DECEMBER 1rst:

And so it begins, the busiest time of year for me.  How does Santa survive it all, you may ask?  He thinks ahead.  Already I’m making plans for NEXT year’s best gifts.  I’ve begun production on a Miss USA doll…Miss USA, the finest representative of demure, chaste, soft femininity I can imagine, an icon for the little girls.  Oh, the Elves will bitch about all the overtime, but Santa’s got a nose for this kind of thing.  And truth is, they’ve nothing better to do.  We don’t get much entertainment or news up here…

DECEMBER 7th:

The ol’ lady is already starting to ride me about ignoring her.  What is it with women?  Surely she realizes how much I have to do!  But she moans about this, whines about that…”Nick, your practice runs down the chimney are getting soot all over my carpet”…”Nick, you can’t hang with the Elves all day and expect to get any at night.”  Well hell—if you insist on me being so fat, don’t expect me to be able to hit the sweet spot!

C’mon, Gretchen, I know you read this blog.  I never get what I want for Christmas.  I wish you WOULD ride me, baby.  Come play horsey with little Nicky.  Him’s awful lonely down there in that dark red velour.  Don’t you wanna give ol’ Santey a wittle num-num, hmmm??  Those trap-door bloomers might be a little rusty, but Big Poppa’s got just the 3-in-1 oil you need…  :razz:

DECEMBER 14th:

The Feds raided the workshop today.   :sad:

And here I thought joining the computer age would be a GOOD thing.  How dare they accuse me of child pornography?!  Can I help it if millions of kids think it’s cute to send me their naked pictures??  They took it all—computers, disks, wish lists, everything.

But I DID recognize the head agent.  Little Johnny Taylor, all grown up.  Seems to me I still have an old photo of him somewhere, doing peculiar things with his pet pony.

Ho, ho, ho…  :twisted:

DECEMBER 19th:

Special note to Crawford, Texas.  There’ll be no presents for your this year.  Nothing, nada, zip.  You can thank little Georgey Bush for setting up a no-fly zone over his piss-ass chicken ranch for that.

And just for the record—no, he never DID make use of that Dictionary of the English Language I gave him…  :roll:

DECEMBER 22nd:

Coming down to the last days, and despite dealing with the Elf union, the horny reindeer, and global warming, I find myself becoming distracted.

Her name is Sarina.  And she’s the newest Elf in town.

The workshop’s been all abuzz about her.  She’s a beautiful little bit, quite top-heavy for her height, with the face of an angel and long, golden curls.  Why, when she sat in Santa’s lap to tell him exactly what she wanted for Christmas, it was all he could do to keep from jollying himself right then and there.

But I have a feeling dear ol’ Santa might get exactly what he wants for Christmas this year after all.  :wink:

And may you get a little bit too.  :grin:

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!