Sunday, February 5, 2017

A Proud Curmudgeon!

     So… I’ve been in quite the quandary these past few weeks. Busy beyond all belief and then just… ugh… I feel like Madeline Kahn… I’m so tired….
     Yeah, I am… 
     Yep, I will admit it. I have no qualms about admitting it. I’ll carry a flag. I’ll show you an I.D., if I had one. I’m a proud recluse; a curmudgeon of the highest order. People will often scoff at my proclamation. They don’t believe me. Trust, me when I say, I’m really not kidding. Nope, I will readily hand you your ass if I feel that is what you need. Trust me. I ran a professional kitchen. I can make Gordon Ramsey look like an amateur when it comes to dressing down people. BTW, he really is a total ass. Can’t stand the man.

     I’m not quite sure who came up with this whole notion that I’m some sort of fuzzy teddy bear. First off, I’m not really fuzzy. I’d always wished I was, but alas, it was not meant to be. Oh, and I’m rather short. Too short for a real bear obviously. Did you know that I’m also Southern? Oh hell… do I have to explain that as well? Well I’m not gonna. Go read ‘Gone With the Wind’, if you feel the need to know.

     It’s not that I hate people. Alright, I don’t hate most people, that better? I just find them irritating. They tend to piss me off. This has been a growing within me for the better part of three decades. The more relaxed our society becomes, the more likely people are going to forget basic manners. Whatever the fuck happened to ‘please’ and ‘thank you’? That doesn’t even take into account simple common courtesy!
     Don’t even get me started on what people will say online, behind their blinking little screens, their anonymity protected, or so they think. I know I’ve said it before, but I’m gonna say it again, right here… right now. If you don’t have something nice to say, shut the fuck up. I don’t want to hear it and the chances are, no one else will either. You got something nasty to say, go tell it to your BFF or in a mirror. Chances are, you’ll get a much better response.
     If I want to bitch about something, I have a completely rational, highly intelligent conversation with myself. No sense in dragging someone else’s poor tired ass into it now is there? I don’t even need to look into a mirror to do that. I can sit and weed my little garden and just fuss up a storm all by myself and have a wonderful time doing it, thank you very much.
     Stay away…
     I’ve really stayed away from social media lately. I already have high blood pressure; I don’t need someone else trying to force a stroke on my ass. Just when I thought… hmmm… I’ll go check things out, BAM! I get hit in the face with something that just pisses me off to the highest point of pistivity! And it didn’t even have anything to do with politics.

     Okay, I get that people need to talk about things. Their feelings… their… whatever. Go get a therapist. Tell a clergy or someone who will listen, nod their head, give you a blessing, let you rant and then shut the hell up. There are just some things the rest of us really don’t need or want to know.
     Bragging will push me right over the edge. If you do something nice for someone, that’s wonderful. However, the best part of that is keeping it to yourself, knowing that you’ve done a really good thing. You don’t need to brag about it, patting yourself on the back for a job well done defeats the purpose if you ask me. You know you did it. Feel good about it and move along. Go do it again for someone else. There exceptions to this rule. Personally, if I’ve gotten help or involved someone else, I will talk about it. If it is just me, I will keep quiet about it.

     ‘White Banners’, a book by Lloyd C. Douglas. No, don’t go rent the movie. It has a similar theme, but Hollywood totally botched that one. Good enough movie, but totally missed the mark in delivering the message of the book. Go. Read it. Feel good about yourself. It’s a great read and one book that I think should be required reading. You won’t regret it. Most every library has it.
     I told you…
     See… now do you believe me? I’m a crusty old fart who really doesn’t give a flying rat’s ass about other people’s opinion of me. Okay… there are a few who I look to… um… scratch that. They’re already dead, so they don’t count. Do they? I may need a Bloody Mary and garden time to think about that one. Do their opinions matter if they’re dead?
     Putting it simply…
     How I live my life, or try to:
     1. Treat others as I want to be treated.
     2. Don’t lie.
     3. Don’t steal.
     4. Respect; me first then you.
     5. Mind my own business.
     6. Be kind and try to be helpful.
     7. Offer a helping hand, not a hand out.
     8. Don’t judge.
     9. Manners matter.
     10. Keep my mouth shut and nod.
     If I keep to these rules, I usually do okay. Whenever I have strayed… that’s when I always get in trouble. I always seem to be getting in trouble, but mostly because people don’t want to hear me jump their shit. If you don’t want to know, then you best not ask me, but I’ll pretty much tell you. ‘My it’s weather we’re having!’
     I’m somewhere between 55 and death, so I don’t have a whole lot to lose, now do I. “Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies.” Just be damn sure you want the truth. I’m a good listener, and I usually know when that is all that is required of me. I’ll listen to just about anything as long as we know the ground rules. It’s when you ask for my input or opinion that I’m gonna give it to you, no sugar coating. You’ll get the truth.
     Now… stand up straight, square your shoulders and march. Go… do something productive. Make something. Be creative. Make someone else’s day. Mind your manners and things will turn out okay. Stay focused on what makes YOU a better person and don’t worry about those other folk. (For some unknown or rational reason ‘Onward Christian Soldier’ just popped into my head. I’m so ready for a cocktail now.)
     Have a grrreat week, y’all.
     p.s. Take most of this with a grain of salt, preferably from the rim of a cocktail glass. Most of it was tongue in check for those who just don’t get my sick sense of humour. But I really am a curmudgeon!
     Oh... and happy Super Bowl! 

1 comment: