The good

Friday was our 6th wedding anniversary. We had some friends over to eat and play some games.

The fun punctuated by several "chore" trips taken by my neighbor Jenn and myself.

We drove to the cigarette store first. Then later to the liquor store, then as with most nights that involved drinking to Weiner Dog (aka Weinerschnitzel — what ever happened to the "Der"?).

Whenever Bill has anything to drink he wants Weiner Dog. He's convinced that eating two chili cheese dogs, fries and a soda at the end of a evening of drinking will "soak up the alcohol" and prevent a hang over. At first I didn't mind driving out to a fast-food joint frequented by tweakers and other assorted nere-do-wells in the middle of the night, but it grew tiresome after a while and I began to protest.

Last year on his birthday, after a vigorous night of drinking and saying, "I'm crazy dog-food-bowl, man give me some candy," he began the plaintiff cry for Weiner Dog. I was tired of buying deep-fried crap for a bunch of drunkards, so I made a deal with my very drunk husband.

I told him that I would get him Weiner Dog that night — despite the fact that it was 2 a.m. and he was very close to passing out — but if he woke up with a hang over the next morning, I wasn't hauling my cookies out to Weiner Dog anymore.

By the time I got back with his Number 1 with cheese, he was asleep on the couch. He woke long enough to choke down one chili cheese dog and stumble off to bed.

I was extremely satisified. I knew that he was way beyond the healing powers of a single chili cheese dog.

To my dismay, he bolted out of bed the next morning, a little hazy but not sick enough to be considered hung over.

Foiled by the powers of Weiner Dog.

So for the next several months I dutifully made Weiner Dog runs when necessary. But I've grown tired of driving through the yellow A-framed building in search of nitrates and red dye again.

But Bill knows that he can wear me down, so he starts early.

"I sure could go for some Weiner Dog," he'll say with hopeful eyebrows.

"No way. No Weiner Dog trips for me tonight," I assure him.

But hours later, I can't stand his moaning and end up at the drive-thru ordering the ever-present Number 1 with cheese.

Friday night, he started early with the pleas for Weiner Dog. I had decided that I didn't need to make yet another trip out on my anniversary. But then he did this:I mean, how can you resist that face?

Yes, we are quite the pair.