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 September 21, 2007
DAY 235  |  September 21, 2007
Um, this was clearly a night of debauchery. And I could tell from my restless mood when I left the office that it was going to go in that direction—especially since every time I hit the town with my friend, Robyn, the night never seems to end.

We went from happy hour on the rooftop of the Chelsea hotel to dancing in the meatpacking district at Lotus to chilling at the dive bar Gaslight, to eating French fries and sipping champagne at trendy Pastis. I made it home just short of sunrise, feeling like a kid let lose on the playground that is New York City. Sometimes you have to burn off your excess energy, and you might as well have as much fun as you can while doing it.

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