Dear Santa,

Lets talk about the joyous things I would like you to bring me this year. First things first, please take note that I have been a very good girl. I didn't even get so wasted face drunk this year that I slept walk. That should speak volumes of my good behavior. Just saying. Also, to earn a few brownie points before Christmas, I'm going to be very unselfish and NOT ask for Channing Tatum. I know lots of women have already asked you for him, and since he is only one man I'll let you divide that gift among all those other women. You're welcome Santa. Now that you have taken note of my good deeds, I'd like to tell you what I would, in fact, like this year.

Lets start with Michael Buble drawing me a hot bubble bath, with candles and red wine. As I soak up the relaxation he will perform my very own private concert. Starting with his Christmas album and leading up to the grand finale of his hit "just haven't met you yet". That will clearly be the last song in this concert because it will be the last time he ever sings that song (Because now we have met!).

mmm yeah that will do..

 



Next up I would like every Disney movie made. The more princesses' the better. Yes, I am five years old. Yes, this is a real request, and it may be the only reason I want children. I won't look so creepy going to the movies if I have wee little one to drag along with me. And singing along to every word will finally be looked at as cute, rather than extremely obnoxious. Maybe not. I'm still going to sing regardless.  

Can I be a princess too?

And last, but not least. I would like you to take all of the batshit crazy mothertruckers in the world and put them somewhere special. Somewhere where they can torture each other and the rest of us will never have to suffer from their presence again. Please be sure to only to take the bad batshit crazy ones, and not the good ones (I would really miss my friends...).

 

Lots of love Santa!

-Heather-

 

P.S. I was going to ask you to bring my husband home but I didn't want to push it..

P.P.S. I'm leaving you a cheese plate and wine instead of cookies in milk. You are welcome.