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 November 10, 2007
DAY 285  |  November 10, 2007
I was stopped on the subway at Union Square when I heard this man preaching to people on the platform about being sinners who need to find God. I was silently thanking Jesus that he wasn’t in my car, when he barreled inside waving a Bible.

He proceeded to shout and bang on the wall above my seat while he announced that he had been a crack seller until he found Jesus. Everyone inside was trapped with nowhere to go and no choice but to listen to his sermon. Rather than feeling closer to God, I was convinced that I’d landed straight in hell—trapped underground with some dude force-feeding me religious propaganda at an annoyingly high volume. I think his biggest sin is subjecting all us commuters to his drawn-out life story whether we want to hear it or not. That’s what confession is for, buddy!

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