IF life were like the movies, you'd never
lose your job for acting like a
boob at your company Christmas party.

If life were like the movies, your coworkers
would have a script to follow. So
if you had too much Christmas cheer, and

decided to impress your new girlfriend
— the red-head from Marketing —
by sticking the mistletoe up your nose, they

would have something very dramatic to say like,
''I'm begging you not to do this thing!'' Or,
''You're destroying everything you've worked for!''

And if life were like the movies, you'd realize they
were right. And you'd take your tie off
your head. And you'd take the punch ladle

out of your pants. And everyone would roll their
eyes, and laugh. And you'd all drink hot
cider, and sing ''Hark the Herald Angels.'' Just like

in the movies. And if life were like the movies, your
coworkers — the bastards — wouldn't say things
like, ''Bob, that's not going to fit in your nose.''

Which is really just their way of encouraging you —
if you think about it. But if you thought
about it (at all) you wouldn't be sticking things

up your nose. At least not in front of your new boss, and
your new ex-girlfriend. Indeed. And, if life were like
the movies, your coworkers, wouldn't tell you how funny it is

to stick things in your nose. And they wouldn't
laugh until eggnog came out of their
own noses. Because it only makes you think you're funny.

Which is dangerous — when you're not, and life is not
like the movies. So they'll offer you another Tom
Collins, which you'll accept and drink as if dying of thirst.

And then you'll do this thing, before God and
Accounting. And later, on the bus, on the way
to the all-night clinic, you'll wonder what you were thinking.

Just you, and the driver, and your mistletoe mustache.
And as you bounce, and jostle, and try to keep the
pickle-wraps and cucumber sandwiches in your stomach

instead of your lap, you'll focus on the Planned Parenthood
advertisement, and think, ''This would never happen to
Tom Hanks.'' And you'd be right. Because Tom Hanks has a body

double that drops his pants at Christmas parties for him. And at that
moment, on the hard plastic aqua-colored seat, stained with
what you're praying is Dr. Pepper, you’ll understand that life has nothing to do

with the movies. And you're coworkers don't have a script. And
even if they did, they wouldn't stick to it. Because really,
secretly, they envy your joie de vivre. And maybe, not so secretly,

they'd like to see you fired. And actually, maybe, in your heart-
of-hearts, in the part of you that would really rather sack
groceries, or write poetry, or drive a bus for drunkards with
                  mistletoe in their noses…

so would you.