The quick and easy way

Instead of sitting here and trying to think of the crap I've been doing (which isn't really very interesting) I'll just drop some email in that I've sent out.
S'alright?

I've been in Louisville a little over three years now. I still don't like people so there isn't a lot of nightlife that I go and see. Which would be why I hung out with 4 other ladies who are all over retirement age for Halloween. I had a nice couple glasses of Bailey's while they got bombed on wine. I was kind of worried about them walking to their houses later that night as we hung out until after 11. Not a late night, but since they didn't have to go to work later, and seem to be more active than I have been, I had to turn in early to alternately flog myself for sinking so low and cry in hysterics knowing that was one of the few nights I hang out with people.
Yes. I've come to the very depressing conclusion that I'm a loser. No, don't try and talk me out of it. In fact, I've determined there are levels of loser-dom, and I'm lower that I originally believed. My dorky employees even have girlfriends, all be it they are people they met on some sort of second life gaming platform with avatars, their social life is busier than mine. Top that with several people I haven't talked to in a while, (this really has been the oddest couple of months) are getting married, engaged, or are otherwise happier than I have been in at least a couple of years and have all decided to call me and tell me about it. I considered slitting my wrists, and have even had friends offer advice on the best way to get it done, but seriously, who does that at 34? I guess I'm not really depressed with my life, just disgusted.
Where the hell was I? Oh yeah. Louisville. Moved out here to take the promotion. It's been interesting. Apparently when I first got here I was a Yankee. By the way, that isn't a good thing to be called down here. Now I'm some sort of sick hybrid. I've picked up an accent. It sounds exactly like someone from St. Louis trying to sound like they are from the south. Not very convincing but apparently hilarious to everyone else. The house is about 60 years old. Unfortunately there hasn't been much communication between the dead and myself. My sisters and brothers in law tell me there is a woman upstairs, and I would swear there is a guy in my kitchen, but nothing is confirmed. All I know is the guys hear a woman talking to them when the sleep over and when I decided to take a stand and challenge whomever was living in the house, my clock radio flew at my head later that night. I don't ask questions anymore.