Consider our party potential thus discovered.

To top off my 2011 Weddingpalooza was last weekend's soiree, the story of Maggie and Ethan. It was been a much-anticipated labor of love, all things considered: tissue paper pom-poms, a bouquet made out of 150+ button flowers, and a paper flower garland which a group of us full-nelson'ed one night after a few glasses of wine. I half expected to see the finished product spell out a subliminal message. As it turns out, I'm not that talented.

Regardless, it was an event where we found the tables mysteriously turned, for after two years of working with PhD-holding intellectuals I was finally able to show them the awesomeness--we'll even go so far as to say my hidden talent--which is that I make a stellar wedding guest. Two hours in, one Prof said PHOTOGRAPHY...THRILLER...WHAT DON'T YOU DO? and I was all WELL, I DON'T DO WHAT YOU DO. AND, I CAN'T PLAY SPORTS.

I've always thought that last one rendered me universally incompetent but then I realized just because your family tells you something your whole life doesn't make it true. Bastards.

Of the stack of reasons why I miss working for these guys, one such is because they threw (and still throw) awesome parties. Like when they rented a bouncy castle then fed everybody cotton candy, which turned out to be the day we learned the Stillar sisters are aerodynamic. But I guess it goes without saying that artists make great partiers, as their brains are naturally so hyped up on something. Plus they're quirky and they look the part, so they make excellent conversation pieces.

It's a different world, working in a sea of Doctorates. They joke about totally different things, usually over my head. Although, I can appreciate when the start of term rolls around because they don their regalia for Convocation and as they make their way out the front door, somebody inevitably congratulates another on achieving a successful defense against the dark arts.

When I get married, I'm going to design a Rube Goldberg machine ending with an elaborate GUESS WHAT, HE'S CRAZY! AND YES, YOU'RE INVITED! and then bust into a rap. University faculty seem, as fate would have it, the hard sell of all hard sells.

Okay, not really. But wouldn't that be awesome. I'd be all HEY LOOK, A CONTRAPTION! OK GO!

There's never really a dull moment. Like, ever ever.

This weekend was no different. I ran the photo booth, allowing me the freedom to embarrass said faculty with my collection of hipster 'staches on a stick and really annoying feather boas. (Naturally I have all those things.)

They didn't really need my help. 

The gang, looking completely normal. Really.

That's Liam. He's my favorite.