Letter to the man.
Dear Santa,
I have been a good girl.
It really wasn't my fault what happened at Alex Trebek's Christmas party. It was Jerry Seinfeld who spiked the punch with too much Soco. I can't help it if I drank twenty seven glasses. It was so good---smelled and tasted just like Strawberry Muffin-Cake.
I thought it was funny when I put Pam Dimonia's thong on my head and danced the headbanging on the loveseat while singing `Spice Up Your Life'. I didn't mean to break Alex Trebek's cellular device and don't know why Alex Trebek would sue me for rape.
I don't remember calling Johnny Afro's wife a flambouyant raunchy pig---even though she looked like one with red eye shadow and blue lipstick!
And when I threw up on Stephen King's husband's clitoris, it was only because I ate too much of that vegan pie.
After all that fun, I admit I was a little tired. So I fell asleep on my way home and drove my unicycle through my neighbor's chimney. I don't think that was any reason for my neighbor to call me a sexual anteater and have me arrested for drug abuse!
So, Santa...here I sit in my jail cell on Christmas Eve, all trippy and homosexual. And I'm really not to blame for any of this thorough stuff. Please bring me what I want the most---bail money!
Sincerely and fucking yours,
Carisa (Really a nice girl!)
P.S. It's only thirty eight bucks!
I have been a good girl.
It really wasn't my fault what happened at Alex Trebek's Christmas party. It was Jerry Seinfeld who spiked the punch with too much Soco. I can't help it if I drank twenty seven glasses. It was so good---smelled and tasted just like Strawberry Muffin-Cake.
I thought it was funny when I put Pam Dimonia's thong on my head and danced the headbanging on the loveseat while singing `Spice Up Your Life'. I didn't mean to break Alex Trebek's cellular device and don't know why Alex Trebek would sue me for rape.
I don't remember calling Johnny Afro's wife a flambouyant raunchy pig---even though she looked like one with red eye shadow and blue lipstick!
And when I threw up on Stephen King's husband's clitoris, it was only because I ate too much of that vegan pie.
After all that fun, I admit I was a little tired. So I fell asleep on my way home and drove my unicycle through my neighbor's chimney. I don't think that was any reason for my neighbor to call me a sexual anteater and have me arrested for drug abuse!
So, Santa...here I sit in my jail cell on Christmas Eve, all trippy and homosexual. And I'm really not to blame for any of this thorough stuff. Please bring me what I want the most---bail money!
Sincerely and fucking yours,
Carisa (Really a nice girl!)
P.S. It's only thirty eight bucks!