Dear Santa,

I have been a good girl.

It really wasn't my fault what happened at Lisa's Christmas party. It was Joyce who spiked the punch with too much rum. I can't help it if I drank 12 glasses. It was so good---smelled and tasted just like chocolate.

I thought it was funny when I put Kimber's socks on my head and danced the waltz on the couch while singing `Your my Angel'. I didn't mean to break Lisa's hair blower and don't know why Lisa would sue me for stealing.

I don't remember calling Harry's wife a pretty cow---even though she looked like one with purple eye shadow and blue lipstick!

And when I threw up on Mella's husband's lap, it was only because I ate too much of that french fries.

After all that fun, I admit I was a little tired. So I fell asleep on my way home and drove my Jeep through my neighbor's living room. I don't think that was any reason for my neighbor to call me a ugly cat and have me arrested for hit and run!

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

Sincerely and devoted yours,
Sweetwinds (Really a nice girl!)

P.S. It's only 4 bucks!