Dear Santa,

Hey, man. It’s been a long time since we talked. How are ya?

Listen, I’m not sure what I did back when I was a kid to make you stop swinging by the house each Christmas, but we’ve got a lot of catching up to do. I used to stay up late the night before, reading the same copies of The Berenstein Bears, listening to my Queen’s Greatest Hits tape, waiting for that familiar THUNK! on the rooftop. But when I got older, and wiser, the sound stopped coming. And the Christmas tree had just a little less each time.

That’s bullshit, dude. What the fuck did I do? Peanut butter cookies not matching your expectations anymore?

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lash out back there. That was rude, and inconsiderate. Because I know you never meant to fucking abandon stop coming without saying goodbye. So, I figured, maybe this year, you can consider paying the ol’ Norris household a visit. For old times sakes. And while you’re out, I could use a handful of things:

1) $500 cash/money order/PayPal


I hate to treat the very first present on my list like it’s the go-to Christmas gift from the drunk uncle, but desperate times call for desperate sadness. $500 will really help me out over the next few weeks. See, I just realized that there were a couple of loan payments coming up soon, and I’d really like my intro into the new year to have less meetings with collections officers and Italian dudes holding bats.

2) A brand new car


Let’s be honest. You’ve been gone for over 10 years now, that should equate close to at least a used 2008 Mazda. I’m currently working with a 2004 Ford Crown Victoria, with doors that can’t lock, and brakes that are questionable when going downhill. At this point, a new car would be an investment on my safety, as well as everyone’s within a 50 ft. radius of me.

3) Solve World Hunger


Come on, dude. Share some of those cookies with the rest of us. Speaking of which…

4) Queasy Bake Oven

I’ve always wanted this bad boy, ever since I was a fat kid obsessed with chocolate. First off, the commercial had a greasy, obese chef, covered in food stains and crack. He bursts into a fancy restaurant with chocolate hockey pucks and a plastic hotbox. Then he unloads that sweet secret recipe – something that makes your mouth change into a vomit-shade of green. It caps off with parents being absolutely revolted and passing out into a plate of cheese sauce. 

Yeah. Bring an extra lightbulb. Heisenberg’s got some cookin’ to do.

5) A new cover letter


The cheapest thing on the list. Get your smartest elf (preferably one that has a degree), lock him in one of your workshops, and don’t let him come out until he produces some goddamn results. I have great difficulty writing 2-3 paragraphs about my skills, and why I’d be a great fit at any company. But if one of your little green demons can whip up something, without mentioning clichés like “a hard-working, goal-oriented person” or “flexible on the salary amount,” I’d be pretty much eternally grateful. If you can’t make it work…I guess you can tack on another $500.


That’s it. Don’t think of this letter as a major guilt trip for all those lonely Christmas morns. You’ll always be higher on my nice list than 95% of my closest friends.

Love always,

P.S. My apartment doesn’t have a chimney, so just burst through my sliding doors like the Kool Aid man drunk with power.