bone to pick.

Dear Santa,

Hey yo. This is your whoadie Plies. I mean, Eric. I know you're probably at the North Pole with your wife, watching the bootleg version of Seven Pounds. Will Smith is the shit right? I mean, when you think about it, what was the last Will Smith movie that wasn't a smash? Can't pull it up, can you? But anyway, this isn't about Will Smith ... this is about Christmas.

I don't ask for much Santa. Maybe when I was younger, but it was the media's fault. Still, you came through with the Power Ranger punching bag, the PS1, the Batmobile with the Batman action figure. Whatever it was, you came through most of the time and I love you for that. That's why you're my dog. Or dawg. Whichever one.

This Christmas, I didn't even ask for much. Heck, I did your job better than you did and bought my own gifts pretty much. My mom took me to the store and bought my Wii, so don't try to take credit for that one. Overall, I figured I would make this Christmas easy on you. I did have a list though, that I emailed/fax/texted/twitter'd/commented/tagged/facebook'd you. Don't tell me you didn't get it. I even did the "Delivery Report" option on my phone!

In case you want to play dumb though (this is how I know you're black Santa), here it is:

So uhh ... where is she Santa?

Okay, I know putting a girl in your sack and taking her on a trip around the world just to put her under my tree may be defined to some as "kidnapping" ... but who are they to decide that?

I just know that you flew over South America & Asia before you got here, and there were no confused Latin or Japanese women under my tree and frankly ... that's a problem Santa. You see, I've been looking for myself, and haven't really found one. My friends say I don't need to look ... I think there's something wrong with me ... it's all a big mess. Whatever it is, I thought it could be solved by an invisible white man in a red pimp suit. I guess not ...

So now Santa, you've fucked me over. Because for the 3rd New Year in a row, I'll be single. And with nobody to cheer in the new year with (or kiss. i heard people did that). You'll be with Mrs. Claus and the lil' evil elves drinking Ciroc while I'm playing Guitar Hero. Terrible.

So thanks Santa. Maybe next year?

Sincerely,

Eric.

p.s. [don't make me eff you up next year Santa!]

p.s. s.For everyone else, this is my gift to you, esp. if you like the first two songs on my playlist:

http://www.zshare.net/download/52810575c016a520/

p.s.s. this particular blog is to be entertaining. i am over my girl-issue thing (as well as i can be. this is just ... an entertaining post. =] )