’ll be okay, you’ll be fine, you’re a hot dog - you’ve been through worse.

I know what you’re saying, “Parker, I’m not a hot dog, I’m a real life human being. You don’t cover me with relish!” What a hot dog thing to say.

It’s best to accept your destiny as a hot dog, and before you parade around campus declaring your new state-of-being, it’s best to figure out what kind of hot dog you are.

There are a few types, there’s your standard run-of-the-mill hotdog. You’ve met this dog before, maybe you’re the weenie - just another sausage trying to make it through the day.

You have your bratwurst too, these are the hot dogs that pretend to have it all under control but really they’re just the same as everyone else deep down - a hot dog.

Then you have your corn dogs, these are the dogs that hate themselves to the point that they have to wrap themselves in corn-meal to make people like them. You don’t need to do that buddy, we’re all hot dogs.

Four weeks of class. Four weeks of class after this week until we can finally embrace summer, four weeks until we can soak up the sun. Four weeks until we can all stop being hot dogs.

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