I am alive

Oh my God, you guys-moving sucks. I'm sorry I have been away the past few days, but I have been busy packing and moving. Also I didn't have an internet connection. After suffering severe blogging withdrawal symptoms, I decided I had to find a way to post something so here I am. Let me recap the past few days for you. I shall do so through a series of letters.

Dear Irene Cara,
I am so happy you won "Hit Me Baby One More Time". Too bad I FUCKING MISSED IT!!!! Goddammit! I was too busy packing, and we had to unhook my TV to get it all ready for the movers on Friday, and just--I don't even want to talk about it. I am so upset. I hope you know I was with you in spirit even though I couldn't physically be there. And by "physically be there" I mean sitting on my couch watching you through a satellite feed.

Dear Internet,
I am hoping they will rerun this last episode like they did the first two. If that happens, you can expect a recap at that time. I'm sorry I let you down.

Dear movers (Joey, Frank and Greg),
Thanks for moving my furniture and not breaking anything. You guys rule and quite possibly have the worst job ever known to man. Frankie, cut your hair.

Dear friends,
Thank you so much for helping me move the rest of my stuff. You are all amazing, and I love you very much. I had so much fun eating pizza and making fun of John's vasectomy with you.
Sidenote to Gerbs: Thanks for showing up right in time for the pizza then putting away my DVDs and taking off. Your generosity knows no bounds.
Sidenote to Matt and Jace: Any CDs you guys stole, I want them back immediately, or I will press charges.

Dear Mom and Dad,
Thanks so much for everything you have done for me the past few weeks/months. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate it. You are amazing.

Dear new potential neighbor,
I didn't know that guys who are that hot actually exist in real life. Please for the love of God move in by me, and let us start the greatest love affair of all time. Or at least let's make out.

Dear God,
Seriously let that guy move in by me, and help a sista out.

Dear friends again,
I hope you all can understand that moving is stressful, and that after all of that stress a girl needs to have a few drinks. I realize that I had enough drinks for 4 full grown adults, but I was celebrating 4 different special events: 1. Kim's birthday, 2. My new condo, 3. Steph's new car, 4. John getting his nizzies whacked. The high points of Saturday night were very high, but the low points were very, very low (giving Jace zerberts in the middle of the dance floor, lifting up Jace's shirt...really all the low points involved Jace--sorry, Jacie. I hope this won't make things awkward for when you marry my mom.).

Dear Dad,
Happy Father's Day, Daddy. You are the best dad in the whole world. Thanks for doing all the "Dad" stuff and always making sure I am safe and sound even when I'm not living with you. The only way I can truly express how I feel about you is by giving you this Portable Powerpack. I love you!

Dear anonymous commenter who wrote this,
"How, I wonder, do people such as you (seem to be from the things you write) even have, get or borrow the resources needed for a "new house"? You've got a new house and you (reportedly) do what you describe here—"Diane, sorry you had to drive Drew and my drunk asses home Saturday night, and sorry we were singing Christmas carols out the windows at people on the street." ?"
1 - Eff you.
2 - Prostitution.