I saw the small print notice on the box with my new propane outdoor grill in it just before the checkout guy ran his magic ray gun across the bar code, and the cash register said ca-ching. It said, “Free assembly available.” I froze. My Lady Wonder Wench was with me, and she said, “Whatâ€™s the matter?” Not wanting to stammer in public, I simply pointed to the notice. She immediately went into wise guy wife mode. She said, “Donâ€™t worry about that, you can ask Randy next door to help you with it.” “Oh yeah?” I replied… in that incisive, confident, worldly way that is the trade mark of “Louie-Louie Generation” guys every where.
If youâ€™ve been connected with this blog for awhile, youâ€™ll remember that Randy is my next door neighbor… a very nice guy… and a fellow plastic potato pop gun warrior. But if you are a “Louie-Louie Generation” guy, you know damn well there would be a blizzard in August before you would ask your buddy next door for help in assembling ANYTHING, let alone something as simple as an outdoor grill. “Ha,” I said to my Lady Wonder Wench with a disdain verging on panic. Then she did it.Â She gave that Lady Wonder Wench Witchy Smile, and purred, “Maybe I can help.” Any experienced wife will do thatÂ when she wants something done quickly and she knows exactly where her husband thinks he has his ego safely hidden.
You probably know the rest of the story. Box manufactured in Taiwan, frame from Bangladesh, bolts made in Kazakhstan that don’t quiteÂ fit theÂ nuts imported from Nigeria, and instruction manual written in Baghdad, by a terrorist wannabe who took the job because he was seething with anger at the United States but was rejected for a suicide assignment by his neighborhood terrorist organizationÂ by reason of complete insanity. His revenge was swift and sweet… helped by the fact that the manufacturer made several models of the grill, but only this “one size fits all” instruction book. Ooohh, youâ€™ve been there, guys…I know you have. But I did it! And the end result bears a distinct resemblance to the picture on the box. Except for the pieces left over. And a wire hanging down. And the kind of rakish angle of the cover. And the propane tank doesnâ€™t fit. But… “Oh, youâ€™re so wonderful” said Wonder Wench…as any experienced wife will do when she wants something else done quickly. The “Something” being thatÂ it has been a couple of weeks since I cut the lawn.
I have a question. Why do we cook out? We have a nice kitchen, with a microwave oven and granite counter tops on which we can put our meal. Does hamburger really taste better served with ketchup, relish, flies, bees and moths? And why do guys who never cook indoors, do all the cooking outdoors? I guess women feel that when it comes to smoke, flames and blood on an outdoor grill…itâ€™s a guy thing. And while I’m asking you questions,Â why do we buy grass seed, plant it, water it, fertilize it, grow it, then cut it, and cut it, and cut it, and cut it…and then throw away the stuff we cut ? I think something has come loose here…besides the handle that looks like it’s about to fall off the propane grill.
Gotta back up a little. If you just connected with this blog, you may be scratching your headÂ and asking, what isÂ the “Louie-Louie Generation?” If you remember record hops… you are a member of the “Louie-Louie Generation.” I mcâ€™d a lot of record hops when I was a disc jockey. And any time the kids stopped dancing, Iâ€™d haul out “Louie-Louie” and the party would start cooking again. “Louie-Louie” was the perfect guy dance…no complicated dance steps, and an excuse to get very close to a girlâ€™s ear and softly sing your version of the “dirty” lyrics. I seem to remember that some of the more popular girls liked “Louie- Louie” too…and I think it was for some of the same reasons.
It doesnâ€™t really matter how many birthdays youâ€™ve had…you can consider yourself a member of the “Louie-Louie Generation” if a lot of your conversation these days includes words like “prostate,” “ouch,” “vitamin E,” “cholesterol,” “stress,” “diet,” and…”whaaaatt?” It happened so fast, didnâ€™t it? It seems like just when we started getting rid of our pimples, we began suffering from precocious ab-deflation.
“Precocious ab-deflation” isÂ a highly technical term I just made up in the current PodCast. It comes from the ancient Latin word “pre,” which means “before” … as in “pre-marital sex,” and the ancient Brooklyn-ese word “coaches…which in ancient Brooklyn-ese means “wise people”…as in “good sports teams have wise coaches.” So “precocious ab-deflation”Â means we areÂ losing our abs before we had a chance to get wise to what was going on. (It works better when you hear it on the PodCast.)
Anyway…the hamburger patties are made, there’s a ladle in theÂ potato salad,Â a couple ofÂ cold brewskies with your name on them on the ice…so it is now time to turn on the propane, hit the igniter, and hope the back deck doesnâ€™t blow up.
1- What do those of us who are body builders call the “Quasimodo Position?”
2- What lines did Satan swipe from the American Journal of Clinical Nutrition ?
3- Whatâ€™s a millipedeâ€™s favorite toy?
3 right – 4th of July Fireworks
2 right – Cherry bomb
1 right – Sparkler
0 right – Wet match
3…2…1…0…IGNITION – How cooked would you like your hamburger? Â