The other day while venturing out with my wife into the vast wasteland that is Walmart I came down with a horrible illness. No, not the trots. Not a crippling case of indigestion brought on by a three day taco binge washed down with a gallon of Hawaiian Punch and corn liquor. This is a terrible sickness that I have fallen victim to several times; each time it happens I tell myself that this time is the last. Might as well ‘fess up. I bought another Foreman Grill.
In the mid 1990’s after a failed sitcom and an uncannily successful comeback to the sport of boxing; George Foreman was met with a simple proposal. Take and put your name on this little electric grill and make a dump truck full of money. Mr. Foreman of course took the deal and made himself millions. Hulk Hogan is still quite sore about this. According to legend, around the same time that George was offered the deal on this messy little contraption; Mr. Nanny and the Suburban Commando was given this same offer. He at the time turned down the offer because most folks thought the product was a rather goofy idea. If I were Thunderlips, I damn well wouldn’t fly back from wrestling in Japan for the naming rights to a hot plate. After all, that what this thing really is. A hot plate with grooves in it. Set at a twenty degree angle. Packaged with a five cent miniature plastic trough to catch the drippings.
Oh my, that poor neglected drip pan. Everyone always loses the damn thing after a week. Then you have to folk a paper towel in half no less than five times to catch the dribbles of grease that slide down. See all that disgusting crap on the Brawny Towel? That means that your quadruple bacon cheeseburger with the three fried eggs on it is now HEALTHY!
I think everyone can agree that the Foreman Grill itself is ridiculous looking. Damn thing looks like a giant metal Venus fly trap. No earthly reason why anyone in their right mind would buy one. Nut we think to ourselves that we are sick and tired of pulling the frying pan out from the inside of the stove. We get a bug in our asses to cook our dinners in a giant Happy Meal toy. We do it by the millions. We buy extra ones to give as gifts to folks that don’t need or want them. We buy ones with quad burners and put it next to the stove, which came with the house for free. We buy ones to use as a doorstop. Never intended of course. That’s just where they all end up. Near the back door. Usually between Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve.
But alas, we continue to buy them by the ton. But why not? Starting at twelve bucks a piece, you can’t beat that. Hell, I’m going to go plug in the three spares right now!