Are You Looking At My Wiener?

I am driving by Golden Gate Field and the sign is blinking and announcing and proclaiming in big and bold and bright letters.

WIENER NATIONALS! SATURDAY! WIENER NATIONALS! SATURDAY! WIENER NATIONALS! SATURDAY! WIENER NATIONALS! SATURDAY!

And so forth.

Note: Huh?

Wiener Nationals? Did I miss the Wiener Regionals? Or the Wiener Qualifying Rounds? Or the Wiener Tryouts?

And, heaven forbid, what kind of wiener competition are we talking about here, anyhow? Are we talking Oscar Mayer or something else entirely?

Hang on to your hats, folks: Something else entirely.

No, not that.

Wiener dogs. Racing each other. For wiener domination.






Note: Oh no. I don't make this stuff up.

Unleash your wiener. May the best wiener win. Wiener takes all. Run, you glorious wiener, run.

Note: Of course you may pet my wiener.

Oh, grow up.

Heck, yes!


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