The control freak. This is the guy you invited that showed up with his own homemade BBQ sauce. He’d have trailered in his own grill if it weren’t cemented into his outdoor kitchen space. Adamant about manning the burgers. Here for war, not friends. His burgers are still dry.

The co-worker. He overheard how good your potato salad was after yesterday’s conference and you felt obligated to invite him. You forgot his name but he still answers to “bud” so he’s in. Ends up bringing in the best, barrel-aged whiskey. That guy can party. 

The guy that brings nothing but eats everything. His name is probably Bob or Bill. And he’s hungry. Guards the snack table and chews with his mouth open. He wears those flip flops with the bottle opener built into them. Bob just wants to have a good time at the expense of your wallet. 

The guy that brings nothing but tries to steal your wife. He gets a little sloppy. A little handsy. And usually makes suggestive jokes when everyone else is still sober. At any other location, he’d get a fist to the face, but not your backyard BBQ. Not today, not on the 4th of July. 

The frat bro. He might have graduated in 1993, but he’s been keeping the party going ever since. He pre-gamed the pre-game and has been drinking since 9 am. Brought a Miller Lite keg and the best roman candles from Valpo. Hardly out of the above-ground pool, but when he is, he’s playing cornhole. He is a machine, not man.