Dear Santa,
I know its been a while since we talked, but I figure you have to visit every single person on the planet in one night, which means you probably want to be left the fuck alone the rest of the year. I hear that, I can barely gather the will to go to my girlfriend's parents house on Xmas, let alone every shitty kid on the planet. Regardless, I'm writing you today because I actually want something other than booze and socks for Xmas this year. I want Michele Monaghan dressed as Mrs. Claus. I know, I know, that might sound strange, but she's been in a ton of movies, she's probably rich, and honestly, look at this picture. Let alone these pictures. She's a smoke show. So stuff her in your sack and get her down the chimney, because if I don't get what I want this year, we're going to have serious problems. I know where you live you fat s.o.b. I asked your lackey look-a-like down at the mall. 1 Rudolph Lane, The North Pole. Scared yet? You should be.
Thanks Santa,
John Falls
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