Dear Santa,

While I haven’t tried to be particularly “good” this year, I think you’ll have to agree that the lack of a single homicide is an impressive display of self-control. You of all people understand the abundance of assholery good folks like me must endure every day, so I think you should cut me some slack on the whole “nice” thing.

I’ve thought long and hard about what to include on my list this year, and I don’t think I’ve asked for anything unreasonable. If you could see your way to providing at least one of these things, I promise I won’t repeat last year’s unfortunate email/stalking campaign. You know you had it coming.

Now that we understand each other, I’ll just get to that list.

A publishing contract.

It doesn’t have to include a large advance, or any advance. I would just like a decent contract, with a publisher I can tolerate, and perhaps a kind editor that won’t shatter my confidence completely.

A maid.

But she has to be invisible and mute. I don’t need her to speak to me or do anything crazy like charging for her services. Just give me one that cleans my house magically and without being noticed. Thanks.

Clive Owen, Richard Armitage, and Alexander Skarsgard

Alone, at one time, two at a time, whatever. Just get me these three for like….30 minutes. Or longer if you like. As I said, I’m not unreasonable.

All the coffee.

I hate running out of gas. It’s unpleasant for everyone around me so if I had all the coffee, it’d never have to get ugly.

A real office.

Preferably with heat…sans rodents.

Flea annihilator.

I don’t care how toxic it is. Just get it and fry these little bastards.


A lot of weird shit has happened this year, and I need answers for some of it. Fifty Shades of what the fuck is wrong with people, for example.

Heart mender.

Seems an odd request, but these past weeks have broken my heart, and the hearts of those dearest to me. If we could have that magic thing that makes it not hurt quite so much, that’d be fantastic. What’s that? Time? I figured you’d say that. You’re such an asshole sometimes.

Didn’t see me going to the smushy place, did you? Sometimes I’m crafty like that. But seriously, Santa, this year has been the most challenging I’ve ever experienced, and while people go through this shit all the time, it’s still hard and sometimes I’m selfish. So, do with that what you will and just get to taking care of my list. I think I at least deserve my 30 minutes in heaven with Clive, Richard and/or Alexander. I promise I won’t damage them…much.

6 thoughts on “Dear Santa,

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