We found ourselves in the market for a new gas grill.
Of course before I buy anything major, I consult my most trusted of sources...Consumer Reports. After spending my allotted amount of time doing my research, I decided on which grill I wanted and now the search was on for a retailer that sold it.
As it turns out, Walmart sells the brand I wanted but instead of attempting to shove this enormous grill into my not bad sized Rav4....kind of like shoving 2 pounds of cow droppings into a 1 pound bag...I decided that I would just have this grill shipped to our home. I also did not want to have to deal with the impending hernia caused by lifting such a heavy load.
A couple of days after placing the order, it turned up in our "garage" without any fanfare nor even a doorbell ring. Probably for the best...I would have hated to see the size of the FedEx brute that carried this huge box from truck to garage. I probably would have wet myself just a bit at the sight of him.
So here I was by myself, having to push this monstrosity into the back corner of our garage.
As I pushed, more and more of the bottom portion of the box was left behind me on the concrete floor. I am surprised that my pushing didn't wear through the box entirely.
So as I was looking at this box, I formulated a plan.......get up early tomorrow, which is now today and put this thing together.
And that is exactly what I did.
As I unpacked each piece, I placed the pieces neatly on the floor and leaning against the garage wall. I thought that the unpacked pieces would never end. Once again the aforementioned bag of cow droppings crossed my mind. How in the world did they manage to get all of this stuff in there.
So now I have all of these assorted pieces laying everywhere, I proceeded to put this beauty together.
Approximately 3 hours later...of course the instructions said that building this thing would take about an hour.
I can't really hold that outlandishly false statement against them because they have never met me.
After that 3 hour time, there stood before me was a humongous testosterone fueled blast furnace....a man beast of a contraption that any male would truly be proud of...almost enough to call it "son".
This thing throws out over 60,000 btu's of scorching heat with a side burner to boot.
Now when the head cook (me) asks someone how they want their steak done and they reply "well done please", I will look at them with a shit eatin' grin...the same kind of grin the Cheshire Cat would have after he just located where his owner had hid all of the yummy chicken nuggets.
And after cooking this steak, I would proudly present my guest with this blackened smoking ember of coal...all the while, thrusting my chest out and holding my head up high...doing my best manly man impersonation and say......"dinner is served and you may call me CHEF".