I used to think that my father’s pug was clinically insane. Then I decided that I was being culturally insensitive.
One of my favorite memories of Germany was, while being dragged to every store in several cities because life ain’t complete if your mother-in-law knows you don’t own a frikking dirndl, were the sausage stands on almost every corner in the shopping districts. If you can’t afford therapy, try multiple sausage snacks.
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