LEGO Hot Dog Stand is Always Open

LEGO Hot Dog Stand

Chris Pirillo lets us know that something’s afoot at the LEGO Hot Dog Stand! We’re not sure why only 50% of the included minifigs get to ride a rare LEGO bicycle, but social injustice seems to be a sad part of any universe. [Image shared by Pirillo Picks Gift Guide]

“Hot dogs! Get your hot dogs!”

It’s no secret that hot dogs don’t always come from the choicest cuts of meat available to the butcher. They’re fused together in an unseen lab by meat magicians (meatgicians?) from the stuff that’s left over when all the good pieces have been carted off for more dignified excursions into culinary preparation. They’re the particle board of the food world. Hot dogs are particle meat.

Or, on a more positive note, you can choose to imagine that hot dogs are sort of like cylindrical little morsels of tasty heaven where good scraps go when they die. I don’t know what hot dogs sold at a LEGO Hot Dog Stand would taste like, but the minifigs (two are included in this set — one to sell the hot dogs and one to buy the hot dogs) seem content enough with the results. LEGO hot dogs are particle plastic, maybe.

Me? I don’t even eat meat unless it originated in the ocean. The hoity toity might deign to call me a pescatarian, but my friends who get stuck trying to find places to eat with me at late hours just call me a pain in the ass — or PITA for short, and it’s made very clear in these cases that they’re not referring to me as a type of flatbread. Perhaps on a related note, PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) still maintains that I’m a heartless murderer with a special place reserved in a presumably briny afterlife where my flesh will be consumed by schools of toothy fish and casts of sharp-clawed crustaceans on a daily basis.

It’s only fair, I suppose.

The LEGO Hot Dog Stand is Always Open for Business

Even as someone who doesn’t eat land animals, I do occasionally enjoy a delicious veggie dog at a local place here in San Diego that’s run by a dedicated family man who isn’t shy about letting his customers know that household matters always come first on his list of priorities. Appropriately, the establishment (not a bona fide LEGO Hot Dog Stand, but similar in size to one) is called Daddy’s. The sign out front clarifies the hours of operation thusly:

We are open for business most days about 11 a.m. Some days as early as 10:30, but occasionally as late as 11:30, but usually around 10:30 unless it’s later.

We close about 8 or 9 p.m. Sometimes at 10:30. If all hell breaks out at home, we close at 7. Occasionally we’re open as late as 1 or 2 a.m., depending.

Some mornings, afternoons, or entire days we aren’t even here at all (Mondays, Christmas, Easter, etc.), but lately we’ve been open all the time, except when we’re closed, but really we should be here then too, unless we left early.

We, the people of San Diego, put up with such random hours because the guy delivers quality, made-to-order goods to people along every point on the dietary spectrum. I think he even has gluten free buns available upon request. I imagine that all of the buns sold from the LEGO Hot Dog Stand are gluten free and the place is always open, but I’m not sure I’d be as satisfied by its wares as the stand’s usual, fixed-grin clientele.

I do have one question that has nothing to do with hot dogs, though: why are bicycles — blue or otherwise — so rare in the LEGO universe? The LEGO Hot Dog Stand comes with one, so at least one of the included minifigs has a ride home. Some LEGO aficionados have made mention that buying a LEGO Hot Dog Stand is a great way to inexpensively pick up one of these inexplicably rare LEGO bicycles, and who am I to argue?

Get your own LEGO Hot Dog Stand (and a little LEGO bicycle, too!) at Amazon!

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Our resident "Bob" (pictured here through the lens of photographer Jason DeFillippo) is in love with a woman who talks to animals. He has a fondness for belting out songs about seafaring and whiskey (arguably inappropriate in most social situations). He's arm-wrestled robots and won. He was born in a lighthouse on the storm-tossed shores of an island that has since been washed away and forgotten, so he's technically a citizen of nowhere. He's never killed in anger. He once underwent therapy for having an alien in his face, but he assures us that he's now feeling "much better." Fogarty also claims that he was once marooned along a tiny archipelago and survived for months using only his wits and a machete, but we find that a little hard to believe.