wknd.

Ya, so I live right near to the bus terminal for Toronto. Given that, and the fact that one of the largest universities, and the largest mall are a block away, there are many hot dog vendors about. The closest to my house is by the bus terminal, so that is the one I go to when I am hungry like the wolf and lazy like Sunday (and cheap like Silus Stingy).

As I have come to notice, there are two guys who man the stand nearby- a shorter Asian-looking Eastern one, and an older prune-looking Eastern guy. Don't let appearances be deceiving, however, they are both thinking the same thing and it has a lot to do with street meat, but little to do with hot dogs.

Episode number one:
Short Asian-looking Guy (SALG) is there and I order my veggie dog. Thanks, yes I remember you from the other night, cool. Smiles, sunshine, I'm a nice person so friendly faces around. Then as the fake-meat sizzles the question is set loose on the world: "So, do you, ah, think, ahhh... one night I could take a picture with you?"

Me (straightfaced): "Why?"

SALG: "Oh, ah, you know... you're so tall. I would dress nice and we could take a picture, maybe? Yes?

Me (dry): "Maybe... we'll see."

Hotdogcookedokaythanksbye! One of two scenarios popped into my mind involving me in a picture with this man: either he wants to show his family back home his Canadian girlfriend, or he [insert crude reference to wieners here]. Ew.

Okay, fine. He was nice about it, not overly creepy, I would simply say no if he persisted- but he left it alone. Fine.

This morning as I wandered home the grumbling in ma bellay struck again and yes, I was both lazy and cheap once more. It was three thirty and I wanted to sleep and had exactly $2.50 leftover from the night's shenannigans- perfect. I figured I'd give it another go since it would most certainly be Prune Man (PM) manning the stand at this hour, if it was even open. To my delight it was, I approached to find PM cleaning the grill, all condiments packed away, but he was nice enough to relight and cook me one before closing up shop. Awesome!

Or so I thought...

Episode numero deux: As my wiener was being fired I stood there watching it. Usually I wander about, looking inside the bus terminal, checking out the taxis/vultures honking horns for fares, whatever- ut the hunger, my friends, the hunger! I had to watch it cook because everyone knows a watched wiener cooks faster than one that is unwatched. Am I wrong?

PM: "So, where do you live?"

Me (guardedly): "Sort of in the area." (Doesn't need to know I live a few doors down)

PM: "You have a boyfriend?" (wasting no time- those wieners cook fast you know- remember, I am watching it)

Me: "Maybeeeee." (shuffling- hurry up you fucking slow-ass wiener)

PM: "What no boyfriend? No kiss-kiss, hug...?"

Me: "Um..." (turning around to pretend i need to watch something very important in the opposite direction)

PM: "Okay miss." (hands me the hot dog)

Me: "Good night."

So there you have it- two new dating prospects in a matter of a week. Holy fuck am I lucky!