Happy.

Aaah, shaddup. So it's a new year. Yo yo ma, don't call ME about it. Shaddup. New, blue, scmoo, who

Cares?

'Cept me. Okay, what did you do today? Huh? What did you eat for breakfast? Huh?

What did you have for lunch, ya shnook? Huh? Huh?

WHAT DID YOU HAVE FOR DINNER? HUH? HUHHHH?

Well, there's one thing I'll bet. YOU DIDN'T HAVE A HOT DOG MADE BY BRIGITTE.

You lousy, lying, posturing HOUND.

YOU  did NOT have the absolute BEST HOT DOG ever CREATED by humankind. No, you nasty pretending little sneak, you DID NOT have a BRIGITTE hot dog. Lie, lie, lie, liar.

Okay so no one was ever ready made for brains. In case you didn't know, shnook, a BRIGITTE hot dog blows EVERY OTHER FUCKING DOG OFF THE PLANET. Excuse me for the little bit of Hebrew, there, but I'm allowed.

Imagine this very carefully: a grilled dog -- not just a dog, but a FRANKFURTER, hey, no shit, NOT FROM SEVEN ELEVEN, oh-so slowly char-broiled and served baking hot on a moist submarine bun with an insane combination of condiments . . . okay, okay, you're halfway there.

Sometimes you just have to ditch everything. Just give it up. Fuggedabout it. Because there's always going to be SOMEONE BETTER THAN YOU.

Jaysus Chris'. Me and my lip. Me and my food lip. Me and my goddamn pretentious gorgonzola lip.

How someone can escalate a hot dog to something floating 100,000 feet above your head and FURTHERMORE paint it in a shining gold colour you've never seen before . . . well, all I can say is HAPPY GODDAMN NEW YEAR.