My Top 5 All-Time Grudges

One of my many character flaws is that I hold one helluva grudge. My marathon grudges are all part of my Make it Right Theory. Here's the deal- if I feel that you have wronged me in some way, I won't let it go. Ever. I mean, not like I'll harass or bully you or anything, you just get a little asterisk next to your name in my mental Rolodex of the people I know. If an asterisked person is mentioned in casual conversation, I will shudder audibly and gladly tell whomever I'm with the complete story of what you did to deserve The Grudge. With that being said, it's very easy to get The Grudge reversed. All you have to do is make it right with me. Making it right can be as quick and easy as a "sorry" or as complicated as you want it to be. You just have to make it right. Energy has to be put forth. However, if you don't make it right with me (no matter how minute or stupid your offense was) I will continue The Grudge indefinitely.

And when I say indefinitely, I do mean indefinitely. I'm currently holding some extremely old and outdated grudges. Yeah, it's sort of embarrassing to admit I hate someone with a fiery passion for something they did 11 years ago, but it doesn't matter! They didn't make it right, so The Grudge continues. My mom calls it an unhealthy waste of energy. I call it impressive.

My Top 5 All-Time Grudges:
#5 Kelly M: Kelly M is this total Ice Queen type who married an adorable friend of the family named Jason. One day when I was 14, Kelly and Jason came over with either their new dog or new baby (it's all the same to me) to have lunch with my family. Now, as I've mentioned before, my boobs are a wee bit big. And let me tell you, dealing with stripper boobs at age 14 is a mortifying curse that I wish upon no one. I tried my best to dress appropriately and make sure things were always well supported and covered, but I'm not a magician, damnit! I can't make 'em disappear! Now as I mentioned, Kelly M is a prude with a real stick up her WASP ass. Thus, I think this Jewess with huge knockers greatly offended her. That day, I wore what was possibly a too tight white t-shirt to lunch. I can still see the look Kelly gave me when I descended the stairs for lunch. It was sort of a cross between anger, judgment, pity and pure disgust. It's an emotion I call "anjupituist." All afternoon long, her beady cold eyes stared across the table at me with burning anjupituistment. After she left, the first thing Becca said was "Woah! Did you see the way Kelly was staring at your boobs all afternoon?!" Yes. Yes I had, thank you. Even though this happened nine years ago, I still get fired up thinking about it. I didn't ask for boobs that qualify me as a sideshow, thank you very much! And I was only 14-years-old! I was already painfully uncomfortable in my body, I didn't need the added stress of this woman declaring a Jihad on my jugs! Of course, Kelly never apologized for being so blatantly innapropriate. Since then, she's normally never brought up around me without "CUNT!" uncontrollably flying out of my mouth.
#4 Jessica P: I don't do gym class. That's all I got for you. I really don't feel a need to justify that statement or make excuses for myself. Thankfully, my mom always understood this and would send me off to school at the beginning of each year with a bunch of blank signed note cards. If we were doing an activity in gym class that I really, really didn't want to do, I could pull out a signed note and write in the excuse of why I wouldn't be participating that day. Unfortunately for me, the sixth grade gymnastics unit was two and a half weeks long and I ran out of signed notes by day six. On day seven, we were scheduled to do back flips strapped into a rickety old harness from 1976. My innocent little sixth grade self looked at that situation, said "fuck that noise!" and decided to gracefully hide in the bathroom instead. There I was, sittin' in the john reading a magazine, waiting for the 45-minute class to go by when Jessica P came in. Jessica P was your classic stuck-up middle school bitch, and when I saw her peek into my bathroom stall, I knew I was fucked. And I was. Jessica P ran and told our gym teacher, Ms. Skidmore, that I was hiding in the bathroom and not participating in the activity. Ms. Skidmore came into the bathroom where I delivered an Oscar-worthy performance of the one-woman show "Oh, I'm not hiding! I lost an earring and I'm looking for it!" Ms. Skidmore let me off with a warning and told me that if I hid out during class again, I would be sent to the principal. Ten minutes later, as I was whirling through the air with a too-tight harness strapped around my groin and ass, I vowed to get revenge on Jessica P. I haven't yet, but I'm warning you that if I were to ever see Jessica P at a bar downtown after a few too many chardonnays, I would very likely sucker-punch her in the face and run away to avoid the charges.
#3 Dana P: Oddly enough, this is another gym-class related grudge. This one takes place freshman year of high school during the badminton unit. In the beginning of class, we were sitting against a wall listening to a lecture about the importance of treating our badminton rackets with respect. We were told explicitly not to bang the frames of our rackets on the ground because it would cause the strings to snap, and we would be shit outta luck. When the lecture ended, we were instructed to go get rackets from the racket bin. Being the kind of person who doesn't get too psyched about badminton, I was in no way prepared to race over to the bin and fight the crowds to get a "sweet" racket. I let the crowds swarm and take first pick, while I leisurely strolled over and got the last racket, which basically looked like an untied shoe. Figuring I wasn't exactly trying to win Wimbledon, I shrugged, picked up the racket and sat back down to talk to my friends until it was my turn at the net. As I sat there bored and staring into space, I absent-mindedly twirled my racket handle in my hand. NOT BANGED IT, twirled it. The frame of the racket AT NO POINT touched the ground. However, the next thing I knew, old Dana P was shouting to our teacher, "MS. BURT!!!! MEGHAN MCBLOGGER IS SLAMMING HER RACKET ON THE GROUND!!!!!! SHE BROKE IT!!!!!" Yes. That's right. I had yet again been sold out to yet another butch gym teacher by yet another bitchy girl. "MEGHAN MCBLOGGER! WHAT DID I TELL YOU AT THE BEGINNING OF CLASS?!" Ms. Burt shouted at me. I stared back at Dana P in complete and utter shock. I could not believe I had just been called out by this girl. I could only mutter half words like "Wha? Are you kidd? Seriou? I...." in disbelief. I had never done anything mean to this girl to my knowledge and I had no idea why Dana P had decided to pull such a d-bag move. Thankfully, Kari, our class' infamous psycho bitch, stood up for me and sweared up down and sideways that I hadn't banged my racket on the ground and it was broken when I got it. I guess Ms. Burt figured if the school's resident sociopath was willing to go to bat for me, she might as well just back off. In the end I got off with a warning, Dana never apologized and my badminton game has never been the same since. Game. Set. Grudge.

#2 Shannon M: I've made reference to this grudge before, but I'll gladly tell the tale again. This Grudge dates back to preschool. Yes, that's correct. Millian Methodist Preschool. I was just a wee little Meglet with a bob haircut, a stuffed animal named Monty and a huge chip on my shoulder. My best friend in preschool's name was Katie, and one day my mom and I joined Katie and her mom at their country club's pool. I was nervous to meet Katie's country club friends, but I was very friendly and played well with everyone, until it was time to jump off the diving board. Being afraid of heights, I decided to sit this activity out and wade in the water cheering everyone on. Shannon M. jumped off the diving board, got out of the water, walked up to me as I clung to the edge of the pool in the deep end and said, "Aw! Look at the baby too scared to jump off the diving board!" Then! The little cunt splashed water directly into my face! It was an aquatic bitch slap at the age of five! My little Meglet eyes welled up with tears and a grudge was born. I got my revenge when she got giant nerdy purple glasses a few months later and cried for a week straight and refused to go to any play dates. I can still see those fugly-ass glasses with wire butterflys decorating the giant purple rims. Muhahahaha! However, just because karma bit Shannon in the ass doesn't mean that she made it right with me. The Grudge is very much alive and well today. In fact, when I was a freshman at AU, my mom ran into Shannon's mom at the Giant and found out that Shannon was going to Catholic and was miserable there. When she got home from the Giant, my mom told this to me and asked me to give her a call and go to dinner with her sometime. My response? "No fucking way! That bitch called me a baby and splashed me in the face in preschool at Argyle Country Club! That's what she gets!" ...Seriously people, just make it right with me. I'm really not fucking around.

#1 Emmy G: This grudge dates back to 1988 and involves a vicious game of hide-and-seek. A few months before I was born, my family moved down to DC from Connecticut. One year we took a little vacation back to Connecticut so my parents could see their friends and Becca could see her old BFF Jenny. Jenny had a little sister my age named Emmy whom I had never met before but became fast friends with. One afternoon, Becca, Jenny, Emmy, Becca's friend Eric and I were playing hide-and-seek. Emmy and I were hiding together behind a wood pile and "the big kids" were the seekers. As the big kids got closer to us, Emmy turned to me and hissed "UUGHHHHH, GAWD!!! THEY'RE GOING TO SEE US BECAUSE OF YOUR BIG FAT FACE!!!" My eyes turned black and shot Emmy a look that even at 3 years-old clearly communicated, "BITCH, PLEASE!" I walked up to the seekers all "bitch is behind the wood pile" and went inside to get a sandwich, leaving Emmy screaming and crying behind the woodpile because I sold her ass out. Even though our respective moms yelled at us and told us we were both in the wrong, I never got an apology from her. Ergo, The Grudge will go with me to the grave.

Yep, the patented Meg McBlogger Make it Right Theory. I highly recommend you let it enrich your life. And You're welcome.