Dear Santa,

It really wasn't my fault what happened at NessaLee's Office party. It was Kami who spiked the punch with too much Jägermeister. I can't help it if I drank 17 glasses. It was so good---smelled and tasted just like Pine.

I thought it was funny when I put CricketYank's Knee Pad on my head and danced the Electric Slide on the Pompasan Chair while singing `Boondocks'. I didn't mean to break NessaLee's VOIP Converter and don't know why NessaLee would accuse me of Grand Theft Auto.

I don't remember calling Michael's wife a cold Sheep---even though she looked like one with Green eye shadow and Purple lipstick!

And when I threw up on Becky's husband's Nose, it was only because I ate too much of those Buffalo Wings.

After all that fun, I admit I was a little tired. So I fell asleep on my way home and drove my Scooter through my neighbor's Laundry Room. I don't think that was any reason for my neighbor to call me a filthy dog and have me arrested for Kidnapping!

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

Sincerely and running yours,
FutureFoodTVStar (Really a nice Girl!)

P.S. It's only 498 bucks!