Dear Santa...

Dear Santa,
I would like a chainsaw and a toy truck for Christmas. I will leave you a snack. I will leave you green peppers and apple juice. Your reindeer are nice but my dad shot them all. He told me he did. Thank you. Love, Adam (names have been changed to protect the innocent). Age: 4.

I wish I had written this.

Here goes nothing...

Dear Santa,
I wish Don Johnson hadn't ruined my acting career, although, writing is way cool. I get to be a hipster doofus as a playwright and not a crazy, neurotic bitch, which is what would have happened had I succeeded as an actress, and Don Johnson, circa 1986 Miami Vice, was totally hot. He is forgiven.

I wish my most important relationship wasn't with my iPhone. I mean, let's face it. I can't go anywhere without it. It's the first thing I touch in the morning and the last thing I touch at night. I suffer separation anxiety when we're apart and absolute bliss when we're together. That is sad.

I saw something on TV recently that reminded me of a Fiona Apple song I really liked. Thank you for that early Christmas gift. Fiona, whatever happened to you, you bad, bad girl?

I learned watching Californication that I should probably never snort cocaine. It's quite dangerous if you have a deviated septum. It's never been medically confirmed that I have a deviated septum but my nose is kinda big and crooked so thank you Santa for saving me from a life of cocaine-induced whoredom. I would, however, like to find my Jewish relatives.

I would like a skin-tight black latex body suit, like the one in the first season of American Horror Story. Just 'cause.

Walmart is a sad place. I can't go there anymore. Every time I do, I feel dirty, like my first cousin violated me in the back room of the family trailer while watching momma admit on Jerry Springer that she's pregnant with my boyfriend's kid.

I would like a unicorn, 'cause they are way cool. A comfy sweatshirt with a unicorn on it would also be ok.

I would like people to not interact with me until about noon, every day. Why are afternoon/evening people so misunderstood?

I love my cat.

That is all.

Love,
Stephanie