Dear Santa (Madlibs style)
North Pole, Earth
I have been a good girl.
It really wasn’t my fault what happened at Babs’s Office party. It was Sussusudio who spiked the punch with too much tequila. I can’t help it if I drank 276 glasses. It was so good—smelled and tasted just like patchouli.
I thought it was funny when I put Smilie’s thong on my head and danced the cabbage patch on the ottoman while singing `You Don’t Bring Me Flowers’. I didn’t mean to break Babs’s blender and don’t know why Babs would accuse me of lying.
I don’t remember calling Music Man’s wife a crispy sheep—even though she looked like one with chartreuse eye shadow and peach lipstick!
And when I threw up on Smilie’s husband’s earlobe, it was only because I ate too much of that potato.
After all that fun, I admit I was a little tired. So I fell asleep on my way home and drove my Mustang through my neighbor’s shed. I don’t think that was any reason for my neighbor to call me a sparkly lama and have me arrested for shoplifting!
So, Santa…here I sit in my jail cell on Christmas Eve, all pasty and sticky. And I’m really not to blame for any of this numb stuff. Please bring me what I want the most—bail money!
Sincerely and smoothly yours,
Robin (Really a nice girl!)
P.S. It’s only 98 bucks!
Try it yourself! (doesn’t work with Mozilla, I learned the hard way)