An Open Letter to The Sassy Curmudgeon

Dear Sassy Curmudgeon,

I would first like to start by saying that I love your blog. Actually, I don't just love it. I luhve it. Probably in a creepy way. Let's just say that if your blog was a person, it would definitely have taken out a restraining order against me after catching me standing in the bushes outside his/her house, staring through a bathroom window at him/her. Again.

I am a total bit of a stalker. I am 99.9% sure that I have read every blog post you have ever written. That number is not 100% because my phone company is a total assbag sonofabitch and my data service is not wholly reliable so who the frak knows if it lets me load all your posts.) I am sure that you know what a lurker I am already due to stat checking. That "android operating system from Michigan"  who visits 154 billion times a day? Yep. That's me.

I can't help myself. You are just too damn funny.

Here is some proof.

I DO NOT share my blog-life with my husband if I can help it, but I have had to wake him from a heavily snoring sleep on several occasions to make him read  one of your posts. His reaction? "Ghugh?" Which means he thinks it's funny too. I'm pretty sure.

He has also been known to ask me to stop reading your posts on my phone in bed, as the combination of my weight and spasmic laughter shakes the bed- thus waking him, and he doesn't like to be pulled out of a good Megan Fox on Scarlett Johansson dream by what he thinks (in his drowsy x-rated stupor) are earthquakes.

The  frickin' baby.

Anyhow, I have been wanting to nominate myself as your curmudgeon of the week for ages. However, I refrain from doing it because I don't feel as though I can ever meet the standards of some of the other true curmudgeons you have published.

You see, I am only half curmudgeonly.

The surly side of me:

• Hates when people decorate their cars for Christmas. Don't put a wreath on your grill. Or I will put my fist in your face.
• Is irate when people don't acknowledge me when I hold a door open for them. I never realized so many people were raised by wolves. Totally classless.
• Can not STAND Christmas music before December. Actually I firmly believe Christmas music was made only for Christmas day. Maybe Christmas Eve if I am feeling especially generous. Which I am NOT this year. 
• Is furious when people tell me to "smile" because "Jesus loves me". (Not that I have a problem with smiling or Jesus. I just don't like people telling me what to do.) Nope. Now I'm gonna frown more out of spite. 
• Unfriends people on FB that make inspirational quotes their status updates. I do not need to hear uplifting words from the stoner that ate staples on a dare and  dropped out of school in 10th grade. Or from anyone for that matter.
• Can hold a grudge FO-EH-VAH. (Rachel Brenna gave me head lice when she made me try on her ugly brown headband in 1st grade which was 25 years ago. Oh my God. 25 years ago?!?  She better hope we don't ever meet up in a dark alley. Also, screw her for making me realize that 1st grade was a quarter of a century ago.)

See? Curmudgeonly, no?

Except.

The other half could be described as a...
...as a...

Happy go lucky sponge.

 I am basically one of those generally happy an open minded people but I also sometimes lack a  backbone.

That half of me:

• Has a revolting need to be liked by everyone. It kills me when I find out someone doesn't like me.This is a crappy situation because then I become recklessly nice, which just makes that person dislike me even more.   
• Says things like "Alrighty then, buh bye now." when I end phone conversations.
• Strives for the approval of my mother in law at any cost. EVEN spending whole days with her without her son around to mediate our conversations. A dangerous situation for both her well being and mine. I do it though, because God forbid she doesn't think I piss glitter.
•  Follows most rules placed by society no matter how inane they are and gets mad at people who don't do the same. The scoundrels.
• Still actively listens to the Spice Girls, Hanson, and Vanilla Ice. On purpose.
• Gives people wildly inappropriate and often embarrassing nicknames such as: Poodle, Pudding, Meow Meow, Lambie Pie, Picklebottom and worse...

I could go on and on here with the annoying stuff that nice Katie does, but I believe you get the point.

Just when it looks as if one side is about to win out over the other, the opposite side steps in and does something rash like:

• Curmudgeon Katie - collecting every cheese wrapper that my husband can't manage to throw away -even though the garbage can is about 6 inches from where he left the wrapper- and stuffing them all into his pillow case and under the sheets on his side of the bed. 

• Winsome Katie -  baking cookies or bringing in the mail for the next door neighbor (whom I hate with a passion) after her flavor of the week boyfriend breaks up with her.

As you can see, I am torn.  Both these personality traits are there just bumping into each other and keeping me from being  more one than the other. It's obnoxious really.

I would very much like to be considered for your Curmudgeon of the week spotlight, even though I am not all curmudgeon. All the time.
Not that I have the audacity to ask you to make a special exception for me, but if I did have the audacity, I would probably come up with some categories that you could place me in if you were so inclined.

Curmudgeon Lite

Good Girls Gone Bad-ish

Wholesome Midwesterner/Semi Badass

Princess Be-otch

I'm just saying, is all.

Let me know what you think, ok Poopsiedoodlekins**?

Alrighty then. Buh bye now.

A fanatic,

Katie

**If this heartfelt letter doesn't convince you to let me be your COTW, and you would rather go the bribery route, I would be willing to send you...

Chocolate Covered Potato Chips.
Whatever. I'm not too proud.

*All images courtesy of GOOGLE