Malicious Mouths and Minutes

Today, I was with my great aunt and sister at the restaurant called "The Pickle Barrel". Not two days before, we were out with my great aunt for New Year's Eve dinner, when my sister so rudely takes out her phone and begins to text one of her friends. My mother was there at the time, and both her and myself immediately smacked my sister's hands away from the phone, and told her to put it away.
Today, it was me being the rude one.
My father seems to think that because we have these nice new phones, we're automatically with them at all times, with them on, and they are available for anyone to call. Not so likely. I'm not really all in to the whole typical teen texting/facebooking/altogether technology obsessed thing.
In fact, I try to shy away from it as much as possible. I had a phone before this, three years old, I rarely texted on it, used it only to call for a ride once in a while. It was pretty much gathering dust in my school bag. My new phone hasn't been getting much more use.
Despite the fact that I have unlimited texting, I use it only the slightest bit more than my previous phone. I thank my father and his girlfriend greatly for all that they've given us. I have never taken it for granted. But there has been some unresolved (and unmentioned) tension between my father and I since he moved away when I was in grade 7.
I don't think he's ever realized it was there, myself being to blame, I rarely ever bring up my problems, let alone my problems with people, and definitely not to them.
So, today, my sister gets a call on her phone as we're waiting for lunch. She picks up, despite my look of "Don't TOUCH IT" to her, and answers. When I ask "Is it Daddy?" She nods.
And my first thought, despite all that he's done, despite that he's paying partly for the phone service, despite everything is "why in the HELL is he calling her on her phone? And NOW?"
I couldn't help it. It slipped out. Out of my head, and out of my mouth.
And right through her phone, into the ears of my father.
Which isn't even the worst part.
I couldn't stop.
Once I opened the floodgates of all of my father's rude phone qualities, I couldn't close it. So there I was, sitting, spewing rude comment after rude comment over how he couldn't wait to call at another time when he knew we would be home? About how come he HAD to call our phones just because we had them now, and that because we had them didn't mean we had free range of minutes and cell phone usage. About everything under the sun that I could think of at that moment.
And it all went right through that damn phone, and right to my father.
So now, I sit here, an email from him open in another window, waiting for me, laughing at me, to respond. I should talk to him. Say everything to his face (or as close as I can get to that, distance considered) that I want to say. Or at least, a cut down, polite version of what I want to say. Apologize, and give an excuse about how I have no excuse other than I was tired, and wasn't thinking, and that I am desperately sorry.
Ah, how I love life.