It really wasn't my fault what happened at Dylan's Christmas party. It was JD who spiked the punch with too much bloody mary. I can't help it if I drank 9 glasses. It was so good---smelled and tasted just like fruity.
I thought it was funny when I put Ghostdancer's bra on my head and danced the The African mating dance on the china hutch while singing `Macarena'. I didn't mean to break Dylan's GPS and don't know why Dylan would sue me for passion.
I don't remember calling Webguy's wife a twitchy rooster---even though she looked like one with periwinkle blue eye shadow and seafoam green lipstick!
And when I threw up on Ruby's husband's elbow, it was only because I ate too much of that watermelon.
After all that fun, I admit I was a little tired. So I fell asleep on my way home and drove my Harley Motorcycle through my neighbor's bathroom. I don't think that was any reason for my neighbor to call me a brilliant prairie dog and have me arrested for indecent exposure!
So, Santa...here I sit in my jail cell on Christmas Eve, all fuzzy and odiferous. And I'm really not to blame for any of this wobbly stuff. Please bring me what I want the most---bail money!
Sincerely and swiftly yours, Garougal (Really a nice girl!)
jeez g-gal not the most convincing of santa letters, but I think he should reward you for your honesty at least. I hear coal is a hot commodity this time of year and a bit more affordable than natural gas.
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"And like Web, I enjoy throwing JR under the bus. Problem is, it's usually under the special bus that I ride every day". Ghostdancer 12-18-09