Dear Santa

Let's just get it out: I've been bad. 

Maybe not in a no-Christmas-presents-for-you kind of way, but definitely in a way that says ho-ho-ho, if you know what I mean. 

I'm not sure what my punishment is, you don't exactly go into that in your song (the mildly threatening one that has scared me since childhood), but I can tell you that if you were really watching then I surely taught you what naughty was.

I hope there is no photographic evidence, SANTA.

I'm also hoping we can come to some sort of agreement about this. I mean, I'm not going to get less naughty as the years go on (I'm in my prime, hello?) and you're not going to change a history that has kept small children in line since the beginning of time, so an agreement would work well for all of us. That, and you get to see what bad really is. It's like holiday porn from Nikki! My gift to you! You're welcome!

How about you keep bringing those 5" Christian Louboutin's, the fabulous men with their wit and charm, and vacations in Barbados and I promise to always keep my rear to the fireplace. 

Yes?

Dirty Santa. I like.

Washington, D.C.

As I sit here packing my things up and getting ready to leave to go home to Vegas, I feel a sort of sadness creeping over me. 

This has been the best time I've ever had here. I have seen amazing people, all of you, I've eaten great food, I've had amazing conversation, seen old friends and experienced new places and I am so happy that I have. 

Thank you, every single one of you that came to see me and that made me feel beautiful and sexy and adored. You are all so wonderful. 

I hope that you won't forget me and that I made your time with me just as enjoyable, because it was all so wonderful for me. 

So, thank you for your kindness, your amazing generosity, your fantastic company and for being the same gracious men that I've always known here. You are wonderful and adored by me. 

Happy holidays, you've made mine joyous.