Watch Me Turn 30, by Holly C.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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 October 29, 2007
DAY 273  |  October 29, 2007
Growing up, my Halloween memories are filled with carving fat, orange pumpkins at the kitchen table with my sisters; popping honey-flavored candy corn until I got sick to my stomach; wandering through windy mazes made from cornstalks under crisp blue autumn skies; and haunted hayrides under a shining full moon complete with masked teenage boys jumping out of trees to scare teenage girls.

So when I saw an advertisement in the subway for a haunted house in the in the East Village, I just had to go. I waited in line with all the anticipation of a 5-year old kid about to hit the Halloween-candy jackpot. But, once inside, it wasnt as thrilling as Id imagined. Basically, a bunch of people were led through the dark as weirdos like this dude jumped out at you every second so it became expected instead of shocking, water guns skirted us in the eyes and soaked our shirts, and flashing lights were enough to trigger a severe migraine.

The whole time we were on the tour, one little boy kept screaming, Oh God, Im going to throw up! My sentiments exactly, kid.

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