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February 29, 2008
I donít know what it was about Louie, but the guy always smelled like mustard. It didn't matter what he'd just eaten -- strawberry ice cream, buttermilk pancakes with real maple syrup, beef stroganoff -- or where he'd just been -- Home Depot, miniature golfing, Spain -- he always smelled like mustard.

It didn't bother me, though, as I was a big big fan of hot dogs, the more overboiled the better, and couldn't get enough of my favorite condiment. I was even happier that the mustard smell was distinctly yellow ballpark type and not any of this fancy-schmancy stuff.