Apparently I am the patron saint of grilled animals. In the last two weekends I have been invited to no less than 8 cookouts.
PETA is going to come after me harder than Michael Vick pretty soon. Historians will look back and blame a meteor for the extinction of dinosaurs and Narm for the extinction of cows and whatever animal brats are made out of. I assume hot dogs.
Now, as a guy, I realize that the cookout is a strategic endeavor. You don't want to get stuck on the picnic table in the shade with the older crowd talking about people you don't know. You also don't want some parent to pawn their kid off on you while they go drink heavily and regret their decision to reproduce. Finally - and this is tempting - beware of the overly competitive yard game crowd. This seems like an innocent way to meet people, but in the end you just end up pissing everyone off because you can't get the stupid bean bag in the stupid hole and now you feel like that time in grade school you got picked last in gym class and then the bully gave you a wedgie.
Sorry about that. Flashback. I still feel bad for giving that kid a wedgie.
Now guys, I know what you are thinking - the only safe spot is to take over running the grill.
You are wrong.
Now everyone is mad. The burgers are too done, they aren't done enough - why isn't the food ready, why did you make so many hot dogs when everyone wanted burgers, grandma wants a burger without cheese - you are suddenly the focal point of the entire cookout's anger.
No, the only safe spot at a cookout is the Cheese Man. This is the guy who puts cheese on the burgers. He gets to stand next to the grill, thus saving him from any real conversational danger, but is also not responsible for any ACTUAL cooking.
The Cheese Man has two main jobs - cheesing burgers and drinking excessively.
Wait, Grandma didn't want cheese?