On this, the last night of my 30's. I really should be drunk. Yes, even I'm disappointed in me right now.

I'm not going to get all retrospective-y on you all, now that I'm counting down the last 6 minutes of my 30-plus-ten years before I cross the threshold into 40-land.  Nope.  Why would I waste precious time now that I need to spend any spare minutes I may have moisturizing, plucking, back-alley botoxing and hitting on barely-legal bagboys while they pack my Metamucil and Oil of Olay ever so gently next to my prune juice? 

What I am going to say is that my 30's, overall, as a whole, can suck my shapely ass.  And then they can hump a donkey, just for fun.  Humping donkeys is fun- well, that dude on the bus told me it was...that one time. 

Loved my 20's.  LOVED.  I slept around a fair amount, I could eat three cheeseburgers a day and slip into a skintight dress no problem, and I morphed from easily embarrassed and afraid to take a chance into the doesn't give a fuck, dives in head first into an empty pool girl that I am today.

My 30's?  Not so much.  Lots of good, lots of bad, mostly I just want to move on and get the real fun started.  While they weren't quite "write a novel that gets you on Oprah and she cries" bad, I can't say that I'd want to re-live a fair percentage of them.

So here is my pledge, as a (officially, now) newly-minted 4-something gal-

I, Whiskeymarie VonPartypants, do hereby vow to:

• go skinnydipping more often
• wear inappropriate and unseasonal clothing whenever I can
• try to overcome my intense dislike of shellfish and bivalves
• finally try and work hats into my "look"
• shave more than just the bottom half of my legs on a regular basis
• jump in more puddles
• occasionally embrace my curly-ish hair
• tell people to fuck off more often than I do already
• finally wax my cooter into a smiley face
• quit apologizing for and validating other people's issues that aren't my problem
• stop monitoring my neighbor's masturbatory practices (KIDDING!  I'm totally still checking)
• keep feeding the squirrels and bunnies, even though it pisses the (other, non-masturbating in public) neighbors off
• stop feeling responsible for other people's happiness
• Instill even more fear of "me" into my students
• fart in public on purpose, just once
• tell the people and animals in my life that I love them as often as I can- well, until it sort of weirds them out, anyways.
• get my shit together, for realsies
• And by "shit" I don't mean poo.  I wouldn't know where to put that anyways.  I mean life- you get that, right?
• talk to random strangers even more often than I do now
• on that note- willingly accept candy from strangers
• quit worrying if I vacuumed today and worry more if I had fun today
• inspect my pores MUCH more closely
• stop pretending to care about people's kids that I really don't know or- you know, care about.
• ignoring my politics (rabidly liberal) or lack of religion (hey- atheist here!) just because I am so very tired of hearing about other people's religion and politics and really don't want to debate this shit.  
• get surgically sterilized- tired of hormones, don't want to spawn, and at my age they'll likely be born with tentacles anyways.  
• take more pictures
• crash at least 2 weddings/parties/things I wasn't invited to
• wash my hair more often
• continue lying to my dentist about flossing
• Bring back me & my girl's "dare for a dollar" concept.  Any dare, no matter how extreme, was only worth a dollar.  It leveled the playing field, so to speak, and always resulted in awesomeness.
• Savor every fucking moment, instead of waiting for the next, bigger, moment.  I'm a lucky girl with friends and family to spare, buckets of fun, and a life that is actually pretty goddamn fabulous.  Now I just need to appreciate that fact & get out to enjoy it...

Happy my birthday, my waxy, curly cooters.  Happy my Birthday.

Yeah, that was me looking in your window. So were these people- none of us are impressed, Mister.

So I was walking Bubs the other day, just down the street so that he could do his Praying Mantis impression whilst simultaneously releasing of the turds in that charming way he does.  About 2 blocks from my house, he stopped to sniff what could only have been magical once-in-a-lifetime unicorn pee, judging from the amount of time he had his little snout smooshed into the grass.  While waiting for the sniff-fest to end, something in the house to my right caught my eye.
At first it looked like something was shaking, or fluttering in a breeze, but since it was inside the house that seemed unlikely unless we're experiencing a rash of indoor tornadoes, much like the summer of Aught-seven. 
Unfortunately for me and my eyesight, within a second or two I realized exactly what was happening.  Directly behind a computer monitor propped less than a foot from the window was one of my gentleman neighbors...

...masturbating. 

Yup- right in front of his picture window, with nothing but a smallish and totally non-camouflaging piece of computer bric-a-brak to shield me from seeing his face.   Luckily, he at least had the propriety to keep his junky junk under the desk while furiously going about his business, but seriously- WHO MASTURBATES IN FRONT OF A WINDOW IN THEIR DINING ROOM????????? ON THE GROUND FLOOR????

So, I have to wonder- am I dealing with your run-of-the mill dirtbag here, or is it more likely that this dude already has, or will likely have, his very own sex offender registry soon? And, since I'm being all straightforward and stuff, I will fully admit that I have walked by a few times since, just to see if this is a common thing.  I feel like I have to- this house is across the street from an elementary school (though the window in question faces another direction), and if this is a common occurrence I feel like I should alert some sort of authority figure, like the Pope or maybe Batman.  And if a call is warranted, I feel like I should be really, really sure, as I'm pretty sure being labeled a "sex offender" isn't quite the same as getting caught running a red light or stealing extra mustard packets at Arby's. 

I guess for now I walk by, hoping/dreading to see my neighbor's hand bobbing up and down as if he were enthusiastically working out with a Shake Weight, minus the Shake Weight. 

I'll keep you posted.

Cat's In The Cradle (For 19 More Days)

Hi, this is John, Whiskeymarie's friend, agent. lawyer, and manager. I've hijacked her blog once before to offer a ransom for her safe return, as she had gone missing for quite some time. Thankfully, she returned herself from that little hiatus, though not altogether unharmed. It seems that she likes to perform her own stunts from time to time, and, well, when she insists on rolling out of a car doing 60 like she's Mannix or something, it doesn't always end well.

Anyway, I'm here today to offer you, her friends, a special pre-sale on her DEBUT ALBUM! - CAT'S OUTTA THE BAG.

You'll get these hits:

1. Diggin’ For Gold
2. I Fell From Heaven
3. Head at My Place, Tail at Yours
4. Eighty Million Bucks and He’s Almost Dead
5. Melt Your Ice Cream
6. Let's Go Upstairs and Talk
7. Ashton, Oh Ashton
8. Making You Bitches Look Really Bad
9. Are You Really That Tall, or Just Sitting on Your Wallet
10. I'm Heartbreaker, Nice to Meetcha, Stupid
11. Fifty Bucks Says I Turn You Down
12. Record Tonight, Viral Tomorrow

Order today and save! Only $99.99! Enter the special coupon code: MONEY. Or DIAMONDS. Or DIESUCKERDIE. Any of those will work. Not valid with any other offer.

Hurry, offer ends May 4th, 2011.

Marie Cougar Mellencamp® is a ROCK STAR.

Love, John ... and...