Not long ago I visited a fabulous little hot dog place in Brooklyn called Willie’s Dawgs. Why? Because they serve a grass-fed frankfurter, something Franktuary would like to incorporate into its own menu.

So there I was in New York City. Can you guess what the topic of conversation was at the table next to me? A place in Pittsburgh called Franktuary. For the record, the people next to me were strangers, though that’s not the case anymore!

When you grow up in and around northern New Jersey, as I did, there are a handful of cultural elements forever branded into your persona. For example, if you’re from the area you probably perceive a frankfurter to be more delicious than disgusting. After all, the grilled franks of Manhattan and deep-fried dogs of New Jersey really are better. But you’ve been to Franktuary. You know this fact well.

Something you most likely don’t know of is a now defunct theme park branded as Action Park. Like the simple enjoyment of a quality tubesteak, memories of Action Park is a bond we young adults from the New York area share. If you have no idea what I’m talking about do yourself a favor and check out this informative Wikipedia entry.

Just today I was sitting around a campfire in northwest Jersey and the subject of Action Park came up. I had never before met about two-thirds of the group of 12 or so with whom I was spending the day. All of these people grew up in either Queens, Brooklyn, the Garden State, or Connecticut. Everyone had an Action Park story.

In a rare demonstration of vigilance my good buddy was rescued by an Action Park lifeguard at the age of four. Of course, had he not been allowed to use the ride for which he was clearly under the height minimum in the first place a rescue would never have needed to commence. More spectacularly, today I learned of a girl whose braces somehow got caught on a ride causing her to lose all of her teeth.

I myself only had the chance to visit Action Park once in my life. To this day I can’t decide whether that was fortunate or unfortunate. And you, dear Pittsburgher, thought Kennywood was one of a kind. Ahh, memories!

But don’t worry, Franktuary is still located in the heart of downtown on Oliver Avenue. We’ve got some exciting plans on the horizon, and part of that bigger picture necessitates creating space for someone who can do my old job better than me. What I mean by that is Franktuary now has on its staff not one but two individuals with culinary degrees! With this change, and for a handful of personal reasons, I find myself looking for employment back home in the New York area.

So, as you might imagine, more details will spring forth from this very space… over time. These titillating tidbits, about changes coming to Franktuary as well as the eventual success of my job search, may alter the very fabric of your life. If that doesn’t occur, I’ll settle for a positive impact on your stomach. After all, I expect you’ll find my yet-to-be-determined new occupation both succulent and delicious. Not to mention the food at Franktuary. You’ll find it most succulent and delicious also.

Well, as you wait for more mouthwatering morsels in the form of frankcentric blogging, come on downtown to try one of our already-improved pierogies. I know I’ll be back to visit regularly. If you’re reading this blog in Pittsburgh you have no excuse to visit Franktuary less frequently than someone more than 350 miles away! Okay, you got me, you’ve got to pay for parking in the Golden Triangle, but other than that…

You know what would be great? What would be great is if someone made a phone that also was a taser. That way every time a telemarketer called you could give them a little zap. If the same telemarketer were to call unsolicited on multiple occasions the phone operator could increase the voltage!

Keep out of reach of children, that’s for sure.

Soon I may very well find myself in Wyoming. It is the 49th most densely populated state in the country, and I am from New Jersey. I imagine this will be the closest I ever come to knowing what a person who grows up in the country feels when he visits a truly big city, like New York, for the first time. I also imagine there are telemarketers, even in Wyoming. Sometimes I regret that the world has become so small.

Okay, Pittsburgh, carpe diem. It’s time to establish yourself as the nation’s foremost Holiday Season tourist destination.

Why? Because in Pittsburgh there’s a fully functional Cultural District where, to my knowledge, no one is on strike. There’s authentic winter weather. There’s animatronic story-telling in the windows of a famous department store. There’s even an outdoor skating rink amidst famous sky scrapers. The only essential missing item is an outrageously large tree, and to make up for that there are free horse-drawn carriage rides on weekends.

While theater people in New York are bickering and tourists are missing out, theater people in this city should be proclaiming Pittsburgh as the new spot for must-travel-to productions.

That’s what I say, anyway. After all, if a certain city can’t best another one in football, it should try its hand at a different game.

As far as I know, the Radio CIty Christmas Spectacular is still going, but that shouldn’t stop Heinz Hall from producing its own alternative production, complete with “Stonettes.”

Happy Thanksgving.

Good article in the Post-Gazette today… Check it out!

In other news, there’s a certain word you won’t find anywhere on this blog. Bet you can’t guess what it is!

Finally, I happen to have recently skimmed through nearly every blog entry ever posted to this site. For old times sake, I thought it would be fun to re-post the very first entry made on March 21, 2004.

“My sister has a friend who found a hot dog cart in Brooklyn the other day. It was abandoned, but now he has it at his place. He was thinking about what to do with it and came to the conclusion that we at Franktuary should literally push the cart from the Big Apple to Pittsburgh, officially bringing the New York frank to the Steel City. Who’s in?”

I was in New York yesterday and I visited Gray’s Papaya, one of the great hot doggeries the world has ever known.
While in the BIG Apple, I was reminded of many funny stories.

First and foremost in my mind is a time I was in Atlantic City and there, on the boardwalk, was a street musician “playing” the clarinet. This man was awful. I mean he was ABSOLUTELY TERRIBLE.

He was probably in his sixties or seventies, and perhaps he was good at the clarinet at one point in time. However, the particular day I heard him was clearly not that point in time. He played major scales, and that was it. Each note he sustained would warble, constantly from sharp to flat and back, but never settle to anything remotely resembling correct intonation.

As I headed down the boardwalk his tone began to seamlessly blend into the melodious tones of squawking seagulls. I walked several miles and ran into many more street musicians, but none were nearly as terrible as my claritnetist friend.

Several hours (and cheesesteaks) later, I wended my way back down the boardwalk. I was surprised to find the claritnest in question still going to town.

As I passed our aspiring woodwind virtuoso, a cop suddenly forced him to stop performing because “he didn’t have a permit.” Instantaneously, he switched from a musician with a delusional concept of his own ability to what I would describe simply as a very disgruntled person. He created quite a scene. All the while, several other street musicians in plain view of the officer played on. No one, including the police man, made any attempts to stop them. 78.

Moments ago I touched down in Newark. As my flight landed I could see wonderful buildings from my window. The very same wonderful buildings that I’ll be in the midst of on Sunday afternoon.

Airports have a funny way of putting things in perspective for me. More on my flight later…

The reason I’m not in Pittsburgh right now is because I’m spending the weekend with my extended family as we celebrate my grandmother’s 80th birthday.

As I think about 80 years old, I think about how much I want to do before I come anywhere close to that age. I want to finish what I’ve started in Pittsburgh before moving on to New Orleans, Toronto, and San Diego. I very much want to live in each of those cities for at least a year or so.

Then, around age 40, I want to return to New York, start a family and either purchase Madison Square Garden or train to become a veterinarian. After all, I don’t think I could possibly purchase Madison Square Garden AND become a veterinarian. Then again, one should never sell oneself short. On that note, I’d like to visit all 7 continents by the time I’m 60.

So much to do! The clock is ticking, eh? I wonder if I’ll get to everything.

So my sister has a friend who found a hot dog cart in Brooklyn the other day. It was abandoned, but now he has it at his place. He was thinking about what to do with it and came to the conclusion that we at Hot D***a should push a cart from New York to Pittsburgh, officially bringing the New York frank to the Steel City. Who’s in?
- Tim