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Hey Santa. You stiffed me, so I'm coming after you. So Santa. Listen up. You stiffed me again. I wrote extra early this year to give you more than enough time to consider my one and only wish, but you totally forgot me......again. Since you supposedly know who has been naughty or nice, you should have known that I've been doing my very best to be a good boy—except for maybe that one time when I was watching that Carmen Electra chick on television and my thoughts kinda got away from me and one thing led to another…… But I digress. Anyway, I always thought that if I did the right thing, I would finally be rewarded and receive the perfect present. You already knew that I don’t drink and I don’t smoke or any of that foolishness. You already knew that I treat people with dignity and respect, well, except maybe in that once instance with Carmen, but I swear, she told me she wanted it that way....... But I digress once again. You already knew how I try my best to hold myself to a higher standard than what I constantly see all around me. You already knew that I realize it is all the little things in life that don’t mean anything that mean everything, yet another Christmas has come and gone and guess what? Yup, I am still by myself. Perhaps, I should whack you upside the head with a 2X4 to help jog your memory of who I am. I’m that semi-good looking (Carmen sure thought so), clean cut, six foot tall guy who weighs 175 lbs, rides motorcycles and shaves his head. The guy who is in good shape and loves the outdoors, and is more comfortable staying in and watching a movie than going out to clubs or bars. Are you starting to remember me yet old man? Last year, I sent you a well thought out letter stating that all I wanted for Christmas was one thing. If you took the time to actually read my letter, you would have been able to tell by my writing that while I am more street smart than book smart, I do know the difference between to, too and two and they’re there and their. Come to think of it, I even left you an extra freaking cookie. Anyway, I asked you to send me a one of your prettiest elves. I wished for a real, live, intelligent, engaging and fun female elf. In my letter, I explained that she would of course be good looking, and by that I meant that she would be good looking to me--what others think is not important. I asked that she would be somewhere in her thirties to early forties?? I explained that while I wasn't seeking perfection in the true meaning of the word, that it would cool if she were perfect just to me, because we all know that it is quite often all the little imperfections a person has that makes them seem so perfect. I tried to explain that as corny as it sounds, that my definition of a perfect woman is one who could show me I was more of a man than I ever dreamed possible simply because she was more of a woman that I ever dreamed of finding. She would excite my heart first and the rest of my body would follow. She would know the difference between needing man in her life and wanting one, because Santa, we both know there is a big difference. Worse case scenario, we would both realize and accept that even if things weren’t going to end up as some kind of fairy tale romance (after all, this is the internet), at the very least, we would both gain a new friend of the opposite sex to go and do things with. Was that too much to ask for? Come to think of it, I've been asking for the same flippin' present for the past couple of years. Sorry to tell you Santa, but I tried to be patient with you. However nice guys finish last. That ship has sailed. It's high time I just cut right to the chase. Keep your eyes open on you fat bastard. In fact, if I were you, I would start looking for a new lead reindeer, because it’s a good possibility there is going to be a hunting accident with Rudolph. Better yet, I think I’ll post that video of the Grinch and Mrs. Claus messing around behind your back while you were working out in the toy factory. I bet you didn’t know about that, did you. Yeah, well, rumor has it that the Grinch’s heart wasn't the only organ in his body that grew three times that night--much to the delight of Mrs. Claus, I might add. I bet seeing that will make you want to twinkle your nose, or grab your ear, or squeeze your crotch, or whatever it is you do to get your fat ass up the fucking chimney. Now look what you made me do. I’m saying words that aren’t ever going to end up in a Christmas carol. One more reminder Santa. If you know me like you say you do, you’ll remember my integrity is very important to me (minus the Carmen Electra fantasy....but I digress) and if I say I am going to do something, I do it--end of story. and it’s high time I prove it to you. So that’s it. Consider this your warning. I’m coming after you Old Man. I’ve had enough your “better be good for goodness sake BS” for another year. I know people who know people and I’m going to in a favor. Come to think of it, my sources tell me that ever since Hermey that freak show misfit elf/dentist wannabe yanked all the Abominable Snowman’s teeth out, Ole' Bumbles is just itching to kick someone's ass, and it might as well be yours. Oh yeah, I almost forgot. One of your other creepy little elves told me I should always post a picture when I send a letter to you. He said it would get more results. I told him that in all honesty, I would be mortified if someone I knew actually saw that I was still writing letters to you after all these years and that I would rather send a picture on request after I have received one with a reply. So that's it Santa. Keep your eyes open--you have been warned..
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