plattitude80:
Thisbe tells me how it's gonna be.
plattitude80:
Kelley and Jamey lookin' fierce.
plattitude80:
Carrie and Rob, on the homecoming court.
plattitude80:
A trademarked Halliday look.
plattitude80:
My girls.
plattitude80:
Grant in his natural habitat.
plattitude80:
Where everybody calls you names
plattitude80:
I am filled with nostalgia.
plattitude80:
Halliday, upon realizing Billy Collins was trying to smooch a potted plant
plattitude80:
Really, you can't afford them.
plattitude80:
Michelle succumbs to a lit fest hangover.
plattitude80:
The one in the middle has essayist envy.
plattitude80:
So what. She was mine first.
plattitude80:
Thisbe loves me. Thisbe loves me not.
plattitude80:
Alas, dear flower, you cannot ease my poet-like sorrows.
plattitude80:
Why do I keep finding dead butterflies?
plattitude80:
Always the best price...
plattitude80:
Wal-Mart...
plattitude80:
Sharmila and Joan, radient writers
plattitude80:
Jenny and Kelley, hustlin' journals like pros.
plattitude80:
Jill and Mark: famous poets pretending they don't know it.
plattitude80:
Staggering talent, beauty, and fashion sense.
plattitude80:
Miss Lit Fest America and runners-up.
plattitude80:
Me and Jean, my other mom.
plattitude80:
Well-lubricated poets
plattitude80:
Mark gets jiggy with it.
plattitude80:
Following OSHA procedures, I remain at a safe distance from Billy Collins.
plattitude80:
P.K. and Mark: two baaad dudes.
plattitude80:
Grant, Katherine, Sarah and Ian demonstrate the lit fest's capacity for inducing absurd joy.
plattitude80:
"I'm making a more pretentious face." "No, I am." "Is there any more dill cheese?"
