One of these days Santa’s gonna start outsourcing. I’d say he already has, if my Christmas gifts last year were any indication. (Everything I got was almost definitely from my parents and close friends and family.) Who knows who will be making his runs this year? To cover my bases, I made wish lists for some likely substitutes.
100 Livestrong bracelets. Just kidding, I want him to admit he cheated.
my faith in humanity restored.
1 Livestrong bracelet. Seriously. I’m the last person on Earth who thinks they’re still cool. Well, me and the goateed employee who’s overseeing the DVD liquidation sale at the Blockbuster by my parents’ house.
If it’s Mitt Romney, I want…
a tub of orange Benjamin Moore paint so I can make my face look like his when I do my upcoming Univision town hall.
a cushy, Mormon-type desk job at Marriott International.
a signed copy of Paul Ryan’s forthcoming memoir: “Livin’ Mah Life: Marathon Running, Looking Latinos in the Eye, and Other Stuff I Never Thought I’d Do."
If it’s Lindsay Lohan, I want…
to know if she ever talks to the girl who played her twin in The Parent Trap.
to know if she ever made out with her twin in The Parent Trap, when they got older I mean.
to know if she ever even thought about making out with her twin, not in a weird way, but like to explore.
If it’s Chris Brown and Rihanna, I want…
their sleigh to crash.
physicists to somehow harness the exact amount of energy being spared now that their Twitter accounts are inactive and transport that power to my iPhone so it holds its charge better when I use turn-by-turn navigation.
their Wikipedia pages to be replaced with pictures of hot air balloons.
If it’s Kate Middleton, I want…
her to be super open with Prince William about his pattern baldness, because I think honesty is paramount in healthy relationships and the best gift of all would be seeing their marriage last.
to know if Pippa’s farts smell.
If it’s Petraeus, I want…
to know if he, Anthony Weiner, and Eliot Spitzer have some big weekly poker game where they swap scandal stories and at least one person always says “Yeah, but Clinton landed on his feet.”
to know if he ever fears that Jill Kelley’s sister, Natalie Khawam, is a Lebanese incarnation of the T-1000 who Kelley is going to sick on him for sullying Kelley’s venerable socialite name.
his undies (‘cause like auctions and stuff, duh).
If it’s the RHOA (Real Housewives of Atlanta), I want…
to see NeNe Leakes completely nude. It will probably be the closest I’ll ever get to a live T-Rex.
a copy of Kim Zolciak’s tax returns for the past three years. If we can determine how she managed to get evicted from her home after earning a reported $600,000 per episode and marrying a rich NFL star, we may be able to use her recklessness to create some sort of fiscal cliff antivenin comprised of one part silicon, one part hair bleach, and two parts delinquent Range Rover lease payments.
any of their husbands to think I’m cool and good at sports.
If it’s Lolo Jones, I want…
to know what she’s waiting for and if she’ll give me a fighting chance.
If it’s Psy, I want…
him to teach my mom the “Gangnam Style” dance so I can record her doing it badly, post the video to YouTube, and get an instant 3 million views.
Jesus…”Gangnam Style” is sort of the only thing I associate him with. Well, that and the “rape and kill Americans” song he sang a couple years ago.
if he’s okay with the Pentagon using an ultra high-pitched recording of “Gangnam Style” to destroy missiles launched in a potential North Korean attack on the US.
If it’s Kevin Clash, I want…
to know if the Tickle Me Elmo was his idea and, if it was, if he meant it as some sort of cry for help.
rights to his story so I can pen a stop motion biopic where Clash is voiced by Eric Jacobson, the current voice of Grover, known colloquially as “Blue Elmo.” Because Grov’s been living in that red asshole's shadow for years and payback’s a bitch.
a plutonic dinner date…and if something happens, something happens.