Merv Griffin is dead to me

My episode of Merv Griffin's Crosswords aired today, so now, I am no longer contractually obligated to keep the results a secret.

SPOILER ALERT!
I was the biggest loser. All I got out of this show was the promise of a cheap looking Croton watch with the Merv Griffin's Crosswords logo on it. Oh, wait. It's a custom Croton watch that I'll never wear. I don't wear watches. I wear a cell phone. It hasn't even arrived yet, ten weeks later. Yet, after I and the three other contestants lost to "Steve," we all immediately started focusing on the watch. When do we get our watch? How much are they selling for on eBay?

But I was excited to be on TV. You know, my 22 minutes of Hollywood fame. I checked and double checked my TiVo to make sure it was all set to record while I was at work. I told everyone what day and time it was airing. I fiendishly kept my friends in the dark about the outcome. To my glee, TiVo did not fail me. But as I watched the show, imagine the horror when I saw that I'd been covered up by a news crawl. I've been upstaged by a dang weather report. I don't mean to be vain, but a news crawl on my face is just not my best look. And look closely. I'm the only contestant who got covered up. It's a conspiracy, I tell you! And it's not even a major storm. Come on, Bay Area. So it's going to rain tomorrow. Big deal. Is that really worth putting a weather crawl right over my face? Aren't news crawls supposed to be at the bottom of the screen?

I didn't win squat, but I also didn't make a total idiot of myself. From the clues I flubbed, it's now forever established that I don't know anything about golf clubs, military formations (wedge) or French pirates (Jean Lefitte). But dammit, I was the only one on the stage that knew of the Hanna Barbera cartoon character, the Grape Ape. I can live with that.

If you were watching at home, you should notice that I did buzz in quickly all through the third round, but the guy who won didn't give us any chance. Steve was on fire. I even started buzzing in when I had no clue what the answer was, just so it would look like I knew. Why am I admitting that?

I knew Steve was going to win. Moments before we went on the set, someone asked him if he'd been on any game shows before. He'd been coy all day, but now admitted he'd been on Jeopardy, Win Ben Stein's Money and some other show I can't remember. Getting on Jeopardy is hardcore. I knew I was a goner.

That's why I bet all my money, $1,750, when I did get to the front row and got one of the Crossword Extras. That's a clue where only I got to answer and I had to choose my bet. I figured I wouldn't be up there for long, so I might as well try to double the pot so someone would get more winnings. But I lost it all on Jean Lefitte. Who knows that? People who read?

And I didn't appreciate how host Ty Treadway then explained how Lefitte was a pirate who fought in the Battle of New Orleans like he really knew that. When Trebek smugly explains an answer, I believe he actually knew it. Treadway? I'm not buying it, pretty boy.

And another thing, what kind of cheap game show only gives an average of about $6000 to the one winner in every show? Everyone else gets the watch. Oh, and the winner might get a trip, but only to destinations like Cancún and Palm Springs. And they never say "you and your guest will travel to..." I have a hunch it's really a trip for only one person.

But I'm not bitter. It was a fun experience. The lunch buffet was good. I got to be on TV. Well, at least my torso got to be on TV. And might I say, my torso looked fantastic. Maybe my torso will get an agent.

Oil change

I had the day off today, and to make myself feel like I actually accomplished something of value, other than catching up on my Tivo'd Sarah Silverman shows (and let's be honest, porn), I went out and got my oil changed. Don't ask me how many miles it's been since my last oil change. Don't ask me, because I don't know. I pulled that dang sticker off my windshield a few months ago, because I was already embarrassed some passenger would see it.

And I certainly wasn't going to keep that sticker on my car when I actually got my oil changed. I don't need any disapproving look from some 22-year-old Jiffy Lube "mechanic." They are mechanics like dental hygienists are dentists. Like chiropractors are real doctors. Like Dane Cook is a comedian. Like Omorosa is a celebrity. Celebrity Apprentice, my foot.

So I drove into the neighborhood Jiffy Lube and Henry--at least that's the name embroidered on his shirt--asked me if I'm here for the Jiffy Lube Signature Service. Now, it's been a long time, so I don't know what that means. That sounded like a whole bunch of expensive extras like no oil dripped on the engine or no oily footprints left on my floor mats.

"No, Henry, you're not going to trick me. I'm just here for the basic oil change."

"That's what the Signature Service is, sir." I hate when they "sir" me.

"Can you pop your hood real quick?"

Apparently, no, I can't. Maybe it was the "real quick" that put the pressure on. Or the fact that the last time I popped my own hood, Brad and Jennifer were still married, but I couldn't find the hood release latch. I fumbled for a good 15 seconds until Henry, with his fancy G.E.D., came to the rescue.

To get out of it, I was going to tell him this wasn't my car. It's my stupid wife's car. And to kill two birds with one stone, I could have told him that's why there's only one pint of oil left in there.

But I didn't. I decided it's better not to weave a tangled web just to gain Henry's respect. Hell, there's no way to gain Henry's respect, even on my best day. I'm sure the Henry's of the world are disdainful of any able-bodied man who even shows up to their shop, unwilling or unable to change his own oil.

I could change my oil. I have done it before, but not in this car. I assume it has a oil filter just like the Chevy Chevette I learned to drive on, but I couldn't tell you where it is. I used to have an oil filter wrench and a bucket, but it's long gone or at the bottom of some box in the garage.

The truth is even the emasculation is well worth the $39 I forked out today.

As I paid, Henry explained that they've put a little sticker on my windshield to remind me when it's time for my next oil change. Good, I needed something to wrap my gum in.

By the way, TiVo Merv Griffin's Crosswords on Thursday, Jan. 24. I'm a contestant. See if I win, and let me know.