No butts
On my way to Portland I stopped at Lee’s Camp Store (Highway 6 hunter’s hangout) for a hotdog, which reminded me of a funny I meant to share.
Our friends the Dorland’s were amongst the many that showed up for a big bbq for Samantha’s sixth birthday this year – and actually were the last to leave, helping us kill a jug of ale from the Pelican Pub that Chris R. had brought to the pot luck. Anyways, we had lots of hamburgers, hot dogs, tri tip, etc. that we grilled. When Jerry Dorland asked his 5 year old son what he would like to eat, he replied: “A hot dog. No butts.”
Apparently the ends of the casing seems are distasteful and look like “butts.”
“Logan,” his dad said, “It’s a hot dog.
It’s all butts.”
Our friends the Dorland’s were amongst the many that showed up for a big bbq for Samantha’s sixth birthday this year – and actually were the last to leave, helping us kill a jug of ale from the Pelican Pub that Chris R. had brought to the pot luck. Anyways, we had lots of hamburgers, hot dogs, tri tip, etc. that we grilled. When Jerry Dorland asked his 5 year old son what he would like to eat, he replied: “A hot dog. No butts.”
Apparently the ends of the casing seems are distasteful and look like “butts.”
“Logan,” his dad said, “It’s a hot dog.
It’s all butts.”
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