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All I want for Christmas is world peace...and eggnog

By APRILL BRANDON
Nov. 30, 2010 at 5:30 a.m.


Dear Santa,

Hey there, big guy. I know it's been a long time since I've written to you and for that I apologize. I just figured I should probably lay low for about a decade or two after that infamous "incident" in 1989. But you'll be happy to hear that I've finally learned my lesson and my probation, which forbids me from going within 1,000 feet of reindeer, ends in just a few days. And considering that Johnny Law has now forgiven me, I can only hope that I will finally be taken down from the "Hopelessly and Perpetually Naughty List" (along with my wanted poster in the stable).

Well, now that we can let bygones be bygones (which reminds me, please send my regards to Prancer...I'm assuming most of his burn wounds have healed by now), on with the real reason for this letter.

As I'm sure you've assumed, I'm writing to you about my Christmas list. But unlike most letters you get this time of year, I won't be asking for jewelry or games or that pair of taupe high-heeled knee high boots in size eight and a half (which just happens to be my size) I saw in the window of that store the other day. Nope. This year I've been truly blessed and can honestly say that I have everything I need and ever wanted (even without that pair of taupe high-heeled knee high boots in size eight and a half, which just happens to be my size, I saw in the window of that store the other day).

And so this year, Santa, I'm asking not for material things but rather gifts that come from the heart and make the world a better place (and mind you, this isn't just some ploy to make you think I'm an exceedingly good person and, as such, end up receiving even more gifts, like, say, a pair of taupe high-heeled knee-high boots, because of my selflessness).

Of course, the No. 1 thing on my list this year would be peace on Earth and all that junk. And if you have the time, maybe you could throw in some goodwill toward men (and women...and if he exists, Bigfoot).

But everyone always asks for that kind of stuff so let's move onto the important wishes.

Please, please, PLEASE use your magical powers to take "Jersey Shore" off the air. This alone will bring Christmas joy to even the most Bah-humbug members of society.

Speaking of overrated celebrities, please give Justin Bieber a haircut. Any haircut. Just as long as it's no longer that "my bangs are in my eyeballs and I just came in from a Category 5 hurricane" look. And if it's not too much to ask, please also stop Katherine Heigl from making any more cheesy romantic comedies.

I think the world could also majorly benefit from the creation of a calorie-free cheesecake (and I'm not just saying that because it's my favorite dessert and my pants no longer fit).

Could you also please destroy every copy of Christmas songs being "sung" by dogs or cats? I can guarantee you that 23 percent of all cases of Christmas blues stem from having to hear "Jingle Bells" being barked by a chorus of Golden Retrievers ad nauseum.

I know it's too late for this year, but it would be great if you could get rid of Black Friday all together next year. Supposedly this is the unofficial "kickoff" of the holiday season, but to be honest, I can't think of any other single event that has less to do with the Christmas spirit than trampling someone's grandma just to get $30 off a 72-inch plasma TV.

Now, with this next one I hope I'm not being too forward. But I'd really love it if you changed the criteria for the naughty list to include anyone who texts or talks on their cell phone while at dinner or on a date or during a movie and instead of giving them a lump of coal, destroy their stupid iPhone with a bolt of lightning (perhaps you could partner up with God on that one).

And lastly, while I don't know how much influence you have over the liquor industry, could you please try to make eggnog available year-round? I'm pretty sure that would definitely make the world a better place, at least for this humble, little Santa-believer.

Love,

Aprill

P.S. Tell that good-for-nothing Tooth Fairy she still owes me $1 from 1987. Oh, and that I apologize for drawing that dirty picture in permanent marker on her wing.

Aprill Brandon is a reporter for the Advocate. Those taupe high-heeled knee high boots were also 40 percent off, in case a certain Mr. Claus is reading this end credit.

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