On Saturday night we had our allotment of Fuller’s ESB, and were planning to cook burgers on the grill. I went out there and fired-up that bastard, and came back inside to (heh) prepare the meat. And when I returned to the deck, to begin the process, everything was shut-down. The grill was completely cold, and refused to re-light.
Grrr… It seemed like I’d only recently filled the propane tank, but Toney (who has some kind of crazy ability to remember when things actually happened) informed me it had been last summer, late in the season. If she’d put forth a little more effort, I feel confident she could have come up with the exact date…
So, we were out of gas, and I had several beers sloshing around in my great belly. No way was I driving somewhere to get the tank filled, and risking a stay at a federal pound-me-in-the-ass prison.
I asked Toney if she wanted to cook the burgers indoors, and that never really works for us. They turn out tasteless, we make an ungodly mess, and the house becomes dominated by a heavy clinging funk. There wasn’t much enthusiasm for that particular solution…
So we decided to drag the charcoal grill out of the garage, and cook them old-school. But the charcoal was apparently past its expiration date, and wouldn’t light. It was like trying to make a pile of rocks catch fire.
What the hell, man?? If it hadn’t been for the beer, I probably would’ve flown off the handle, completely. But, under the circumstances, I was only waving my hands around, and making exaggerated WTF? gestures.
We finally opted to pool our cash, and do a quick run to the Burger King drive-thru, a couple of blocks from our house. So, we had corn on the cob, deviled eggs, baked beans… and Whoppers. And, to tell you the truth, is wasn’t half-bad.
But whenever we’re forced deal with such a situation, at least once per summer, I think about a guy I knew in California. The dude did everything by the book, and had a completely ordered life. You know the type…
His garage, I shit you not, had a painted floor, and little squares of carpet upon which the tires of his two anal-retentive showroom-spotless cars rested at night. And on the walls were photographs of various hotrods and whatnot – in frames. He had framed art in his garage!
His clothes always seemed painfully pressed and neat, and his house looked like a drawing, not something from the real world. It was amazing; every blade of grass on his lawn was exactly the same length, color, and thickness. Or so I suspect.
And he had two propane tanks for his grill – just in case.
Needless to say, I mocked the man behind his back. I called him Ol’ Two Tanks, and we made fun of his carpet squares on a semi-regular basis. I mean, seriously; I’m only flesh and blood here.
But every time I run out of gas, with a plate of meat in one hand, and the other whipping through my Peter Brady hair… that guy gets the last laugh. I can feel him sneering at me, from across the continent. The smug prick.
And that leads me to the Question of the Day: Ol’ Two Tanks is actually named Ed, and I was wondering… do you know any Eds? If so, tell us about him, won’t you? We need to get the lowdown on all these Eds, dammit.
And I’ll see ya next time.
“safe the earth” Eurofaggot tin cylinders Work like a charm.
Save the accelerant for bonfires.
The only Ed I can think of is a guy who married a former coworker. They washed their recycling in the dishwasher before putting it in the bin. Any questions?
Not the newspapers. Ed used them in their STEETC when grilling.
There was guy that used to go down to Yike’s Pizza Parlor in Moundsville named Normal Ed.
You’d ask him his blood type and he would say “normal”. He wasn’t kidding and neither am I.
I say ‘Damn skippy’. Not sure what’s wrong with that…
Shiny Rod says
If you have a regulator gauge on your tank, it will tell you when you need to refill it. Unfortunately, most tank providers are not fitted with a regulator gauge. You will most likely have to buy an after market model.
Get one for each tank and save yourself the headache Jeff!!!
Shiny Rod says
Rusty – you’re not normal.
I hunt with an Ed. He is 74 years old, and tough as nails. His pickup is a 1976 Chevy and looks brand new. His house is small, but everything is perfect, tool bench perfectly organized, garage is cleaner than my living room, he Simonizes his windows so rain runs right off.
He has hunted with us every year since I can remember and gets a buck every year, usually an 8 point.
And he is the loudest human I have ever been around.
I’m not anal, have a half ass messy garage but can’t live without the dueling celindracal propane despensing devices. yup…..
will someone get spell check for me? holy crap!
My father and brother in-law’s names are Ed and Eddie. Big Ed and little Ed. They are quite the duo. Eddie lived with me and my wife for about four years. It worked out nicely since he worked at night and i worked during the day, so i only saw him when we were partying on the weekends. He recently got a DUI though. Which is funnier than it seems since the last time he got a DUI, he lost his lincense and stopped driving all together. Even though he eventually got his license back he had decided by then that he wanted to be all Earth friendly and reduce his footprint and shit and not be a “slave to the pump” as he likes to put it. But he’ll take a ride anywhere you wanna take him without offering up any gas. Or if he did offer up any gas he would conveniently not be able to afford it or forget all about it later. And he say he’s glad he’s not a slave to the pump as he sits in your car at the gas station. He also says things like “good for them, look at all those bike riders.” whenever he sees people riding their bikes. Like people havent been riding bikes forever ya know. Thats about the time he went vegan too. Which you know i dont care how he lives his life, but ya know, he just acts so smug about the whole thing. Like he is somehow better than me because he doesnt eat meat, and eggs and salt or sugar…well pretty much nothing but oatmeal and veggies. But back to his trouble. His Dad, Big Ed came up for the birth of my daughter recently and Little Ed decided he needed to drive the parents around in the rental car since they didnt know the city. Well after a great Iceage Cobra show, they decided to go to the Shim concert at another bar. After Little Ed drops off the parents at my house at about 2:00am he decides he’s gonna drive back to his place and “cuddle” (he says that, not me) with some chick he met. Well about two blocks from my house he turns on the wrong side of the road and up ahead he sees cop headlights. So he whips to the right side of the road, and as they pass each other he guns it. He told me later the only thought in his head was, “GO!” He ended up jumpiong some curve and landeing the rental in a huge bush. Torn up the underside of the car pretty bad. So yeah, after all of his I’m not a slave to the pump bullshit, we all remembered exactly why Little Ed doesnt drive.
Joe T. says
Homemade ketchup Eddie?
Nuthin’ but the best for you Clark!
Your talk about him being a vegan reminded me of Jim Gaffigan’s jokes on vegetarians. Pretty funny.
Shiny Rod – You got that right.
“If she’d put forth a little more effort, I feel confident she could have come up with the exact date… ”
I think you actually wrote about it… Go buy another tank.
My grandfather was an ‘Ed’, my cousin is an ‘Ed’, and I’ve got ‘Ed’ in my middle name. My grandfather was a no-nonsense get things done kind of guy. Smart cookie and a hell of a shot “What do you mean load all 6 chambers? I’m only shooting one damn cat. I only need one bullet”…. He hit that bastard alright, mid run. He was a shakey 76 yrs old at the time, but put the pistol in his hands look out, and don’t bet against him. My cousin, he’s an IT guy… Me, better put the tools you borrow back where you found them. =-)
beeen looking for years for an ed armentrout i used to work with in ohio in early 80’s
I knew a guy named Ed in high school. He was completely incapable of introducing himself without listing three variants of his name: Edwin, Eddie, and Ed. Seriously. “My name is Edwin, or you can call me Eddie or Ed if you prefer.” Once in an orientation session he asked about a million questions, and began each one with “I’m Edwin como Eddie como Ed.” And they were all really stupid questions, like whether it was okay to use the emergency exits during a fire.
We all called him Ed-Eddie-Edwin behind his back. We probably could have come up with something better, but there was never any mistaking which Eddie you were talking about if you mentioned Ed-Eddie-Edwin.
I have two propane tanks. And I know how to light charcoal.
Two uncle Ed’s for me. Both are cool…
Joe T says
This site has become really half-assed and is not 1/10th of what it used to be. Gone.
Jason, the Jim Gaffigan snippets sucked me in for a good hour. He is pure genius!
We have one tank. It runs out. We have half cooked meat…what to do? The whole damn grill doesn’t work anymore and my inside oven quit working. I guess it’s “Hot Pockets” in the toaster oven for us . hee hee.
I have an “Ed” at work. He actually called Dunkin Donuts the other day because when he was there they had some dirt in the parking lot and he got some on his car. The bastard actually chewed their ass out pretty good. He cuts his grass 2x a week and washes all his vehicles 2-3 times a week.
Jeez. I don’t know any Eds… but I am very type a so I, undoubtably, am someone’s “Ed”. That frightens me on many levels.
>But every time I run out of gas, with a plate of meat in one hand, and the other whipping through my Peter Brady hair… that guy gets the last laugh.
And he laughs best.
Right On Tadpolegal!
Lookout West Virginia! I’ll be home this weekend!
Bill in WV says
I had 32 people over to the house for a WVU game party last year, only to find that my propane tank had shit the bed when I went to cook burgers and dogs. Luckily, my neighbor had a spare.
Northerner on Holiday says
My soon to be ex father-in-law is an Ed. He is nothing like garage Ed…
he is incredibly smart and charming…
until about 10 am when he starts hitting the sauce after which he reeks of glenfiddich, bad local cigars and old man angst.
If you make the cooking start with no chimney but uses instead the fluid lighter does not the meat in your Hamburg-sandwich tastes of chemical?
Bill in WV says
I rub the outside of my Hamburg with fluid lighter and set flames to it directly. This makes cooking much more fast. The taste of chemical is noticed not much after first couple of bites, consuming. Yes.
Also, one can cook Hamburgs with the use of spray for hair and a lighter. Consuming. Yes.
Lucie In Tampa says
My Dad is an Ed and he is always prepared. he is anal retentive and everything has to be in perfect order.
I am thinking with the talk of hairspray cooking the Hamburg meat you are making humor of me, which I have none of.
(with a thick lisp)
Don’t listen to him Euro. Who needs humor when you can dress well and style hair?
I want the garage with carpet tiles and framed art. Mine looks like Toys r Us and Home Depot had a drunken orgy and threw up.