| Dear Santa,
How are you? Not too great I'd imagine, as your lazy 364 days of sitting around on your fat ass, eating Funions and chocolate bars dipped in peanut butter while watching Dr. Phil and Tyra all day long while us wage slaves... slave for our... wages... uh, I mean to say... I bet you're bummed that your lazy time is almost up for this year, Kringle. Time for your annual put up or shut up day.
Accordingly, I've taken the time to list below my Christmas demands-- er... that is, here is my Christmas wish list...
1. A flat stomach. I'm not going to get all greedy and ask for abs of steel or some shit. I wasn't that good this year. Still, if you could just give me something to get rid of my beer and burrito gut, that'd be great. I got some shirts and pants that are a little tight, and a bit of toning and tucking or whatever would help me out a bundle and save me the money of having to go out and buy new clothes... having to eat healthier/less and exercise.
2. Caffeinated coffee that actually wakes me up in the morning. Santa, every goddamned day I brew a fresh pot of company supplied coffee at work and drink about two-thirds of it myself, and I get nothing except for bad coffee breath, stained teeth, and a trip to the men's room every five damn minutes. I know people who bounce off the walls after a sip of Seattle's Best, so what I need is some java that'll give me a similar pep.
3. Self-esteem. I hear fuckin' people talking all the time about how they feel "good" about themselves or are "proud" of this and that or don't "hate life and their sorry place in it." A quick series of Google searches showed me this feel good hippie shit is called "self-esteem." Your elfin slaves working on any of that alongside the stupid toys and shit? Think it'd fit down the chimney with your fat ass?
 4. Wherewithal (see also: "moxie," "go-get-it-ness," and "gumption"). I'd like you to wrap up a nice box of psychological "wherewithal" for me so's that I's can start really trying with shit and making something of my damn self instead of giving all my few endeavors a half-assed "eh" of a try and then whining when nothing comes of them. How 'bout some real life, honest ta' goodness gumption or moxie to help me enter dare to be great situations with relish and really give it my all, you know? I mean, some people can just sleepwalk through life and still manage to trip over hundred dollar bills or manage to do great things and have "success," I ain't one of them. So, if you could pack some "moxie" in your big old goodie bag and address it to me for opening on Christmas morn', that'd be stellar.
5. A time machine. Just to fix some shit I've fucked up throughout my some forty-odd years. You know how it is--most people say, "Move on!" and "Learn from your mistakes!" and "Buck up, Kirkbride! Stop being such a goddamned whiny pussy, ya' complaining sack of piss 'cause it gets really old really quick, and I gots my own shit to deal with here!" and the like, but, you know, I figure, if I had me a time machine, I wouldn't have to "learn" from my mistakes-- I could correct 'em before I even make 'em! Because, seriously, all I've learned from my mistakes is that I'm a bit of a fuck-up who is getting more and more bitter with every passing moment. But if there's a time machine waiting for me under the Christmas tree? Well, shit-- then I could kill most of that bitterness at the source and start livin' life to the fullest!
And that's it, St. Nick. Just five gift requests this year, as I was kind of an asshole for at least seven out of these past twelve months. So... one present per good month, eh? It's the least you could do for a guy like me who has to work 9:00 to 6:00, Monday through Friday every week instead of, you know, one measely time a year on December 24th...
Look, I'll even leave out a free plate of storemade cookies for you and a glass of skim milk to wash it down (and help you out with your weight issues).
Thanks, D.J.
p.s. Oh, shit, almost forgot! Can you get me a pony, too? I'd really like a pony for me to mount and ride majestically across the plains, warm sun above me, worries behind, freedom ahead. |
