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First, write your own letter to Santa here then read mine. Mad Libs are fun!
Dear Santa,
I have been a good girl.
It really wasn't my fault what happened at Kirby's Christmas party. It was Bob who spiked the punch with too much grasshoppers. I can't help it if I drank 16 glasses. It was so good---smelled and tasted just like patchouli.
I thought it was funny when I put Kit's combat boots on my head and danced the mashed potato on the futon while singing `Pig'. I didn't mean to break Kirby's PDA and don't know why Kirby would sue me for possession of drug paraphernalia.
I don't remember calling Collin's wife a stinky chicken---even though she looked like one with blue eye shadow and green lipstick!
And when I threw up on Bean's husband's arm, it was only because I ate too much of that chip dip.
After all that fun, I admit I was a little tired. So I fell asleep on my way home and drove my motorcycle through my neighbor's roof. I don't think that was any reason for my neighbor to call me a sorry-ass iguana and have me arrested for public intoxication!
So, Santa...here I sit in my jail cell on Christmas Eve, all pathetic and worrisome. And I'm really not to blame for any of this amusing stuff. Please bring me what I want the most---bail money!
Sincerely and quietly yours,
Stacy (Really a nice girl!)
P.S. It's only 67 bucks!
Dear Santa,
I have been a good girl.
It really wasn't my fault what happened at Kirby's Christmas party. It was Bob who spiked the punch with too much grasshoppers. I can't help it if I drank 16 glasses. It was so good---smelled and tasted just like patchouli.
I thought it was funny when I put Kit's combat boots on my head and danced the mashed potato on the futon while singing `Pig'. I didn't mean to break Kirby's PDA and don't know why Kirby would sue me for possession of drug paraphernalia.
I don't remember calling Collin's wife a stinky chicken---even though she looked like one with blue eye shadow and green lipstick!
And when I threw up on Bean's husband's arm, it was only because I ate too much of that chip dip.
After all that fun, I admit I was a little tired. So I fell asleep on my way home and drove my motorcycle through my neighbor's roof. I don't think that was any reason for my neighbor to call me a sorry-ass iguana and have me arrested for public intoxication!
So, Santa...here I sit in my jail cell on Christmas Eve, all pathetic and worrisome. And I'm really not to blame for any of this amusing stuff. Please bring me what I want the most---bail money!
Sincerely and quietly yours,
Stacy (Really a nice girl!)
P.S. It's only 67 bucks!
