One of the great things about being a kid is that you can ask for the most ridiculous crap for Christmas. You have no problems writing down that you’d like a laser gun, a pack of Big League Chew and a new baby brother. My list used to look something like this:
Dear Santa,
I’d like to marry Jonathan Taylor Thomas for Christmas. I’d also like a puppy. Can you give me bigger boobs? Bigger than the ones that jerk Jillian has. Oh, and some of those shoes that turn into skates because I don’t look like a big enough asshole normally.
Thanks,
Jen
As you get older, and the suckage of adulthood sets in, you start asking for more practical gifts. Now, my list looks something like this:
Dear Mom & Dad,
I need a new set of dishes and silverware. I also just ran out of my hair serum and face lotion. It’s getting pretty cold here so some winter socks would be nice. I also need towels and meatballs so a gift certificate to Ikea is handy. If all else fails, cash is good. That way I can pay off the loan shark who is threatening to bust my knee caps.
Thanks,
Jen
I can get that new Flippenflappen couch I’ve had my eye on
Sips of Jen and Tonic 
