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July 18, 2006 My friends are all going to see Coldplay in concert at the Majestic tonight. I have to stay home because I broke my big toe when I fell carrying corn coblets to the barbecue table. I had volunteered to carry the ears because I wanted to be nice and help out my family and now I am on crutches while my friends get to rock out with my favorite group. Why ME? It just seems like I get the short end of the stick in life. Is that FAIR? I am a twin. My sister's name is Fredricka. She is a model and has perfect hair. My hair, for some destined reason, is kinky and unmanageable. As a result of being teased about it all my life, I ate a lot to compensate for the pain I felt as my sister became more popular and prettier. We both came out of the same womb only minutes apart but she is beloved while I am on Weight Watchers! She doesn't understand, nor does she care. Why ME? I had a really cute boyfriend once. In the sixth grade. That was thirteen years, five months, twelve days and twenty-one hours since we last kissed. I miss him so much. Do you think it is FUN sitting here in my attic in the dark reliving that moment over and over again while he is out enjoying his pathetic wife and two perfect kids at a lake house somewhere? Would you enjoy sitting in your Christmas formal dress that you can't zip up looking at a small square window on a town that laughs at you whenever you walk its streets? I see them. They are all smiling. Laughing at me inside their minds. They are all probably thinking, "Spongetta is up there watching us in her stupid Christmas dress wishing she were thinner and prettier and with all of us right now..." How can they be so cruel? Why ME? My dad loved my sister. At our birthday, he would always give her the nicer gift and a big hug. One year he gave her a Barbie Dreamhouse. I got a Raggedy Ann. Another year she got a Mustang convertible. He gave me a diary. He said, "Happy birthday muffin! Yes, I got Fredricka a car, but it is a USED car. Your diary is more special because you are a deeper person than your sister and this will enable you to write all your feelings down every day and that way we can save money on your therapy sessions. We all love you, honey." Why ME? I just want a happy life. I want to have lots and lots of friends and a wonderful husband and healthy children and enough money to buy my own Mustang convertible. Is that too MUCH to ask? Oh, dear diary, only you understand me. You were with me when first bra didn't fit, ("Just put it on and let them FALL INTO THE CUPS!") and they never did. They just laid there unlike Fredricka's dancing ladies. You were there when I got braces the DAY I met Rick who sat there at lunch and started laughing when I asked him to the Sadie Hawkins dance because of that STUPID pizza strand that somehow got imprisoned in them and dangled down almost to my chin. You were there when I got fired from my job at Winchell's because I dropped my hair net into the fryer and one of the managers tried to eat it a few minutes later. It could have happened to anyone, but no, it happened to ME. My sister worked at Nordstroms with fabulous commissions. I was the doughnut girl who couldn't even hack it there. Why ME? It is time for a nap, dear diary. I am crabby today because of the bad man who comes to visit me every month about this time. I guess I am a little emotional today, too. Plus, my toe is THROBBING! I can only imagine my friends right now laughing and having fun as they ride to the concert. They will probably be invited backstage and they will come home and tell me how wonderful it was and how much they wished I could be there with them. Of course, I won't believe them. If they REALLY wanted me to go they would have all chipped in for that electric wheelchair I asked for so I could go, too. So, here I sit, in my dress with cramps shooting like fiery daggers through my loins, missing my old boyfriend and watching everyone below mock me. And people wonder why they find their loved ones hanging from a shower spigot with panty hose wrapped around their vulnerable and tortured throat? I won't do that dear diary because then they would have the satisfaction of living their life without me to victimize. No, my best revenge is to be nice and kind and caring even though no one appreciates me. Someday they will. I hope and pray. It is not easy being Spongetta Schwartz but I guess, in a way, I am stronger than anyone since I am the only one who can say every moment of every day of my life... Why ME? ------------ Email Spongetta Schwartz: coolhumor@sbcglobal.net Comment on this article here! ------------ All articles are EXCLUSIVE to Useless-Knowledge.com. Please link to this article rather than copying and pasting it onto your site (which would be unauthorized and illegal). |
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