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 December 26, 2007
DAY 331  |  December 26, 2007
My Dad grew up with his three brothers and three sisters in Syracuse’s Irish ‘hood called Tipperary Hill. It has all kinds of quirky symbols of Irish pride, such as traffic lights that showcase the green light on top (not the red!) and telephone booths outfitted for leprechauns. It looks like I’d need the luck o’ the Irish to get inside that booth (and a leprechaun would have to work his own magic) with all that snow blocking the way. Well, it’s not unusual for the Irish to have to use a bit of luck to dig themselves out of sticky situations.
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