Dear Santa, I know I've been a naughty little hussy, but I still think I deserve these 12 lust-worthy bags. At the end of the day, I really am a good person despite evidence proving the contrary. And I know I might have done some skunky stuff this year - flirting with the Papa John's delivery dude for extra dipping sauces - but I redeemed myself by doing God's work, including but not limited to allowing that construction catcaller to pinch my tuchas. So come down my chimney bearing these bags and we'll chat - I'll be wearing my red La Perla.
But reader, if this letter to Santa doesn't do the trick - my sexuality may not work here since he's endlessly devoted to that crusty old Mrs. Clause - perhaps it's time to hunt down a sugar daddy. Because when it comes to me and fashion - where there's a will, there's a way! And there's no shame to my game!
I'm going to take that financial investor dude up on his offer. And in honor of this beautiful union and him footing the bill, I wrote this glorious holiday jingle, which should be sung only by the likes of Céline Dion or Mariah Carey:
