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I ate Oscar Mayer's hot dog ice cream sandwich and lived

Look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair!

This poor ice cream sandwich barely survived the journey.

Amanda Kooser/CNET

I'm a flexitarian (mostly veg, but sometimes meat), but these lips haven't touched the flesh of a four-legged animal for years. And so I approached the impending arrival of the Oscar Mayer hot dog-flavored ice cream sandwich -- the Ice Dog Sandwich -- with a mix of trepidation and awe. 

This is a frozen treat that shouldn't exist, and yet it does. It's defiant. It's so, so wrong. It's delicious. I know because I ate one.  

It's one thing to see a photo of this mind-boggling concoction, made with spicy dijon gelato and candied hot dog bits; it's another to reckon first hand with its sheer audaciousness of being. 

The Ice Dog came wrapped in foil. 

Amanda Kooser/CNET

Meat-loving brand Oscar Mayer first wowed/freaked out the internet with its Ice Dog Sandwich on Aug. 1. What fresh hell is this, some of us wondered. Get in my belly, said others. I viewed it like you would a deep-fried scorpion on a stick: repellent, yet compelling. 

Oscar Mayer created the Ice Dog in partnership with the New York City boutique ice cream company il laboratorio del gelato. The mission was clear: re-create the Oscar Mayer hot dog experience in the form of an ice cream sandwich. 

My Ice Dogs arrive on a blazing day in New Mexico inside a square FedEx box labeled "perishable." I open the Styrofoam container and deliver two squishy, leaking silver-wrapped sandwiches into my freezer. I can almost hear them sigh with relief. 

I wait for the refreeze. Then I unwrap one. It's not much of a looker. The colors are pale. Little meat chunks sit suspended in the hot dog sweet cream. 

Trembling, I take a bite. Sweetness. Childhood memories of the sugary syrup from pickle relish soaking into a bun. The mustard arrives, floating across the back of my palate and into my sinuses. Finally, the salty savory flavor of an Oscar Mayer hot dog, like a secret whispered between the parallel sheets of the cookie bun.

I don't want to like the Ice Dog Sandwich. It sugar-coats the experience of eating a hot dog. This shouldn't work, but here I am eating the whole thing. 

I stare at this living embodiment of a marketing stunt, slowly freezing the skin on my fingertips, and feel like a kid running through the grass at a picnic, hot dog in hand, pausing only to laugh or take another bite. 

Damn it, Ice Dog Sandwich, what have you done to me?

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