Twenty-ager Crisis! And Asking a Favor.

I'm almost thirty years old . . . I had one hope--to gain 100 book ratings on Goodreads.  I'm at 97!--almost there.  If you've read my book(s) and haven't left a rating on Goodreads yet, would you HERE?  I'm so close to my thirtieth-year goal ;) 

Also, I'm sure most of you know about Slam Dunks and his very thought-provoking blog.  Some of his weekly topics include:

--Missing Person Monday

--You-Tube Video of the Week

--Officer Dummkopf
 
If you know him, you'll understand how thrilled I was after he read Bible Girl AND related it to an actual case!

You can see that post here: Reading Bible Girl... and Relating It to the Brianna Maitland case

If you haven't read Slam's blog before, you should.  It's one of the best out there! 

Now, about turning thirty . . .

 
Yes, my birthday is on groundhog's day. I can't wait to look for my shadow.  But I also can't wait to turn thirty!
    Confused? Let me explain.
    On my birthday two years ago, a friend called and said how sad it is that I'm not thirty yet.
    "Why?" I asked.
    "Because women in their thirties appreciate life so much more than women in their twenties. In fact, if you have kids when you're over thirty you appreciate them even more. Plus sex is better in your thirties."


    I'll turn thirty next week  Maybe a light bulb will suddenly turn on in my head and light will shine from my nostrils. I'll finally be able to sing the alphabet backwards; I'll do that front-handspring I never mastered as a kid and my husband will be a very happy man. There's just one problem, a week can be a long time to wait.
    So, like a bull being taunted by a man in tights, I'm actually excited to get older. When you turn thirty angels sing. You lose that extra pound you've been hiding in your butt, and your boobs get bigger than a fourth grader's. At least that's what it sounds like--but I don't really know. I'm just an uncool twenty-ager--the crap age.         
    I'm not a teenager (thank God for that, they keep looking younger and younger) but I'm not in my thirties yet either. I must admit I'm a little scared though. I already appreciate things so much since Zeke died, if I become more appreciative I might explode with gratefulness.

Here's my awesome list for why I want to be really old--at least 90.

 

*** If in a hostage situation I'll get released first. 

*** If I grow nose hairs I won't have to pluck them because everyone expects old people to have nose hairs. 

*** When people are mean, I can poke them with my violin bow and call it an accident. 

*** Sexual harassment charges won't stick. 

*** No one will expect me to be the hero, I'll get to be the victim who needs saving--for once. 

*** My husband is gonna look sexy as a bald old man. 

*** There will be nothing left to learn the hard way. 

*** I won't have to worry about anything wearing out, I can just take it to the grave. 

*** My birth certificate will say "expired."

*** Gravity will be my worst enemy and my only friend. 

*** I won't have to sleep with my teeth anymore. 

*** I can say, "I remember when gasoline was less than a dollar, Sunny." And my dyed purple hair will glisten beautifully. 

*** I'll have a clear conscience and no memory. 

*** And finally, my kids can put me in a home for awesomely nutty people. My roomies will tell me stories I can write in my blog and we'll get to eat hospital food all day long.

What do you think, is life better after you turn thirty???