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.

Noob

When my parents were going through their nasty fighting prior to the divorce of the century, I coped by playing video games. They would be fighting in the other room while I was trying to save the princess. It was a great way to detoxify myself from the stress of the parental arguments. Over the years, I used video games as my way of coping with all configurations of stress.

Of course, Sperm Donor tried to use this to his advantage by giving me a Sega for Christmas the same year Momma Dukes gave me a Super Nintendo for the same holiday. Momma Dukes made sure that I had plenty of amazing Super Nintendo games to accompany my new system, such as Super Mario World, Zelda: Link to the Past, Donkey Kong Country, and Tecmo Super Bowl III. Sperm Donor only got me one game, which came with the system, Sonic the Hedgehog, which I had already beaten countless times at his house during our lame-ass visitation adventures.

The first system that I actually purchased with my own money was the PlayStation 2, during my junior year at Rowan University. After battling another mysterious allergic reaction (which I later found out was being caused by Old Navy clothes) and purchasing a lemon car from a former family friend, I used my college refund money to purchase a PlayStation 2 and Kingdom Hearts. Kingdom Hearts was the first game that really exposed me to the idea of "difficulty levels."

The current generation of video games released have difficulty levels, which obviously make the game more difficult as the levels increase. Depending on the game, difficulty levels can change how much experience you gain for defeating an enemy to how hard it is to actually defeat the enemy.

I have always preferred to play games on the easiest level possible, not because I don't want the challenge of beating difficult enemies, but more on the lines that I want to play through the game for the story. Additionally, if I'm trying to relax and destress myself, why the hell would I want to become more stressed out from being attacked by a gazillion enemies at once? Personally, it defeats the purpose of relaxing.

There are two major problems with playing a game on easy. The first major problem is the developer's perception of what is considered easy. Recently, I started playing The Darksiders, in which you adopt the role of War, a warrior who is supposed to protect the world from impending war between Heaven and Hell. Of course war breaks out between the two sides, the human race is wiped out, and the entire war is blamed on War. After playing through the first three quarters of the game on easy, I encountered a portion of the game which can only be defined as Apocalyptic Hell. After defeating wave after wave of enemies, with no energy refills, you are then thrust into a ridiculous puzzle of moving two stone statues onto three platforms, causing the platforms to raise and lower. In order to get to the very top of the room where the door is located, you have to raise/lower the platforms in a specific order while timing your jumps so that you can land on the top of a platform as it is raising. Confused yet? Don't worry, it gets better.

After finally reaching the top of the room, you enter the next door, still needing an energy refill, only to find behind the door is boss level, in which you have to fight the second Guardian in the game. After dieing one too many times against him, I finally beat him through sheer luck. The defeat of the Guardian releases a stream of magical light back to the room with the stupid ass platforms. Each of the platforms in the room has a mirror on the bottom of the platform, which are needed to reflect the beam of light onto the opposite wall at the top to open another door. Do you know how fucking impossible it was to reposition the three platforms to reflect the light?

Instead of lowering my stress level, the game caused my stress to go out the roof, resulting in my brain exploding as I was on the verge of throwing my controller across the room and kicking the television. I think I even gave the platforms the finger several times in complete frustration. After wasting several hours of my life playing a game that was supposed to be relaxing, I threw in the towel out of sheer fear that Rachel was going to take my Xbox away.

The concept of difficulty levels also causes a second problem, a profound cockiness between gamers. Once someone realizes that you play games on easy level, they turn into ass munchers and have to start throwing the word "noob" around. A noob is a term derived from the video game world meaning someone who is new at a game and is horrible at it but is not willing to learn and does not acknowledge the fact.

I am not a noob. Unlike many gamers, I have a life outside of video games and I know that if I don't get through a level it's not the end of the world. I play to relax, not to boast about my achievements. I enjoy earning achievements on Xbox 360, but it's not my sole purpose in life. More importantly, I take achievements as a personal accomplishment. More like a reminder that I accomplished a certain goal in a game, such as defeating a secret boss or collecting all of the unlockable characters in a game.

I also have no problem accepting defeat when a game is ridiculously hard, such as The Darksiders level that I just ranted about. When I realize that I can't get through a level or find the perfect strategy to defeating a boss, I have no problem turning to the internet. During the Apocalyptic Hell level, Rachel thought it was humorous that I had a Youtube video and a strategy guide up on my computer in a last ditch attempt to get through the level.

Moral of the story - I'm not a noob.

Oprah

When I was in elementary school, Momma Dukes would always sit down to watch Oprah and then the evening news. On a few, rare occasions, I would sit down with Momma Dukes to watch Oprah with her. Even at a young age, I realized that there was something very wrong with this woman, though I couldn't put my finger on what it was about her that I didn't like.

It wasn't until quite recently that I finally realized what made Oprah the biggest sack of shit to walk the planet: she's an insensitive jerk who's ego has become so large that she no longer consider's herself human. 

Where is this Oprah rant coming from? Next week, my student's are going to start to read Daniel's Story by Carol Matas and learning about the Holocaust. On Thursday, I was searching the internet for some Holocaust materials, when I came across an interview conducted by Oprah with Elie Wiesel. The interview was conducted at Auschwitz. For those who have been living under in a hole for the last 80 years, Elie Wiesel was a survivor of Auschwitz, but most of his family perished there.

During the interview, Oprah and Wiesel walked through the camp together while he discussed his experience there. Halfway through the third part of the interview (the entire interview can be found in chunks on Youtube)  Oprah and Wiesel walk to the remains of Crematoria 3, where Wiesel believes that his mother and younger sister perished. Wiesel clearly states that he wants to be silent for a moment to think about his mother and sister.

Does Oprah listen? Fuck no. Instead of giving the man his much deserved moment of silence, she starts going on about how the Nazis treated the entire process like a soup factory. Really Oprah? He's getting choked up about his family and your discussing this! He only asked for a moment of silence, not to end the entire interview. You really couldn't give him a few moments of silence? Were you afraid your viewers may turn the channel?

I actually turned the interview off at this point and went out to dinner with Rachel. I'm curious to watch the remainder of the interview, but really don't want to waste any more of my time watching Oprah be extremely disrespectful.

Dear Oprah,

I'm not sure why everyone seems to think you are some sort of queen of media, but I personally believe you are a jackass. An insensitive one at that. In fact, you are the equivalent to a chewed piece of gum that has been thrown to the side of the road. I don't care how many cars, books, or big-fancy checks you give away, you will always be an insensitive jerk to me.

Oprah-Hater 

 

 

Seven Pandemics

Malaria
Although it is now mostly confined to the tropics, malaria is still one of the world's most devastating pandemics, and continues to infect as many as 500 million people every year. The sickness, which is caused by a parasite found in certain mosquitoes, is resistant to drugs, and a dependable vaccine has still yet to be developed. Malaria and its effects have been well documented as a major factor throughout history. There were over a million cases of the disease during the American Civil War alone, and malaria is considered by many to have been a factor in the decline and eventual fall of the Roman Empire.

On a more personal note, Momma Dukes got malaria when I was in elementary school. Don't believe me, she's Case 1 in the Proceedings of the Seventy-Ninth Annual Meeting of the New Jersey Mosquito Control Association. A more detailed account of Momma Dukes vs. Malaria was written in the New England Journal of Medicine. She actually never traveled outside of the country at this point in her life, so she sure as hell wasn't in Africa. Of course, being nine years old at the time, not many people tend to believe a nine year old when she says "my mom has malaria."

Typhus
Known for its ability to spread quickly in cramped and unsanitary conditions, typhus is credited with millions of deaths in the 20th century alone. The disease is also known as "camp sickness" for the way it seems to flare up on the front lines during wartime. It is said that 8 million Germans were killed by a typhus pandemic during the 30 years war, and the disease is also well documented as a significant cause of death in Nazi concentration camps. Typhus is perhaps most famously known for nearly wiping out the French army during Napoleon's invasion of Russia. It has been estimated that as many as 400,000 of his soldiers may have died from the disease, many more than were killed in combat.

The Plague of Athens
The Plague of Athens was an epidemic that broke out in Greece during the Peloponnesian War in 430 BC. Historians have been unable to agree on exactly what the plague was, with typhoid, smallpox, and measles all being considred, but it is most commonly considered to have been a form of the bubonic plague. The disease started when the inhabitants of Athens retreated behind the city-state's walls for protection from the approaching Spartan army. The cramped quarters inevitably became a breeding ground for the plague, which is said to have killed one in three of the city-state's inhabitants, including its leader, Pericles.

Smallpox
Although it has since been successfully eradicated, smallpox devastated the Americas when European settlers first introduced it in the 15th century. Of all the diseases brought to the new world, smallpox was the most virulent, and it is credited with the deaths of millions of native peoples in the United States and Central America. Smallpox decimated the Aztec and Inca civilizations and is generally considered to be a major factor in their eventual conquering by the Spanish. The disease was equally dangerous back in Europe, where it is estimated to have killed 60 million people in just the 18th century alone.

Bubonic Plague
Perhaps the most well known pandemic in history, the Black Death was a massive outbreak of bubonic plague that ravaged Europe through most of the 1300s. Characterized by the appearance of oozing and bleeding sores on the body and a high fever, the plague is estimated to have killed anywhere from 75 to 200 million people in the 14th century alone, with recent research concluding that 45-50% of the entire population of Europe was wiped out. The Plague would be a constant threat for the next hundred years, periodically resurfacing and killing thousands, with the last major outbreak occurring in London in the 1600s.

The Spanish Flu
Arriving on the heels of the devastation of World War I, the Spanish Flu of 1918 is widely considered to be one of the most vicious pandemics in history. A worldwide phenomenon, it is estimated to have infected one third of the world's entire population, and eventually killed as many as 100 million people. The virus, which has since been identified as a strain of H1N1, would surface in waves, frequently disappearing in communities as quickly as it arrived. Fearing a massive uproar, governments did their best to downplay the severity of the flu, and because of wartime censorship, its far-reaching effects were not fully realized until years later. Only Spain, a neutral country during WWII, allowed comprehensive news reporting on the pandemic, which is why it eventually became known as the Spanish Flu.

Cholera
One of the most consistently dangerous diseases in history, cholera and its so-called "seven pandemics" killed millions between 1816 and the early 1960s. Generally transmitted through contaminated food or drinking water, the disease first sprang up in India, where it is said to have killed as many as 40 million between 1817 and 1860. It would soon spread to Western Europe and the United States, were it killed more than a hundred thousand people in the mid-1800s. Since them, there have been periodic outbreaks of cholera, but advances in medicine have made it a much less deadly disease. While it once had a mortality rate of 50 percent or more, when treated, cholera is now life threatening only in the most rare of cases.

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.

Internet Favorites

Crap at My Parents House
Walking into my grandparents house is like walking into a timewarp into the sixth dimension of strangeness. In the yard alone you will find a Pillsbury refrigerator unit, an old washer, a tire painted red, white, and blue with an American flag, several old ceiling fan/light fixtures, a creepy statue of a boy kissing a dog, another statue of a woman carrying a pole across her back with a bucket on each side, and a hoe (which usually sits in the corner of the yard). I always wondered if my grandparents were the only people with such random objects in their possession, but I have been proven wrong. Similiar to the format of Awkward Family Photos, Crap at My Parents House, allows people to submit photos of random objects found in their parents house.

Failbook
Failbook is a collection of status updates, comments, and postings found on Facebook. Postings range from people commenting on relationship status to foul mouth kids posting inappropriate status updates and forgetting their parents are on there friend list. Some of the posts are realistic, but I'm honestly not quite sure how real any of them are. They may or may not be fake, but they are still enjoyable to read.

Shit My Kids Ruined
When we were growing up, my mom had a shelf above the couch with assorted nicknacks, such as statues of birds and bears. There may have even been some fancy, decorative plates, but I was too young at the time to remember what was exactly on the shelf. While Mom and her friend Vince were talking at the table, I decided to jump on the couch. Mom kept warning me to stop and of course I didn't. In fact, I decided to be even more bold and try to do a pull up using the shelf. Instead of doing a pull up, I successfully pulled the shelf onto the floor, showering the myself with tons of heavy objects. I destroyed everything on the shelf without getting a scratch on myself. Of course, this was in the mid 80's, before Shit My Kids Ruined, a site developed as a way to vent about stuff children have broken. The site includes kids destroying a box of tampons to taking a sharpie marker to the fridge, floor, walls, sofa, little brother/sister, family pet, etc.

Sample Graph from Graph Jam

Graph Jam
Have you ever wondered what a bar graph would look like for topics such as "Level of Freaking Out After a Scary Movie" or the "Skills I Learned as a Kid"? How about a pie graph on the "Perfect Habitat According to Spiders"? Graph Jam provides just that, along with countless other random topics ranging from video games to gay marriage.