All I Want for Christmas -- Celebrity Edition

Lately, I've been getting mail I'm pretty sure isn't mine.  Still, I thought I'd share it.  Tis the season.

Dearest Santa,

How are you?  Hopefully absolutely phabulous--just like me.  I hope you have had a wonderful and restful year.  I'm sure you are prepared for yet another phantastic holiday season.  I know I am.

I must confess.  Frankly, Santa, I have been naughty.  (Did I show up on your list?)  I'm not sure if you all have digital cable at the North Pole, but it was revealed during an episode of my show, The Real Housewives of Atlanta, that Apollo and I had too much egg nog and got a little carried away under the mistletoe before we were married.  Although my uterus is, first and foremost, my business, my mother, the Minister Parks was none too pleased to learn that her daughter, heretofore the apotheosis of southern femininity, had conceived out of wedlock.



Nevertheless, I am so happy to have been phenomenally blessed with a most phashionable and pretty baby to match my pretty husband.  My aforementioned naughtiness and blessings notwithstanding, however, I must utter a request or two this holiday season.  I would love to wake up Christmas morning and find a nanny under my tree.  As an entertainment lawyer, time is simply not my own.  It is my primary duty to defend celebrities and look stunning while doing it.  Ayden has been hell bent on demanding nearly all of my attention.  Ever since the stork left, he has just cried, slept, and pooped around the clock.  It's so stressful!  As you can surmise, a nanny would significantly ameliorate the situation.   One more tiny request: if you can find the room in your sleigh, this crib would be tremendously appreciated.  The one Apollo purchased simply will not do.  I wish he had consulted one of the personal shoppers, but alas he insists on doing things on his own--much to my detriment.

Warmest holiday greetings to the always amazing Mrs. Claus.  Did she get our holiday card and newsletter?

Kindest regards,

Phaedra Parks, Esq.
Atlanta, GA


Dear Santa,

Being as though I wrote the book that tells the story that got this whole Christmas started, King james thought he'd write you.  I don't know if you know, but things have been really terrible for myself, King James this past year. Really terrible.  So much so that I've been thinking about taking my talents to the North Pole.  Miami isn't all it's cracked up to be.

I don't really want gifts or anything.  I'm just looking for some advice.  Things have gotten better lately, but my team hasn't been doing so well.  We can only beat the teams that suck.  We're not even the best team in Florida.  King James made that big announcement back in July, but now it seems like none of this was that good of an idea.  It's like Wade goes 9-32 before aggravating his hamstring, and Chris Bosh is, well, Chris Bosh.  I tried to ask for my old team back, but Pat Riley threw me out of his office after mumbling something about Magic and Kareem.  So my question is: how do you get all the other seven reindeer to allow Rudolph to guide your sleigh that first Christmas Eve?  Because right now, all everyone does is laugh and call us names, saying we would be better if The Golden Girls started for us.  And for me myself personally, well, it hurts my feelings.  


What should I do?


King James
South Beach, Florida


Deer Santa,

Please send wind masheen.  A diva can never have two many.  Last won broken during my amazing tour, I am...Sasha Fierce--which was amazing.  Sorry we couldn't make it to the South Pole.  Jay-Z said know becus all the snow reminded him of his old job.

Love,
Beyonsay Beyonce a.k.a. Sasha Fearse Fierce

P.S. I know it's a resession, but a career for my frend, Kelly Rowland would be amazing and also really nice.