Grilling fool

I'm in the process of making enough food to feed a small army. Hopefully this will satisfy the chickens. There are salads, chips and dip, devilled eggs, potatoes, corn, and several pounds of pork and beef. Watermelon for dessert.
They are excited.
Me? Scared sh*tless. I have to grill.
I LOVE the taste of grilled meat. That is my number one preference for flavor. However, when I'm the one grilling...it can't be good.
Last year I decided that putting some starter fluid on the briquets would be the way to go. I lost a bit of eyebrow and some leaves off the nearest tree. Then there was the year I accidentally dropped more food than I cooked. The dog was a happy camper.
And before I embarrass myself further...this leads me to the topic of discussion this lovely holiday Monday.
Manly expectations.
As sexist as this will sound, so sue me, there are simply things that I think men should do. I'm not saying I CAN'T do them. I'm saying I don't want to.
Grilling is one of them. (I can do this. But I don't know if my life insurance will cover death by briquet.)
Changing a tire. (Once again...capable. But this is why I have AAA.)
Roofing of any sort. (Don't like heights.)
Plumbing. (Don't like dealing with sh*t and/or pipes.)
Any sort of automobile issue. (OK. Watching a guy work on a car does it for me. *grins*)
Lawncare. (I've mowed the lawn and done weedeating for several years. But the sight of a guy with a weedwacker? Rowr. Think that's phallic in some sort of subconscious way? *snicker*)
And just because I'm a voyeur...I love to watch a man:
Cook
Wash a car
Stroke a guitar.
Ride a horse or motorcycle.
Do any type of construction.

I'm off to risk life and limb to furnish my chickens with sustenance. Enjoy your Memorial Day!
Grins*