Well, I got a response from Santa about my Wishlist, sadly, it was not what I was expecting. I think that maybe Santa is not as nice as everbody thinks he is…
I was surprised to get your wishlist so early this year, since you tend to procrastinate on everthing else. I guess this proves how truly selfish you are, doesn’t it? Perhaps you should concentrate on the REAL meaning of Christmas, and instead of continuing to buy shoes for yourself, you should be saving your money so you can buy your Rockstar the gold-top guitar he’s been wanting for the last 25 years.
Now, getting to your list…
You asked for a year’s supply of alcohol to cope with being you. This is not something I am prepared to be responsible with providing you, because your liver will be shot, and I do not want to be the cause of any stupid things that you may do in your drunken haze. You know how incorridgible you are when you drink. Although, you DO provide great entertainment for me and the Mrs. on boring Monday nights.
You also mentioned items from Victoria’s Secret. I have to let you know, I really detest going into that store; it’s not really set up for men of my… physique. My coat always gets caught on those little panty tables and knocks them over, which makes all the hot girls that work there scramble around to pick everything up. (Heh-heh) I suppose you DO deserve at least one bra, since watching the hot girls bend over makes it worth going into that store. That one girl with the crazy blonde hair? DAAAAA-MN!
The Mustang. I don’t even know why I’m bothering to mention it. You know I can fit that shit in my sleigh. So you might as well quit asking.
You asked for shoes. Really?! You know you don’t have any space for them. And besides, you don’t go anywhere fancy anyway. You know you look ridiculous wearing 5 inch stillettos in the snow, right? (Although they DO make your ass look yummy.) What you really need to do is tell your Rockstar to make you a shoe shelf at his work. They’re working on a really nice cherry wood one right now; maybe the clients who ordered it won’t want it.
The beating for your Rockstar, I may be able to work out. He really is being a douche about the whole marriage thing. I have a few elves who tune people up when they need it. I’ll call them up.
No babies for you. Where do you expect me to get babies? They don’t grow on trees, you know, and the black market is just too risky for a guy who is so high profile like I am.
I’m not really sure why you are asking for books either. You really need to feng-shui your place and get rid of a bunch of stuff first. However, God decided to help me out with this one. He decided to take your Rockstar’s sister-in-law’s mother, and she had a buttload of books. I think the sister-in-law already called your Rockstar asking if you wanted them all. You’re probably going to have to rent a storage shed though.
You need to go on a diet, so no, Sparkle, I’m not giving you a fryer for french fries. Eat some fruit, Bitch!
Maybe if you’re a good girl and go on that diet, you’ll get a stripper pole next year. If I get you one this year, you’re just gonna look like those skanks at Sugar Daddies, and that’s just gross.
I’ll see what I can do about Chris Meloni. You know he’s going to want to spend Christmas with his very tall wife, right? I may have to take him against his will, but I’ll do what it takes since you promised me a boob squish. That was semi-awesome of you by the way. And for the record, I expect the full 45 seconds.
P.S. Yes, please DON’T leave me any cookies. Your cooking needs some work.