The Good Girl Gone Blog

Sex sells? April 04, 2010

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Does anyone else find the new Diesel "Sex Sells" campaign slightly offensive? I'm not sure I like it very much. In fact, I know I don't. Sure, the idea behind it makes sense, but I don't really like seeing a pair of jeans posed suggestively in a store window. It definitely turns me off to the product. Thoughts?

A few lessons in London January 10, 2010

I'm cheating- this photo is actually in Israel. My London dorm room is NOT this fancy!

I've been in London for less than 12 hours, but I've already learned a TON:

1. Queen's Gate (my street) is not the same as Queen's Gate Gardens or Queen's Gate Mews.
2. It's very hard to remember which way to look before crossing the street, even if it's literally written on the crosswalk (look left, look right).
3. Jacket potatoes = baked potatoes.
4. Grocery stores and chemists (aka pharmacies) close ridiculously early on Sundays...like, 5pm early.
5. The metal rack in the bathroom is for heating towels. Touching it is a bad idea (oops).
6. A la cart samosas make for a very cheap and very delicious dinner.
7. The Heathrow Express = a fast and easy way to get from the airport to central London. It's clean, comfortable, and they play BBC TV.
8. Columbia Road Market is a really cool place that sells flowers and plants. It operates on Sundays because of an old act of Parliament that changed the day of the market in order to accommodate Jewish traders. (Thanks Heathrow Express/BBC TV!)
9. The clothes I wore in Israel are NOT warm enough for London, as the temperature has decreased by close to 40 degrees.
10. Apparently Flickr is an evil Website, as it is in violation of the Internet usage policy of BU in London. Not cool.
    

I still have another suitcase to unpack and need to figure out how to shower and dry myself off sans towel (I was going to buy one here, but everything is closed). I'll let you know how that goes!

(Also, I just wanted to thank you all for your kind words about all of my recent photos. You make me feel like a superstar!)

Forgive me? A massive Sunday Confessional December 07, 2009

How could you say no to this face?

Ok, I'm the first to say that I hate when bloggers apologize when they take blogging breaks, yet for some reason, I'm doing it right now. It's just that finals are approaching, I have a paper to write and my room is an absolute mess.

I'm freaking out about what to wear in London. I'm extremely tickled that Jaime decided to help me via her Style you Sunday post...but I still haven't found the perfect black shift dress. (Although, I did buy this one on sale at Banana Republic- a place where I NEVER shop. And um, it was only $25!) I still don't know what shoes to pack- I definitely cannot transport my entire boot collection. I don't know if I should invest in a new coat- one that is cute but actually fits and will keep me warm. I love this one from JCrew, but it's just so expensive even with the 30% off discount and free shipping.

I spent my weekend getting hit on by uber-Christian boys on the T, indulging in pop rock garnished drinks with friends and making my roommates sandwiches. I can't stop burning my tongue on hot tea and don't understand how I had an allergic reaction to a turkey sandwich last night...it must have been the condiments. I can't stop scratching- it's either fleas or allergy related.

My online scrabble obsession is turning into full on addiction. I haven't made my bed in about 25 years, which is hard to do, considering I'm not yet 22. I need to stop buying lattes. I miss cuddling with my non-existent boyfriend. My dark green nail polish is chipping and looks terrible.

I want to celebrate my 22nd birthday in London with the queen. Yes, the queen of England. I want her to come to a tea party. Ha. Wouldn't that be the best?

I'm about to listen to Taylor Swift's "You Belong with Me" because it reminds me of someone special. It's the third time I've played it since last night.

I told myself I would start working on my paper at 9:00. It's now 9:38. Ugh.

The ladybugs are taking over! October 21, 2009

Is anyone else dealing with a ladybug infestation? Our windows are covered in them! They're darting about everywhere and are, um...sort of disgusting.

I just read that ladybugs can literally freeze overnight and then come back to life when they warm up. I'm assuming that's why they're here.

And to think I used to find them cute....

Puppy problems October 05, 2009

A few days ago, I realized that Sadie had chewed on a lot more than just some old skeins of string- she got to my computer cord. Though it had been clearly chewed through, it still worked...until today.

I was advised to whip out the electrical tape in hopes of saving myself close to $9o for a new charger, but unfortunately, we had no electrical tape in our house. So, being the resourceful DIYer that I am, I used what we had: packing tape.

Let's just say it didn't help. There were sparks. It was bad. Sadie, how could you attack my baby?

Kitty Love August 21, 2009

Normally, I have nothing bad to say about my cats. They're cute, strangely comical and fun to play with. Well, today was an exception. Though my dad is out of town, I still trudged over to his house in my little Rav 4 with one mission: to see my pets.

It's strange how much I miss them when I'm in Boston. In fact, I don't even mind that Peter has a strange affinity for butterflies; that Stormy's breath smells like rotting dead things; that Misty will hit you with her paw until you pay attention to her; that Daisy barks her head off every time someone comes down the driveway; that Sugar hates everyone...it's not her fault she's old and has cat acne! (Yes, there is such thing as cat acne) I love my pets and Oreo is no exception.  When I saw him curled up next to the banister, I knew I had to take a photo. Thankfully, I've been reunited with my Nikon (!!) and I took a few great snaps, including this one:

It's a little blurry, but I actually really like it. He just looks so innocent!

It was only after I decided to pick up Oreo that I became less than enthralled with the feline species. I must have accidentally pulled on his fur, because the next thing I knew he was scratching the bejeezes out of my arm. As in blood, pain, flying fur, kitty screams and wait...was that...oh my gosh, it couldn't be. Yup, flakes of my skin attached to a clump of fur.

I dropped him as fast as I could, ran to the bathroom and doused my arm in hydrogen peroxide. It still hurts.  Fortunately, it's hard to stay mad at him because he's just so cute, but if I get rabies, I'm swearing off your entire species.

Maybe next time I should try cat massage... (Trust me, you're going to love this video, discovered via Mama Pop.) Please smack me in the face if I EVER become a cat lady.

Vegas: Where normal men get creepified August 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 hate butterflies August 09, 2009

Caution: if you read this post you might just start hating butterflies...don't say I didn't warn you.

You know how some people are afraid of bats? They can picture them swarming around them, hitting them in the face with their wings? That's sort of how I feel about butterflies. When an ex of mine surprised me and took me to a beautifully landscaped garden near his house, he couldn't quite understand why I wouldn't go to the butterfly observatory. I shuddered as I thought about all of those wings brushing near my face- being surrounded by flying caterpillars was not my idea of a romantic date.

I'm not sure if my initial dislike of butterflies stems from my irrational phobia of caterpillars or from my sister's hatred of them. (She once found (half) a butterfly in a head of lettuce and has been scared since.)

That's why I was baffled by my love of the "butterfly bush." I think it was on my last visit home that I noticed a new plant growing near my house. The blossoms were bright purple and absolutely beautiful, and attracted a whole bunch of Monarch Butterflies. Though I finally accepted the fact that I actually enjoyed watching butterflies flock to the purple blossoms, I have recently changed my mind:

You see, two days ago, I was minding my own business when I heard the light tinkling of Peewee (aka Peter)'s collar. I walked over to say hello to him, when I noticed he had something in his mouth. It was flat, yellow and OMG IT WAS A BUTTERFLY. I may have screamed a little bit, and immediately ran to my dad to ask for help.

"Daddy! Peter brought in a butterfly! Help. It's disgusting. Eww Daddy, make it go away!!!"

Clearly my father was not as disgusted as myself, because he continued continued to talk with the guy fixing our TV. As grossed out as I was, I followed the cat down the stairs- I was curious. Little did I know there would be pieces of  butterfly wing strewn across the carpet. I didn't even get as far as finding my cat before running up the stairs and INSISTING my dad get rid of the butterfly. (Yes, sometimes I'm a bit of a girly-girl, but we all have our moments. At least I'm not afraid of spiders!)

My stepmom finally came downstairs to see what was going on, and soon after emerged from the basement with a sad look on her face. The butterfly was miraculously still alive, although missing huge chunks of his wings, but even she couldn't save him. My dad eventually cleaned it up, but I'm still scarred. So scarred, that I thought I was hallucinating when I saw the cat with ANOTHER butterfly in his mouth the next day.

I've already told my father this, but as much as I love that beautiful butterfly bush, I think it has to go. We've seen Peewee hovering around it, just waiting to bring in another snack. I'm sorry P, as much as I hate butterflies, I would NEVER eat them. I know you're just following your cat instincts, but I will not encourage you: the butterfly bush must go!

Nightmare on Gyno Street August 04, 2009

Before reading this post, there are two things you should know about me:

1) I've always hated going to the doctor. I was that little kid who ran around the examining room screaming, trying to avoid a booster shot.

2) I have anxiety dreams. A lot. These dreams usually revolve around me attending a high school class (typically science, history or math) without the my homework or being unable to stop my car and getting in an accident.

Now that you know the facts above, this story will make a bit more sense.

***

Whenever I come home, whether it be for a quick weekend visit or an week-long stay, I try to squeeze in as many doctors appointments as possible. Though KBoss insists I should find a new doctor up in Boston, I have yet to actually do so.

Since I was going to be home for a whole week, I crossed my fingers and hoped to squeeze in my annual err "lady parts" checkup. Lucky for me, they found a time that worked for both of us.

Everything seemed perfect... until I had the nightmare:

I was minding my own business going to see my FEMALE doctor, when I entered the doctor's office, only to find out that my doctor was now male. Oh, and we were in Boston, not Baltimore. I didn't know this doctor, yet I still followed him. Instead of entering a normal examining room, I found myself in a large field...outside. People were playing frisbee and having picnics...at my gynecologist appointment!

I was confused that I'd be  sharing such a personal experience with the picnicers, but dream Alana still went ahead with it. It was then that the mysterious male doctor (who wasn't even cute!) collected some of my cells. They magically blew up into huge squiggly messes that indicated I was fine. Apparently, I have bright blue and purple cells. Who knew?

It was at that point that my real doctor showed up. She rolled her eyes at the boy doctor and said she would take care of me. We walked around the field a little bit more, trying to look for a more private place to conduct my checkup.

"Hey," I said to my doctor. "I'm studying PR...I could totally help you plan an event to raise money to buy curtains to allow for some more privacy."

She seemed to like the idea. I then crawled onto the examining table, put my feet in the stirrups...and the next thing I remember was walking into White House/Black Market and rewarding myself with some new headbands.

Yeah, so that dream, combined with any previously existing doctor's office anxiety definitely made today seem a lot scarier than it had to be.  Fortunately for me, I saw my actual doctor today, was examined in a PRIVATE room and rewarded myself with a delicious frappuccino. Hopefully now I'll associate the lady parts doctor with caramel and not public nudity or creepy colored cells...

Jen vs. Angelina: how did it come to this? June 29, 2009

Woah, I did not realize you all were so opinionated about my love life! You know I always appreciate your comments, but today, some of them made me a little sad. I'm not sure if my story came across the way I expected it to. I was in no way trying to vilify my roommate.

Yes, I was initially upset with her, but really, I was just upset with the situation. What made me most upset was that so many people were saying hurtful things about her. I thought it would only be fair to get her side of the story....so we're writing this one together:

When we first started Jdate, we both looked at it as an opportunity to try something new. We weren't super serious about the idea and thought it would be fun. When the cute Jewish boy started messaging both of us, we were flattered. We both chatted with him a bit, and found it slightly amusing that he spent so much time talking to each of us. He'd even text us at the same time...basically the same message.

It became sort of a game- what could one of us reply without giving away that we were roommates? Rach and I spend a lot of time together, so our answers to "what's up" were typically pretty similar. When he asked me out on a date, I was excited, but nervous. I felt like he could be a bit of a player, but that going out with him would be a step in the right direction.

When he didn't text me the day of our date, I got worried. Since he'd sent us both around 659 text messages the night before, I wondered if something was wrong, so...I texted him. And I had Rachel text him to make sure he wasn't just blowing me off.

That's when I jokingly said "Rach, you should text him during our date." We laughed about it and moved on. I forgot about it.

Rachel then helped me get ready and I nervously headed to my date. I texted her about a million times while I stood outside waiting for him. She may have responded to his texts, but she didn't innitiate anything. I'm sorry if that was unclear.

So here's what we learned from the situation:

1) Don't go for the same guy, even if your'e not serious about him. Clearly one person will end up being hurt, and it's just not worth it.

2) If you get a sketchy vibe from someone, they're probably sketchy.

3) Friends are more important than boys...especially if the boy is question is sort of lame.

I apologize if I gave you the wrong impression of my roommate. She's a very lovely person who's always here for me. She lets me cry whenever I want. She makes me toast when I'm sad. We go shopping together to forget about broken hearts. She's one of my best friends and I'm so lucky to have her. 

The whole situation was a bit of a misunderstanding, but I think it taught us a few lessons. Also know, I'm not the kind of person who can passively forget about a problem, so I confronted Rachel right away. We talked about it, decided we were both at fault, and got over it. I even showed her the blog post before making it live, and neither of us thought it would incite so much controversy.

In terms of the boy: I don't think I'll be seeing him again...he wants to do something this week, but I'd rather the whole drama be over with. Moving on.