Dear Santa letter

Dear Santa,

I have been a good girl.

It really wasn't my fault what happened at Gina's Christmas party. It was Ken who spiked the punch with too much Mike's Hard Limeade. I can't help it if I drank 32 glasses. It was so good—smelled and tasted just like vanilla.

I thought it was funny when I put Claudia's corset on my head and danced the funky chicken on the bed while singing `The Old Apartment'. I didn't mean to break Gina's cell phone and don't know why Gina would sue me for burglery.

I don't remember calling Dave's wife a sassy sheep—even though she looked like one with purple eye shadow and black lipstick!

And when I threw up on Katy's husband's arm, it was only because I ate too much of that pumpkin pie.

After all that fun, I admit I was a little tired. So I fell asleep on my way home and drove my truck through my neighbor's living room. I don't think that was any reason for my neighbor to call me a comfy cat and have me arrested for embezzling!

So, Santa...here I sit in my jail cell on Christmas Eve, all snarky and happy. And I'm really not to blame for any of this playful stuff. Please bring me what I want the most—bail money!

Sincerely and grumpily yours,
Lisa (Really a nice girl!)

P.S. It's only 75 bucks!