These are not just balloons-they are works of art!--he cried

Mr. Owl & I went to the opening reception at BYU for an exhibit of Andy Warhol and some other guy.
I had a friend who remembered his art collecting father  pulling something out from underneath the bed whenever they needed money- like an Andy Warhol silk screened shopping bag.

This was my first thought as we walked up to the BYU Museum of Art. Mr Owl's first thought was, "WOW, I shouldn't have forgot my hipster glasses and skinny jeans at home." I haven't seen such a concentration of trendy since my last Neon Trees concert at Velor. The lobby was packed. Clustered flower balloons above, and live music beneath.

Downstairs we picked out our favorite Marilyn Monroe run, admired the Man on the Moon, and smiled at the film of Nico projected on the wall. I don't do much talking...Theeese days...cough, cough.

A later visit in the mystic room of Mylar.

As I was both taking notes on trendy and vaguely wondering what those banging noises beyond were, a suited older gentleman swiftly cut through the crowd. I plucked Mr. Owl's sleeve, "Let's go watch some kids get chewed out."
We made our way to a room filled with a dozen huge Mylar balloons gently sailing up and down,  just in time to witness him march in with authority and demand, "Where are your Parents!!" to the children punching and jumping on the balloons unlucky enough to be on their way down. The parents were 3 feet away, of course, chatting. "These are not just balloons-they are works of art--paid for by an endowment!" he cried indignantly.
He was exactly right, and phrased it beautifully. How else would anyone describe an unadorned four foot Mylar balloon?
You can bet I'm going to quote him at the next--and probably every birthday party I ever attend.