Dear Santa
Oy, work sucks today. At least I had a very nice night, and today I'm wearing the comfiest socks ever.
More later. In the meantime...
Santa Claus
North Pole, Earth
Dear Santa,
I have been a good boy.
It really wasn't my fault what happened at Jess's Office party. It was Kelly who spiked the punch with too much Coca-Cola. I can't help it if I drank 30 glasses. It was so good -- smelled and tasted just like perfume.
I thought it was funny when I put Rachel's T-shirt on my head and danced the La Bamba on the desk chair while singing "Malchik-Gey." I didn't mean to break Jess's blow dryer and don't know why Jess would accuse me of alienation of affections.
I don't remember calling Marshall's wife a dirty cow -- even though she looked like one with red eye shadow and magenta lipstick!
And when I threw up on Emily's husband's arm, it was only because I ate too much of that cheeseburger.
After all that fun, I admit I was a little tired. So I fell asleep on my way home and drove my Toyota Camry through my neighbor's roof. I don't think that was any reason for my neighbor to call me a hot cat and have me arrested for grand larceny!
So, Santa...here I sit in my jail cell on Christmas Eve, all heavy and sticky. And I'm really not to blame for any of this murky stuff. Please bring me what I want the most -- bail money!
Sincerely and hesitantly yours,
Brian (Really a nice boy!)
P.S. It's only 13 bucks!
Fill in the blanks to write your letter to Santa Claus.
(Since it's Mad Libs style, you may want to make your own before you read mine...)
More later. In the meantime...
Santa Claus
North Pole, Earth
Dear Santa,
I have been a good boy.
It really wasn't my fault what happened at Jess's Office party. It was Kelly who spiked the punch with too much Coca-Cola. I can't help it if I drank 30 glasses. It was so good -- smelled and tasted just like perfume.
I thought it was funny when I put Rachel's T-shirt on my head and danced the La Bamba on the desk chair while singing "Malchik-Gey." I didn't mean to break Jess's blow dryer and don't know why Jess would accuse me of alienation of affections.
I don't remember calling Marshall's wife a dirty cow -- even though she looked like one with red eye shadow and magenta lipstick!
And when I threw up on Emily's husband's arm, it was only because I ate too much of that cheeseburger.
After all that fun, I admit I was a little tired. So I fell asleep on my way home and drove my Toyota Camry through my neighbor's roof. I don't think that was any reason for my neighbor to call me a hot cat and have me arrested for grand larceny!
So, Santa...here I sit in my jail cell on Christmas Eve, all heavy and sticky. And I'm really not to blame for any of this murky stuff. Please bring me what I want the most -- bail money!
Sincerely and hesitantly yours,
Brian (Really a nice boy!)
P.S. It's only 13 bucks!
Fill in the blanks to write your letter to Santa Claus.
(Since it's Mad Libs style, you may want to make your own before you read mine...)