A Letter To Santa That This Kid Wasn't Expecting

Dear Santa...

As I sit in the airport terminal at LAX, watching the hustle and bustle of all the passengers scrambling to make it home to their families (about two weeks before Christmas, mind you), I try to figure out how to kill the hours before my flight. Drink? The answer is usually "hell yes," but I had a rough day yesterday where 4 different liquids were involved (Grey Goose, Jack, Don Julio & good 'ol Mr. Macallan)... Oh and how could I forget the beer? And did I mention this was before 7pm? So if I can't sit within 50 ft of the smell of booze, what better way to kill time than write a letter to Santa? I mean, someone needs to remind him of what a good little boy I've been this year. Those that know me, stop laughing. Those that don't know the guy behind who they call Anonymous, read on, you'll learn a thing or two...


Dear Santa,

I sit here reflecting on the past year since you've visited, and I start to wonder if I'll actually get a gift this year, or if a lump of coal will be the rude awakening that I deserve.

Side note: I sort of feel like I'm about to give confession, but given the fact that I haven't set foot in a church in 5 years (maybe 6), I'll instead spill my guts to you, Santa, and let you decide what to do with me this Christmas.

It's been a really good year, an eventful year, and quite honestly a blurry year.

If you ask me, "Have you been on your best behavior, Anonymous?" My answer: Probably not. But that doesn't mean I haven't done my fair-share of good deeds. I'll share a few with you, Santa:

I give money to homeless people. Sure, 9 in 10 are probably buying sex or drugs, but I think that at least I'm helping that 1 in 10 get off the streets.

I volunteered a morning of my time a few months ago to help the needy. Yes, it was also mostly get out of work. But a win-win situation for all. Don't hate...congratulate.

Also, I'm a really, really good friend. Like I will do just about anything to help a friend out. And all my friends know this. For instance, I recently drove 12 hours to drunkenly take care of a friend who had just had surgery. Another friend of mine is in a relationship that requires them to go home hammered pretty much daily... And guess what I do? I drink with them. Like shots, all the fucking time! I'd go so far to say that if a friend needed me to kill someone, I'd do it. Okay, maybe this isn't helping my case but I'd still do it. Fuck you. Kidding.

If this isn't enough, Santa, I'll compare myself to a few others sitting near me in the airport. I know, my mom taught me not to compare myself to other people, and what better way to plead my case?

FIRST- let's talk about the little whore who is sitting across from me in the lounge area. She can't be a day over 18 and is wearing enough makeup to make every member on the entire Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders look pretty. I shit you not, she's wearing so few clothes that she looks just like she came from her night job, of tricking. I can also hear the music coming from her headphones: Rihanna - S&M. Really? Yeah, I know that song. Santa, if you don't, here is a little excerpt:

"I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it. Sex in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but chains and whips excite me..."

I mean, are you fucking kidding me, bro? And you wonder why people try to pay her for sex?? Let me guess, she used to be pretty square in high school, didn't drink or fuck, and after her first semester at Junior College, she realized how awesome the combination of sangria & cock tastes.


NEXT- Marilyn Manson's cousin, the dude wearing a black trench coat, a dog collar and black nail polish. Yeah, him. I'm trying not to make eye contact with him because I might get so scared that I'd piss myself. I don't know who told him that the goth look was cool, but it's been out since my senior year when that kid killed everyone at Columbine. I wonder how long it took him to get through security. But maybe that's why he looks so angry, I'll give him this much, I'd look pissed too if I had just received a cavity search from the huge ginger TSA agent at security. I'm very curious who is picking up this guy at the airport. If that was my son, I'd just keep driving past him at baggage claim. No joke.


LASTLY- to the man being paged over and over again because he lost his daughter. I'm sure it is a scary feeling, but if he had been watching little Angela instead of getting so SHIT-FACED at the airport bar, I'm sure his daughter wouldn't be crying for Daddy. The worst part - I'm sure she has to hangout with the huge Ginger TSA agent at security... I'm sure his hand smells like shit, even if he has taken off the latex gloves.

So there you have it Santa, I may not always make the best decisions, often clouded by booze and cat hair, but in comparison to many others out there, I really am a damn saint. And yes, I deserve presents more than these perfect strangers at LAX.

So in conclusion, I should be getting a gift this year.

Merry Christmas,
Anonymous

14 High School Classmates You’ll See Over Winter Break

Most Likely To Succeed Turned Degenerate
While growing up, being an over-achiever made this kid feel like he was king of the world. But once he moved out of the house, and didn't have his @sshole dad breathing down his neck every second, the guy just fell apart. Sure, he might have gotten into a good school, but after realizing he could do whatever he wanted, things quickly went downhill. BUY HIM SHOTS!

Popular Girl Who Still Thinks She's Special
If she's in college, she'll probably be an even bigger b*tch than she was in 10th grade, since she's had a couple more solid years of getting f*cked (over) by football players to really cement her nasty demeanor. If she didn't go to college, chances are she's divorced, with a toddler and a unhealthy fondness of white wine. You might think this makes her easier to hook-up with, but you'd be wrong. AVOID.

Bag of Bones To Black Ops
He got the sh*t end of the bully stick, constantly. It was hard to imagine he'd ever grow big enough to be anything more than hilarious butt of joke. So to come home and find him a war veteran with battle scars and 143 ways to kill you in under a 10 seconds will quickly have minding your manners. BUY HIM BEERS.

The Late Bloomer
The late bloomer just never got the memo until she was at college. Now she's through her "awkward phase," rounded out in all the right places and acquired a good a sense of humor, turning herself into some kind of dream woman capable of amazing things. BUY HER A RING.

Nerd Turned Billionaire
While you were busy getting drunk in a field, this dude was mastering code. And since then, he's built a computer program that you're too dumb to understand, sold it for millions of dollars and now spends most of his time screwing high-end Asian hookers. Show some humility, heap some praise, and pitch your million dollar idea.

Reformed Slut
She once blew three dudes in the parking lot at lunch. Now she's on her knees for a totally different reason. Dear God.

Once a Loser, Always a Loser
Not even the college experience of drugs and alcohol can bring this kid a modicum amount of cool. He's the kid who just didn't get the memo or was too lazy to do anything about it. He could just move and put this place in his rearview mirror or become Style Overhaul Brah.

Knocked Up & Wifed Up
It'll most likely be really hard to relate to what this chick (or the guy she's marrying) are getting into. Either the situation has caused each of them to sober up and assume responsibility or to completely go off the deep end in denial. We'll drink to that.

Jock Turned Cop
He messed with nerds in the hallways, now he messes with everyone on the road.

Hot Slut Who's Still Slutty But Not as Hot
I always thought taking loads to the face and throat would keep the skin and body fresh and nourished, but sometimes chicks take their looks for granted and figure 'hey, i just need to show up to get plowed'. That's totally true until you can't form words, reek of cigarettes and puke, and your muffin top pours out over your baggy sweatpants.

Style Overhaul Brah
He was once a punk, now he's preppy or vice versa. He let his hair grow out after rocking the buzzcut for his entire life. He now rocks the Ryan Dunn beard (as a tribute?). The assumption here is he was trying to not let what happened in high school happen in college. Shrewd move, but everyone knows you pissed your pants in gym class.

Hot Chick Turned Fat Pig
She had a ridiculous body in high school and could eat whatever she wanted without gaining a pound. She must've ditched the bulimia routine in college. Freshman 15? Try Freshman 50.

New Accent Guy / Girl
They study abroad for a semester and they think they're citizens. Or they go to school in the South and come back spittin' "y'alls".

The Gay Kid Finally Came Out of the Closet!
Of course, it all depends on where you went to school, but the majority of people are happy this happened. Now, instead of persecuting him or her for pretending to be someone he or she isn't, now we persecute him or her for being so over-the-top, in-our-faces with their gay pride. We get it, just chill and tell us who else you think is gay.

via - Co-ed Magazine

Merry Shitfacemas

Holiday drinking is our family’s way of saying "let's put our differences aside for the time being and drink this bottle of (insert name of alcohol here) out of coffee cups while we pretend to do other functional activities.” I have coined this joyous season “Merry Shitfacemas.” For our family this holiday season has greater importance than any other time of the year because myself, my two brothers and my dad also have our birthdays during this happy time. So not only are we celebrating the most wonderful time of the year (our birthdays) which leads to mass quantities of alcohol consumption, but then we get to throw in Thanksgiving and Christmas for the extra holiday drinking bonus. I will allow you to imagine your own wild times for the birthday festivities. Think midgets, clowns, clown midgets and mini horses. To keep my momentum and stamina going during these occasions I realized that the best course of action is to drink early and often...But allow me to elaborate on the magic that is Merry Shitfacemas.

Now that we are all older and spread out over the country we sometimes have to take our shit show on the road. The easiest thing to do is convene at Grandma’s lake house in Michigan where we have 40 + acres to bring the fuckery. For me, the beauty of Merry Shitfacemas is that it turns into a multi-state drinking bonanza, as I travel the farthest. Because of my extensive training I can usually consume the most alcohol between point A and point 7, so that by the time I get to Grandma's I am almost incoherent. My day typically starts early in Florida with an airport shot (or 3, don't judge) of Gran Marnier and some killer Bloody Mary’s, before getting on my direct flight to Detroit, MI. No layovers for me- that could lead to missed flights,pissed off parents and more drinking. Dad meets me at the airport and then we road trip the shit out of the thumb of Michigan.

My dad has been making this drive for several years (read: since before I was born) so he has a plan, a route and schedule. If you fuck with dad’s road trip schedule bad things will happen. We get to our first stop to have lunch and cocktails- all the waitresses know my dad so shit is on point, i.e. drinks are never empty. Mom is usually almost unconscious by this time and I am barely hanging in, but fighting. We have a nice leisurely lunch where I knock back Scotch and dad gets into the Belvedere. Then it is back on the road. 2 hours later we have the next stop and I am usually hammered enough to allow him to take pictures of me with dead stuffed animals. Last year we had to leave mom passed out in the car at bar two. When she woke up whilst we were boozing and realized she had been left in the car Mom was a not a happy road tripper.

By the time we actually get to Grandma’s it is dark and we are drunk. And when you are in this tiny town in Michigan you need to be drunk, because there isn’t shit else to do and the nearest bar is 26 miles from the house. You go to bed at 8, you get up and go fuck around outside in the snow until you can appropriately start day drinking;when Grandma shakes her glass and says, “who’s gonna make me a cocktail; scotch on the rocks” and the fun begins again.

In between drinking and snow games we open some presents, eat some food and pretty much drink our selves into a light coma for 3-5 days. By the time I get back on the plane to Florida my skin is a little sallow and my liver hurts. But I am full of pork goodness and fuzzy memories of another Merry Shitfacemas fill my head. The residual alcohol and warm thoughts are enough to get me through the next few days until Happy Booze Year.

Merry Shitfacemas everyone!

Tis the season to be pranking...