Pine needles in my underpants

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On a short list of things that are truly cheap and incredibly delicious, Costco’s Polish dog is right up there at the top. At just $1.50, including the drink, it is impossible to resist, even if an hour later I’m doubled over, cursing and grumbling, wishing I’d just had a salad.

Frankly, I know it’s the cost that gets me every time. For $1.64 (with tax), I’ll gladly spend most of my afternoon and evening in the bathroom. Is my health and comfort worth so little? Or, am I simply a victim of selective amnesia?

Each time I suffer the ill effects of a giant Polish dog slathered in mustard and relish, I vow it will be the last. But, invariably, it isn’t. The next time I’m at Costco buying dog treats or 30,000 calcium pills, I’ll see that juicy hotdog poster and the rock-bottom price staring back at me, and I won’t remember the gastrointestinal stress or the awful burping for hours and days afterwards. I’ll simply toss my money on the counter and swear this time will be different, imagining that my stomach is somehow fortifying itself with each Polish dog attack, creating a super-stomach that will someday withstand any number of toxins and tortures.

Of course, an hour later, you know where you’ll find me.

Perhaps if I valued myself a bit more and frugality a bit less, I would be able to pass up the $1.50 hotdog. But, come on, it’s $1.50, who am I kidding? I’ll take two!

Ug.