Sacred Haven of Debauchery

Hello, Grandfather Frost! My name is Vlad. I am 16 years old! Not too young, not too old, but I believe and hope that you exist and are reading my letter right now. My mother is a very mean aunt. She doesn't allow me to write letters to you, and that's why I'm sitting in Antarctica and writing this letter. Mom only lets me go out until midnight. When I don't listen to her, she throws an iron at me and often hits me right in the head =( One day, I couldn't take it anymore and said to her: "Go to hell!". My dad works as a reporter, and when he comes home from work in a bad mood, he yells: "You unwashed freaks, may you all be struck by Kondraty!" And he makes me fix his computer. But I don't know how to fix anything, so I just mess it up even more. He gets even angrier and forbids me from playing Mario with my friends. Dad also came up with a nickname for me, and he calls me not Vlad, but "Pupsik"! This is very offensive. In general, Grandfather Frost, if you're not a jerk, you'll understand how much fun I'm having. Dear Grandfather Frost, if you're not a jerk, take me with you or send me an iron. Also, make it so that the people close to me love me and give me money more often to learn English. My dear Grandfather Frost, you are my last chance. I hope that in the new year, I will find brains under the Christmas tree. Grandfather Frost, understand how much fun I'm having. If you don't read this letter or it doesn't reach you, I'm doomed. Remember that I believe in you, you freak!