A friend of mine asked me the other day what I wanted for Christmas. The first thing that came to mind, naturally, was a pony. I mean lets face it, isn't that what all us girls have wanted at some point or other? And whose to say what kind of deep, emotional scarring has been inflicted upon the unfortunate souls who never had the pleasure of a pony. Sometimes as I contemplate this I occasionally start to wonder, if only for a moment, weather or not I am a lucky girl. Typically it is also at these times that good things miraculously seem to happen and my faith is restored. Good things like what you ask? Well, good things like finding that perfect dress, on super sale, that makes my boobs look bigger and my ass look smaller. Or, despite my better judgment that occasionally comes in to play, leaving my electric blanket plugged in all day to assure that my beddy bie is nice and toasty warm when my cold, tired, and occasionally smelly tootsies tuck into it at night, and not having my apartment burn to the ground. Or, as just happened to me the other day, receiving the most magnificent and magical Christmas gift in the world from my very dear friend in the form of a tin of confit de canard quite literally the size of my head! Never has a gift warmed me to my core and made me feel like maybe the luckiest girl ever. So now, even pony-less as I am, I nestle into my pre-heated bed and dream the sweetest dreams of plump little duck legs, swimming in their own succulent, salted fat to the musical sound of a sizzling skillet. Happy Christmas! 
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