As long as there are pokes in the eye with a sharp stick, Robert James Waller novels and orange candy circus peanuts, there will be worse things in life than office Christmas parties. Scant consolation, I know, particularly around this time of year.

Let's look at why these putatively festive events are so multiply traumatizing. You are to dress up in an outfit carefully selected to be neither too sexy nor too fuddy-duddy. You are to show up at some oversized, bland, unobjectionable restaurant -- or if you are in your company's inner sanctum, some pretentious fanciola boite -- and eat just the right amount of food so that you appear neither piggy nor eating-disordered. You are to drink enough to be social, but not so much as to be slobbery-slurry. You are to be friendlier than you are in the office, but not so friendly that you are discovered making out in a coat closet with Murray from purchasing.

Most of the time, fortunately, holiday office parties are just dull. Eat a canape, plaster on a perky smile brimming with good cheer, sip the vile nog, sit with the people you actually like enough to talk to at work, and if your boss found it nutty to schedule the party at a supper club, do a quick Macarena with the girls in accounts payable. And you're outta there.

However, some holiday parties are not so innocuous. Let's look at some of the potential pitfalls, illustrated by handy anecdotes solicited from all over the country via our friend the Internet.

Open Bar Glee: At an office party at the swank Sheraton Palace hotel in San Francisco, one employee's date was so overcome by the joys of the open bar that she spent the evening throwing up in the bathroom, then refused to leave. Her date stood by helplessly while female employees took turns pleading with her to come out. Finally, two burly security guards came and told the hapless employee (let's call him "Giamma," that being his actual name) that they were closing up. When the situation was explained to them, they got the hotel wheelchair, went into the bathroom, scooped up the sobbing, puking young woman, dumped her in the chair and wheeled her to the taxi stand, where they unceremoniously dumped her on the sidewalk. Fabulous water-cooler discussion fodder for all!

Discovering Your Real Worth to the Company: Three years ago, a sneeringly hip, eyeball-singeingly colorful computer magazine (let's call it "Wired," that being its actual name) held an office party that made everyone's relative standing in the company abundantly clear. Three soirees were held, at three hotspots of descending quality around San Francisco. The invite lists clearly revealed who was designated A-list, B-list and C-list. A naive young intern, horrified that all employees were not way equal in the digital utopia, sent email to the whole company discussing this fact, and was bawled out by the company's irascible founder. The intern retailiated by putting the story on his web page.

Peevish Dates: I attended an office party at the Russian Tea Room as the trophy date of a young lawyer at a white-shoe firm. He insisted that I dress like my funky downtown self, then got upset when I did. (He kept pointing out my combat boots to the senior partners and laughing shrilly.) I merely swilled as much delicious, high quality vodka as possible, ate a bunch of blinis and caviar, and broke up with the guy afterward. (For me, it was a very successful party.) On the other hand, another acquaintance of mine (let's call her "Mom," that being her actual name), emailed: "At Dad's first office party, I never felt more like an appendage in my life. We sat in a huge hotel dining hall with people I had absolutely nothing in common with. I knew no one. It was a Friday night and I resented spending Shabbat that way. Worst was that it was all glatt treif and I couldn't even eat anything. I just drank and sulked."

Insulting the Boss: At a holiday party in a little restaurant in NYC, an editorial assistant told the president of the book publishing company to kiss her ass. "Everybody laughed as if I'd said something witty, and I felt happy, then momentarily mortified, then happy again. I had given notice the preceding week," she points out. Note: Do not use this strategy unless you're planning on quitting.

Inclement Weather Issues: A possibility even in Los Angeles. A former curator at LA's Getty Museum writes, "One year we had a fancy Christmas party at the museum, which, as you may know, is a recreation of a beautiful Italian villa. It was very elegant except for the gale force winds which blew everyone's clothes off and the canapes into the reflecting pool."

See, don't those stories make your office festivities sound like a regular Tahitian cruise? I'm sure your party won't be so bad. Don't even think about how you wish you were home in your feety pajamas watching the Grinch. Happy Holidays!