yesterday, I just managed to wrangle both of my charges into bed and had hunkered down with Chairman Mao and my laptop when something on the table caught my eye. I could only see the first three letters of the magazine title, but my mounting excitement was completely spot-on as I pulled out an "American Girl" mag! And not the lame one that just has sleepover ideas and cartoons of tween-aged breast development, no no, the actual magazine with the dolls! And their birthday party attire and their school lunches! Needless to say, there was a narrowly avoided pee-from-extreme-thrill incident. My fingers were trembling as I opened that first page, knowing that Felicity Merriman, redhead, American colonialist and patriot with a loyalist BFF and an overstanted love for horses would be greeting me.



Except, she didn't! Some beezy named Lanie (ugh) who is apparently the "American Girl of Today" was staring back at me with vacant, non-historical eyes. Like, who the fuck is this girl?! She's from the present! I LIVE in the present, I don't need to learn about it! She's not teaching me about WWII or slavery is she? NO. Her only purpose is one big fashion don't.




I wish I could tell you it got better from there. It didn't. It got exponentially worse. Felic, Kiki, Addy, Kit & Molly all got the two page spread, normal from what I can recall. Molly still had the Hardy Boys mystery on her bedside table. But Kaya and Josefina shared a page! What kind of a message is that sending, AG & Co, about minorities and ethnicities and American-ness and power and status? This seems preeetty counter-intuitive from the messages you preach in all those "Care and Keeping" and "Friends!" books I used to hoard like beanie babies.

You may have noticed thus far that there has been no mention of my absolute second favorite American Girl (second only to Molly, but really only because Molly had glasses and so did I), Samantha. WELP, SHE'S GONE. REPLACED! By some Russian Jew named Rebecca Rubin from 1914. WHAT ON EARTH COULD SAMANTHA HAVE DONE TO DESERVE THIS TREASON? She was the ultimate. I mean, come ON! She took us to suffragette rallies with her Aunt Cornelia and her Grand-Mary, and she saved her orphan friends from the perils of turn-of-the-century factory work! She was bad ass! But noooo, let's create some more diversity by bringing this Russian immigrant who is also Jewish into our line of dolls and then RELEGATE HER TO THE SINGLE PAGE WITH THE OTHER MINORITIES.

Honestly, I feel as though the very premise of my love of history has been violated and torn apart in the most brutal fashion. I strongly believe that my history major (and soon to be BA!) is a direct result of hours spent reenacting historical situations with my American Girl dolls and their trusty props and books. I learned about the Revolutionary War and the tea tax from Felicity, Kirsten taught me about the hardships of prairie life aaaand about the cool holiday of St. Lucia; as the only black doll I think Addy's lessons are pretty self-explanatory; Samantha, though more privileged (I'll admit it!) still had her demons -- she was an orphan after all -- and Molly had to grow a victory garden and practice air raid drills. American Girl is essentially re-writing history by excluding Samantha from their line these days. It's as if they are telling young girls, whom they so often encourage to be independent, that women's suffrage didn't exist! I mean, I'm just befuddled as to WHY Samantha and Rebecca can't coexist. Like -- is there some sort of LOST-esque chain of events wherein Samantha's existence disappears when Rebecca's family takes the boat over?! Please explain yourself, AG. By taking our Samantha, you are taking out vital information in the history lessons you unknowingly provide for young girls all across America, and I for one am taking a stand against this gross atrocity.

RIP, Samantha. (And god, could she be any trendier?! So now girls across America are losing valuable fashion advice too. I couldn't be unhappier.)

Dear weekend,

God, I couldn't love you more. You are the savior of my limited sanity, a beacon of divine light within the excessive darkness that is second semester senior year. You bring out the best in me -- and by best, I of course mean the more uncouth social behavior that allows me to have one spanking good time. Weekend, without you, I couldn't go on living. If Friday turned into Monday and you weren't there providing two days of sheer bliss and delight, I would literally stab myself through the heart with a rusty can opener. My roommates agree this would be the only logical course of action. Oh man, weekend. I don't even have an extensive enough vocabulary to describe just how much you mean to me. The world. The world plus all seven Harry Potters. The world, all seven Harry Potters and my Disney Princess mug. Now that's gratitude.

Lovingly yours,
G


Dear Trader Joes,

It's the best and the worst thing that you have a vast selection of 2 Buck Chuck type wine. It's the best thing because I am a pauper and though you are like the taj mahal of grocery stores, you still look out for the little guy by providing an affordable way to get my imbibe on. It's like you are everything revolutionary France was not - for which I am eternally grateful. But, here's the thing. You sell cheap wine. You make me a de facto wino. This is not a label I particularly enjoy seeing on myself, but I suppose it's better than "cokehead" or "Lindsay Lohan" (whoops, repitition!). It's like you're encouraging this liver decimating habit called college. You're like a parent in the bleachers at a little league game, and you have signs and banners and oranges for inter-inning energy. I suppose it's nice to have such a cheerleader, but if it wasn't for your incessant support, I probably would have woken up this morning bright-eyed and bushy-tailed rather than wishing for the sweet release of death. Is this or is this not the ultimate catch 22?

With gratitude and regret,
G


Dear Flip-cup,
I need to put an end to this abusive relationship, and quick. It's not healthy for my sanity or my internal organs. But I just can't get away from you! You lure me in with your fun and charm and frivolity, and then you beat me into submission and misery with your never-ending rounds and your inherent competitive nature. You know I can't resist competition. You know I'm a Tonya Harding, but you make me feel like Nancy Kerrigan. I don't love it. And I know I shouldn't come back to you, but I just can't help myself. I'm drawn to you like an alcoholic moth to one of those shots that flame. Why do you do this to me?! All I've ever done is love you. Why do you insist on smacking me around so that I'm left the next day with hefty amounts of emotional bruising? If I didn't love you so much, I'd report you to the authorities.

Conflictedly,
G


Dear Bagel Time,

Thank you. Thank you for being a shining gem of deliciousness and carbohydrates within the otherwise harsh and unforgiving Worcester streets. Thank you for not judging me as I lurch into your parking lot because I can't really drive stick but my roommate has still mislaid her ability to focus her eyes for more than half a second at a time. Thank you for not criticizing me as I stumble through your doors with eyeliner halfway down my face, bedroom hair, and Olsen-twin outfits. Thank you for refraining from commenting on the fact that it takes me seven minutes to count out all the ones I have left over from the bar last night, and on the fact that I am in fact ordering nine bagels at once. With plans to devour them all. And thank you, most emphatically, for making the most delicious, most round, most flavorful bagels that I never thought I would find in this godforsaken state - you truly are a mirage within a culinary desert wasteland.

Eternally yours,
G

In middle school, we girls would giggle our way through the creation of masterpieces called "top fives" -- that is, a list of the five boys that had won us over with their prepubescent charm that particular week. this system of essentially having four back-up plans in case your #1 wasn't feelin' it was actually incredibly necessary, as Michael Reyes was #1 on every list. A quick facebook-stalk of the current Michael Reyes leaves no doubt that this would still be the case. Zanyways, I was recently thinking back on those days with rose-colored glasses when the harsh truth of reality hit me; that if I were to make a similar list today, not only would it be comprised of people with whom I'm not actually acquainted, it would really only include fictional characters. That's right. I have reached the point in my single-girl life that my fantasies have developed a wholly delusion feel. My dream men don't even exist in real life, let alone in my life! Therefore, I now (begrudgingly proudly) present to you...

My Top 5 Fictional Characters With Whom I'd Like To Enter Into Marriage

5. Indiana Jones


Indiana Jones is exactly what I aspire to be: a half-time historian, half-time sleuth, full-time badass. He's a professor, so he's a smarty-pants, but he's not afraid of living in the fast lane. While he might covet adventure and women more than I'd like (especially once we start makin' babies), he's savvy enough to remain relatively unmaimed even as he swings on a collapsed suspension bridge while spears are being shot his way by ruthless natives. That takes some serious skill! Furthermore, have you seen that man work his whip? Enough said.

4. Dr. Spencer Reid of "Criminal Minds"


I'm not exactly sure why this geek appeals to me so much, but god does he ever. Usually, I'm not that into dudes with long hair, but I'm thinking it's his impeccable bone structure that really makes up for it. He also has a photographic memory, so he would never forget my birthday or our anniversary. Sure, working for the FBI does expose him to things like anthrax and the occasional kidnap and torture, but I mean, Who Haven't? He's been working out to ensure that doesn't happen again, so he's buff, and he's been called a certified genius more than once. What's not to love?

3. Mr. Darcy


One of my favorite things is people who have a tough outer shell but a heart of gold (Brooke Davis is another glaring example of this). This describes Darcy perfectly - he may act all masculine and tempermental (which he is in alllll the right ways), but when it comes down to it, he'll always do the right thing and follow his heart. He's a doting older brother, and MAN is he rich! He's well read and likes a little spitfire in a woman, which I would be more than willing to provide. Plus, he sure does give a great "listen bitch, I'm in love with you" speech. He might rank #1 in that category (which we will save for another day).

2. Lucas Scott of "One Tree Hill"


(let me preface this by saying -- yes. I know. The guiltiest of my pleasures but good god do I love me some Tree Hill) He's an athlete and a scholar - the best of both worlds, as my nemesis Miley might say. He quotes literary greats like it's his job, he can fix a car like it's no big thang, and I'll be damned if he doesn't have some serious integrity. That Karen Roe really raised her son right. Lucas always tries to do the admirable thing, even if it means self-sacrificing himself to live in his manipulative father's house. He's a true philanthropist, always thinking of others, and a best selling author. He might need a few reminders to keep his hair from growing too long and channeling a boy-bander, but I'm sure he's worth the trouble.

1. Ron Weasley


Sure, he's not rich like Darcy, a genius like Spencer, an adventurer like Indy or an athlete like Lucas, but Ron Weasley has serious heart. Despite the fact that he's a wizard (a fact that makes me love him all the more), he's probably the most attainable of all the fictional characters on this list. He's not the superhero Harry, sure, but he's dependable, loyal, and endearingly imperfect. Ron Weasley just wants to matter in this world, and riddle me a nobler cause (pun most DEFINITELY intended). He has proven himself to be a force to be reckoned with whether he's on the Quidditch pitch or fighting Voldy and his Death Eater cronies. He simply tries his hardest and does the best he can, which is plenty good enough for me. Plus, who wouldn't want Molly Weasley for a mother in law?!