Kosher Hot Dogs
04 July 2006 at 2:35 pm

As I've mentioned before, a problem with working in the restaurant industry is that you rarely get any holidays off. Aaron has had to work every 4th of July since I've known him, but we usually manage to "celebrate" in one way or another. The first 4th of July, he got off work early and we met up with Liz and Adam and sat on the roof of my apartment to watch the fireworks. One of us had to be in the apartment at any given time to make sure the dog's heart wasn't exploding from fear, so it wasn't that great. The next year, we were in San Francisco and I was working at Aaron's restaurant. We had one table all night, so the manager closed early and we ran home (literally -- we lived abour 6 blocks from his restaurant) and we went to the top of Alamo Square Park in time to catch the fireworks. Damien was so excited that we were home that he didn't even notice the bombs going off above him, but there was a poor golden retriever who was so terrified that he hid between my legs until I sat down, and then he burrowed into my lap (his owners were like, ok?). Last year, we were here for the weekend and were trying to meet up with ex-roommate bitch Sarah before the fireworks started, but we got so annoyed with the traffic and the drunk drivers that we just got on the road while everyone else was watching the fireworks and headed back to San Francisco. This year -- our fourth 4th of July together! -- Aaron has to work and there is little to no hope of him getting off early, so we took a little hike earlier today to get the dog tired enough that he won't freak out tonight and Aaron scooted off to work while I grabbed some beer and hot dogs from the store for my own little mini-celebration of what this holiday is all about: eating slaughtered animals and getting drunk while pretending we're being attacked. Ah, America. At least my hot dogs are kosher.

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About me
Hi. Morgan, 27, of Santa Barbara, CA. I am a hypocritical admirer of rhetoric (when it is my own) and an observer of literary trends. A secret: I don't take anything very seriously, and that includes myself.