Good ol’ Pacific Beach. The amount of brain cells locals have killed by partyin’ there...

This may have been one of the tamer shindigs. Don’t get me wrong, it had its share of drama. A few drunk guys getting into a fight near the beer pong, a woman falling on her head, and me not being able to find a parking spot!

(I sometimes turn into Larry David at moments like this.)

I had been at a sports bar earlier in the evening with friends, watching some Ultimate Fighters go at it. A few Chargers players came in (they’ll remain nameless), and with all the bad press football players seem to get after being in bars, I thought I might be getting some drama there. They merely signed autographs for a large group that approached them, and took photos with every person that had a cell phone camera (which was 90 percentof the bar).

I left my friends and headed solo to the PB party.

As I showed up, two guys were arguing in the small garage about someone cracking a surf board. One guy said, “If you weren’t drunk and watched where you were walking.” His response was, “If you didn’t leave your surf board on the floor! Who does that?” During their argument, neither seemed drunk. And it was only 10 p.m. I overheard a couple talking about two other guys that had gotten into a fight earlier.

One woman was having her 30^th birthday. Her husband was there, and he looked a lot older. When I asked someone about that I was told, “Oh yeah, he’s 20 years her senior.” They looked good together, though (although knowing women, if she’s reading this, she’ll interpret that to mean that she looks old).

Someone handed me a drink and told me I’d love it. I usually don’t just gulp something handed to me, but this guy seemed trustworthy. He was wearing a tie. Sure, it was over a t-shirt, but still. I said, “If you slipped me a mickey…” before taking a swig. It was delicious, albeit a bit strong.

He rattled the ingredients: Country Time Lemonade, vodka, Mountain Dew, and something I couldn’t really understand with his pronunciation.

As I was in the garage talking to a few people, one person pulled an old fashioned riffle off the wall. I heard a voice say, “It’s always fun and games until someone blows off a nut.”

I decided to get away from the firearms, and move to the backyard. There were more people there anyway (and a great selection of Filipino foods). I grabbed a small plate and staked out an area in the small backyard. The few seats were taken so I just stood eating and drinking, and watching the mayhem.

Someone said to me, “Why didn’t you take a chicken breast? We cooked 30 of them, and our grill wasn’t even cooking properly.” I replied, “Now that’s a selling point. I could eat some chicken and get Salmonella.”

He smiled and said, “No, no. We used our neighbors grill. They cooked fine.” Another person chimed in, “But they have been sitting here now for a few hours since they were finished."

I stuck with my noodles and lemonade.

It didn’t seem like anyone was partying inside the house. I glanced in a window, and saw a guy with a huge beard that was staring straight at the ceiling and not moving. There was a TV set in front of him but it wasn’t turned on.

A few women were in town from back east, and one told me, “My sister is here somewhere. She took me to Black's Beach today. We had no clue it was a nude beach.” Her husband chimed in, “You think you’re going to see all these hot women, like it’s a Girls Gone Wild video. There wasn’t much I wanted to look at there. It basically looked like fat seals that evolved enough to walk upright.” His wife laughed and said, “It was great for my self-esteem, though.”

A woman showed up with a big dog that a few people were intimidated by. She claimed her dog could count. She’d say a number and he’d hit his paw on the ground that number of times. Everyone seemed impressed, except one guy standing there without a shirt. He made a comment about how he’s seen cooler dogs on Letterman. The woman said, “What would impress you? If he did long division?”

As the dog walked away, two women were giggling and said, “Did you see the package on that dog?”

One girl was showing us how she could do a handstand on the beer keg. When she slipped and fell (half the crowd laughed, the other half ran to help her). She got up smiling and brushing dirt off herself. She said “I should really stop doing that. I used to be in gymnastics as a kid, but I’ve got so many injuries now. I broke my nose once. I’ve broken bones in my back. One time I fell on my face and the braces went through my lip.”

It wasn’t until after she left that I realized, she didn’t make it clear in her story as to if those injuries happened during gymnastics, or various keg stands.

Someone pulled out a laser pointer and was shining it in everyone’s face. The guy that was handling the gun earlier was now here. He slightly altered his earlier phrase and said, “It’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye. I’m guessing that laser could blind someone.” I replied, “Or, it could improve their vision. Before you know it, we’ll be hearing about back alley Lasik operations. They might be a lot cheaper, but if they don’t work, you’ll end up looking like Marty Feldman.”

A guy with a Chargers cap said, “You mean Marty Schottenheimer?”

I realized that in a crowd of 20-year-olds, I probably shouldn’t reference cross-eyed actors from the 1970s.

(Want to invite Josh Board to crash your party? Drop him a line at josh@sandiego.com.)