Your browser doesn't support the features required by this party, so you are presented with a simplified version of the invitation. You're pretty much missing out.

This year our August party,

has found its way to October.

Come celebrate:

Babies droppin' (ours)

Vows droppin' (Eliza & Keith's)

Bass droppin' (as in beats, not fish)

Birthday's clockin'





Live bands!

Rimboy beers!


Games of Chance, Skill, Illusion, and Disappointment!

Dance Party!


Hackers, slackers, punks, dweebies, motorheads, righteous dude(ettes), lovers, fighters, rockers, mockers, gawkers, shelf-stockers, and ware hawkers.

A slightly higher than normal chance of spontaneous space flight.

The James White Fan Club.

Perhaps people with hula hoops.

A towering hopscape.

Dogs. And Cats. Momentarily, at least, living together.

bring yourself and your peep(s)

5001 indiana ave, nashville, tn 37209

(*) Solicitation should not be construed to re-constitute, or recalcitrate, with or without an offer to homogenize the neutrogena, or gina, depending on the woman (or man), forthwith, furthermore, post haste, post office, nor heretofore to flatulate yourself over here, (you little zygote) -- don't be scared, for you see, the illumination of the gatoradial electrolytes merely visualize the magnitude of my protrusion, viz., not legal advice merely the consideration provided by counsel, Oswald Bates, Esq. -- "May your day be full of spasmodic penile requisition until the lobotomy is scrambled intuitively," heretofore and further referred to as The Scrambler, the Gambler, the Fast-Mail Rambler, aka, c.f., c.v., i.e., i.u.d., Kenny Rogers, not to be confused, e.t.c., or I have visercated my dialectual bamboomzalities, therefore my discharge devillages the unseen debunction of my deforgations. Ltd., all rights reserved.

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