Jess and I went shopping at Ikea and HomeDepot this weekend. Many purchases--couch cover, wine rack, magnetic knife rack, new dishes, urethane, basil, potting soil, but really the best purchase was a semi-fancy new grill. It was odd the degree to which buying a grill made me feel manly. Or at least, man-like. Charcoal, of course. I'm not some sissy who cooks with gas. I'm a man. Give me a dead tree pressed into a brickette, and doused in liquid rocket fuel.
Unfortunately for my sanity, as we walked into the aisle with the grills and supplies a certain song jumped into, and has remained locked in, my consciousness.
Grills, all I really want is grills
And at dinner it's grills
Cause for the cooking it's grills
I like the way that they look
And it's great to use 'em to cook
And I can always make them hot
Piling brickettes in one spot
I bought one just the other day
Mockin' A-Leav to my dismay
Grills - to do the chicken
Grills - to make steak tips
Grills - to heat up salmon
Grills - and in the backyard
Grills, that's all I really want is grills
Charcoal not gas, I want grills
With new attachments I want grills
I ought to whip out my grills, grills, grills, grills, grills!