A Bluesocket Christmas party before Jill: 60 rich engineers eating subpar food, drinking no more than two free drinks, and sitting quietly while Frank Sinatra and Brenda Lee croon to the walls.
A Bluesocket Christmas party with Jill: 20 rich engineers coaxing drink tickets from pregnant women and teetotalers, rocking out to OutKast and Usher, entertaining nary a thought of the walk-of-shame into work on Monday, while 40 others look on, thoroughly entertained.
Other new developments since my last post include a Christmas tree on our porch (for now), a foot of snow in the yard (for now), and a book signed by Bill Simmons in exchange for a quasi-mustachioed Curt Schilling rookie card, for which he seemed quite grateful. Let's hope it makes its way into a column one of these days.