The Good Girl Gone Blog: Moral Dilemmas

Gwen: a Homeless Doll

Oct 2, 2009

Did you all hear about the new American Girl Doll, Gwen? Apparently, she's homeless. How bizarre is that? I first saw the news story after an episode of Glee and couldn't look away. I used to have an American Girl doll of my own, and my sister has about a zillion of them. I always liked that each doll came with her own story. All of the girls are leaders who overcome some sort of dilemma and teach their readers important lessons.

And you know what, learning about homelessness is important! Sure, I think it makes sense to teach your children that homelessness is an issue that affects a lot of people, but still. I can't imagine my little cousins playing "homeless girl" with their dolls. That's just not something little kids should have to deal with, at least not on a daily playtime basis.

I think I would be more inclined to like Gwen if proceeds from her sales went to combat homelessness, instead of to the American Girl big wigs. Now that would make sense. If you're going to promote a good cause, do it correctly.

So I'm curious, what do you guys think about Gwen? Would you buy her for your kids/cousins/little sisters?

photo via

Maturity

Sep 23, 2009

The other day, I had a talk with my dad on the drive home from the airport. I told him all about school, my internship, and the fact that I'd had another run in with that boy. You all know who I'm talking about...

(I actually didn't tell you guys that I've run into him a few times since school started. Our first interaction was completely awkward- we passed each other on the street and didn't speak. The second time we saw each other, I called him over and we had a talk. I cried in public, but felt about 100 times better because it was the first time in over 3 months that we'd spoken in person. That was the particular instance I was talking about with my dad.)

And that's when he asked me something very important:

"Alana, you're not going to hold a grudge, are you? It's not worth it."

Although I claimed I wasn't going to hold a grudge, I had to think about it before I came to a decision. I know that as a Jew, and as a good person, I'm not supposed to hold a grudge, but that doesn't mean it's easy. This boy really hurt me, yet although I wasn't happy with his behavior, I know he's still a good person. If I didn't think that, we never would have been friends to begin with.

So, Dad, you'll be happy to know, I made the decision to stop holding that nagging grudge. And you know what- I feel so much better. When I saw that boy yesterday, I smiled, gave him a big hug and told him I missed him and that I wanted to try to make this friend thing work. He looked shocked, but admitted he missed me too.

I feel like a huge weight has been lifted. Clearly everything isn't going to go back to normal just yet, but it's a start. I guess all I needed was a little time and some advice from someone who loves me.

Like I told Rachel L, yesterday I did a "grown up" thing. I feel mature.

Photo of my Dad via Michal

Vegas: Where normal men get creepified

Aug 11, 2009

Sam, Julia, Me, Elana and Arielle on our way to birthday dinner (photo via Elana)

Hi everyone- I'm writing to you from Julia's room in San Diego. My nose is stuffy, I have a sort of painful canker sore in the inside of my cheek, and my hair looks disgusting, but hey- at least I had a CRAZY Vegas weekend chock full of stories to share with you. I could give you a play-by-play of every detail (and trust me, I do love to talk), but I think I'll just divide my posts into categories. That way, you (and I both) won't get bored halfway.

So...this first post will focus on a topic I know you all love to hear about: my encounters with the opposite sex:

The hottie on the plane: One of the downsides of being tiny and traveling sans-checked baggage: it's nearly impossible to put your rolling bag into the overhead bin without help. Though I was thankful to the middle aged man standing behind me in the aisle of the plane for initially hoisting my little Betsy Johnson suitcase into the bin above my seat, he was less than memorable. The guy that helped me get it down, on the other hand, was super cute. I'd been hoping he'd strike up a conversation with me for the entire flight, but sadly, he didn't. So, when it was time to deplane, I seized my opportunity:

"Hey, can you help me get my suitcase down so I don't kill anyone?"

He smiled kindly and obliged.

"We wouldn't want that to happen!"

Yeah, that's me- I'm a charmer.

The drunk party-goers: After celebrating Jules' first (legal) drink in style at the Belagio, we headed back to our hotel to change shoes and engage in a bit of gambling. (For the record, I gambled a wopping $3. Though Jules came home with around $600, I was too chicken to actually try out the tables. Plus, I've come to realize that the Vegas lifestyle really isn't me- but that's for another post.) It was particularly fun talking to some drunk guys who couldn't wait to wish Julia a happy 21st. For some reason, in my tipsy state, I thought it was a good idea to switch to Hebrew. The guys had no idea what we were saying, but Sam, Jules and I thought it was hysterical.

The homeless guy: When he saw Jule's sparkly birthday crown, this grungy, disgusting guy felt the need to shout:

"Hey princess!"

When Jules didn't respond, he let out a gravely "aww come on." We ran away as fast as we could.

The Israeli Kiosk guy: Arielle thought he was cute, so we pretended to be interested in the steamer he was trying to sell. We all knew he was Israeli, but played dumb and asked him where he was from. When he said "Israel," we explained that the five of us had originally met in Israel, where we'd lived together for 9 months. We told him it was Julia's 21st, and he responded by saying we didn't look 21...especially me. He definitely knew how to win me over...NOT.

The coworkers from Maine: On Saturday night, after a fabulous Italian birthday dinner, we hit the club at New York, New York. Though we were sad to know that free Skyy Vodka drinks had ended just a few minutes earlier, we still hit the dance floor...with gusto! There, I convinced Jules that she needed to climb up on stage. Of course, I jumped up first and had to DRAG her up behind me, but she eventually complied. Oh, and as Elana tried to take photos from the dance floor, a 40-50 year old guy offered to take photos from a better angle. It was slightly awkward, but I will say, I was enthralled by the younger, much more attractive guy standing next to him. Eventually, the "old" guy asked me where I was from, I think mainly as an opener for his cute coworker to step in. Cute coworker then offered to buy a round of drinks "for my girls" and I happily obliged, especially because "get a guy to buy us a round of drinks" was on our Vegas to-do list!

After bringing me my drink, I felt obligated to chat with the guy and found out that he not only went to school in Boston, he was also in Vegas on business, working at a trade show. Yup...this guy's life mirrored my own. I was happy to chat with him, because we had so much in common. I felt bad when our group decided to change locations, and apologized for leaving. It would have been fun to keep talking with him, but whatever :)

The gay strippers: I don't want to go into details, because I was thoroughly disgusted, but I'm ashamed to say I was dragged to a strip club. It was eye opening to say the least, and though the rest of my group seemed ok with the situation, I was not. Watching hairless men prance around in g-strings? NOT my idea of fun. I spent about an hour moping in the corner. It was absolute torture. Note to my best gal pals: when planning my bachelorette party, please, please, PLEASE don't hire a stripper! You will make me cry.

The creepy Flatbush guy: On Sunday night, we'd hoped to get into "Tryst," a super-classy club at the Whynn hotel, with the free passes Julia had received. Unfortunately, Tryst was closed Sunday nights, so we were forced to try out XS, another club in the hotel. The price was steep, but we were all dressed up and in the mood to go out. At XS, we were unhappy to find that the club, however swanky and grown up, was overpriced and underwhelming. The funniest and most disturbing part of the evening was when two young-ish guys came up to our group and started chatting with us. One guy (Ike) grabbed me by my arm, spun me around and told me I was adorable. I could tell he was drunk because he kept kissing my cheek. It was sort of gross. He then pulled me aside (although still within my friends' watchful gaze) and asked me if I was really a "good Jewish girl." Baffled and slightly creeped out, I said yes. He then proceeded to tell me he was " a nice Jewish boy," and when I questioned his religion, he offed to show me he was Jewish. It was disgusting. I ran over to my friends, who proceeded to share a disturbing truth: Ike was married and had a newborn baby at home. Eww. Eww. EWW.

Needless to say, I think you understand my feelings on the men of Las Vegas. Sure, maybe they're decent guys when they're in their natural habitats, but Vegas seems to creepify people. Thanks, but no thanks- I think I'll stick with some nice Boston boys...though to be honest with you, I'm not sure about them either. No worries, I'm still young.

Sunday Confessional: I don't believe in platonic relationships

Aug 2, 2009

Hi blogtarts- I've been a little behind lately in my posting, only because I've been so busy with post-blogher stuff for work, as well as preparing for a 2 week vacation. I've accumulated a few awards from some awesome bloggers and I'm so thankful. I will post about them soon, I promise. In addition, I thought I'd start a new G3B tradition: The Sunday Confessional. Hope you like it :)

* * *

I spent a good part of last night catching up with a friend who I haven't seen in over 6 months. He's really an amazing person, but because he lives in Baltimore, I only get to see him when I come in to visit my family. Plus, apparently his (ex) girlfriend didn't like me...

The sad thing is, this isn't the first time I've heard this. Trust me, I'm no home wrecker, but girls don't really like me spending time with their significant others. I don't think it has to do with me specifically, because in many cases, the girlfriend hasn't even met me. No, it's not who I am, but who I represent: female competition. And you know what? As much as I think it's unfair to tell your boyfriend he can't spend time with his female friends, I sort of understand the sentiment.

You see, I don't believe in platonic relationships. As much as I want to say having a guy friend is just that, a guy that is your friend, I don't actually think this type of relationship exists. There's always something that pulls guy and girl friends together. Whether you start thinking your friend is cute, or get jealous of his girlfriend, two things that I must admit have happened to me in the past, it's bound to happen.

Now, though I don't generally think you can maintain a platonic friendship, I feel there are a few exceptions:

1) If it's not a strong friendship to begin with- if you're really closer to being "acquaintances," you may not develop feelings for the other person.

2) If he's your friend's boyfriend- this only works out if you were friends with her first. Otherwise, he's fair game, at least in the feelings department.

I'd like to say that since recent events (aka the heartbreak of '09) I'm in the market for a new boy best friend. The truth is, sometimes I miss having a boy to talk to. But what I've come to learn is that I can't get close to a boy without developing feelings for him. So, either we maintain a very superficial friendship or the platonic nature of the friendship is destroyed .

Hi. My name is Alana, and I'm a ball of emotions. I fall often and I fall hard.

The Intern Wars

May 6, 2009

Disclaimer: Don't take this post too seriously. It's kind of a joke.

I was thinking of staging a coup at work today. There's a new intern (I think that's his title, I'm not really sure) who has stolen been sitting in my desk at work. Ok, technically it's not actually mine- it's the "intern" desk, but still. I'm very territorial.

Today, I tried showing my dissatisfaction with the desk situation by being passive aggressive, aka tweeting away my feelings:

Well, that only made matters worse. JChow (who I knew would read my tweet) then tried to bring in a new desk for me, but alas, there is only room for ONE intern desk.

So here are my options:

1) Suck it up and share a desk with a coworker because they're all so generous and don't mind my constant chatter.

2) Move into one of the little rooms attached to the main office and work by myslef Hey, my own office and I'm only an intern? Downside- if I need to have a question answered, I have to get up and go to the other room. Plus, I'll miss all of JChow and Kboss' crazy conversations...and I'll have to move back to the big room eventually anyway.

3) Get into work before Mr. new intern and take back what is rightfully mine.

4) Fight him.

So dear bloggos, what would you do? I'm thinking #1...or possibly #4.

Am I settling?

Mar 31, 2009

Prologue: This post was really difficult to write. I've decided to do it anyway, because I seriously need advice.

I haven't been able to get Death Cab's The Sound of Settling out of my head. I've had a major decision on my mind, and honestly, I don't really know what to do. Let me back track.

Two Saturdays ago I was supposed to have a date with A. At 5PM, he called, supposedly to confirm the details. I of course was very excited, until he canceled on me "because he was tired." Now, that excuse seemed pretty lame to me, but I wasn't going to force him to hang out with me. He said he'd call me later in the week, and I somehow mustered an "ok, cool" even though it really wasn't cool.

I was pissed. So pissed, in fact, that I insisted on going out that night so that I wouldn't have to think about it. I didn't want to be that girl who stayed at home and moped over a guy, so I went out. Overall, it was a fun night, except for the underlying feeling that I was forcing myself to have fun despite A's flakiness.

A week goes by and he still hasn't called. I'm hurt, confused and a little annoyed, but I refuse to call him. Why should I set myself up to get hurt if he clearly doesn't want to talk to me? And then yesterday, I got to thinking- yeah, he's flaky sometimes, but an entire week? This behavior seemed out of character. Instead of being mad, I felt a little sad, and after talking it over with a friend, I decided I needed to get some kind of closure.

So I called, expecting to be sent directly to voicemail.

He picked up.

I was not prepared for that. We talked for a few minutes and pretended everything was normal, even though it most certainly was not. Somehow, our discussion finally moved to his behavior. Why had he flaked and disappeared for a week? Because he wanted to take some time to think about things before he brought anything up to me.

Apparently, though he still wants to see me, he'd like less of a time commitment and doesn't want to be exclusive.

So now what? The ball is in my court, and I have to figure out what I'm comfortable with. I've never really done the "casual dating" thing and I'm scared shitless. If I agree to this "casual relationship" will I be setting myself up to get hurt?

Though he kept reiterating how much he did want to see me, I still feel like something is wrong. While I don't even know if I'd want to be in a serious relationship with him, I do eventually want a relationship with someone, so is agreeing to see him on his terms cheapening myself? Should I even be with a guy who apparently doesn't like me enough to want to try to make something work? Or maybe this is all he can do right now.

I'm so torn and so confused, and to be honest, I really don't want to deal with this. I'm of the mindset that if two people like each other, have good chemistry and get along, they should give it a try. It's a simple mathematical equation, so why do we need to add extra variables?

So there you go. This is part of the reason I've been so flaky lately.

So- have you done the whole "casual thing?" Help! What should I do?

Why can't I just lie?

Mar 29, 2009

Last night I met a really nice guy at a bar. He's tall, funny, sweet and a skiier. Though the conversation flowed (relatively) easily, something was missing: attraction. He wasn't bad looking, but something just wasn't right. Maybe it's because he wasn't the guy I wanted to be with last night, the guy who hasn't called me in over a week and who I'm pretty sure has removed himself from my life. Or maybe it's that he reminded me a lot of a guy from school who I'm pretty sure is gay.

Yeah, that's probably it. Everytime I looked at him, I thought- this guy is gay! I know that wasn't really fair, but I couldn't get it out of my head. Why was I wasting my time with a guy interested in...other guys?

When the night ended and he asked for my number, I was stuck. How could I not give this guy my number without seeming like a jerk? Should I have mentioned a pretend boyfriend? A fake illness? Should I have given him a fake number?

Well, I didn't do any of those things. Before we parted ways, he pulled out his phone. I grabbed it, hastily typed in my number and said I had to leave. What was I supposed to do?

Ughhh. He's really nice, but I just don't see this going anywhere. Can we just be friends? Please?

Understanding women: Part I

Mar 7, 2009

{"Bathroom Graffiti" courtesy of Rachel L}

Rachel L. and I had a grand adventure in Fell's Point. We window shopped in boutiques, checked out cute dogs (and boys...) and even stopped to use the bathroom in the Daily Grind. When Rachel and I stepped into the bathroom, the first thing we noticed was the extensive array of graffiti. The bathroom only offered one stall, so Rachel went in and used it first. As she handed me her over sized brown purse to hold, another woman came into the bathroom and commented:

"Now that's why women always go to the bathroom in pairs."

Rachel and I couldn't help but chuckle.

"They should totally do a scientific study on that!" I exclaimed.

Then, the three of us proceeded to make a list of all the reasons why women would choose to go to the bathroom in twos:

To have a companion to talk with.
To have someone to hold your purse.
To gossip about the cute boy you just met.
To hold the stall door closed.
To provide tampons.
To read bathroom graffiti with.

Oh, and in my 10th grade chemistry class, or maybe it was my 9th grade bio class, we decided that diatomic ions are kind of like girls: they always travel in pairs. I always think of that analogy when forcing a friend to go pee with me.

Side note: the girl we met in the bathroom said we should write our list on the wall. I was so tempted to do it, because it would have fit in quite nicely with the other graffiti messages. Unfortunately, the nice Jewish girl in me just couldn't do it, even though I always carry a mini sharpie.

Reason #1 why I MUST have an apartment next year: I have a hair phobia

Feb 2, 2009

This morning I went to take a shower in one of the second floor bathrooms. They were both occupied, so I went up to the third floor. Luckily, the bathroom was available, so I brought in my shower caddy, closed the door and glanced at the combination shower/bath.

I scanned the tub until my eyes narrowed in on the drain and the ball of hair that blocked it. Now, if you know me at all, you know I absolutely hate hair. I'm ok with the hair on my head, but I hate body hair, I hate stubble, and most of all, I hate cleaning hair out of bathtub drains. Now, I'm pretty grossed out by my own hair remnants in the shower, but hair from a stranger- that's just gross. Staring at the disgusting brown mass, I knew I had to make a decision: do nothing and be forced to look at the hair/think about it throughout my shower or tear off a piece of toilet paper, grab the hair and throw it away.

I decided on the second option. As I neared the tub to remove the soggy, brown hairball, I felt something in my throat. Oh my god, I was literally going to throw up. I quickly grabbed the hair, tried not to look and threw it away. Great, there was more. The more I thought about the hair, the more my gag reflex kicked in. Thankfully, I successfully disposed of the remainder of the hair and didn't end up puking. Even still, that's something I never want to have to do again.

Now, if I live in an apartment with my close friends next year, I'm almost positive that I will NEVER have to remove unfamiliar hair from the drain again. And honestly, if it does becomes a problem, we can just have an apartment meeting.

Eww. I'm so glad I'm not a guy- they have so much body hair. It's really rather gross...Hooray for being a soft skinned, delicate girl!

My Canadian New Year

Jan 1, 2009

So Jenni, Syd and I are curled up in Syd's bed right now recovering from a CRAZY New Year's eve. Here are some highlights:

1) Making non-Jews toast a "l'chaim"

2) Getting down to BSB with Syd's girl friends.

3) Meeting a cute American boy. We discussed Obama, the demise of the Canadian government and the American flag. Oh yeah, he told me I could become his press secretary when he becomes president, and Jenni can become his Israeli ambassador.

4) Getting a new nickname: Bubbie. Apparently, I'm going to be a cute old lady who will NOT become a crazy cat lady. If a cute boy says it's true, then it must be!

5) Being told Jenni and I have beautiful blue eyes...and that we are gorgeous.

6) Meeting a Ben Stiller look-a-like, Syd's best friend, Adam. No joke, he could be his twin. Identical.

7) Missing the New Year's countdown and making our own two minutes later.

8) Being sad about not getting a New Year's kiss and kissing Jenni on the cheek. Who needs boys when you have your best girl friends?

9) Arguing with a frat boy who chose his frat brother over his girl best friend. This I will never understand.

10) What happens in Canada stays in Canada.

11) Trekking down the street in the snow in search of a cab...it was dark, cold and we were wearing inappropriate footwear.

12) Being rescued by a super nice cab driver and a drunk French Canadian couple.

13) Getting back to Syd's in one piece, curling up in a ball and falling asleep. I slept while they ate ramen.

...and so concludes my Canadian adventure. I'll be back in Baltimore in less than 11 hours. My plans for this week definitely including seeing an actual American doctor, getting a pedicure and finding Sophie's prom dress.

I think it was a good week, eh?