Tis The Season.

Dear fictionalized Caucasian Santa,

It's me, Alex. Listen, I've been wondering why you've been such a prick lately. I mean your whole angle is getting relatively decent people what they want, right? Well if you've been paying attention in the last year and a half post-college my bearded friend, I've been on the shit-end of the stick and I'm wondering why. Let's recap. I was a pretty good kid growing up; I've never been in a fist-fight (even though I could have against Rodney Stickles.) I was consistently a B student. I took at least one session of CCD. Oh, one Christmas I worked at a soup kitchen. Does that cover enough bases?

By the way, I found out you weren't real a while ago. My dad was totally forging your signature in the letters you'd leave me. (Like you had that kind of time.) I compared two samples CSI style and they were remarkably similar. You should have seen that confrontation with my parents. A lot of tears, and a loss of childhood innocence. My mother says I was still faithfully yours until the sixth grade. Highly doubtful. But I digress.

I'm writing you because in these oppressive economic times I actually have a few requests. I'm pretty sure after my middle school years I didn't really ask for much so I figure a few presents my way wouldn't be so difficult. In keeping with your characteristically straightforward method of selecting gift recipients, I've also been pretty damn good lately. Yes, I ran from a cab without paying once. Okay, twice. But still, it wasn't my idea and I felt badly afterwards. That has to count for something.

And I'm all ready for your standard, "Well Santa's very busy, little boy" response, but let's remember who actually works year round dude. Which one of us has bills to pay? How much is rent up in North nowhere Pole? Exactly. I have to interact with 11 and 12 year-olds daily. Thankfully they give us all the coffee we can drink, but all you have is literally one night of stressful, high-anxiety activities. That's it. One night. The rest of the year you "vacation" with your "wife" and probably drink a lot. Bet you and Tiger never shared phone contacts before too, huh? Oh and I'm sure the authorities would be very interested in all the three-foot high, pre-pubescent "elves" you have doing your work. Just saying.


Anyway, if you're still reading here's the tentative list:


First off, I would love a full-time job. I mean seriously, kicking off adulthood with the humiliating labels "Intern" and "Substitute" isn't the best way to establish street cred with middle schoolers. That, and the money--excuse my language--blows. I think Mother Theresa made more than I do. Granted that's not the primary incentive, but it would make Monday mornings a hell of a lot easier.

My second gift could be a little more difficult, but I have recently come to the conclusion that life would be much easier without student loans. I have no idea what your cash-flow is, but I'm guessing you have some pretty big sponsors. This could be the first request you've gotten about college loans. If not, I'm calling priority dibs.

In case you didn't notice, my car went through a tough spell recently. Like a $450 tough spell. Bessie Lou has seen many thousands of miles on the open road so it might be time to put her out to pasture and replace the glory. Nothing too flashy, Santa. Maybe an Audi. If you can't swing that, I'll settle for new brakes.


So those are my bigger, priority-1 type gifts but below is a continuation of the list with the when-you-get-around-to-it presents:

-$50 gift card to Olive Garden (Unlimited breadsticks!)
-Scarf (Nothing too Adam Lamberty; one that will keep me warm.)
-World peace and shit.



Well there it is. I hope you read the whole thing, just like you read all the rest of my letters as a kid. (That was sarcasm, Santa.)



I will be looking for those soon, and if I think of anything more I'll facebook you.


Unfaithfully Yours,

Alex



PS-I know you're not match.com or anything, but I wouldn't mind a girlfriend. Get on that.