Watch Me Turn 30, by Holly C.
I'm a 29-year-old New Yorker who inherited this site from my pal, Holly P., to document the final year of my twenties. Right up until I turn the big 3-0 next January, I'll use this blog to indulge my inner-narcissist by voicing the good (I can date men anywhere from ages 21 to 50 without it being scandalous) the bad (I keep getting ma'amed) and the ugly (is it possible to get cellulite on your stomach?!). Here's to waving goodbye to my youth, accepting adulthood and remembering that every ending is really just a new beginning.
the photo for May 16, 2007
DAY 107  |  May 16, 2007
Well, it was only a matter of time before we crashed the van. I mean, Iím the only one who really knows how to drive manual, but I hate navigating big vehicles. And Jen doesnít mind the size, but only recently learned how to work a stick. Amanda doesnít know how to drive The Blue Monster, as we affectionately named it, at all. So when Jen was cruising through the entrance of a resort that lacked a low clearance sign, she smacked straight into a thick wooden beam. The collision caused the front to cave in and ripped into the fiberglass deep enough to allow rain to leak in.

The sunny side of all this is that there are angels everywhere. We signed up for a sunrise hot air balloon ride at Balloon Aloft, which got canceled because of windy weather. Before we drove away, the two guys that worked there, Taz and Paul, noticed the banged up van and offered to help. Instead of going straight home to a cozy bed, they drove to a hardware store, stocked up on waterproof duct tape, climbed a ladder and got to work patching up our injured van. The Lost Girls have come to rely on the kindness of strangers.

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