Trifecta

I just finished Night by Elie Wiesel for our book club, which was a very big mistake to read before going to bed, especially when I actually have to set an alarm clock and be up early in the morning. Instead of lying awake for any longer, I figured I would do a little bit of writing and watch some Jersey Shore before trying to rest my eyelids again.

Random grocery store somewhere on the East Coast...

For those who have been living under a rock for the last week, the east coast has been rocked with an earthquake, a hurricane, and a few tornadoes over the last few days. First came the earthquake, which occurred on Tuesday afternoon, and pretty much scared the shit out of anyone who had never experienced a quake. I was actually at my friend Pat's house, during the quake, where the language arts department was having a meeting of the minds. While sitting at the table discussing UbD, the entire house started to shake, which resulted in Pat hollering at her daughter for running around in the basement. After her daughter came upstairs and the house was still shaking, everyone in the room quickly realized that something wasn't right and we all ran outside to investigate. We quickly realized that we weren't the only one's on the street whose house vibrated. All of the adults in the house immediately began using our cell phones to try to reach our loved ones, out of curiosity as to whether they had felt the rumbling from below.

Cell phones were not operational for about an hour, since all lines were jammed with people trying to reach their loved ones. Diddy finally sent me a text telling me that an earthquake had occurred in Voorhees (where I was presently at), completely unaware that I was actually in Voorhees. I chuckled at the thought that she actually thought the earthquake was in Jersey, let alone in Voorhees. After several texts back and forth, she finally realized that the quake actually occurred in another state, but we both agreed that it was a scary, yet exciting experience.

After getting home and reading the humorous status updates about the quake on Facebook, I soon realized that a hurricane was quickly approaching the east coast. "Are you fucking kidding me," was my first reaction, followed by rationally trying to prepare my brain for how to prepare for a hurricane. The idea of a major storm faded from my brain until Thursday night, when Rachel's daddy called her about the mandatory evacuation of her Aunt Pepper from the Jersey shore. Aunt Pepper is Rachel's 76 year old great aunt, who loves the casinos and cigarettes.

Rachel and I decide that Aunt Pepper would stay with us for the weekend, and developed a game plan that involved picking up her brother Paul on Friday morning, then head to Longport to pack up her house and prepare it for the storm. Aunt Pepper lives less than a block away from the ocean, in a beautiful shore house, where she lives all year round. After arriving at her house, the three of us pack all of her patio furniture from the front and back porch into her living room and outdoor shower. Out of fear of losing power for an extended amount of time and losing some of her frozen food, Aunt Pepper packed some very tasty foods for her weekend in the Langmore, such as filet migon, shrimp, hamburgers, eggs, cheese, breakfast sausage, and butter. After loading up her bags and food into the car, we then made the trip back to Mullica Hill, with Paul driving her car back.

On the way home, Rachel and I witnessed a Wawa cyphon gas from the pumps, in preparation for the hurricane. Even with the mandatory evacuation of Aunt Pepper, the severity of the storm had not actually fully hit me until witnessing the gas being cyphon at Wawa. After getting home, Rachel, Paul, and I began to prepare our building for the storm, removing the community patio furniture and rubber mat from the first floor porch, removing an extremely loose plank of wood from the outside of the building, and helping the Mullica Hill Flower Shop put away some of their flowers. Rachel and I then dropped Paul off at his house, and ran out the store to attempt to find water and fuses. Of course, water by this point was a rare commodity, but we eventually found some at Big Lots. Nobody had emergency candles in Jersey, so we had to settle with cheap, stinky candles from Big Lots also.

The following morning, Paul met us for breakfast at the Harrison House. After a hearty breakfast, the ladies headed back to the Langmore once again, where we planned to brace the storm. The rain started around noon, and Rachel and I both realized that our garage was bound to flood during the storm. After moving our cars to the safest location in the parking lot, the two of us tackled the garage, creating a barricade using Rubbermaid containers. We also had some empty crates in the garage, which we flipped over to create a platform to keep a wooden bed frame, a window fan unit, a box fan, and two of my kitchen chairs off the ground, in the hopes that they wouldn't become water logged. We also brought in a few important things from the garage, such as two containers of old video game systems, a box of dolls that Rachel's mom had been holding onto from Rachel's childhood, and a box of childhood books that her father had recently given to Rachel.

Moments after we finished our project, the rain began to get extremely heavy, and within 90 minutes, we noticed the puddle in front of the garage was turning into a lake. I headed back to the garage to try to barricade the door with logs, but couldn't find any that were suitable. Rachel then came up with the ingenious idea of using the wooden planks from the make shift garden surrounding the large tree in the parking lot. We used the wooden planks to create a make shift damn instead.

For the remainder of the evening, the three of us watched as the rain increased and the winds began to get heavier and heavier. Around 8 pm, we briefly lost power, so when it flickered back on, Rachel and Aunt Pepper jumped at the opportunity to start making dinner. As we were eating a delicious meal of filet migon, apple and grape salad, and pea soup, Diddy texts me about a tornado that's heading right for Mullica Hill.

Shit gets fucking scary from here.

Rachel goes into panic mode, turning on the television where the television goes crazy with this annoying, piercing noise and the tornado warning scrolling across the bottom of the screen. The tornado was heading for Mullica Hill, then Glassboro and Pitman afterwards. Rachel makes us stop eating and head for the basement, where we regain our composure and start to make phone calls again. Diddy, at this point, is chuckling because the tornado warning had been lifted, while Rachel is on the other phone with her mom, whose telling her that the tornado warning was lasting for another 20 minutes. After giving the tornado a few minutes, I decide to be brave and check to see whether there is actually anything even going on in the neighborhood. I expected to see an empty street (or at least a flooded street).

Instead, I witness a the tunneling winds of a tornado coming down our street. My feet are like bricks, as I watch the winds circle, picking up leaves and water off the road into its funnel. I finally regain my composure and make a sprinting run for the basement, almost falling down the wet stairs to tell Rachel and Aunt Pepper about the tornado. I immediately call my sister to tell her that "a mother fucking cyclone is coming down the fucking road...what the fuck!"

Moments later, the power goes out, so now we're sitting in a dark basement, which is freaking me the fuck out. After roughly ten minutes, I noticed the winds have died down. We decide it is safe to go back into the apartment, and try to head back upstairs only to be soaked by the water pouring out of the porch above us. The already weak boards on our porch had given way, cracking under the pressure of the downpour of rain. After getting inside, Rachel and I start checking the apartment for damage, realizing that both the bathroom and kitchen windows are leaking, along with both windows with air conditioners in them. While searching for water leaks and damage, we also notice several spots damaged from the earthquake, such as a previously small crack in the ceiling becoming bigger.

I'm not sure whether it was the actual site of the tornado or the hype of the storm, but after checking for damage my brain went into a rational yet panic feeling. I immediately went into a calm overdrive, in which I grabbed everything I could that was important to me, and shoved it in a backpack, this way if we were forced to suddenly evacuate I would feel more prepared. Rachel, began to do the same thing, yet in a more frenzied state. After packing her bag, the two of us rearranged the entire apartment, so that the couch was in the hallway, away from all of the windows.

Later in the night, Rachel and I both shared what was in our "emergency bag," which was actually an amusing exercise. My backpack consisted of my jewelry box, my GPS, a phone charger, my safety deposit box (which contains my teaching certification and SS card), a phone charger for the car, and my wallet. Rachel's bag was much more practical, with three bottles of water, a change of clothes, and other necessities. It was actually amusing to see that I packed more sentimental items, while Rachel packed practical items.

East Lake Road
Woodstown, NJ

The aftermath in Jersey depended on the location. The shore was barely hit during the storm, while most of the inland was flooded. The bridge near our home was flooded and closed for several days, while East Lake Road, in Woodstown was completely destroyed. Every river in the state flooded, due mainly to the amount of rain fall. Additionally, flash floods occurred throughout the state, that resulted in the death of a young woman in Salem County, when a flash flood swept her car away.

The power outage at our house only lasted for several hours, but several people were stuck without power for several days. On Sunday night, Berman's family still did not have power. Rachel and I had assessed our apartment to see how we could arrange furniture so they could sleep in our apartment. Berman wound up having power in the morning, so there was no amazing sleep over for us (frowny face).

Aunt Pepper went home on Monday to a damage free house. There was absolutely no water in the house, nor any debris scattered across her porch. It was as if a storm never even occurred in Longport.

After all of the hype and talk of the storm, Rachel and I have decided we will never name our child Irene, because our daughter would wind up being a giant disappointment...

Father's Day

My parents separated when I was in fourth grade, the result of his night of drinking and wrapping my mom's car around a telephone pole. I only visited him once in the hospital, but once was enough considering he had bolts coming out of his knee and a gory, nasty wound on his forehead.

After the separation, the man who was my father disappeared and was replaced by a cold, sadistic human being. The same person who wanted to take my sister and I with him everywhere we went, suddenly lost interest in his children. We became luggage in his new life of revolving women, alcohol, and drugs. Eventually, he settled with Dawn, a friend from his years of high school. Dawn had three children, Chris, Karen, and Jenn, who became the replacement children. In fact, Jenn and I not only share the same name (though spelled differently), we also share the same age.

Custody was arranged through the court system, Wednesdays after school, every other weekend, and one Sunday a month. In the beginning, it was a strange adjustment but went smoothly. Wednesdays consisted of a trip to the library and dinner, with an occasional trip to his parents house. The more involved in his relationship with Dawn, the more he ignored his children though. Eventually, our Wednesday library trips were replaced with him not picking us up. Then the Sunday visits abruptly ended.

He still wanted us every other weekend, though why I'm not completely sure. Every weekend became the same, Friday nights consisted of buffalo wings or Chinese food, both made my sister extremely sick. I lost track of the number of times I had to call Momma Dukes at three in the morning to ask what I should do for her. Of course, my mom felt trapped seeing that our car was smashed into a telephone pole and she had no money to replace it.

Saturday and Sunday consisted of Diddy and I caring for ourselves, occasionally stealing the change from his truck to walk to Wawa to purchase food for the weekend. There was food in Dawn's house, but it consisted of stale cereal, leftovers from Friday night, flat soda, and chunky milk. We would live off of candy bars and soda during the weekend. We couldn't even shower at his house, since there was a hole in the bathroom door the size of the door and no clean towels. Eventually, it would be Sunday evening and we could finally go home to our loving mother who always had a huge meal cooked for us, clean towels, and our own beds to sleep in. Diddy and I would often make it a race to see who could get to the shower first. Momma Dukes always made sure that everything in the house was perfect for our return, because she knew the horrors we had to endure.

Nobody listened to her complaints about the environment she had to send her children to for the weekend, time after time, judges would favor Dave's side in court. As time passed, I got more and more frustrated and depressed at the thought of going to his house for the weekend. We watched him snort drugs on the side of the house, become annihilated with alcohol to the point where he couldn't even say his own name right, and even practically having sex with Dawn on the couch. Countless times, he would have a beer while driving us to or from his house.

After three years of painful weekends, I was on the verge of a breakdown. Of course, I held all of my emotions in because I was a conflicted, naive teenager who didn't know what to do. Going into seventh grade, he planned a vacation to Maryland with us. It was supposed to be a week of vacation on the beach in Ocean City, Maryland. My mom made sure we had everything we would need, including plenty of food and snacks (just in case). The night before the trip, she realized she had forgotten to purchase sunscreen for us, so she asked me to call Dave to ask him to pick some up for the trip.

What was supposed to be an easy phone call, turned into a four hour screaming match between the two of us. At barely 13 years old, I had to listen to the man who was supposed to be my father scream at me that my mother was a whore, I was unwelcome to come on vacation, he always loved my sister more, I was a mistake, etc. Nobody wants to hear this from their father, especially a teenager.

Instead of going on the trip, we stayed home. It was the best vacation of my life. Momma Dukes made sure that we had the best time at home, making everyday that week as special as the previous day. At that moment, Momma Dukes took on the permanent responsibility of mother and father.

Over the course of the next few years, he came in and out of our lives. The straw that broke the camel's back was my sixteenth birthday. After being separated for almost six years, my mother was not financially at a point to file for divorce. A few days before my birthday, I went to Dave's parents house (they insisted on taking us for his visitation weekends) where the delinquent showed up. He sat down with me for dinner, filled my head with thoughts of fixing our relationship, and asked what I wanted for my birthday. Seeing that the man hadn't bought me a gift in years, I was actually caught off guard. I told him that I didn't know what I wanted, which he told me was okay because he found the perfect gift. He was going to have it mailed to my house, but it would probably arrive a few days after my birthday.

My gift? On my sixteenth birthday, he filed for divorce. What a gift!

I was crushed. Not at the thought that they were finally going through with the divorce, but at the thought that it was so malicious and calculated. Was this his plan all along? How much effort and planning had he put into this "thoughtful" gift?

We stopped speaking for years, which really didn't change anything. It wasn't until I graduated from Rowan, had my own apartment, and began working my fantastic job at my district that I actually began speaking to him. He hadn't changed much, he was still the coward that I always new him to be. Dave talked a big game, how much he missed me, his regrets on losing so much time in my life, missing my graduations from high school and college, how he was so proud of me. The typical stuff you would expect to hear from a man who had vanished from your life for over a decade.

After almost two years of building on a relationship, putting in all of the effort and getting nothing in return, I had enough. I would call him only to get his voicemail with no return call from him. I would show up at his house occasionally when I was in the neighborhood and he wouldn't answer the door, even though I could hear him in the other room. We would go to his parents house and he wouldn't show up, even after his parents and siblings would call to tell him that we were around.

This past April, I had enough. I wrote a very long, nasty letter expressing everything to him, I even had the Bermanator edit the letter for me. At the very last moment, I decided to not send it. Instead, my sister called him and laid into him about how I was feeling. It resulted in him calling moments after their phone call, once again with his typical reaction of how much he loved and missed me. The phone call resulted on a positive note, we made plans for lunch and arrangements for phone calls in which we would take turns calling each other. He reaffirmed for me that he would call me later in the week with plans for lunch.

The phone call never came. There was no lunch later that week. Dave has not called me once since our conversation. Instead, I would call him every couple of days, for a five minute conversation. He would spend most of the conversation talking about Dawn, "their" children, and his grandchildren. I haven't called him in over a month, since his birthday. I'm waiting to see how long it takes for him to actually pick up the phone to call.

So here I am, once again, in the same exact predicament as I was for countless years, spending Father's Day with no "father." Though this year is a little different, at least I have not one but two future father-in-laws who actually treat me like family. Instead of spending the day with my own father, I will be having dinner with Rachel's father, who adores me...which definitely makes me smile.

Facebook

Last night, I was checking my facebook when I noticed the following post:

For those who are oblivious to why this is funny, Jim and Jackie are both teacher's at my school. Last night, I was checking my facebook, I noticed that Jim's status was Jackie's name. It was downright hilarious. So funny, that I had to text Chudzie to alert her to the bizarre status message. Of course, a very inebriated Diddy had to get on the phone with Chudzie to say hello to her. 

Flashback: The Pajama Pants

Since this blog was started in May of 2010, there are countless stories that would have made great blog posts, but would have never seen the light of day since the occurred prior to May 2010. Therefore, I've created a new segment: Flashback. Similar to what I have done with Seven, I'm going to try to post a new Flashback about once a week (perhaps more if I run out of things to write about).

Without further ado, I would like to present the first Flashback installment: Christmas 2009.
Date: December 2009

As many of you may know, I have a thing for black and red plaid designs, which does have a specific name, though I can't actually find it. A world of information at my fingertips and I can't seem to find the type of plaid I like. Go figure.

While I was Christmas shopping for the fam, I came across an amazing pair of flannel pajama pants at Old Navy, that I simply fell in love with. It took a lot out of me, but I restrained myself from buying them for myself, knowing full well that Diddy and Momma Dukes have a habit of buying items for me that aren't on the Christmas list but are perfect for me. Plus, a majority of my clothes come from Old Navy, so I knew the probability of one of them buying them for me was pretty high.

On Christmas morning, one of the first gifts I opened was the flannel pajama pants. Like I said, the probability was high and Diddy pulled through. I was quite ecstatic about my new pajama pants and when I got home that night, I had to wash them so that I could immediately wear them. (I have to wash all Old Navy clothes before I wear them. There factory contains something that I am allergic too, and if I fail to wash them I break out in hives all over my body.)

Rachel and I had a lazy day after Christmas, though I did need to do laundry. Since I was feeling productive, I decided that I was finally going to get around to bleaching a stain out of one of my favorite white sweatshirts. While in the laundry facility downstairs, I managed to spill bleach on my black Vans sneakers, which happened to be the first gift that my Sperm Donner of a father actually bought for me in years. I was pretty disappointed, but was relieved that I didn't spill any on my new pants.

I headed upstairs to lament to Rachel, who just stared at me, with a look on her face that read "oh my god, she doesn't know." I sat down on the couch and continued to watch television and noticed a very tiny spot of bleach on my knee. I wanted to cry but kept it together. Leave it to me to ruin something that I just received.

After ten more minutes of lamenting about destroying everything great in my world I finally calmed down. Within moments of calming down, I finally went to take off my sneakers when I realized the huge mistake I made. I not only bleached my somewhat new sneakers, I had also bleached the entire ankle of my pants.

What...the...fuck...

Now I understood the expression on Rachel's face. She had already realized my Epic Fail of a mistake, but didn't have the heart to tell me. I think she was really hoping that I wouldn't realize the huge mistake until the very last moment. After literally having a temper tantrum, Rachel forced me to go shower and get ready for the day. Instead of having a lazy day, she was determined to take me to every Old Navy in New Jersey to find a new pair of pants.

During our all day marathon of Old Navy shopping, we never found the pants. When we got home that night, out of sheer guilt, I called Diddy to tell her about the pants. I thought she would reach through the phone and try to strangle me, but instead she actually started to laugh. First at the fact that I called her and practically scared the pants off of her by starting the conversation with "there's something I need to tell you." Then, she went into hysterics that I had actually cried most of the morning for bleaching my new pants.

To make me feel a little better, she tried to find the pants online but had no luck. For the last year, I've been wearing my bleached pajama pants. Rachel even offered to take black and red Sharpie markers to my pants to fill in the missing spots.

This past Christmas, Diddy made me forget about the whole ordeal by buying me a new pair of flannel, black and red plaid pajama pants. Rachel went all out with the black and red plaid by giving me a new wallet, hat, and shirt with the same pattern. I am now in black and red plaid heaven.

Dog Faced Gremlin

I haven't talked about the Dog Faced Gremlin on my blog, and for good reason (she's a soul sucking leech that deserves a life of misery). For those who don't know, the Dog Faced Gremlin is the nickname Bruce gave my ex-girlfriend after our breakup. It's one of those relationships that you hold your head down in shame that you even dated the person. Besides the Dog Faced Gremlin, the thing I formally dated has many other colorful names, such as Leech and the Whore from Hell.

I haven't seen her since the breakup, though Wissachickon and Diddy have run into her several times. Usually the encounter consists of Dog Faced Gremlin realizing they are in close proximity, and her turning around and running out the door. Momma Dukes saw the Dog Faced Gremlin, Dirty Snatch (her sister), and their obnoxious mother, Diarrhea Spleen at Target and was able to witness Diarrhea Spleen's credit card be denied at Target. I wish I was there to witness such an amazing scene of human failure.

Since I rarely see the skank, I revel when Wissachickon or Diddy run into her and make her extremely uncomfortable. I always find their stories entertaining, and the most recent event made me want to shit my pants in laughter. Wissachickon is a manager at Hot Topic, and has run into Dog Faced Gremlin several times over the last few years. On Wednesday, while completing a transaction with Random Douche-bag, she asked for his rewards card. Douche-bag responds to the question, that he doesn't have his card by he "has his girlfriend's card. Well she actually isn't my girlfriend, more like just the girl carrying my baby."

Random Douche-bag presents his rewards card to Wissachickon, and low and behold who's card is it...Dog Faced Gremlin's! To further confirm the story, I did some Facebook Stalking and was finally able to find the skank's aunt's blog, which had an entry posted about Dog Faced Gremlin peeing on a stick. Dog Faced Gremlin is pregnant with some form of mutant baby spawn/unbaptized baby that I enjoyed destroying in Dante's Inferno. 

I have the urge to do a happy dance.

Cell Phone Debacle

When we moved to Mullica Hill, I no longer had any cell phone reception inside my apartment. At first, I didn't think this was going to be a huge problem since we moved in the summer time, so it was easy enough to step outside to call Momma Dukes or Diddy Eisenhower. I quickly realized after the umpteenth winter storm, that it was freaking freezing cold outside! Phone calls couldn't last very long, since I could no longer feel my fingers. I had to wear multiple layers of clothes, feeling like Randy from A Christmas Story, because I couldn't move my arms.

Rachel and I decided that I would eventually switch my cell phone plan to T-Mobile, since she didn't have any problems with reception in our apartment. The plan was to port my cell phone number off of my Mom's plan and change her cell phone plan to a family share plan. To prevent myself from repeating myself, I've broken this blog into "Exhibits," as if this were a court case and I'm providing evidence.

Exhibit A

On Monday, Rachel and I headed to the Deptford Mall to finish up some Christmas shopping. While we were there, we stopped into T-Mobile to ask about their Family Plans and browser their phones. I immediately fell in love with the Samsung Gravity T, which has a flip out keyboard and a touch screen. After falling in love with an inanimate object, Rachel started to talk to the T-Mobile employee about the plans without contracts. Jenny, the T-Mobile employee, explained to the both of us that the entire process was quite simple to complete, and there would be no need to contact Sprint to end my contract, since the porting process would automatically take care of that part.

Jenny, first activated Rachel's new phone, then began the porting process onto my new phone. The only thing she asked for was the account number for my Sprint plan, which my sister gave me over the phone. She entered all of the proper information, activated my phone, and we were about to be on our way when I realized that the wrong phone number had been ported. Instead of porting my phone number, they ported Diddy's phone number.

I had to quickly call my sister to fix the problem, which I couldn't do since I have no authorization on the account. At first she thought I was joking, but her laughter quickly turned into a stream of profanity a mile long as she expressed her anger. After talking with Sprint and T-Mobile, the three of us were all told that the process could not be fixed until the porting was complete. Around 11 PM, the porting was complete, so I now had two working phones while my sister had none. Rachel contacted T-Mobile, who explained to her that over the course of the night, they would port my sister's number back to Sprint and would port the correct phone number to my phone.

Exhibit B

Tuesday morning I wake up with a working phone with my number on it, however Diddy wasn't so lucky. When Sprint had the opportunity to port the number, they failed to so, leaving her phone number in cyber space where it would be cancelled. Upon calling Sprint, my sister is given the line that T-Mobile has to keep my number for three business days, so she won't have a working phone until Friday.

Diddy calls me while I'm at work to ask for our T-Mobile account number and password, so that Sprint can port her phone number back. The account number is sitting on our kitchen table and I'm at work. I make a dash to my apartment and relay the information back to her, who at this point is ready to reach through the phone and strangle me.

Exhibit C
By this point, I have a nasty stomach virus and a cold that is turning into a sinus infection. Rachel and I both take some Nyquil and head to bed ridiculously early, only to be woken up by my phone ringing at midnight. My sister has been on the phone with Sprint all evening and was now in the middle of a three way call with T-Mobile also. The two companies have a solution to the problem:

• Step 1: Port my Sprint number back to Sprint.
• Step 2: Reset my T-Mobile SIM card and upload my sister's number back to my phone.
• Step 3: Port Diddy's Sprint number back to Sprint
• Step 4: Reset my T-Mobile SIM card a second time and upload my phone number back to my phone.

My sister called me in the middle of the night, to first holler at me that Rachel hung up on T-Mobile moments prior to our phone call (she thought her alarm was going off) then to forewarn me that they were calling her again. I wake Rachel up and she's alert enough to answer the phone, but has no comprehension of what T-Mobile employee A is actually talking about. (From this point forward, I shall refer to Sprint employees as SA; SB; and so on and T-Mobile employees as TA; TB; and so on).

TA explains the plan to Rachel and asks for Rachel to verify her account. Instead, Rachel tells TA that she needs to slow down and provide some information to verify who she was. Rachel goes through the whole phone call with TA, but after the call she is completely confused and decides to call back to verify the plan. Not only is there no record of the conversation between Rachel and TA, but TA has made no notes to the account of the plan of action. 

Rachel now gets on the phone with TB, who is extremely helpful. She begins to uploading process of putting Diddy's phone number back onto my T-Mobile phone, and even goes above and beyond, telling Rachel that she would call her after work on Wednesday to confirm that the number was ready to be ported back to Sprint.

By morning time, Rachel is about to go into hysterics since she only had about an hours worth of sleep during the night and was now off to work. I no longer have any working phones, so I use her phone to call out of work. (There was no way I was going to make it through a day of work when I spent a majority of my night, hanging out in the bathroom). When Rachel got home from work, we relayed all necessary information to Diddy and actually had a somewhat peaceful night.

Later that night, Diddy texts Rachel to let her know that her phone is now working and it is safe to port my number. We are both too tired to worry about the phone situation and go back to sleep.

Exhibit D

Rachel calls T-Mobile on her way to work and talks with TC, TD, and TE. Nobody knew what Rachel was talking about, and actually try to port my phone number to Rachel's phone. Rachel winds up giving up and heading into work at this point. TE does confirm to Rachel that my SIM card has been activated at this point.

During her lunch break, she talks to TF who informs her that they need to speak to me to port my phone number over, which is impossible at that moment since we are both at work. Additionally, not once during this process has T-Mobile needed to talk to me to give them permission to port my phone number. TF also makes the huge mistake of attempting to port the phone number to Rachel's phone also.

When she gets home, she calls T-Mobile and explains the entire story to TG who once again tries to port my phone number to her phone. Rachel then talks to three other T-Mobile employees, who are all as clueless as the next. TK even tells Rachel to calm down. Rachel then speaks to TJ, who informs her that my SIM card had been deactivated the prior day and had never been activated since.

After talking to another three people with the company, Rachel finally is able to get off the phone at 6 PM, knowing that her cell phone plan has not changed and that my SIM card would be activated within 24 hours.

Exhibit E
On her way to work the next morning, Rachel calls and speaks to TN, who explains to her that it will take about 36 hours to have my phone number ported to my phone. Instead of waiting another 36 hours (and encountering more fighting with the company), Rachel has a new phone number activated onto my phone. By the time I get home from work, I now have an activated phone with a new phone number. (Yay!)

Exhibit F
We were fools to believe that fighting with T-Mobile was over. Tonight, Rachel went to check her account online and realized that the plan had in fact been changed. Instead of paying $99.99 a month plus $10 for data per line, we were being charged $99.99 plus $25 for data per line. After arguing once again with incompetent employee TO who claims it was impossible to sign up for the $10 data plan on Monday since it supposedly ended last month, Rachel demands to speak to a supervisor three times. Finally, TO puts Rachel on hold to listen to the recorded line from a few nights ago when employee T? confirmed that her plan would not be changed during this entire process.

TO finally puts her supervisor on the phone, and TP fixes the entire plan. After the conversation, Rachel checks her account again to find that nothing has changed. Rachel calls and speaks to TQ, who confirms the original plan was in place again.

At this point, Rachel and I have both agreed that if things have not changed by the end of this week, we will be returning our phones/equipment to T-Mobile before our 14 days are up and will be getting phones with AT&T.

Father of the Year

My father and I have never had the best of relationships. For almost ten years we didn't even speak to each other until I had the encouragement to call him on my birthday two years ago.

1. After my parents separated, the court gave him a visitation schedule. We were supposed to see him on Wednesdays after school, every other weekend, and once a month he would have us on Sundays. After several months, he stopped showing up on Wednesdays and then stopped showing up on Sundays. He wouldn't even call to say he wasn't coming to pick us up, he just wouldn't show.
2. During the summer going into eighth grade, Dave was supposed to take Diddy and I on a vacation to Maryland. I called him the night before to ask him if he could pick up sunblock and he got furious, accusing my mother of squandering our child support. He refused to take me on the trip, but still wanted my sister to go with him to Maryland, but she refused to go.
3. On visitation weekends, he neglected to take care of us. There was never any food in the house (and the food that was there was either stale or spoiled). Instead he would get drunk and watch football. On more than one occasion, he drank beer while driving my sister and I somewhere (usually to get more beer). In order to eat, Diddy and I would often steal the spare change from his car and walk to Wawa to buy edible food.
4. When I was about thirteen, my sister was really ill (I think with pneumonia) and didn't go to his house for the weekend. Instead, I had to go on my own. Over the weekend, he dropped me off at the movies to see Super Mario Bros, but forgot to pick me up from the theater. The employees gave me free popcorn and a hot dog, and let me watch Made in America for free. He finally showed up later that night (I was at the theater for a good 8 hours after the movie ended), smelling like beer.
5. After the sun screen fight, we refused to go to his house for the weekend. Instead, we spent our visitation weekends with his parent, who lived within walking distance of him. Dave never came to visit us when we were there, even when he still had his license and could drive there.
6. About a month before my sixteenth birthday, we were visiting his parents for the weekend. Dave actually showed up for a change and asked me what I wanted for my birthday, which was very surprising since he hadn't bothered to buy either one of us a birthday gift since I was thirteen. He told me that he had already bought something "special" for me, but it would come in the mail. A few days after my birthday, my mother got a package in the mail. He filed for divorce on my sixteenth birthday.
7. He never showed up to my high school graduation. Instead, he went his girlfriend's daughter's graduation. Dave never even called to congratulate me that I had graduated.
8. In college, his parents gave him my dorm room phone number. He called one night to tell me that he had lymph node cancer. An hour later, my mother called me to tell me that Dave had called her to brag that he talked to me. In fact he didn't have cancer at all, he just wanted to prove to her that he could have me back in his life at any moment.
9. He refused to help pay for any of my college education. In fact, he was actually angry at my mother for not buying me a "brand new" car and giving me my Nana's old car when I got my license.

All contact with him was severed after the cancer episode. In fact, I refused to speak to even his parents or siblings since they gave him my dorm room phone number. When I got a cell phone, I refused to give them my number, out of fear that they would give it to him.

About two years ago, I decided to call him on my birthday and of course he was drunk. It was the most difficult decision of my life, because I was still so angry at him, yet I didn't want to live my entire life being angry. I thought by calling him, I would be able to let go of some of the anger and resentment that had been building up to him.

We talked about once a month, with me doing all of the phone calls. We would see each other at his parents house, and I even went to the hell-hole that is his house for a brief visit. Our talks and visits were brief and extremely awkward.

Then last week, I called him to announce my engagement and to see how he was doing after his knee surgery. I called him in the late afternoon, so that I knew I would get him on the phone pre-drunken mess. I was so excited about telling him about my engagement, however, in typical Dave style, he busted my bubble.

Me: Guess what! I got engaged!
Dave: Yea...did you hear that your grandparents have my truck?

Are you kidding me? What kind of response is that? Where is the congratulations or I'm happy for you. All I got was a fucking Yea!

Not only is the man not walking me down the aisle, he will not be receiving an invitation to our amazing wedding. He will have no part in our children's lives, I even plan on giving any birthday/holiday presents from the man for my children, to Good Will...still wrapped. I'm even thinking of having all of his parental rights taken away.

I know that I'm an adult, but I want no part in the man.