Polish Sausage

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I walked up to the counter and said, “Yeah, I’ll take a Polish sausage.”

The guy behind the counter squints at me and asks, “Are you Polish?”

I’m immediately offended.

“What kind of question is that? If I ordered a bratwurst, would you assume I’m German? If I asked for a Belgian waffle, would that make me Belgian? Dumplings — Chinese? What exactly made you think I was Polish?”

He leans in, lowers his voice, and says,

“Sir… this is a hardware store.”

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Word to the wise: The line “Honey, I hurt my penis — can you kiss it and make it better?” should be used very sparingly. Sooner or later you’re going to lose your balance mountainbiking and bang it against the gooseneck, giving you a good 10 minutes of intense sharp pain, after which you’ll return home and she’ll be all “I’m not falling for that again!”

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Posted: February 20, 2026 (4 months ago)
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Topics: food, race
Sensitivity: Clean