Just back in from an almost-frosty run in Hyde Park and an even steamier, luscious shower. Oh my gawd, I did not want to get out of that heavenly warmth. Now I’m sitting on the sofa in my hotel room, in front of the open window. The air is so crisp and fresh. It’s gonna be a fantastic Saturday, I can feel it!
But something has been weighing on my mind all night and into the morning. It’s kind of disturbing. Can you guess? Yes. It’s weiners. Did I spell “weiners” correctly? My spell check says no. OK, WIENER it is!
ANEYYYYYWAY. Here is a picture of one of the thousands of WIENERstands that I saw in Copenhagen. Sorry, it’s not a frontal. Not sure what I was thinking when I snapped this:
And here is a close-up (though not the clearest) of alllll the different kinds of delicious hot dog concoctions you can get at this particular stand:
But look! Upon closer inspection of this particular stand, something curious. I just wonder if EXMS hadn’t been eating a bunch of brats before he called off the wedding. Hmmmmmm….
Anybody speak Danish? What does this mean?
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