So this wasn't much of a theme party per se–or at all, I suppose. A welcome party has a function, but not a theme. If the party had been, say, a Eurotrash Welcome Party, well then, OK. But anyway, since my girlfriend and I had just moved from California to Seattle, we didn't have a ton of friends, and I thought we should throw a party so we could meet people. Like money, though, it takes friends to make friends, so we called upon the few people we did know, and had them bring the people they knew, and so on. The result: Actually, it was kind of a downer of a party. Everyone knew someone, but no one really knew us, and since it was at our place, this made it kind of awkward. Plus, we ourselves hadn't even settled in yet–there were still some unpacked boxes that I'd stuffed in the closet, the furniture wasn't arranged very well, etc. etc., and so basically everyone felt out of place and a little uncomfortable, even after a couple beers. I was kind of kicking myself, mid-party, for not giving it a theme, and this became a total downward spiral, because the more I thought about how I should have themed the party, the more I removed myself from the moment, and the more I focused on what the party was not, rather than what it was. Example. I assumed everyone was having a crap to mediocre time. However, once everyone had left, my girlfriend seemed in pretty high spirits. And I didn't feel like talking anymore at that point, so who knows what she was so chipper about, but it was obviously something that had happened at the party. Someone she'd met, or something funny someone had said, or maybe just the general gaiety of the evening was spilling over into our night together. Which was a total bummer, because the same thing was happening to me, only the opposite. I started to get more and more upset at how the party had probably ruled ass, only I'd been so busy worrying about everyone having a good time and thinking they weren't that eventually my humor just fizzled and died. My girlfriend even wanted to have sex that night, but I kind of literally gave her the cold shoulder, just turned the other way in bed, but then I was kicking myself even more because hello. My crap mood had taken on a mind of its own, and I lay there for at least an hour, pissed off at myself for being pissed off.

The 80s Party

This idea stemmed from a the classic 80s party (meaning 1980s) where people wear really bright clothes and put stuff in their hair and dance to CD-Rs with great 80s songs like the one by Nine Inch Nails where he lists all the 44 girls he’s dated and makes funny rhymes about them, or that one where all the chorus is is the guy singing “Mmmmmmmmmmm” for like two minutes or whatever. So I thought it would be great to still have an 80s party, but with an entirely different spin on it–namely, the future. I was thinking up stuff like guests arriving in hovercraft limos, wearing crazy outfits made of metally fabrics, that kind of thing. Sure in 2080 it might still be just the famous people riding in (hovercraft) limos, but I figured by then, what with the Internet and self-publishing, most celebrities would be more like your everyday people who’d still be down to party with a guy like me, just average Joe Citizen. Anyway that’s the way I thought things seemed to be heading. No one showed up in a hovercraft limo though, obviously because they weren’t around yet, but also because no one took the initiative to mod their car to look like one, or to look even remotely futuristic, or even like–whatever–to say they’d arrived by hovercraft limo. I would have accepted that sort of thing; it’s a theme party–it’s the attitude. It’s the one-off clever comment that can really make the night–like, I dunno, someone says something only semi-futuristic and someone else responds, “What is this, 2056?” or something. But no one really went for it. One cool thing though was this guy Josh was chatting up some lady who told him she’d totally be into seeing him again. “I'll give you a call in 2081,” she said. That was the sort of thing I was going for. That was wicked.

The Crab Party

Probably since it’s so close to the Dungeness Spit in Sequim (a three hour drive from the city), crab is really popular and easily obtained from pretty much any market in Seattle. You can get, for example, ten whole crabs for just thirty bucks, about, at the grocery store a few blocks from my place. The crab party went fairly well as a whole; my girlfriend says since it was her idea and I had very little to do with its planning and/or execution. She’s a graphic designer, so she made an invitation in Photoshop that said “Got crabs?” and had a photo from the internet of a man and a woman in some post-coital embrace under some pretty diaphanous ("sexy") looking sheets, I thought. Then she emailed it out to a bunch of people and they came over. It was actually the first time I’d ever eaten crab, except for crab cakes, and I liked it much better than lobster, which I’d had only once before. The only downside to the night was this one guy who kept wanting to chat with me about pretentious stuff, like crab was only for rich, snooty people, or something.

The Come as Your Favorite Actor/Actress Party

At one point during the early conceptualization stages of this party I thought, “What if this one was called the ‘Come as Your Favorite Adult Actor/Actress’ party?” which is really funny, in a subtle way, if you think about it for a minute, but I decided against this, 1. because I thought it would be sort of trashy, and not that cool to see how many people actually had a favorite adult film star, or else everyone would just come as the same person, like Jenna Jameson or something (that’s the only adult film star I know), and 2. because I didn’t really think anyone would get the subtle word play in the theme’s title anyway. Well, as it turned out, this one was a massive failure, unless the idea was to get a ton of dorks to come out of the woodwork and over to my apartment, which it obviously wasn’t. The party was a bit of a technological breakthrough for me, as it was the first one I posted on MySpace, so I was expecting an even bigger turnout than usual. Unfortunately though, like I said, the turnout was mostly nerds who completely misunderstood the theme. What I was thinking was it would be hilarious if people came as, like, Tom Cruise, and punched the floor a ton or jumped up and down on my couch. (Actually, this was exactly my plan.) But everyone instead came as characters from movies, not actors or actresses (except for the guy who came as Vince Vaughn and just acted like some Rico Suave the whole time, which was totally annoying). In my wildest dreams I never could have imagined an apartment, let alone my own, so chockablock full of Luke Skywalkers, Freddy Kruegers, Terminators, Rockys, Beverly Hills Cops, and worst of all, Austin fucking Powerses. People really put a lot of effort into their costumes, I’ll give them that, but still. Complete disregard for the theme. I even tried to make the most of it by going up to random people and shaking them and yelling, “I’m in love!” but no one even got it. Idiots.

The Name My Baby Party

It wasn’t anything serious–we’d only been together about two years–but one time my girlfriend and I were talking about what we’d name our babies if we ever had any. I can’t even remember any of the names we came up with now, but the conversation made me think of a great idea for a theme party. I called up some people and told them to come over. The only hint I gave them re the theme of the party was, “Yep, it’s a theme party, like usual, but this time I’m not going to tell you the name of it.” This was a really subtle hint, and also sort of a pun, because, of course, the very theme of the party had to do with naming. So I bought a ton of those sticky name tags that say, at the top, “Hello! My name is:” with white space underneath to fill in your name, and when people showed up I gave them one, plus one of my Sharpie Retractables, and they had to write down not their own name, but instead what they thought I should name my baby, if I ever had one. One joker asked if it could be a girl’s name, even though he was a guy. I said, “Sure, if you really want us to call you Jennifer, or whatever, for the rest of the night.” And that’s how it went–everyone would call each other by whatever name they’d written on their name tag, and that way my girlfriend and I could see how it sounded to say, like, “Hey Benjamin, come here for a second.” I even played along–my name was Gregory. This was sort of a joke, too, because I’d never name my kid Gregory in a million years. People kept slipping up though and calling me my regular name, which sort of pissed me off. In hindsight I admit that this party was a bit self-serving in its motives, like a guy who hosts a pool party only because he wants to see some hot girls from school wearing bikinis.

The MySpace Party

I’d advertised a few parties on MySpace already and finally I got to thinking what if the theme of a party was MySpace? The idea was that people would bring their laptops over to my place (I just had a regular G4, so I’d have to sit in the computer room the whole time, but this was fine) and no one could talk to each other, they could only send MySpace messages with their laptops. Email and IMs would also be OK, I figured, and if someone had Facebook or Friendster or any of those other accounts, I thought they could use those too. I thought about text messaging as well, since that’s super popular these days, but I eventually decided to nix it, since it was getting too far away from the theme. Friendster and Facebook are basically the same thing as MySpace (I’m assuming; I’ve never used them), but if I allowed text messaging people might also be calling each other from across the room or whatever and I’d have to change the theme to Technology Party, which is way dorky and not as hip as just a MySpace party. This is all moot though, because the party never really happened; I sent out a ton of evites, but only a couple people responded and I eventually had to call it off. I guess most people still have desktop PCs like me–I just figured laptops were more en vogue these days.

The Communist Party

I heard someone say this phrase on the news and realized it could quite possibly be the best party I’d ever come up with, just because of the name. I was so excited I started thinking up other parties I could host along the same lines, like “The Republican Party” or “The Donner Party,” but I sort of knew “The Communist Party” was the best, probably because I’d hosted a ton of theme parties by now and had developed a pretty good instinct. I admit that I did go to a Communism party once in college, but it was lame for two reasons, 1. “The Communist Party” is such a good, clever pun which they totally missed out on by calling it just “a Communism party,” and 2. all it had was a bunch of drunk people going around in those trendy Che Guevara T-shirts and calling each other Comrade. One girl–actually, true story, it was my girlfriend, before we were dating–dressed up in a pantsuit which you could tell she’d got at a thrift store, but it was a pretty good idea, because what she was doing was being an anti-Communist, aka a “Capitalist.” That’s a really good ironic joke and I’m sure no one even got it. Anyway as far as what would happen at my party, I went on Wikipedia and found out that Communism is basically an ideology that seeks to establish a future classless social organization based upon common ownership of the means of production and the absence of private property, so what I did was I called some people up and said, “Just bring whatever you can and everyone will just share with everyone else.” I knew I would still have to be in charge, technically, like it would be at my house, I would decide the time and the date, and what music to play (Rage Against the Machine, of course, one of my favorite Communist bands), but I did more research and found out that it’s pretty normal in Communism for one person or a couple people to be in charge of everyone else. Anyway, whatever–the party was a smash hit, but good thing I was in charge, since a ton of people just brought beer or nothing at all, and I happened to have some snacks and stuff in the fridge, like some hot dogs, which we ended up barbecuing.

The Artists Only Party

For a few weeks a while back I was listening to Talking Heads almost exclusively, especially that album with all the Polaroids on it. My favorite song on there is “Artists Only” because of the kick-ass drum fill after the verse, plus the part where he says “You can’t see it till I’m finished” or whatever because that’s totally how I feel when I’m doing a painting or something, I don’t want anyone to see it until it’s totally finished. I’m super standoffish when I’m doing art. The breakdown with the rad organ part is pretty cool too, like almost at the end of the song right before he starts talking about how he knows he’s a good artist and he’s “creative” and everything and he doesn’t have to prove it by always constantly making great paintings and showing them off to people. In the song you know he’s talking about visual art like paintings and not musical art like the very song itself, because he says you can’t see it till he’s finished and if he was talking about a song he would have said you can’t hear it till it’s finished. Obviously musicians can also be painters and vice versa. In art school you learn how to be analytical about all things visual, and cautious of the media and commercialism. You learn how to paint and do performance art and stuff and some people like to talk about philosophy while smoking drugs. In art school a ton of people’s sentences begin like: “Clearly,” and consist of an opinion stated factually. It’s great. Art school is a great place to meet tons of unique people. In art school you learn that unique, as in the word, can’t be what’s called “modified” meaning you can’t say something is quote super unique or conversely quote kind of unique because, endquote, because unique means one-of-a-kind, as in uni- meaning one, and so something can’t be super one-of-a-kind or kind of one-of-a-kind, obviously. It is or it isn’t. The Artists Only Party is either an ironic thing where I make my apartment into a fake gallery and put a ton of shit paintings on the wall and only serve wine and water crackers and everyone goes around and has half-clandestine half-ostentatious one-on-ones about each piece and says how this one’s really unique, or else I seriously only invite artists, like anyone I know who’s an artist and we just sit around. I’m almost positive someone will pick up and casually strum the acoustic for a bit at some point during the night.

The Key Party Party

I think pretty much everyone knows what a key party is, but if not it’s when everyone drives to someone’s house and puts their keys in a big bowl or bag or something and then at the end of the night instead of going home with your regular wife or girlfriend you go home with whoever grabbed your keys for you. It was big in the 60s I guess but who knows if anyone does it these days. When free love was big it seems like this sort of idea would have been pretty cool and normal, but nowadays it might be seen as “slutty” or maybe like sick or depraved. Well, what happened is two things in a row happened which made me think about key parties. The first was I was on an international flight with free movies on it. I watched The Ice Storm, and not to give too much away if you’ve never seen it, but at one point a struggling married couple goes to a key party. That was incident one. Incident two was I was listening to this album I had just bought and at one point he goes “Throw your keys in the bowl/ kiss your husband goodnight,” which is an obvious reference to a key party. That was the second time key parties had come into my consciousness in the past month. This sort of thing happens a lot though, where you hear a word for the first time and you look it up or you tell yourself you’re going to look it up later and then you keep hearing the word and you keep hearing it and hearing it etc. etc. and you’re like, “Man I hadn’t ever heard that word and now it’s everywhere.” Trust me it happens a lot, and words are just one example. Anyway in The Ice Storm, the lady who throws the key party is sort of trashy and a bit . . . not skanky but basically like a person who’s all about the best brand of makeup and outfits and nail polish, but she looks so overdone with makeup that she looks almost downright ugly. Anyway I thought, well, 1. that’s just Hollywood’s take on things, and 2. over time the idea of the key party has probably been distorted by cultural taboos and changing ideals and whatnot, and so why couldn’t it work? Maybe it still could. By now, my girlfriend and I had established this group of friends who were all in serious relationships or married, maybe like five couples, and I thought what a perfect group to try it out on. So everyone came over and I was like, “Give me your keys,” maybe under the pretense of like, “You’re not driving home tonight, my friend, you’re going to drink till you drop at this party!” But really it was because of the key party. Actually at one point I told people it was a key party and at first they were like WHAT? but I managed to convince them that it just might work. Well, we got to later on in the night and everyone was nervous but finally it was time. Only, we knew by then that there was no way in hell we were going to go through with it, so I made a modified rule. The rule was: Sure, you are free to go home with whomever’s keys you pick, if both parties are consenting and also if both of the persons’ significant others or sig-os are also consenting. But at the very least, and this was the new rule, you at the very least had to kiss that person on the mouth for two to three seconds. Well, I’ll admit it, I was way nervous. And sure enough, when someone picked out my keys I was like Oh crap. And this was how we carried out our own key party. What’s interesting to note is that one girl actually picked out her husband’s keys, which is definitely a coincidence, but since everyone was only kissing for the requisite 2–3 seconds, that’s all they did, too. Even though for all they/we cared they could have kissed for minutes and minutes or even touched each others bodies, which of course none of the other people were doing. Too awkward.

The Shave Your Face/Legs Party

Here my idea was simple–everyone would just come over and shave their legs (women) or face (men) together. Most everyone, however, shaved before coming over. A lot of times executing the perfect theme party is nothing more than an excercise in communication. Once everyone got there, though, and I had finished explaining the mixup, we decided to discuss shaving cream brands, then we moved on to different lotions and tanning booths, then on to other things entirely. I noticed that some men didn’t have any facial hair anyway, and others refused to part with theirs, even for a Shave Your Face/Legs party. Most of the women said they shaved their legs regularly, but I knew they probably let themselves go from time to time, and just wore jeans.

The Condo Board Meeting Party

Here’s an idea I got from having to walk through the parking lot of this condominium complex every morning (and after work, too) to get to my job. All the condos look the same and are pretty small and whatnot and all the parking spots have numbers like 131A which refer to the condo number or else they say GUEST PARKING or NO PARKING FIRE LANE. There’s also a rec room and a pool and whatever. So one day I noticed that they put a little sign up by the parking lot's exit, one of those self-standing signs (technically they’re called self-standing floor signs, United States Patent 4253260, which I only know because I looked it up on Google) and the sign said Board Meeting 7:00 PM. I thought that was pretty funny for some reason, in a sad way, but also a pretty good idea, since anyone who’s leaving will see it and make a mental note, if they are on the board. Even though I’m sure they also put flyers on all the doors and on the bulletin board in the commons area, if there is one. Anyway, I thought a pretty good prank would be to turn the 7 into an 8 with a marker so it would look like the meeting was actually at 8:00 PM and everyone would miss it or basically it would just create some general confusion and chaos. The only reason I didn’t do it is I didn’t have a good enough marker to make a realistic looking 8. This does reveal though that I think condos and being on the condo board is pretty dorky, or else why would I want to play a trick on these people. Hence the party, where we would pretend we were on a real condo board and holding one of our many official meetings. One person would be the secretary, she would be the one taking the “minutes,” or notes, of the meeting to post on the condo website (in our case just a MySpace page I would create beforehand), one person is the board president, one person is the vice-president or VP or veep, one person is the treasurer and would be sure to speak up if anything monetary came up like if someone was all, “I think it would be great if we had a wine and cheese party every Friday called TGIF, Thank Goodness it’s Free, and the condo complex would provide all the wine and cheese!” well the treasurer would be sure to speak up and say, “That sounds good and fun but who is going to actually pay for it. Our budget for these sorts of things is blah blah blah,” or whatever. There could be a PR person, an HR person, I don’t know since I’ve never been on a board of anything. PR and HR are office terms. Maybe some people who would do the condo newsletter/website, which means a writer/columnist or two, a graphic artist, maybe an ersatz editor. They’d be in attendance. Point being there would be like maybe 20 people on the board, plus I think at a board meeting there are also just some people who show up who are board memebers but don’t have an official title like Secretary or Veep, but they show up to represent the common man, like they might say, “Well I don’t think we should do blah blah blah because that would lower property values and increase blah blah blah,” and then people on the board would be like, “Hmmm, that’s true,” or whatever. This is exactly how the party is, everyone sitting around in a circle, maybe 30 people, then everyone just starts having sex with each other.

The Bathroom/Shower Party

I was reading this book and in the book, which is set in Los Angeles, the main character ends up at a “bathroom party.” At first I assumed this would mean just a bunch of people crowded into a bathroom, drinking beers together, like basically a theme party for the sake of a theme party, but as it turned out the partygoers were actually in the shower with each other, and nude. I hadn’t hosted a theme party in quite a while, and I immediately thought I might try this one out. The idea, absurd as it may sound, actually seemed fairly plausible to me, considering it was taking place in LA. I just wondered if it would work in Seattle. First off, I knew it wouldn’t work with my friends. Although the vibe of the party in the book was not meant to be explicitly sexual–likewise, I wasn’t interested in throwing an orgy–there’s an inherent level of sexuality in nudity that I don’t think any of my friends would be comfortable with. Or, if any of them were, there might be some big repercussions, like how do you go back to just hanging out with a person once you’ve showered with him/her? So I decided I’d have to put up fliers or an ad on the internet and see what strangers were interested, if any. I also wasn’t sure whether my girlfriend–who was actually now my fiancé–would be in favor of the idea at all. I decided to organize everything first, though, before proposing it to her, to show that not only was I serious about the idea, but methodical and well-reasoned, that here were my motivations, A, B, and C, that it wasn’t an orgy, that here’s how it would work and why it would work, etc. etc. etc.
     While I was thinking about all this, I happened to go a concert. At the concert were two backup singers in tight white dresses, and under the stage lights you could essentially see what the women’s bodies would look like nude. I kept re-noticing this during the show, and marveling at how dissimilar their two bodies were. And I realized that the bathroom party would be this kind of experience. You see millions of people in your lifetime, but only a handful of them naked, and how interesting to note the multifarious body types, and isn’t nature amazing and diverse, and so on and so forth. So anyway, I spent a week or so designing a flyer that I’d put up around the city, and on my MySpace page, advertising the event. The reason it took a week to produce a simple ad was I wanted to somehow convey that this wasn’t–that it might be a bit sexy, sure, but it wasn’t a sex party. It wasn’t an orgy. I didn’t want any freaks, essentially. But I couldn’t just say that on the invite, “No Freaks Allowed!” It had to be worded perfectly so as not to offend anyone or dissuade the right people from showing up. I also had to present myself as not a freak. Anyway, I’m not totally pleased with what I came up with, so I won’t reprint it here. It was more like I’d spent so much time on it, going back and forth, adding/deleting commas, swapping pronouns, etc., that I couldn’t even really see it any longer (nor could I show it to anyone I knew for proofreading, for somewhat obvious reasons). I eventually said Enough, and just posted it, for better or worse. Then I presented the idea to my girlfriend/fiancé. As I suspected, she wasn’t too hip on the whole thing. I told her that there would be men there too, that I wasn’t just trying to get a bunch of women over to our apartment and take their clothes off, but mentioning men just made it sound even more like a sex party. I kept explaining my motivations to her, I mentioned the two women in white dresses at the concert, and eventually she understood where I was coming from, but she still wasn’t comfortable with it. A few days later I started getting calls, and though I could tell some of the callers were freaks looking for a sex party, most of the people seemed to understand what I was trying to do. I had to tell them, though, that unfortunately my fiancé was not comfortable with the idea, and that the party was therefore cancelled. And after the fifth or sixth caller, I think my girlfriend/fiancé started to feel bad, and she said maybe we could have a little shower party of our own. In the book I was talking about before, the main character is standing in a shower with a male friend of his, and with two females he’s just met. All four of them are nude, and wet from shower water. The vibe, overall, is not sexual per se but lighthearted. The main character starts sudsing one of the women up with a bar of soap, running his hands up and down her back and across her butt and her arms. I actually can’t remember if she turns around and he soaps up the woman’s breasts, I really can’t. This is the way the book seemed to be heading though. While most people would deny that this could be anything but a prelude to promiscuous intercourse, it really wasn’t. It was just two people hanging out at a party, and they happened to be in the shower and they happened to be nude and there happened to be some soap. And that was that.

Edward Sixteen-point-six-hands

If you've ever planned your own wedding, first of all, congrats on getting married, but second of all you know it can be pretty stressful. You also know, hopefully, that it can be a lot of fun, and of course the whole mood of it is (or should be) pretty joyous, since it's your own freakin' wedding after all. But I guess I'm getting ahead of myself. First, some background. In college, no theme party had more buzz than Edward Fortyhands, not by half. At an Edward Fortyhands party, you buy 40s (of beer) and tape one to each of your hands, and you can't go to the bathroom or take the 40s off your hands until you've drank all 80 ounces of beer. 80 ounces to freedom, I guess. That's what it should be called. But the thing that always got me about Edward Fortyhands is that seriously everybody knew what it was, but I maintained that no one–I mean no one–had ever actually thrown an Edward Fortyhands party. I guess there are a lot of things like this. Most sex moves you hear about, for example. Everyone talks about this or that move, alludes to how they tried it "this one time" and it was awesome, but really, it's never happened and it never will. Urban myth, is what it is. What's weird, though, is that it wouldn't even be that hard to throw an Edward Fortyhands party. I don't get why no one would be like, "OK, I'm gonna be the guy. I'm gonna be the guy to actually do Edward Fortyhands instead of just talking about it." I guess it wouldn't be anything to brag about, though, because everyone would be like "Yeah, so what. What is this, 1995? Next." It's a catch-22, in a way, is what's keeping Edward Fortyhands from ever happening. So one day I was thinking about Edward Fortyhands, just daydreaming, and I thought, what other kind of hands (still involving beer) could you build a party off of. Edward Twelvehands is a good one. Just tape two normal beers on your hands and you have to drink them both before you can pee or do anything. Which would be hilarious because it doesn't take that long to drink two beers, and the whole party would just be a whole lot of taping beers to your hands, drinking them, struggling to get the empties off, taping new ones, etc. etc. and it would basically suck, which I just think is funny, having a theme party and the theme is actually detrimental to the party itself. So Edward Twelvehands was one. Then, though, I thought of something that cracked me the hell up. Seriously, it still cracks me up just thinking about it. Edward Keghands. You get two kegs, and some poor sucker has his hands taped to the kegs with duct tape, and he can't move, obviously, because freakin' kegs weigh a million pounds even with no beer in them, and he's just sitting there with the keg tubes in his mouth, and people go over from time to time and pump the kegs for him and just, yeah, he can't un-tape his hands until he finishes both the kegs. Edward Keghands. I dunno, I thought it was pretty funny as hell. Hypothetical, of course, for about two million reasons. Anyway, so back to wedding planning. One thing that I was tasked with was to choose the beer for the wedding. And this is what I meant by wedding planning can be fun, if you have the right attitude. What I did was one night, while my fiancé was out of town for a wedding shower, I bought a bunch of different beers and was going to have a little tasting. One of the beers was Gulden Draak, this Belgian beer that I knew in a million years we'd never have at the wedding, but that I just wanted anyway, and another was Dead Guy Ale, which I wasn't that stoked on but the guy at the beer store said it's really popular, so I thought I'd give it a try. There were other beers, but these were the first two I was going to try out. I opened both beers and went to get some glasses but then I thought Wait a second, here. Instead I got some tape and taped the beers to my hands, and suddenly I was having an Edward Fortyhands party! Kind of, at least. The Gulden Draak was in an 11.2oz bottle, and the Dead Guy was 22oz, so if you average those two it comes to 16.6 oz each, so, Edward Sixteen-point-six-hands. Now, you're probably thinking, "Wait a second. One person does not a party make." Which, I actually thought the same thing. I did. But really though, who cares? Party of one. Why not. Just go with it.