Who Gives A Shit: Where the Fuck is my Mail?

If you Google the words, "Why am I not," you'll get a big, crusty slice of humanity—the unanswered questions of an entire population of unfulfilled losers:

Why am I not married?
What am I not getting pregnant?
Why am I not losing weight?
Why am I not a Christian?

Or, my personal favorite, why am I not happy?

But all of these sad questions are irrelevant to me now, because my query was, simply, "why am I not getting my mail?"

For the past two weeks, I haven't been getting my mail. Like nothing...nada...zip.  I live in the South Slope, and my area is serviced by the ghetto-fabulous Van Brunt Street location. 

It's not that I really care about getting billz or whatever, but goddamn, my Netflix queue is TOTALLY fucked up and I've got Weeds episodes to watch!

In the interest of full disclosure, let me just say that my Netflix deliveries, along a steady stream of alcohol, is the only thing that's keeping me on the right side of the law right now, you feel me?  

Has this happened to anyone else?  What should I do?  Who should I contact?  Help me out, here, ppl.

[ed. note. Wellzers, you *could* start downloading shit illegally until your mail sitch comes correct? The universe sort of owes you at this point if you think about it, so there should be no guilt].