My holiday party coverage has changed this week at least 80 times. Why? Because you people keep coming at me with weird wild wooly stuff. And I'm just a girl who can't say no. But I do it for you. And I do it for the brownie tower. And I do it for the mini-burgers. And I do it in the hopes that in the midst of all that eye-bleeding, brain-boiling, temple-pulsing 4th quarter wrapping up, you'll open this email or read this online and grin. Or grimace. Because the grimace makers are always so much more fun to write.

My sister, do gooding Ohio University student MaryBeth Bognar, is living with me (yes, in our cozy NYC apartment) while she interns with Catchafire, one of my favorite finds from the party circuit this year. As much as possible, I want to expose her to the digital media and advercrowd in the wild. When I received the invitation to Collective's Winter Wonderland Party at Celsius Bryant Park, it screamed liquored-up schmooze, and I knew it was the right party to drag her to. Holy open-bar madness, was I right.

I am INFUSED...OVERFLOWING... OBNOXIOUS with the Christmas spirit (because it's what I celebrate, it's what I'm calling it. Feel free to call whatever joyful affliction I have whatever suits your beliefs!) It is because of many things. One such thing is the party I covered last night, thrown by the good people at Minorities In Media (MiM), which was filled with freaky fabulous ugly Christmas sweaters, delicious Mediterranean bites, and some of the nicest people you might be lucky enough to meet some day. The other thing is discovering that my Angry Birds Seasons is an advent calendar. But for …

Last year I decided to forgo the Discovery Communications Holiday Party and opt instead for another party that allowed +1's. This year I had a hankerin' for the old New York warm darkness of The Campbell Apartment, combined with a strong love of HD nature shows and people who don't know they're pregnant. As far as I know, no babies were birthed in The Campbell Apartment bathroom.