Today is my last day of my 20s.
At 6:22pm tomorrow, I will officially be 30 years old. (Sad that I know the exact time, but those of you who know me well are completely aware that I am a vast sea of useless trivia, especially of the macabre, which only truly adds to my charm.)
How do I feel about turning 30? Hmmm... good question. On the one hand, I should probably quit drinking and swearing so much. I should probably refrain from assaulting anyone else (at least in public), make sure my nose piercing is completely closed up, cover my tattoos, take the meth lab out of my kitchen (okay, so now I'm just kidding--I'm way smarter than to put the meth lab in the kitchen. As bad as I am at chemistry, I would have already blown up the house by now)......
On the other hand, at (nearly) thirty, I am comfortable enough with myself to know that I swear because I want to, not because I want to shock anyone (except maybe my Mom--that thrill will never completely vanish. Everytime I let loose with a "goddamn motherfucking cocksucker" she pales drastically and you can actually see her lips move as she prays for my eternal soul). You can't see my nose piercing hole anymore anyway, my tattoos are already covered--except for the new-one-to-be--and well, honestly, if someone is stupid enough to piss me off badly enough that I feel the need to attack them, then they deserve it, as I am not normally even a remotely violent person.
Plus, don't women hit their sexual peak in their thirties? That's something to look forward to with gusto. Plus, in the next decade I will be earning back some of my long lost freedom as the kids get old enough to start school, AND I'm still a total babe. Which means that 30 actually seems rather appealing in many ways.
Still, I have another day left of my twenties, so I have to go now to relish one more day of this decade. One more day to make stupid mistakes without quite so many mental consequences. One more day to hit somebody, pierce something, and spend the day with drunken Mad Libs (that's just for you, Gina) without even one iota of guilt. Oh, what a day.