I was playing tennis yesterday with an older friend who lives in Malibu. We came to the net.

“Hey Tiff, I’ve been meaning to ask you: have you heard of The Red Hot Chili Peppers?"

That’s like asking a teenager if they’ve ever heard of Incubus.

“Yes, they were popular when I was a teenager. Why?" I asked scratching my back with my racket.

“Some guy named Flea from The Red Hot Chili Peppers lives near me. He bought a five-bedroom house. Why does he need five-bedrooms? The family that lived there before had four kids. How old do you think he is?”

“Um, around forty,” I said.

My friend didn’t even know the band, so why was she under the assumption that Flea didn’t have a family? I mean her assumption was pretty accurate, but still. I had immediately assumed that all the band members needed a room and that obviously Flea would have a million guests. Everyone wants to visit you if you live in Malibu near the beach.

“Have you seen Flea driving his new Range Rover?”

“No,” said my friend.”

“It’s a dorky car. The same people that buy Saabs buy Range Rovers. I don’t think Flea is all that cool anymore. Do you think you could get an invite to his next party?”