Merry Christmas!
Today I share a personal grievance I’ve had with the pudgy, bearded one who bears gifts on this day. I’ve held this in for 23 years, but I simply cannot go on pretending like I’m fine about what happened. Because, I’m not.
I hope you enjoyed the cookies and milk I left out for you – I see you left some of the cookies, you must be watching your figure.
Dear Santa,
Merry Christmas! I hope you made it safely back to the North Pole – you must be exhausted, delivering all those gifts around the world. Thankfully you enjoyed good weather in most parts of the U.S. – in fact it was so warm you must have been roasting in your suit.
I didn’t ask for anything this year. In fact, it’s been a long time since I have. It was 1992, the movie Scent of a Woman came out that year. While most people remember the film for Al Pacino’s portrayal of Lt. Col Frank Slade, my fondness of it is solely for Gabrielle Anwar – the stunningly beautiful brunette who glides across the dance floor with Slade in one of the scenes. I was in love with her and all I asked for that year was for you to bring her to me. Perhaps there wasn’t enough room on your sled or you couldn’t find her, but I was devastated when I woke up and found that she wasn’t under , uhm….the tree, that’s it. And while I did appreciate the photo you brought me of her, it fell way short of satisfying all of my desires.
Anyway, If you would like to make good on that today, I’d be ok with that and I’ll forgive the whole ’92 debacle. If you still can’t find her (I think she’s in Miami these days), I’ll settle for Charlize Theron or Brazilian model Adriana Lima. I’m flexible.
Thanks for all you do – it really is remarkable how much you get done in just one night.
Enjoy your 364 days off,
Reed Sandridge
PO Box 53065
Washington, DC 20009