Dear Santa,

I know you are busy with your elve slaves and whoring around with Mrs. Santa, so I will keep this short.

I have had a shit year. Serious. I’ve moved twice, I’ve broken my foot, I’ve sprained my neck, I’ve fallen in love, I’ve lost love, I’ve lost my job, I’m facing moving again, I’m saying goodbye to the animals I love so dearly, I am losing my home, and today is raining like a motherfucker.

Lets cut the crap ok? I’ve been good. I pay all my bills and eat all my vegetables, and I even donated all my old clothes to charity this year. Oh, and I sold my lounge suite for a quarter of what it was worth just to help out my maid. You see, I’m good.

SO here’s the deal, in return for all of the above, this is what I you owe me according to my calculations:

  1. Car installments paid in full
  2. A quick wait to get on the cruise liners
  3. A kiff holiday in Cape Town please
  4. One of those weird little teddy bear USB ports I saw online
  5. New boobs – firmer and nicer than the ones I have already, please
  6. A new wardrope that will magically fit into one bag so I can take it everywhere
  7. Those pink puma’s I saw in Sportscene last week, only I want all my friends to get a pair too, just not the same colour ok? That would be *disasterous*
  8. Bottomless coke forever
  9. The ability to like sweetner instead of sugar
  10. Laptop with fancy shit built in, like a mike and camera
  11. Access to the internet all over the world
  12. Love and comfort to my loved ones while I am away
  13. No more drama please, I’m drama’d out for a while I think
  14. Maybe you could send one of your mystical creatures to give Kiera a hug for me. Not a scary one though cos then I’d have to beat the shit out of you. And I aim for the groin, mind.
  15. Doggie treats for Susie and Mily that never end or perish and have a beeping alarm when they get transported in the mouth outside, so that I know Susie is about to dig a gaping hole and bury the bone along with the rest of suspected items, such as my bra, a shoe or two, and a baby pram. Yes, I said baby pram. She did that. True story.
  16. Gimme a bottle of happiness and reassurance while you’re at it, goddamnit, I deserve it.

That is all. I trust you will meet with accordance to this regard and my requests of above. I suggest you get your Reindeers Rudolf, Poppet, Goldy and whatstheirfaces to get a move on, we don’t have all day.

Yours in self-loving,

Sheena.

(From the South Coast)

Ps: Apparently the reindeers are either Screaming Dora Queens or females according to Glugster. You should check it out and consider renaming them for fear of possible identity crisises.