Back when I was returning to San Diego for shore duty with my now but then soon to be wife, we found a little rancher two blocks from the beach in Imperial Beach. I landed a part time night job at a dive bar on the water and made some life-long friends. One friend, Linda, INSISTED on calling me 'Jimmy' even though i hated the monicker. I always just went by 'James' or 'Jay.' Me being the self-proclaimed pit master, and being the only one of us down by the beach with a private yard, Sundays after a late night at the bar became 'BBQ at Jimmy's." It got to a point that we didn't even invite people anymore, they would just show up promptly at about 1'ish with beer in hand.
One day someone commented on my cue and asked what kind of sauce I buy and where do I buy it. I gave him a sideways look, but before I could speak, Linda says, "That's Jimmyjam's special sauce, dumbass."
