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December 23, 2009
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Internal Monologue Required Contest #2

11. Dammit, the one night I leave my Viagra at home. -snyetha
10. Shhh, don't tell the Mrs.! Santa gets as well as he gives--Ho Ho Hos! -ideeclare
9. She's the gift that keeps on giving. -keibar
8. no Santa, DON'T tell me to SHUT UP, YOU shut up you present-giving bastard (how does this inner-monologue thing work again?) -trident
7. Hell with my list, Craigs list fuckin ROCKS! -MadAdam
6. Some damn Congressman asked for her, but I just couldn't give her away. -keibar
5. apparently, the Magic of Macy's requires birth control pills and / or various ointments / salves / creams. -trident
4. Shhhhhhhh,dont tell Mrs. Claus.He's getting what he really wants for Christmas this year. -lizardladyfla
3. Pretty soon I'll be putting some miracle on her 34's. -drwho
2. "My finger comes but once a year...but not once in the butt...Think it's time to change that." -FissureFilms (there’s wrong, and there’s wrong, and there’s this)
1. “ Shhh! I’m Brian David Mitchell !!! ” -TheDIRTYMidget (That’s horrible!  You awful, tiny man)

Best essay/rant:
You know, it's moments like this that I'm pretty damned happy that I'm Santa Claus. I mean, I get my moment in the spotlight every year, & get left alone for a while afterwards so I can decompress. But every December, I make some serious money, which keeps the Mrs. off my fucking back. All I do is show up, & they throw it at me. The ostensible "reason" for Christmas, the J-ster's birthday, just don't cut it. Not enough substance there. They need me. Then I get the girls with the fetishes, like this one, that have daddy complexes. That seriously gets my sugarplumbs dancing. If only all those kids could leave a sweaty, naked, randy redhead out instead of cookies & milk...ah shit, I'd never get anything done if they did that. Anyway, I'm technically off the clock, so I'll give her a gift that should satisfy...3 or 4 clitorally-stimulated orgasms. Then, I think I'll go see what all the fuss is with this "Avatar" movie. Thanks, Jesus, for the humility. I get to party like a rock star on your birthday. If that's wrong, then I don't wanna be right. Oh wow, she's going for my ding-dong. These girls today are so much more aggressive. I don't have to do hardly any work. Beats the fuck out of the 1800's, when I was lucky if there was a candle lit & it was just hiking the skirt up, not to mention it was always cold as shit. Anyways, Macy's always does me solid, they like to portray me for what I am, out for some ass. The whole giving presents thing gives the context that I give a shit about children, which woos the nurturing instinct in females, creating a bond & trust. Taking advantage of that trust is MY reward for putting up with all those kids. I think they said they were going to feature a graphic saying "Believe" on this print ad. Ha, you can "believe" I roundly rogered this ginger tart while she screamed the birthday boy's name at the top of her lungs. I'll be getting shit again from the Mrs. when I come home smelling like Christmas Sex, but, as usual, she'll remember the money & put a fucking stocking in it. Yeah, she's married to red & white assets, not fucking me, "believe" that, for fuck's sake. Well, I need to scrooge the ghost of Christmas Ass here & move on, time is money.
-trident (santa, the workaday sleazy carney)

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