I know you probably don’t exist. I figured it out when I was about 10 years old and you left a thank you note for the cookies. Your writing and my mom’s writing was oddly similar. I have to tell you that I was pretty crushed. How could I have been duped all those years?
Anyway, when I see you in the mall every year, I long for those days again. I even want to go and sit on your lap, but I’m afraid all of the other little kiddies and their mommies will make fun of me and I’m so hormonal lately. I’m sure I would run from the scene crying like my 7 year old self on the playground after Tommy Dumfarht made fun of my last name.
So, if you do exist and you do happen to get this letter, this is what I want. Because when I told my husband my wishes, he laughed. I don’t really understand why. I don’t see a thing funny about it. Do you?
- One trip to Tahiti please. Maybe a one way ticket? My family can visit whenever they want.
- For the love of God, a lift for everything that has drooped, sagged or moved more than 2 inches toward the south. But it has to be done by some of your magic. I don’t want surgery because it scares me. Am I asking for too much? Get over it, big guy. I’ve seen what you can do.
- 25 cases of red wine. Because 24 cases aren’t enough. And that stuff seems to just disappear. It’s the oddest thing.
- Why do I have to repeat this…I need a maid, a cook, a laundress and a chauffeur. I mean, come on. This has been on my list for what? 20 years? I’m still waiting. Honestly. What is your problem?
- I would like to pee straight. I don’t know why, but it seems that I have turned into a shower head down there. I don’t get it. “Please be neat and wipe the seat” is very time consuming. Who even came up with that expression? It’s annoying and makes me feel bad if I don’t follow the rules.
- On your way out, I’d very much appreciate it if you put away all of my Christmas decorations. Just put them down in the basement. Far left corner. After you leave the presents, of course. Those presents really don’t need a tree. What is a tree doing in the living room anyway?
That just about sums it up. I’ll be waiting. Listening to the hoofs of your eight tiny reindeer on my housetop. Actually, if I hear that shit, I might actually crap my pants. So would you mind being quiet about it? Thank you and Merry Christmas.