By Santa Claus
It’s Christmas time, and I see how the ladies of the world love Christmas. They love the fuzzy blankets, the trees, the holiday Starbucks cups (okay, not the Republican ladies), and the Ugg boots. Keeping all this in mind, I can’t help but mention that there’s a big part of Christmas that you all seem to conveniently forget once you’re past the age of eight: me.
You know, it isn’t exactly “easy” having to live in the North Pole for hundreds of years. How many women do you think live up there, exactly? The only one shakin’ it like a red nose is Rudolph, and I can’t fuck a reindeer. And the elves? Not exactly turned on by me making them work 22-hour shifts.
It’s not like Mrs. Claus is down for any “holiday cheer,” either. There’s only so much you can do to spice up your sex life after being married for a few hundred years. I’ve decided that being tied down and having the label of “decent husband/human being” isn’t for me anymore. She doesn’t have to know. I’m tired of being seen as jolly old Saint Nick. I’m not jolly, age is just a number, and I’m definitely no saint. ;)
This isn’t to say that I’ve never stuffed someone’s stocking outside of my frozen compound. I’ve been messing around for years, but because I’m “not real,” I don’t get the reputation I deserve. The only people who appreciate me are the lonely housewives of the world. Mommy was kissing your dad in a Santa costume? No babe, that was me, and we did a lot more than just kiss.
I have to say though, after decade after decade of bringing free presents to people around the world, you would think that some of you would offer me a little bit more than just cookies on Christmas Eve. I see those videos y’all watch on the internet. You’ll offer your taxi driver a BJ for a $5 ride but I don’t get shit for that iPhone I hand delivered to you? Take a second to think about how selfish that is. There’s no Tinder in the North Pole, so I need some of my hoes on the naughty list to change their attitudes from GTFO to DTF.
I think that a lot of you just need a change of perspective. What does your current man have that I can’t provide for you? He works a corporate America job, is balding, and drives a Civic. What do I have going for me? I enslave employ thousands of workers singlehandedly, make billions of children happy every year and drive a MAGIC SLED. To all of the ladies with the word “wanderlust” in your Instagram bio, how about you save some money on airfare and hop in Santa’s whip so I can take you to suck on my candy cane anywhere in the world? Daddy Santa always foots the bill.
I mean, I’m in no way trying to say that I’m looking for Mrs. Claus #2. Commitment is for beta boys, and I’m not down to spend the extra money on alimony. Why can’t we just enjoy a nice night together and go our separate ways? Let’s not be selfish, ladies, there’s plenty of Santa to go around. This is why I don’t go after Jewish girls, because they expect you to come for eight days instead of just one, which is just selfish. The spirit of Christmas is sharing and giving to your fellow man, so enjoy our few minutes together, then be sure to give your hot sister my phone number after we’re done.
Like any man in power, I like to manipulate my standing in society in order to receive affection I was deprived of as a child. I think after all the years of Christmas joy I brought to you in your youth, it’s time to let me bring you some more in adulthood. The elves can’t make the kind of thing that I’m gonna bring you this year. Seeing when you’re sleeping and knowing when “you up” has its benefits. Luckily for some of you, being on the naughty list gets you a lot more than coal, believe me.
If this interests any of you reading hit me up. I’d love to come down your chimney in more ways than one.
