I hit a party in North Park that a bunch of guys who work together were throwing. They told me so many stories about the place they work, but told me not to write the name of the company. That took away most of the good stories, so…if this reads boring, blame them for censoring me.

I grabbed a Coke, and listened to a man trying to make his friend's baby laugh. After 10 minutes of attempts, he threw out this little non-sequitar: “My neighbor had a baby that was born on 6/6/06. Wouldn’t that freak you out?” I asked if it looked like Rosemary’s Baby, only to find he’d never seen that movie (me and my movie references). The person he was talking to said, “Technically, that’s not 6-6-6, since you have a zero in that last six. Although, I guess it would creep me out if my kid was born on that day.”

I thought about saying, “You’d always be checking underneath his hair, to see if he had those numbers there.” I refrained.

This backyard was perfect for partying. It had a firepit in one section and a fire place in another.

I went to grab some chips at one table and was told, “This is the gay mafia table.” I had no clue what that meant, but continued on to the next table (not that there was anything wrong with the first table).

One guy was playing guitar, and serenading two attractive blondes with his version of "Tears in Heaven." One of the women said, “That song always makes me cry, thinking about what happened to Clapton’s kid.”

When he finished he looked at me and said, “That’s not the response I’m hoping for when I play for women.” Someone heard this and told him, “You should’ve gone with 'Wonderful Tonight.'”

The only time he put down the guitar the entire evening, was in attempting to rid a guy of hiccups. After five minutes of trying, the hiccups went away. I think he thinks he actually is the reason for that. After the hiccups, I told the guy his voice sounded funny. I wondered if the hiccup remedy did something to his throat. He responded, “That’s the way my voice is. I have throat module problems.”

I felt embarrassed, and didn’t ask any follow-up questions.

I met a guy that was a guitarist in a Deep Purple tribute band called Deeper Purple. I told him I’ve seen them listed at several venues around town but have never seen them perform.

He told me about the Ritchie Blackmore concert he saw at 4^th & B.

Another guy talked about Eddie Van Halen playing a surprise show at the Belly Up Tavern. I told him I remembered David Lee Roth doing that when I was 20. He said that his friend met Van Halen while he was his roommate at the Betty Ford Clinic, and he came to visit him at his home in Rancho Santa Fe. They ended up going to the B.U.T. and he got on stage and played a few songs. He added, “When they got back to his place, he was so pumped, he sat at the piano and just started playing. Eventually my friend went to bed. Eddie was playing the entire night, until 7:30 a.m. He’s obsessive compulsive, which is probably why he became such a great musician.”

He talked about some parties he had been to in the Hollywood hills, after playing on an Ashley Simpson record and smoking pot out of an apple with a few famous names.

Johnny Depp showed up at one party he had, and was admiring his guitar collection.

When an airplane went overhead, the guitarist broke into a version of "Leaving on a Jet Plane." The entire crowd sang along, and with the pot in the air, it felt like it was 1972.

I told someone I always thought it was weird that the song wasn’t called “Leaving on an Airplane.” I explained, “You call it an airplane. Nobody says ‘jet plane.’.” He said, “I bet John Travolta does.”

One woman yelled out for some Zeppelin (sans the lighter), and he went into Tangerine.

One guy was pouring his beer out into a plant. His girlfriend was yelling at him and he said, “It’s probably good for the plant. Beer is good for hair. And all that ice…I’m watering the plants.”

I was told one guy at the party was a professional surfer and golfer. I said, “Really, professional at both of those things?” The response, “Yes. I have his DVD.”

There was a little drama when a woman got locked in the bathroom. I was told a woman got locked in earlier, too. Someone explained, “The doorknob on that thing is from 1926. Luckily, the first woman had a cell phone with her. This last woman was just screaming and pounding for 10 minutes. That’s why she was so pissed.”

I called one guy Carlos, and was told his name was Kyle. I said, “Sorry. All bald heads look alike to me.” Luckily they laughed.

I met a guy with an English accent. We had a moment of silence that felt awkward, so(in attempt to make it less awkward) I said, “You’re teeth are too nice for you to be from England.” He said, “I go back there each year, and let me tell you…I see some really messed up teeth.”

Another guy finally had the guitar in his hands, and was playing some flamenco styled stuff. He was using his long fingernails as he finger-picked.

As I was leaving, I overheard two women talking about a guy who had ruptured his vocal chords as a kid. I wondered if it was the same guy who was hiccupping earlier.

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