I work as a computer guy for an architecture firm - y'know how it is, just wipin' hard drives, makin' money. Anyway, last Friday, the administrative staff all went out to lunch for a little no-occasion-needed bread-breaking at Chow. I ate my "Spring Vegetable Lasagna" (delicious when in season), and as I reached the end, I... I did what came naturally.

Yes, I mopped up the lasagnal dividends up with the two bits of bread provided (for just that purpose, IMO). I was chatting, drinking my delicious cup of hot, black coffee, when someone (the ranking member of our lunch band) noticed my clean plate.

There's something disturbing about any question, asked sincerely, that seems to have an obvious answer. Like, say, "Sean, where did your food go?" (my belly?) And it doesn't help when other people join in with similar questions, like, "how did you do that?" (with bread). And it only got weirder when it was announced that as a result of my shockingly clean plate, I would be given the Lunch Prize - a George Foreman Grill.

The presenter of the award was never much for non-sequitur jokes, even those involving a pop-culture kitchen appliance, but a laugh is a laugh, and it seemed like only mine covered any worry that the Prize really existed...

...and then a scant few hours later the topic came up again, and someone plopped a brand new George on my desk!

Anyway, I'm not quite sure what to do with it. It's not the right shape for sandwiches, I don't have piles of meat lying around to knock the fat out of, and even if I did, I like my grills outside where the Good Lord made them. So, whoever comes up with the best thing to do with it (and I've got a couple ideas) will win The Grill Prize - and I think you know what it is.