Dear Santa: Jack Boyd’s XMas List

Dear Santa,

Hey man, what’s new? Not a lot here, just watching my poor, naive children write wish lists to an obese false idol that doesn’t exist (you). But whatever —hope is free and it’s keeping them quite for the time being. Anyway, I figured that since we’re in the spirit of selfishness and I’m slightly buzzed on the old lady’s expired pesticide / eggnog concoction, I may as well seize the opportunity to make a couple of demands in regards to snowboarding for myself:

-    Immediate removal of my coward bone.

-    Legalization of beer helmets and swords on resort property

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-     A pair of Holden Standard snowpants with two custom made stash pockets – one for my pet frog Wiggly and the other for the tire iron I use to protect him.

-    Backyard foam SuperPipe with matching rails.

-    A lengthy, time consuming application for any snowboarder wishing to name their dog “Marley.”

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-    An Airblaster “My Grandpa’s Jacket” to replace the one my Grandpa mistook for own. Also, a Ninja Suit for my imminent showdown with the neighborhood cat-burglar.

-    Steep fines imposed on anyone caught hugging after landing a handrail trick. I think it’s high time we get back to restoring a little manliness up in this pile.

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-   Two Rome Mod’s – a 151 for me and a 158 for my friend Sam who threw it all it away to marry some chick, who in the end, ran him over with her car.

-    In fact, how about a round of life altering moments of clarity for all the homeboys considering such an act of quackery?

-    Total annihilation of anyone better that me.

Okay, I’ll just assume we’re good to go then and that all of this will be wrapped up come Christmas morning. I think the fact that my children have not yet been shuttled off to a foster home speaks for my overall behavior this year.

Looking forward,

Jack

7 replies
  1. DLF
    DLF says:

    Crap it made that stupic icon sry—–my wish this year is to rid of all those stupid f&^kin things once and for all

  2. bob
    bob says:

    i hope you get your skinny pants and a punch in the throat to boot. i’m confused: you want guys to stop hugging but you want girl pants too. bet santa brings you rollerblades.

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