I forgot to mention a thing about rockin’ the Cali barbeque. No matter how fucking old I get, I’m still living in a high school mindset.

So, when the neighbor looks to share some bud, I’m OK.

When a couple of folks I know from Boston, one a comic, show up, I’m (a) happy, because, like I know someone, like and (b) embarrassed when I don’t have three or four cases of beer to offer up.

And, when the neighbor leaves and one of the other guests says something like, “Man, she was offering grass, can you believe that?” I though, “Fucking dork.” And, then, I made fun of him for saying “grass.” Like it’s 1980 and you’re doing a PSA, “Why do you think they call it dope?”

How fucked up and sad is it that I’m 41 years old, and I’m still evaluating cool party shit and lame nerds? I hope all the guests think I’m cool.