Angry Dog: Don't Get Mad. Get a Burger.
Summer's on its way, and that means it's time to bulk up to fit into that bikini, ladies! That's right, I'm talkin' to you, skinny bitch. Last I heard, Abercrombie don't make a size quad zero, so it's time to shove some meat into that Skeletor face of yours—or you could literally just put some meat on your bones to bulk up. Probably faster.
My cheapo fattery of choice this week is Angry Dog. This place has been curing hangovers since 1990. The phrase, "And then what happened after I puked?" has been uttered more times in Angry Dog than R. Kelly has cousins he's banged. Personally, I find that the food here has a way of making any bad decision you've ever made (drunk or not) just fade away.
Yeah, the restaurant is called "Angry Dog." But I didn't order a dog. I have nothing bad to say about this dog, I really liked it. It just didn't like me. I won't go into details—let's just say that last time I ordered The Angry Dog it lived up to its name and I lived on the toilet for about a day. Because I was pooping out of my eyeholes. I don't even think it looked any different at all coming out than it did going in (What? Oh, you're grossed out because that image is more disgusting than the image of the actual assholes and elbows that a hotdog is made of. Right.) Hungry? Me, too! So, I passed on the doggage and instead went for the burger: half a pound of beef, mayo and mustard, grilled onions, lettuce, tomato, pickles and a side of fries. I also got a side of beer because every fatfest needs a "Cheers!" One bite into my burger and all the sad times I've ever had in my life disappeared. Like that time I had to eat a salad, and that other time I had to pay for everyone because apparently when you tell people you're "taking them to lunch" that means more than just driving them to the lunch spot. Instantly, Polyphonic Spree and only happy thoughts of unicorns and 50 percent off sales swam in my stomach with my beer/burger medley. It was a-world-without-Howie-Mandel good.
If you're ever Level 20 sun-hating, Nick Nolte hung over, this is definitely the place to erase the pain. Your solution can either be hair-of-the-Angry-Dog or burger. Either way, what bliss.
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