Dear Santa,
Hi! I know I’ve never been in the habit of writing to you, so this blogpost probably comes as a (modernized) surprise, but I have been exceptionally good this year and . . . lets be really honest. . . have been fairly good in general over the past 24 years. I mean, I guess if we’re going to be really technical, it’s not about being good, but being NICE, right? And I’m nice even when I really don’t want to be (I’m an excellent social faker when I need to be!) SO, suffice it to say, I figured it was high time I collected on the past 24 years of good behavior.
Now, some nasty, small-minded little elf might argue that my past year of niceness was a natural byproduct of my being incapacitated by mono – and yeah, Santa, I know it’s called the kissing disease, but NO kissing even occurred, so that’s gotta count for DOUBLE the good points, no? Anyways, my niceness has been practically perfect! I stayed serious and patient in classroom situations that would’ve made a seasoned teacher weep (or wet her pants in a fit of laughter). I also chose to stop marathon-watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer seasons when school started in an attempt to be a more focused teacher . . . even when there were still two seasons left! I didn’t even take it personally or give my student a very hard time when he said “You’re only 24?! I thought you were like FORTY-FIVE!!!”
Sure, I sort of suck at responding to voice-mails and texts in a timely manner, but I believe most of this is due to increased stress and a healthy diagnosis of AD/HD. Anyway, since I have never taken advantage of your gift-request-letter-service before, I want to forewarn you that some of the things that I write on this list are . . . bigger. Think of it as back-pay owed for Nice-Child Support (NCS), okay? So, with this all securely in your mind, I would like to submit the following requests. Again: please do not take them with any grains of salt.
1.) First, Santa, I would like to be done with my Masters Degree Program. If you could just mail me a legitimate diploma rather than sending it down the chimney, that would be much appreciated. I think the soot could cause some legibility issues.
2.) I would like a brand-new, iron-cast, scotch-guarded immune system. No skimping.
3.) If you could send along a manicure and pedicure, that would be great, too. This might seem shallow, yes, but I really do relax quite a bit when my nails are being buffed. It’s almost as good as a massage, Santa, but with better lasting effects, you know? What you’re really giving me is the gift of relaxation, ok?
4.) Practical gifts are the IT thing of the year, Santa, so I actually would really like some socks. Any and all varieties will be much appreciated (warm, fuzzy, slippery, gym, work, etc.).
5.) Could you please add three extra hours of blissful sleep to my night’s rest? Or, alternately, would you please help my existing 4-5 hour nights of sleep to be three times as rejuvenating?
6.) Now, I hate to be clichéed, but I would like a Man-friend (a.k.a. a mature version of the boy-friend. . . get it?). I won’t go into great detail, because LORD KNOWS, if you can find a chimney in my household, you should be able to figure out what kind of man I need, right? (I want to give credit where credit is due!) Now, I just saw a TV Christmas special where Santa told this little girl her perfect man would be arriving in 20 years. Please do not invent some unfortunate timeline for me, okay? This is not a made-for-tv-movie and I would actually like to have babies at some point. (Babies I would subsequently see grow up.) 45 would be a little old to start.
7.) Could I also please have my own personal library à la Disney’s Beauty and the Beast? You can lose the ceiling-cherubs if you want. But if you want to include talking furniture as a novelty item, I wouldn’t exactly say no. Maybe something tasteful, like an Ottoman.
8.) I also wouldn’t mind a private showing of the new Broadway production of Newsies. It could be open to my friends, too. All of them. From everywhere. (Please remember to include free transportation!)
9.) Please make pinning things on Pinterest.com into a (well) paying job.
10.) I like even numbers, Santa, so I’m going to end this list at 10, with a magical wardrobe that provides new clothing (in just my size) with an unlimited variety of stylistic options. There are just some days I want to look like I’m from upscale Paris. . . and others I’d like to look like I’m from Pleasantville.
Now, Santa, you’re a smart man. So you might be thinking that I have asked for purely selfish items on this list. At face value, this may not appear to be nice behavior. BUT, I am a firm believer in striving for the achievable, Santa, and – let’s face it – if you were able to deliver on the whole “world peace” thing, we would all be floating on clouds, holding hands and humming harmoniously to the tune of Bob Marley’s Three Little Birds right now. The lack of reggae and togetherness leads me to assume that you have certain limits. Which I respect. I mean, hey, who doesn’t? So I tried to avoid things that you have CLEARLY been unable to deliver on in the past. I hope you appreciate my niceness!
Thank you for taking the time to read this blog-post, Santa. I have every faith that you will deliver this Christmas. . . if you didn’t, gee, I might stop believing you were real. I know we’d both hate for that to happen. You take care of yourself.
I’ll see you at the Christmas tree . . . you bring the presents, I’ll supply the cookies!
Sincerely,
Abby
P.S. If you do not respond, Santa, I will officially never believe. Just so you know.
Cakey Hankerson: Great Adventures 