It’s hot out there. Like chili cheese dog hot. I am headed down Sunset Blvd and I feel like I’m in the middle of a western. Waaa Wiiaaa Waaa…. Hooooeeeeooooeeeoooo... When I put my hand on the door handle I heard a sizzzzz! Ok, done with the sound effects. It’s about 108 – 110 degrees outside. Most people might go and get an ice cream or milk shake – not me I want it hotter. I need me some chili cheese happiness. Carneys is the only solution!
I parked the car, and thanks to the heat, it wasn’t packed. Thank GOD! As I get out of my car I hear the chirping of the all the cabbies hanging out next door in the empty parking lot. They’re actually quite loud, yelling at each other. They sound like chickens in a chicken coup. BaaaaaaGock! Sorry, I know I promise…
Anytime I arrive at a place filled with chili goodness I have the dilemma of the hot dog versus the hamburger. Here you can pretty much have a hot dog any way imaginable. So… What to get? I am never sure – so when in doubt order both. That is exactly what I did. I never like vegetables with my meat. For me it’s a texture thing.
Right before I approach the counter a man holds up 2 frozen bananas and dips them in chocolate. Being a meat guy who doesn’t like fruits either (surprise) dipping fruit in chocolate is the equivalent of giving me the finger. Now I can’t eat it. Who’s idea was this? I don’t go to vegan restaurants and eat ribs while staring in the window – what the hell is their problem? It’s bad enough there are vegetables at my meat restaurants, now the fucking fruit wants in? F-them, in the spirit of Shaquille O'Neal rejecting a 3 pointer… Get that shit out!
Moving on! As I do at every restaurant I get my custom order on, “Double chili cheese burger – mustard, chili, cheese… ONLY. Chili cheese dog – mustard, chili, cheese only, medium french fries and a large diet coke.” That’s how you do it, and they will never screw it up. Unless it is my name, which every place screws up. Chan, John, and in some cases I even get the occasional Seen.
I wouldn’t consider myself a history buff, but I have a bit of an obsession about how things came to be. I like to imagine what it would have been like to live here during that time – or why some genius might come with some crazy idea. Take Carney’s for example, why would someone wanna take 2 train cars and move them to Sunset Blvd, and then configure them in a way that you could sell hot dogs and hamburgers out of them? How cool would it have been to stand across the street and watch them put this together? It would have been the coolest thing ever!
I’m ready to pay and the price ain’t that bad – even for a touristy spot. It is just under $20 bucks. I think about eating inside, but I really want the full effect of the western so I sit outside – don’t worry they have shade. whew.
Usually I suggest you get an extra side of chili to spoon on top of the burger and dog before every bite – but this place always puts on the right amount of chili. As I look down at my chilidog, she closely resembles a gorgeous women waiting in bed. After I take that first bite, I look and my mind takes me to even dirtier places – from that point on I shall call her “The Dirty Girl”. As I get half way around this racetrack of a meal – I realize this stuff is heavy. It’s not your usual watered down chili. This chili means business. After each bite, I take a moment to let every single taste bud appreciate its goodness. Approaching the finish line I can just feel myself filling up.
The fries are good but they are left in the shadow of the epic chili. At this point my capacity is at 99.3 %. Sadly I am going to have to call this one early. I sit and look at the box in defeat. The food won again. Having forgot my food I.V. at home the remaining food will have rest into the can of losers.
I try to pull myself together to leave. I stand up and it hits me… the chili grease has entered my blood stream. This known as the “Chili Hangover.” The signs of a chili hangover are: slow movement, rapid heart rate, increased blood pressure, and thoughts of food causing nausea. In some cases it can result in the forbidden regurgitation of food.
The trip to the car compared to that of a defeated boxer’s walk of shame. In many cases it’s not always about winning, but more so the journey along the way.
For now all I can do is rest off this hangover and prepare for the next match and until then… MEAT ME!
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