Stuck with Mr. Ex-Bodyguard on Christmas Eve? That wasnt on my wish list, Santa. But then again, neither was falling in love.
Please tell me this is just a remake of Nightmare on Elm Street—the Christmas version. Id sooner face Freddy Krueger with a Santa hat than deal with this. My phone is blowing up. Im surely going to get fired. I might as well crawl under a Christmas tree and never come out. Maybe I should travel to the North Pole and ask Santa for help.
I pull my oversized scarf tighter around my neck, eyeing the treacherous sidewalk beneath me. If I fall flat on my ass now, that would be the perfect cherry on top of oh, crap. Three more messages. I must not think about the fact that the entire town must have read that letter oh, and lets not forget my mother. Or Damian. No, no, no.
Dear Santa,
They say fake it till you make it, but Im running out of filter options for my living my best life selfies. Can you gift wrap some actual success this year? My five-year plan didnt include hide in small town or lust after the Grinchs hotter, grumpier cousin.
My vibrator (Vampire 2.0) doesnt compare and is filing a complaint for neglect.
All I want for Christmas is… well, not him. Definitely not him. Maybe one more round. For closure..
With Love,
Your Confused Columnist
