Dear Santa,

Dear Santa,

I have been a good girl.

It really wasn't my fault what happened at Ashton's Christmas party. It was Stephanie who spiked the punch with too much vodka. I can't help it if I drank thirteen glasses. It was so good---smelled and tasted just like pine cones.

I thought it was funny when I put Lesli's underwear on my head and danced the tango on the couch while singing `Amish Paradise'. I didn't mean to break Ashton's computer and don't know why Ashton would sue me for bank robbery.

I don't remember calling Jerry's wife a colorful sheep---even though she looked like one with red eye shadow and orange lipstick!

And when I threw up on Adonica's husband's leg, it was only because I ate too much of that mushroom soup.

After all that fun, I admit I was a little tired. So I fell asleep on my way home and drove my Corvette through my neighbor's bathroom. I don't think that was any reason for my neighbor to call me a ignorant cat and have me arrested for murder!

So, Santa...here I sit in my jail cell on Christmas Eve, all sad and lonely. And I'm really not to blame for any of this large stuff. Please bring me what I want the most---bail money!

Sincerely and argumentative yours,

Barbara (Really a nice girl!)

P.S. It's only twenty-two bucks!