Dear Atlas Blog Readers,

Have you ever done paint by numbers? I mean have you ever done one after kindergarten? I tried one recently with the hope of learning, in some small way, how to actually paint for real.

It didn’t work and I have come to the dramatic realization that I am no Picasso. Not even close. In fact, I’m not even the kid in kindergarten who can color within the lines. I’m that bad at anything in the artistic realm. Even my stick figures look like horribly disfigured abominations.

I feel much the same way when I go to an event that is spectacular. Some people really just have a talent for putting together a celebration. I have come, more and more, to the realization that this is a talent that is artistic in nature and the events that they put together are works of art.

For a little while I believed that being submerged in the presence of such individuals would rub off on me. It hasn’t. I’m constantly reminded of that fact every time I attend a party or an event that is thrown by someone who really knows what they are doing.

I recently had an “I would have never thought of that moment” at a friend’s 25th anniversary. Both my friend and his wife are architects. They design buildings and homes. Where you could even begin to do something like that I have no idea. I tried building a fort once out of pillows and a blanket; within five minutes the city declared it structurally unsound and made me destroy it.

Despite their artistic and visionary natures, my friends happen also to be somewhat simple in their personal lives. They aren’t extravagant, nor are they flamboyant in their tastes. I knew that their anniversary party would be perfect without being showy.

I was right. The gathering took place at their home (which, of course, they designed and built). There were many people there: family, friends, business associates, etc.. Food stations had been set up in different parts of the house. At first, I couldn’t figure out why they hadn’t decided on a single buffet area or something similar. When I got closer to the first station, I discovered why.

When I picked up the plate I was surprised to see that it was a triangle shape. I’d never seen a plate like that before. All of the food at this station had also been cut and shaped in the form of a triangle. The shapes were natural; it wasn’t as if they had taken a hamburger and pressed it into a triangular shape. There were pies, quiche, and the like here.

Across the room a food station was set up with oval dishes. Again, the food had been prepared to naturally match the shape of the plate it was being served in. As I stood at this station and looked back at the “triangle station”, I realized it had been placed below two magnificent wooden beams that started at the floor and met each other at the ceiling in the shape of a triangle.

Similarly, the other food stations complimented some feature in the home. Rectangles, hexagons, squares, cubes . . . you name it.

I had been to my friend’s house many times. I had always admired the beauty of their house. I had seen everything before, but this was the first time that the shapes of the house started to stand out to me. The way that they had been placed together or used as juxtapositions was remarkable.

All that time I had never seen it for the piece of art that it really was and it finally took some shaped dinner plates to open my eyes.

Art. Plain and simple.

I’ll never be able to come up with things like that. It just isn’t in my nature. I’m glad that there are people out there who see the world so differently and can make things like this for the rest of us to enjoy!

Dear Atlas Party Rental Blog Readers,

Sometimes we all have to do things that we don’t want to do. It is just a fact of life that we can’t get away from.

Sometimes there is nothing I want to do more than just sit on the couch and stare at the wall. Inside every man lives the soul of a hermit. You all know it’s true. Sometimes a man just needs to retreat into the depths of his house and loose himself in a cycle of naps, junk food and more naps.

It is a universal truth.

I couldn’t wait for this past weekend because that is exactly what I had planned. I had even gone as far as to plan a very intricate web of excuses and lies (I’m not proud of lying, but sometimes it’s necessary) to avoid any social interaction whatsoever: My friends thought I had some work to do. My family thought I was going out with friends. Work thought I had a big family event I had to go to.

It wasn’t complicated but it was perfect . . . except for the big family event that I had to go to!

I had completely forgotten about it, but a single phone call from my mother reminded me that it was my 7 year-old cousin’s birthday. I tried desperately to get out of it but anyone who has ever gone up against a well-executed guilt trip from their mother knows that that wasn’t happening.

I couldn’t imagine a worse place to be than in my cousin’s back yard as an army of screaming 7 year-olds who were all hopped up on candy and birthday cake looked for an infinite number of ways to cause mass destruction and end all life on the planet as we know it.

It was going to be a very, very bad scene, but there was nothing I could do. I had familial obligations to fulfill (and by that I mean my mother’s wrath would be epic).

So it came to pass that on Saturday after I picked up my mother it was with a great deal of surprise that I learned the birthday party was taking place inside a local science museum. I’d never heard of anything like this before. Growing up I was an extreme nerd (at least that’s what all the other kids used to call me) and I would have loved to have a birthday in a museum. Heck, I would have loved any party in a museum!

When we arrived, I was even more surprised. There were no screaming kids running around hell-bent on destroying life as we know it. In fact it was the exact opposite.

The museum staff was on hand and they were doing cool experiments and mini-shows that educated and mystified the mind. Kids sat in rapture in neat rows as someone dropped Mentos into a 2 liter bottle of soda and watched the ensuing explosion. In other areas the staff was showing off the museum’s animals like snakes, lizards and even a falcon. A FALCON!

As the birthday continued, guided tours of the museum exhibits were offered, or you could wander off on your own and go through the museum at your leisure. This particular place had a great deal of hands-on exhibits and it was educational and fun playing with them.

Again, I was completely surprised; I had never been to a party inside a science museum before. Aware of my Mr. Event duties, I approached the attractive staff member who was holding a pretty cool looking lizard and asked her if they limited the facilities to birthday parties.

“Why do you want to know? Are you Mr. Event or something?” She asked.

I rolled my eyes and started to giggle nervously, “N-n-nooooo,” I stammered and rolled my eyes at the obnoxious suggestion. She looked at me suspiciously but didn’t press the issue further. I’m just smooth like that, you know?

I was amazed to learn that they hosted all kinds of events. In the evenings, after the museum closed, they hosted corporate events, fundraisers, movie screenings and even weddings (which I thought was a little weird, until I realized that I would get married there in a heartbeat)!

For adult events they set up facilities and food stations inside the actual halls and exhibits of the museum. I imagined how cool it would be to be there after hours in a social setting. I certainly had never experienced that before and I thought it could be a great twist in the event realm.

As far as I could tell, the parents and adults were having just as much fun as the children. That is not something that I have experienced at birthday parties in the past! So, the time my mother was done with the whole thing and said we could leave, I pleasantly opted to stay a while longer so I could learn about the mysteries of “Gak”!

It was really a great time. Take a look at some interesting venues like a museum when you’re planning your next event whether it is a birthday, anniversary or networking event. It certainly adds flavor to the standard meeting/ballroom affair!

Until next Wednesday!

Dear Atlas Blog Readers and loyal customers (all of whom I hope are becoming huge Mr. Event fans),

It’s the time of week again to learn what your favorite mystery man (that’s me, Mr. Event) thought about something he experienced! I’m excited about it, and I know that you are too.

In my first blog I told you that I was going to tell you about a disappointing dessert that I had at an event. Then, in my last blog, I completely forgot to write about it! I know that our relationship is new, so I don’t want you to think that I’m building it on lies . . . I’m not. I just forget things from time to time.

I first realized that I broke my promise when I was walking down the street and two people were talking in an outside café about the Mr. Event Blog and how they were kind of bummed out that I didn’t talk about the dessert.

The conversation went a little like this:

Person 1: I just read Mr. Event’s second blog and I’m kind of disappointed that he didn’t write about the dessert he said he was going to in his first column.

Person 2: Yeah, me too.

Person 1: In fact, I think I’m kind of angry about it.

Person 2: Yeah, me too.

True story. I swear.

All I can do is apologize. I’m sorry I made everyone disappointed and angry. But I can correct it by talking about desserts now.

This particular event I attended was a number of years ago. Long before I became the fabled blogger known as Mr. Event, so I really wasn’t looking for anything to write about. However, the crushing disappointment about this dessert has stayed with me for a number of years.

So there I was at this event. It was a nice event and I mean NICE. Two companies had just merged in a deal that I’m sure made a number of people a serious amount of money and they were in the mood for some celebrating.

We’re talking about the standard show-off kind of stuff: white gloved waiters, hor d’oeuvres made from expensive animals, fine suits, an open bar with top-shelf liquors, etc. They really rolled out the red carpet . . . literally.

After the obligatory cocktail hour, we sat down for dinner. The dinner itself was amazing. It lived up to the hype and buzz that the cocktail hour had promised.

I remember being upset that the dinner was over, but I was so excited for dessert I hadn’t noticed the subtle warning signs that we were in trouble, like the lack of dessert silverware on the table.

Some of my tablemates had even started to speculate on what could be coming. Bananas Foster, Baked Alaska and profiteroles were quietly being whispered from ear to ear. I thought individual chocolate fountains would be nice at the very least and I found myself wondering if it would be a faux pas to bury my face in the liquid chocolate and just start gulping it down.

Then a hush went through the room as the waiters appeared carrying trays towards the tables. When they reached us, they paused and lifted the trays high into the air. The anticipation was at a boil. A woman somewhere to my right let out a restrained squeak and passed out. In one synchronized, arching motion, the waiters placed the trays down on the table and there it was . . . our desert:

Chocolate chip cookies.

Seriously. That was it. Chocolate chip cookies.

The disappointment was evident and immediate. I could see people looking around at each other with confused looks on their faces. The woman who had passed out in anticipation had been revived and, upon seeing what awaited her, passed out again. (Ok, maybe I’m embellishing a little bit, but it was a serious disappointment.)

It was a tray of chocolate chip cookies. A dessert that, in any other setting, would have probably been enough to make everyone in the room happy. Heck, I’ve been to family parties where fights have broken out over the last chocolate chip cookie. They’re a classic. But here, it wasn’t enough.

I went to a wedding once of two recent college graduates. They didn’t have two pennies to scratch together but they were truly in love. You could see it every time they looked at each other. The wedding was small with only the closest family and friends on the guest list. In place of a cake they had cupcakes that the bride had made that very morning before she got ready to walk down the aisle.

They were nothing special, but they were the best cupcakes I ever had.

The tray of chocolate chip cookies was grossly out of place. Apparently the wife of one of the owners loved them and had made a big stink about serving them. She thought it would be fun. It could have been, but in this setting it wasn’t.

Years later, whenever I see people who were there, they don’t talk about the waiters, or the open bar, or the great location . . . they talk about the tray of cookies.

I suppose what I’m saying is that anything can work anywhere, but you have to consider things as a whole event with little working parts. If one of those parts doesn’t fit right, it could put the whole event out of sync.

Until next time everyone. Remember, I’ll be seeing you, but you won’t be seeing me.