A (Break Up) Letter to Santa


Eat my ass, Santa. That's how I felt about it.
And the cookie thing. Seriously, what the hell? Who said those were for you? I could maybe see it if I'd left them on the mantle, but I don't have a mantle. They were on the coffee table. And the dinner table. And the night stand. And a dozen other places. Besides, those weren't for you, I just didn't put them away before I went to bed. Why did you think they were for you? And don't just say "because you were drunk." That's not going to fly with me any more, Santa, and is a topic for a whole 'nother letter besides.
