You, missing only missing a .45 pistol and an entire smoked salmon
Look here Fatty-boombalatty, I don't like you and I'm pretty sure you don't like me. I'm pretty sure because of that whole "Santa-brought-you-a-new-Daddy" debacle from 2nd grade. Oh sure, he seemed nice, good job and all that. Let's just ignore the life time membership to NAMBLA card in his wallet and the "Go Pedophilia" foam finger and pennant he always sported. 'You'll be fine, little PK.' Screw you.
I'm past it, not bitter at all.
Instead of a traditional gift, I was planning on asking you to kill that no-good S.O.B. who watched his shopping cart careen across the parking lot at Piggly-Wiggly and smashed square upside my sweet ass PK Mobile. What a Jerk Face. I knew it wasn't the right time to try to do my own grocery shopping. I should have left that to The Pickled Mick, (It's in the contract, read it again). Well anyway, I came in off the ledge about killing that tool-chest.
My request this year is about me. Just me. Look, I've done pretty well for myself over the years. I helped build this successful blog with a ridiculously huge corporate office and a bloated staff. We could be a virtual company, but I care about these fuck-knuckle's families. In addition to that, I have been running that
So it is with great sincerity that I ask you for something that would fill a void in my life.
(Short of that, I'd like Julie the Hippie American Doll. She's keen)
Happy and Merry Blah Blah Blah,