My pal D's post over at her new blog about her recent "adventures in barbecuing" made me think of something that happened to me about five years ago.
Let's just say that it wasn't my idea to buy the barbecue grill. DH had been on me for months about going to Lowe's (his second favorite store next to Home Depot) to buy a grill. Finally I relented. After looking around at all the big man-size testosterone producing grills that we couldn't afford and were damn near bigger than the house we lived in, reality hit us and we finally went over to the section of the store where they kept the grills made for middle class folks like us. We picked out one of those Aussie walkabout grills, and after picking out the necessary utensils, a very large bag of briquets and lighter fluid, we wound up dropping near $100 on the whole mess.
All this because DH wanted a steak.
We get it home, fill it with charcoal, lighter fluid, lit it and whoosh....a fire a mile high into the air, and we figured all was well. Five minutes later it was out. (Ok nobody told us the lighter fluid needs to soak into the charcoals). So what does DH do? He gets it lit again and takes a half bottle of lighter fluid and soaks the coals while they're burning. Uh hello? Can anyone say "fire department?"
Well after finally getting the damn coals to take, we had the wind to deal with. The coals were taking a long time time to turn gray and our first day of grilling didn't pan out. It took us two days to try and get a decent fire going so we could cook steaks, and on Sunday when I finally got a nice fire at 6 pm when it was already dark, the steaks cooked but it took forever. We were willing to give the grill one more shot. The following weekend we tried again. So there we were, me, DH, the grill, lots of wind and no fire. And we'd just about used up the bottle of lighter fluid. I was willing to keep trying and not give up. DH didn't feel that way. He had enough.
He turns to me and says "I'm taking the grill to work and giving it to someone there" and something in me at that moment just snapped. I was hot, tired, annoyed to the hilt and not in the mood for this crap. We had dropped damn near $70 just for that grill and I had spent hours over the course of the weekend trying to get that damn thing to heat right and he wants to give it away? I said "oh no f'in way" and we got into an argument. Finally after he kept insisting he was getting rid of it, I lost it.
What happens next you could blame on temporary insanity. I remember doing it, and I remember enjoying it, that's the really sick part.
I went over to the hot grill, kicked it over so the coals would fall out, then I picked it up by the legs (which folded) and I swung it as hard as I could against this huge oak tree. And there I was in the backyard screaming at him "you're going to give this grill to who?" while I'm beating the shit out of this grill, or rather maybe I was beating the tree, I don't know. All I know is that while I was swinging that grill with all my might, words came out of my mouth that would make a Robert DeNiro/Joe Pesci film look like a Disney flick. When I was finished only the tree and me (and DH--fortunately for him) were left standing. That poor grill had the shit beaten out of it so bad the legs came off and the entire top was smashed in.
I must admit, I do great work. I threw the thing on the ground, looked dead at him and said "now you can give it away" and I went in the house.
A year later we bought a Weber grill and never had a problem. We still have it and it cooks wonderfully and we enjoy it very much. I wouldn't think of beating the hell out of it, but then again DH wouldn't dare think of saying a word about giving it away either.