We had our company holiday party last night, my first one without Casey since she left the sister magazine. This event is different from the summer company picnic, for some reason. Here we're trapped inside the ballroom of a North Jersey country club and driven to drink more than we are at the park on the banks of the Hudson in July. Everyone seems to get all worked up for the tarot card readers and then take the projections so seriously, even though my one coworker has managed to avoid pregnancy after two straight years of such a prediction. One came up to myself and another coworker last night, enthused that she was told she would be getting back together with her ex-boyfriend.

"How did she [the card reader] get around to telling you that?" Gary asked.

"She asked me if there was anything I wanted to know," our coworker replied, "and I asked if I'd be getting back together with [Mark]. And she said we would!"

Glad she didn't have to pay for that "reading."

So the only difference with this year's party is that I didn't walk in knowing I'd have someone to talk with all night, nor did I have at least one definitive table guest, but it worked out OK because I sat at a table with people I'm comfortable with -- six of the seven people I sit with in our cubicle pod at the office. But that's OK, because they're the ones I converse with most easily and outside the five-foot walls of the cubicles at work, we are able to joke and laugh more freely.

I did spend a fair amount of time chatting with coworkers with whom I don't generally carry on extended conversations and I caught up with some of Casey's former coworkers she's still friendly with. We laughed at our bosses on the dance floor and discussed the two living manequins who stood in the bar area during the cocktail hour. For instance, how do you realize you have the talent to stand in one position, motionless, for an hour or 90 minutes? What leads you down that career path? I suppose it's one of the many side jobs available for the Struggling Actor, and Northern New Jersey is right across from Manhattan. At night we can see the lights of Times Square illuminating the sky, a brilliant display emanating from the middle of the island across the river. And if you are a living manequin, just how proud are your parents?

"Well, Susan's doing very well with her start-up business -- I think she may retire before we do! And Jennifer's working with the Peace Corps and expecting her first child next year. Bob's got a great job lined up when he finishes medical school in May. And Carl ... well ... he's still following his dreams, which is what we always encouraged our children to do. I just wish he'd finish school, but as long as he's happy and healthy, what can I say?"

"Now, what is it that Carl's doing again?"

"Um ... he's ... he ... he goes to parties and stands around acting like a manequin for anywhere from an hour to three?"

Anyway, party was decent, I came home and watched Survivor with Casey and just finished The Apprentice this morning -- so I won't get spoiled at work -- and now I suppose I should get in the shower, since it's nearly 10 a.m. Yikes.

But over at my other site, I've finally begun posting some of the old columns I wrote when I was covering minor league baseball. I've been meaning to do it since last winter, and now that I've got a separate baseball site, I figured I wouldn't have to bore you with it unless you choose to be. SO CHOOSE IT, DAMMIT! CHOOOOOSE IT! Or don't. I don't care. But the first one's there now, and others will come each Friday into mid-February ... you know, if I remember to do that.