Follies '07 Kills All Previous Attempts at Comedy Anywhere Ever.

t's a bittersweet day here in Philly as the '07 run of the Wharton Follies is officially history. History of epic and unrivaled proportions, but history nonetheless. It was an AMAZING run, JUST AMAZING. WONDERFUL. TERRIFIC. We took that show and we made it our own, etcetera.

Hey. Oh. Let's reminisce...

It all began with me singing "Mony, Mony" at Bonner's, where I also learned that my marketing TA does a mean Whitney Houston. Snap.

I join the exclusive ranks of the Follies Writing Team, best known for drinking copious amounts of alcohol (never on campus mind you) and destroying me at quarters. Sometimes prone to hilarity, though less consistently than the aforementioned activities.

Casting. Awkward improv activity. Really bad dancing. Public humiliation. That sort of thing.

Follies Writers' Retreat. Birthplace of Wong and Borat. Scene of the crime. Beirut central. Wall sitting championship venue. Other assorted colors and flavors.

Cast joins hands and sings No Mini Pickle Oh for first time.

Writers' Holiday Debacle 2006. Other teams are officially scared of us for the first but certainly not last time.

Ahin writes a joke.

Hell Week, Sweet Hell Week.

Classes unattended. Homework not done. Husband neglected.

Shows kill. I mean, KILL.

Lattman takes a bet. Are you there God? It's me, Whitney. Please let this come to fruition.

Spontaneous afterparty singalong. Epic and unnerving.

I use my newfound celebrity to become the next spokesperson for Trimspa. RIP Anna Nicole.


PHOTOS...back to front style.