Okay, this is where YOU, the vast Spite readership, help out. Tell us about your most petty, passionate, and longest-held grudges. In the form at the bottom of this page, type out the circumstances of your grudge, click the "Add My Grudge" button, and your grudge will be instantly added to this page. (Editor's note: Although Jill suggested this idea, I'm pretty much stealing the format from The Fray).

So check out these other grudges of Spite readers (if there aren't any yet, you're early, or we're lame), and then add your own.

In September of first grade, at the end of the school day, I lined up with the other students at the classroom door, waiting to be led to the buses. Suddenly, the latch on my Marvel Superheroes lunch box broke, the flap opened, and my half-full bag of potato chips spilled onto the floor. The teacher, apparently thinking I had done this on purpose, walked over to me, got right in my face, told me there was no place in the class for clowns, and made everyone wait until I had finished cleaning up the mess.

Grrr. Mrs. McGinty. I'll see you in hell.

Will Hines
whines@spitemag.com


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One day in 1975, I was playing ring around a rosy in nusery school. We were holding hands and walking in a circle. Benjamin, the snot nose next to me, thought it was funny to pull people why we walked. Other kids screamed and almost fell down. I thought it was funny to, but I didn't do anything! I was just laughing! Benjamin kept doing it but I kept laughing. So the teacher yelled at me and sent me to sit in the corner. It wasn't my fault. I didn't do anything. What, no milk and cookies for me? You horrid bitch. I don't want any of those stale fig newtons anyway, you old fat hag. Your breath smells like my baby brother's diapers rotting in the trash. I like the corner goddamit. It was like I was having any fun anyway. Waahhhh!!! aggghhhh ack!
uh, where am I?

Steve C


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To add your grudge: Type in the form below, then click on the button marked "Add My Grudge." A few notes:

1. Press return twice to put a blank line in your submission.
2. No HTML (it will be automatically removed).
3. No inside jokes.
4. Once you press the button, you can't make changes. You'll have to send EMail to whines@spitemag.com and beg.
5. We reserve the right to remove any submission we damn well feel like.