I have been a good girl.
It really wasn't my fault what happened at Megan's Christmas party. It was Laura who spiked the punch with too much apple juice. I can't help it if I drank 87 1/2 glasses. It was so good---smelled and tasted just like grass.
I thought it was funny when I put Nick's zebra thong on my head and danced the funky chicken on the bean bag chair while singing `"Angry Inch"'. I didn't mean to break Megan's vibrator and don't know why Megan would sue me for removing mattress tags.
I don't remember calling Bill's wife a diminutive duck---even though she looked like one with rainbow eye shadow and purplish-green lipstick!
And when I threw up on Aunt Barb's husband's gluteal crease, it was only because I ate too much of that spam.
After all that fun, I admit I was a little tired. So I fell asleep on my way home and drove my cheesemobile through my neighbor's stairs. I don't think that was any reason for my neighbor to call me a toodelypoodely platypus and have me arrested for public nudity!
So, Santa...here I sit in my jail cell on Christmas Eve, all mutated and squishy. And I'm really not to blame for any of this orgasmic stuff. Please bring me what I want the most---bail money!
Sincerely and enormously yours,
Ade (Really a nice girl!)
P.S. It's only 1479 bucks!
hehehe... go here to write your own letter to santa!
