mustard

I had a dream that I wrote a blog about mustard.  French's plain 'ol boring primary color mustard, with the squeeze tip that crusts over, but is the perfect tip for applying shapes and designs to hotdogs and sandwiches.  Mustard is the best condiment, not that artery-cloging white lard like substance.  So disgusting, I won't even justify it's presence by writing it name.  Gross.  Although, I know Natanis lives the stuff.  And I had an uncle that would literally eat it with a spoon.  It doesn't even have a taste. 

Anyway, the dream, all I remember is a hotdog (in bun) flying through the sky.  A giant hotdog, and I'm applying a perfect squiggly line of yellowy mustard goodness down the middle.  I would go as far as to say this hotdog was a model hotdog.  I hope it was one of the tofu dogs; I don't eat horse hooves and rat that they generously throw in other hotdogs.  Now, I want a hotdog.  A vegetarian dog.