National Steak Au Poivre Day and Santa thinks pepper comes pre-ground in a shaker — so I crushed every corn myself, flamed the cognac, and the cream sauce is still reducing while I stand here with nothing on but the heat. Come tell me how you like your meat, dirty reindeer. 💋
Santa built me a glass conservatory for my poinsettias and hasn't stepped inside it once in thirty years — the humidity's ruined my blouse and I've got soil on my hands and red petals stuck to my skin. You should see what else is blooming in here, naughty elf.
Labor Day's the one holiday I get right — I signed the schedule myself, gave every elf the day off, and caught a flight south before Santa noticed I was gone. The water's warm and my bikini top is somewhere back in the waves. Come tell me you'd keep my secret, naughty elf.
Brazil threw an independence party and I couldn't get a flight — so I dragged the grill out back and slow-roasted a whole picanha in the snow. Apron's the only thing still on and the skewer's not even close to done — come keep me warm while it cooks, naughty elf. 💋
National Read a Book Day and Santa thinks I'm reading Dickens — but the pages dog-eared in this one would curl his beard. My robe slipped off three chapters ago and I still can't put it down. Want to come read over my shoulder, naughty elf? 💋
National Coffee Ice Cream Day and I've been churning a batch in the candy kitchen since midnight — Santa doesn't touch caffeine, which means the whole tub is mine. Got it melting down my wrist and my towel's given up trying to stay closed. Come tell me where else I should let it drip, naughty elf. 💋
International Bacon Day isn't until tomorrow but I couldn't wait — been frying strips since the sun went down and now I'm in bed with a plateful and nothing but this shirt between me and the sheets. Come share my blanket, naughty elf. 💋
Eat an Extra Dessert Day and I've been making my way through every tray in the candy kitchen — frosting on my fingers, powdered sugar on my chest, and this slip hasn't stayed up since the second eclair. Come tell me what I should taste next, naughty elf. 💋
National Baby Back Ribs Day and Santa's idea of cooking meat is microwaving leftover ham — so I slow-smoked a rack all morning until the sauce caramelized and the bones fell apart. Got barbecue from my knuckles to my collarbone and this apron isn't covering much that matters. Want to come help me lick my fingers clean, naughty elf? 💋
National Blueberry Popsicle Day and Santa's candy kitchen apparently stocks every flavor except the one I actually wanted — so I made my own batch and dragged the whole tray out to the porch. My lips are stained purple and the juice won't stop running down my fingers. Care to come lick them clean, naughty elf? 💋