I suspect that a blog posting may be the best way to reach you, given the number of letters that get directed to the North Pole. I have a suspicion that you may google yourself, just for kicks, during your off-season. It's got to be fun to do, for you.It’s been a while since I’ve made a Christmas request, Santa. I think the last time I did, I still wore footie jammies to bed, and slept with my beloved stuffed animal, Oscar the Grouch. Yes, Santa, it was Oscar who I looked to for housekeeping tips, and yes, that is why I am such a slob. Being you, you probably already knew all that. Still, the cookies I set out on Christmas Eve don't suck.
Anyway, slobbiness aside, I’m really nice (I'm pretty sure that my family members won't contradict me here, given my request). Tactless, but well-intentioned. Anyway, deserving or not, there’s one thing I want to ask you for this year for Christmas. Except… could I have it before Christmas?
No, it’s not Manolos. Or Jimmy Choos. Or any other pricey shoe, like the Miu Miu pictured, which Curly and like to admire at Barneys when we're downtown— we call it The Disco Ball Shoe. Although, you know, I would never think to fuss if you put shoes like that in my stocking. I am a girl who loves impractical, over-priced shoes and clothes, particularly ones with a tacky, Eurotrash-fabulous vibe to them. Right. My shoes-and-clothes love is not what I’m hoping to address here. It hurts a little to say this, but... I am not asking for shoes.
Please, Santa— I think I’m addressing the right person on this issue, because I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who can really make it happen— please, please let the Cubs win it all this year.
If you can get a shoe-loving girl who is not really a baseball lover to say it’s all she wants for Christmas, just think of how many mom-and-apple-pie Midwesterners you’ll make happy if you do this (did you see how happy the no-hitter made the fans?).
Because, Santa, let’s be frank (if a teensy bit cynical): this would be good marketing for you. Because if the Cubbies can win it all, Santa must exist, and you’ll once again have the best elves flocking to the North Pole in search of employment, and you'll have to rely much less on Amazon’s pre-Christmas delivery promises. Am I right? Is that logic completely unassailable or what? Totally.
So… please, Santa? It’s all I want for Christmas.
P.S. I can’t offer you my first-born for this. Sorry. I would be willing to offer my niece and the Incredible Eating Nephew to work up in the North Pole for you, because they are White Sox lovers who are attempting to corrupt my boy with White Sox love (and yes, it does pain me to type "White Sox" and "love" on the same day). I love them, anyway, Santa, don't get me wrong. It just makes them a little more... expendable, that’s all.