Are You There Santa? It’s Me Again

  • November 22, 2009

Dear Santa,

I hope there are no hard feelings about all the mean things I said about you after you did not bring me anything I asked you for last year. It’s not my fault because I think I have Tourette’s syndrome and f-bombs and rude comments fly out of my mouth uncontrollably sometimes.

So, sorry.

But anyway, if you’re not still pissed at me, I have a few more things on my list this year.

I deserve lots of presents because I have been sorta good. I did get in one fight with a lady that works at my dry cleaners but she started it. Because I am so conscious of saving our planet I gathered up 573 wire hangers because there’s a sign on the door of my dry cleaners urging its customers to bring them back so they can recycle them. I was about to throw them all in my garbage can but remembered the sign and brought the hangers to my dry cleaners instead because I am all green that way. The lady at my dry cleaners, who actually looks like a man, was all “Well those hangers are just a big mess” and I was all “Do you want them or not” and she was all “Well I guess I have to take them” and I’m thinking that my environmentally friendly efforts are not at all appreciated and eventually me and man/woman are probably gonna scrap. But I don’t care because they aren’t a restaurant and no matter how much they don’t like me, they can’t spit in my food so I win.

Oh, and Santa? I have a job now so that should entitle me to way more gifts. And not just a job Santa. I’m assisting teachers at a junior high which means I am helping 8th and 9th graders learn important things. Mostly it’s relationship advice about how to land a decent boyfriend but that’s a subject that should have been taught when I was in 8th grade because then I might not have dated so many douchebags before I met Dave.

I’m not sure if you’re aware of this Santa but my twenty-five year high school reunion is this summer and I am going to need a lot of help in order to look my best. First of all, I’d like better boobs. I want them to defy gravity and I want to be able to skip wearing a bra if I feel like it. This is a gift you will need to outsource because I don’t want any of your creepy elves thinking that they will get to see me without a shirt on. However, if that one elf Hermie is still interested in dentistry, he can assist with some teeth whitening and/or porcelain veneers because that’s on the list too. I also need want a nutritionist, a personal trainer, and someone whose only responsibility is to pry the wine glass/donut out of my hand and then yell at me.

Then I want to have all the skin on my face lasered off because I understand that once all the bleeding and peeling has subsided, and my skin heals, it will feel and look as soft as a newborn baby’s ass. Next on my list is about a squillion units of Botox above each eyebrow and also a little Restylane for the vertical lines above my lip because Dave is tired of me asking him once a week if he can see them. He says he can’t but that’s only because he’s looking over my shoulder to see what’s on TV and not looking closely enough. Probably he just doesn’t want to get killed if he actually admits he can see the wrinkles I am freaking out about.

And Santa? This next request might be kinda hard but can I have a werewolf? I mean, you’re a mythical creature too so maybe you have some connections. I used to think I wanted a vampire but I have decided I want my make believe boy-toy to be hot with totally ripped abs. If you bring me a werewolf I can hide him in my closet and take him out when I feel like playing with him and by playing with him I mean making out with him. And because I already have a dog and dogs are kind of like wolves the werewolf can play with Chloe’s toys if it gets bored when I am at work. And Dave said it was okay if I asked you for a werewolf. Actually I didn’t ask Dave at all but probably he won’t mind.

I know it’s kind of a long, expensive list Santa but I totally need all these things. Don’t check your list though, K? Just take my word for it that I’ve been nice.

Signed,

Tracey (Don’t blow me off dude, I’m desperate)

P.S. I will leave a bottle of Stoli and some crack dip on the hearth of my artificial gas fireplace. Knock yourself out.

You! Suck! Santa!

  • December 25, 2008

Santa Claus is one big, fat, mean, purse-teasing sack of crap. There was no Dooney and Bourke medium chiara bag in black leather under the tree this morning but you can bet your ass all the cookies I left out for him were gone.

I have coveted that purse since last spring and I STILL don’t own it. I am getting tired of visiting it at Dillard’s. It should be hanging on my shoulder by now and when I’m not carrying it, I plan on placing it on a special shrine I’ve constructed in my closet.

Since I’m not willing to mainstream and get a normal job (and I’m apparently not super employable for some reason) I have to find a way to increase my cash flow and BUY THAT PURSE MYSELF. Here’s the plan:

On Tuesdays and every other Saturday I will be selling my blood and platelets to the Blood Center of Iowa. I know they like my blood because they leave at least 15 messages per month on my voice mail begging me to come in. I gave them a couple pints back in 2005 and now they won’t leave me alone (imagine how excited they’ll be when I tell them about my super preferred life insurance rating). I’m going to ask them to install one of those vibrating massage chairs like the ones I sit in when I get a pedicure because I’m going to be there a lot and I want to be comfortable.

On Mondays and Thursdays I will be stripping at The Lumberyard. My stage name will be Peaches Honeyblossom and I will be wearing long fuchsia hair extensions, white thigh high boots, and my birthday suit. Every hour, I will be workin’ the pole to a three-song set by Def Leppard. Please stop by and contribute to my purse fund by slipping me a buck or two over the tip rail.

I have also put my eggs up for sale on Craig’s List. Because I’m 41 and my eggs are possibly a little funky genetically, I have priced them very competitively and I expect them to go quickly. My profile states that I am a teetotaling midwestern housewife who enjoys biographies and knitting (I am totally screwed if they find my blog and discover that I am really a wino with a potty mouth).

By my calculations, I should have that purse in about a month and I can put all this nonsense behind me. But if you have any other good money making ventures to suggest? Please leave them in the comments section of my blog. I think I’ve proven I’m open to just about anything.

Are you there Santa? It’s me, Tracey

  • December 1, 2008

Dear Santa,

Happy holidays! I was wondering if you could check your “list” for the name of a certain midwestern housewife. Though you did not bring me anything last year I think you’ll agree that I have most of my behavioral issues under control.

I have been such a good housewife. I have not insulted the hairstyles of any retail employees in a really long time and there were hardly any altercations in the Target parking lot. I did not stab Dave in the head with a fork during a particularly bad pre-menstrual frenzy nor did I try to curtail his endless pre – election MSNBC viewing. I think you’ll agree that I am pretty “present worthy” this year.

Please bring me the Dooney and Bourke medium chiara bag in black leather. I asked Dave to get me one but he said something about the price being “exorbitant and ridiculous.” He also said something about me getting a job so basically you’re my last hope.

And Santa? Why do all the 13-year-old girls have Ugg boots in a rainbow of colors while I walk the offspring to the bus stop in my Target knock-offs? Does this seem fair Santa? It doesn’t to me so please throw in a couple pairs of Uggs too.

And lastly, do you think you can bring me a machine that makes Cosmopolitans? I want to put limes, vodka, cointreau, and cranberry juice into a little hole on top and when I push a button, I’d like everything to stream right into my martini glass. Thanks in advance!

Our fireplace (like our Christmas tree) is totally artificial and activated by flipping a switch on the wall. We don’t have an actual chimney so I will forward you the code to our garage door when we get a little closer to Christmas. Please keep the code to yourself because your elves creep me out and I don’t want them to know how to get into my home.

Well Santa, I’m sure you’re very busy so I’ll sign off now. I just know you’ll come through for me and I’ll be carrying that handbag, drinking some cosmos and wearing my new Uggs in no time.

Kisses,

Tracey

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