I was going to come in here and bitch about how I'm thirty and my life is a shambles, but you know what? Where will that get me? Will complaining about not weighing 120 make me lose thirty pounds? No. Will wishing that I a was a published author make the agencies call? No.

So instead, I'll say that I'm thirty years old, and I have never suffered from acne. I have never broken a bone. I have only experienced ONE death in my family, been to one funeral. I've been to Disneyworld THREE TIMES. I've been married to my very best friend for almost eight years. I have a dog. I have a job that I have had for almost six years. I have health and dental insurance. I have a car. I've met Till Lindemann. I've been to Europe. I wrote a play and had it produced in the third biggest market in the nation. I was selected as a finalist for a radio sidekick and was on the radio for forty five solid minutes in the third biggest market in the nation. I wrote a WHOLE NOVEL (312 pages). I've never been arrested, never been in a fist fight, never been cheated on. I make the best apple pie of anyone in the world. Three separate dentists have told me that I have the finest set of teeth they've ever seen. My gynecologist says I have a particularly LOVELY uterus. I'm in a movie and I have a big part. My dad thinks I look like Debra Messing. I'm alive, my back feels much better, I don't smoke anymore and I have a ton of friends.

Also, I had a bagel today! Yay for me.