Where to begin?

So in the midst of a crying jag at a friends house I realized I am really pissed off at a few people.  Namely my biological father.  I'll give you the reader's digest version!

I was born in New Jersey, my biological father worked on Wall Street as a bookkeeper, he worked in the "asshole" of Wall Street which is apropos because assholes should stick together.  They called it that because they kept all of them in the bowels of Wall Street.  Not up in the high rises with the incredible views of New York City, where all the beautiful people were, but in the back offices.  When we were young he moved the family  (mom, me and older sister) to south Florida.  He drank entirely too much, had an affair and left.  Loser!  Total fucking alcoholic loser.  Came to the house a few times drunk to pick us up, Mom wouldn't let us go.  The times he was sober enough to pick us up, he would drop us off at his girlfriends house and leave. Did I mention he was a loser?   

After my mom's first marriage it didn't take her long to figure out what she wanted in a man.  She took her lucky nickel, put it in the slot machine, pulled the handle and JACKPOT!  We got my dad, Steve. Young, gorgeous, loving, hard working, honest.  Total gentlemen.  We were a group of really lucky gals.  Some people aren't as fortunate as we were in that department, but I digress.

Ah, the loser, yes.  Calls my mom in the middle of the night, just got out of jail.  Drunk driving, cocaine possession ...  something like that.  Tells my mom not to call the cops on him for not paying his child support.  Yup, never paid, not a dime.  Says "One day I'll come back and tell the girls what really happened!" And what exactly is that?   Never called, never wrote, not even a birthday card, fuck you, nothing. 

Well, now we'll never know. He's dead.  Had a heart attack. Buried, gone, worm food.  However you want to say it, no warm body to punch in the face or hug, I guess.  And I am pissed off about it.   So here I sit saying to myself,  "Who does that?!"