The "Birthday Dinner". Whoever has a birthday gets to choose anything and everything for dinner on that day. I can't say for certain whether my brother's annual "hot dogs, beets and creamed corn" was just an elaborate troll so evil my mother secretly fed me edible shit an hour earlier or if he truly wanted to keep eating that shit.
Store-brand hot dogs, not the Baltimore-made wienies. Boiled. For an hour or three.
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