Death by Knitting

Hand them over, Chrissa, or I'll cut your bangs.

Wait, you don't have bangs? Right, you will when I'm done with you, and in places you didn't know you could grow bangs.

WTF, AG, WTF? Knitting needles for CHRISSA?

You bastards. I knit. Me. Angry Jess. Not some wussy LE-come-lately who smells of llama and pool chlorine. I'm so pissed. It's time for a Yarn Smackdown. That's right. Be afraid, be very afraid.



And then we'll all be sporting new tats, like this one Jiggy got at the last Yarn Smackdown:



I'm going to personally tat Chrissa. I know just where to do it, too.

What's that, AG? You want to see samples of my work? Bite me. My portfolio on a bad day is way more awesome than anything Chrissa could knit with her gnarly llama wool. Look you bastards, just look, and weep at my Art:



Knitting needles, my muslin arse. Those were meant for ME.

You suck, AG. Do you hear me? YOU SUCK.

Don't Say I Never Give You Anything

Common Errors in English Usage

Take this.

Use it well.

Ho.

My List

Yes, it is. All the Playthings mods are on it (especially that one who posts pictures of her dog's butt as festive holiday photos. Something is seriously wrong with her).

So yeah, you'd best be careful lest you, too, land on my List. Use spellcheck and your grammar and punctuation guides. Also, you over there? Do NOT send me messages telling me to drink prune juice and cheer up. There's a very special place on my List for the likes of you.

Of course, Sonali, Chrissa, and Gwen are on my List. I am working on more songs for them, but I have so much to do right now that I can't keep up. I desperately need that manservant from my wishlist, people.

Anyway, for starts, I have this:

Sonali got run over by a llama
As she was swimming home on Christmas Eve.
You can say there aren't homicidal llamas,
But as for Chrissa and Gwen, they do believe.

Feel free to add on. But damn it, spell Sonali right.

I need to finish and mail my holiday cards now. They were particularly festive this year, featuring a romantic photo of me, Jiggy, David, Adam, and my pet Godzilla all posed in front of the fireplace under a portrait of cousin Antonin. You only wish you were special enough to get one. Maybe next year.

If you stay off of my List.

Chrissanticipation

Damn, holiday time is busy time. You people who are doing that Clandestine Coconut exchange on Playthings? You’d best get your asses in gear and PM me when you send your gifts, because I don’t want to have to hunt you down. I’ve got better things to do.

Well, it’s also that joyous time of year when AG fandom collectively tumesces about a new Girl of the Year doll. Ho-freaking-hum. Another LE doll, imagine that. You’ll excuse me for not getting excited. While LE doll releases are more predictable than herpes outbreaks, they are about as welcome from my point of view. Now, when I initially heard the rumors about “lulu” and “furry llamas” I was delighted to think that AG might finally be moving to capture the highly lucrative dolly pr0n market. (What’s the use of having a flat-screen doll TV if you don’t have any doll pr0n to watch on it? David asks me this all the time and I don’t have a good answer for him. These are the people who gave me a lame-ass tree swing, after all. They defy logical analysis.) So I had high hopes for Chrissa at first, but those were soon dashed.

Frankly, Chrissa is doomed to have one of those “everything but the kitchen sink” collections, what with miniature llamas and swim teams and potting wheels and bullying and whatever the hell else they can throw in there. So it was no surprise when I got called in for some high-level talks with AG brass about tweaking Chrissa. They needed help. They asked me to beta the books written by Mary Casanova, since she is also the author of my own fine epic tale of Belieze. Now, Mary’s a great writer, don’t get me wrong. But I felt that Chrissa needed to be edgier. I made a few suggestions, which I’ll share with my loyal readers so you’ll know what might have been had AG only listened to me.

I focused on the llamas. For sheer randomness, they are marketing gold. But AG never goes far enough. Yeah, we all know there will be cute little plushie llamas for tie-in marketing squee. But any fool knows that kids want toys that actually DO something. Thus my first suggestion was product-related: make a plushie miniature llama with realistic pooping action. You feed it hay and grain and alfalfa; squeeze the tummy; voila, instant llama turds! I thought this had great marketing potential. AG went ahead and made a few prototypes of pooping Starburst, the baby llama, but ultimately abandoned the idea. They mumbled something about not wanting to offend PETA. The hell? PETA knows llamas poop! How is this offensive? Whatever. Watch for Starburst, the Prototype Pooping Llama on eBay. I expect these will command high prices on the secondary market, just like Prototype Farting Toshi does.

I had some other related product tie-ins in addition to Pooping Llama. Like soybean llama bean candles. What’s not to love about those? Also, I developed a Llama Reproduction Tutorial manual for middle school students. Why not take the opportunity to get back to Pleasant Company’s original mission, that of education through play?



They rejected it. Clearly AG no longer bothers to even pay lip service to the educative mission of yore.

So I pulled out all the stops and proposed a plot development in which Chrissa and her friends Gwen and Sonali get lost in the frozen tundra of Minnestora while on their way to Ma Walton's llama farm. They get rescued by the miniature llamas, but sadly the llamas have to be sacrificed to keep Chrissa, Gwen, and Sonali alive during the blizzard. The girls manage to survive by warming themselves next to the exposed entrails of the llamas, Star Wars-style. I really thought this would have excellent cross-fandom appeal. I mean, who can forget how in The Empire Strikes Back, Han slaughters the tauntaun to keep frozen Luke alive after the wampa attack on the planet Hoth?



That’s one of my favorite scenes, right up there with slave-girl Leia with hot Jabba action. I still have my Leia Organa Slave Girl outfit. I should get it out to wear on New Year’s Eve.

Anyway, for Xtreme Chrissa marketing, I proposed that AG develop a 3 foot tall miniature llama with Open Belly Rescue Feature. You know, with a slit big enough for Chrissa to fit inside, so kids could re-enact the dramatic rescue scene. Like this, only AG-sized:



It would have been a major big ticket item seller. AG brass kicked the idea around and I think they even prototyped one or two, but ultimately nixed the idea as too expensive from a manufacturing standpoint. Whatever. I think they were worried about PETA again.

I have since washed my hands of the whole Chrissa debacle. AG is going to revel in its mediocrity and that’s all there is to it, I guess. What more can I do? I’ve composed a little song that expresses my feelings about Chrissa. Sing it to the tune of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, with feeling.

Chrissa, the newest LE
Had a furry miniature llama (not a yeti or a tauntaun!)
But she wasn't in the In Crowd
And so there was endless drama (like Oedipus)

All of the other students
Used to laugh and call her names (like douchebag)
They never let poor Chrissa
Join in any llama games (like llama tipping)

Then one cold Minnestora day,
I, Angry Jess came to say
"STFU, Chrissa, you've got a year to shine
Don't want to hear you bellyache and whine" (or I'll show you what bullying really means)

Then how Chrissa groveled
And I kicked her in the muslin ass (too much stuffing)
Chrissa the llama lover
You are never gonna last! (like the Sacagawea coin)

Black Friday, black mood

So it’s Black Friday, right? My kind of day. I decided to bite the bullet and do some holiday shopping. And me, I shop online. Is there any other way?

Now you know I don’t have much patience with the Playthings mods. I do get along with their dolls for the most part, especially the Jess ones. Call it pity if you want, but I figured I’d dole out a few fashionable holiday gifts. So yeah, I bought up the eBay stock of stompy black buckle boots by 2 AM. You can forget about finding any more between now and next year. Those are must-haves for any self-respecting AG doll. Also, I must inform you that there are no more plain black tshirts or bandanas left on eBay. I saw to that. I was busy while you were sleeping off your turkey.

Then, I headed over to Etsy.

WTF, Etsy?

Put on your waders, because it’s hip deep in there. OMG, have you seen the amount of weird-ass crap sold on that site in the name of AG? Talk about scary, creepy, and inappropriate! Now, I am all for creativity and commerce. Make something great that people will want, make some more, and sell, sell, sell. It’s all good. And right, I know one doll’s trash is another doll’s treasure.

But I defy you to call some of this stuff treasure. I counted enough raggedy shawls and ponchos to lay out a patchwork carpet for any harem David can dream up. If I have to look at one more felt fringed poncho, I will personally felt someone, hard. And I saw more crocheted crap in one perusal of Etsy than exists at all the world’s senior centers. I like the fine art of needlework and can knit some fiercely extreme doll fashions any day of the week. But please people, do not crochet entire outfits and then attire your doll as if she was a crocheted toilet paper cover. No. That is cruel and inhumane.

Damn it, Etsy wasn't meant to be a crafty crap collection. It should be a place I can go to find wicked original togs for dolls to kick ass in, sans nasty eBay fees.

Well, enough is enough. Not that I make a practice of being helpful, but here are AJ’s Tips for the Etsy Doll Crafter.

Number one, FFS, when you are trying to sell something to someone, take decent photos of your work! Stop cutting the heads off of the dolls! I want the gestalt, the big picture. Lure me in with the majesty of it all. However, I will grant you that when you cut off the doll’s head, she’s probably less likely to slit her wrists from shame. Which brings me to AJ Etsy Tip #2: stop making crap! Just stop it! Use fabrics in prints to scale. Don’t foof up the outfits with layers of mismatched lace and ribbons. And remember: just because you can make it, doesn’t mean you should sell it. Tip #3: stop saying it's for an AG when you put the whatever-it-is on a freaking Springfield, Battat, Tolly , or generi-doll you dragged out of your neighbor’s trash last Tuesday. I applaud your desire to recycle. But if you seriously want to sell something, get the real deal for photography purposes. Because if it fits a Springfield doll, it’s likely NOT going to fit my bodacious curves.

You should be glad there are no photos in this blog entry. You would go blind from the ugly. There's a reason they call that place Regretsy.

I cut my date with that hot pirate short for this?

"But when is my Spammy-wammy's bedpan going to be sold out?" you say. Or "when is Meeeah's 'cleaning up the ice rink' broom and dustpan' going to be gone?"

Shut up. Do I look like fucking Nostradamus to you? Wait, don't answer that. I DON'T KNOW. Stop asking me! Try doing, I dunno, a little research. Like looking up that thread from three days ago when someone asked the exact same question. Or call goddamn AG, they're paid to listen to you. Check what's backordered on AG's website.

And if you want something, buy it. I don't know when it's going to disappear so better safe than whiny later. And if you don't have the money now but will next week, asking me umpteen times isn't going to change anything. Either it'll still be available when you have the money, or it won't. It's not Schrödinger's fucking cat. It's not going to fail to sell out if you observe it. I promise.

ETA: Speaking of cats, I like this one's attitude.

My Holiday Wish List

So, yeah, the election is over. My place in American history is secure and I am well on my way to achieving world domination. Yesterday Playthings; today the world; tomorrow, infinity and beyond.

But I no sooner come off the election and I’m besieged by my fans. “AJ!” they write, thus risking my wrath at being so familiar. (Which reminds me: don’t risk my wrath by calling me 'a prank.' I’ll prank you. Hard. Harder than hard.) “AJ!” my fans persist. “What do you want for the holidays?” Some of them even want details, like what holiday I celebrate and how. Look, don’t sweat the small stuff. I am all-inclusive and will accept your tributes for every major or minor winter holiday. As for how I celebrate, that’s my own damned business.

At any rate, here’s my wish list. Since apparently people want to know these things.

1. Every good woman needs a Marine in uniform. I’ll take more than one if you have extras.

2. The gift of universal good grammar, punctuation, and capitalization. This includes recognizing and executing the differences between to-too-two, you-you’re-your, they're-there-their, and so forth. This gift is priceless and probably out of your budget, but a doll can dream.

3. Bound leather (who doesn’t love leather bondage?) copy of Robert’s Rules of Order. So I can throw it at that one Playthings mod. Yeah, you know who you are.

4. Blu-ray edition of Golden Girls: The Complete Series. I have the DVD box set, but Jiggy is forever upgrading the home theatre set-up and I have to keep pace with technology.



5. A pet frog. Either highly poisonous or hallucinogenic, I’m not picky. Although Jiggy would prefer the hallucinogenic type. You know how he is.

6. World peace (under the totalitarian dictatorship of myself, of course).

7. A flame thrower.



8. A manservant. Jiggy, David and Adam don’t move fast enough. Jiggy’s too strung out, David’s tired all the time from the sex, and Adam doesn’t have articulated joints.

9. Two heads to smack together. Actually, a year’s supply of two heads to smack together.

10. Nerf N-Strike Vulcan EBF-25 Blaster in yellow. This item ships for free with Super Saver Shipping on Amazon.com.



11. New ass-kicking boots in red patent leather.



12. Second job as a stunt double. I can double for anyone with a quick rewigging and eye swap. Resume available upon request and my discretion.

13. Matching ‘I Am Made of Poison’ tshirts for me, Jiggy, David, Adam, and a smaller one for the man servant (from www.topatoco.com).



14. A hot air balloon. You don’t need to know why.

15. A gold Ferrarri. Red is my second choice but it has to coordinate with the new red ass-kicking boots (see number 8 above).



16. A divining rod so I can give dowsing a try.

17. Pirate things. Anything pirate. All pirate, all the time.

Which reminds me -- yo, you Somali pirates in the Asian seas? WTF is your problem? Going around acting all piratical with assault rifles and missile launchers, FFS. Where’s the sport in that? I mean, I’m all for innovative weaponry, but let’s have a level playing field. You’re taking the romance and mystery out of piracy. So ditch the high-caliber guns, rocket launchers and torpedoes and earn some old school respect.

Because there’s nothing worse than a bully pirate who takes himself too seriously. I shouldn’t have to tell you that.

HEY YOU!

Public service announcement:

PLEASE STOP USING YOUR CAPSLOCK IN YOUR SUBJECT LINES.

It's loud and I'm hungover.

Playthings Halloween Costume Contest

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

I'm flattered that many of you were so sensible and entered your Jess dolls into the "scariest" category dressed as me. Just don't think that means I'll cut you a break, or rig the voting for you.

But next year, I'm totally doing my own contest.

PS: Please distribute that For Dummies book. I know a lot of people who need it.

Sob on, Samantha

I've been busy. Perhaps you noticed I was not included in the recent presidential debates? Not to worry; AJ wasn't slighted. I've reached an Understanding with the two candidates. They now know the real power behind the office they seek, and will respond accordingly come January 20, 2009. So my work there is done.

And, Proboards hacker? I tracked him to an address in San Antonio. Dude lived in the basement of the parental home, had an inflatable girlfriend, and was going to town using the unsecured WiFi from the coffee shop down the street. He's been brought to justice.

Meanwhile, my in-box has been over-flowing from people wanting to know my opinion about Samantha's "archivalment."

Boo frickin' hoo.

Look, I barely had time to shine before getting the AG equivalent of a golden watch and a kick in the ass out the door. Guess what? I'm doing just fine, thanks. Li'l Miss Sammy-cakes has been around for 22 years. That's 22 lifetimes in GOTY terms! And baby has way more than a leaky inflatable raft and a plastic tree swing to show for it, let me tell you.

So cry me a river filled with crocodile tears.

But never fear. You can rest assured that when Samantha and Nellie walk through the pearly gates of the AG Archive, I'll take them under my vinyl arm. In short order they'll be loosening up those tight Edwardian collars, flinging those pesky garters aside, and taking more than a few ladylike sips of absinthe. Things are looking up for those girls!

Hackers!

I've enjoyed a little hacking in my day, I'll be the first to admit it. Those days when AG online shopping goes down? Yeah, well, I plead the 5th.

But see here. I get majorly PO'd when someone has hacking fun at my expense. Hackers are out there messing up Proboards, which means the AGPlaythings.com Message Forum is affected. (That other big-but-smaller AG message forum is affected too, but I don't care about them since they think I am creepy, scary and inappropriate. What, did they just figure this out about me?)

Anyway, this hack job annoys and angers me. I depend upon my salary at PT and I need the money to buy me some hot Carpatina boy vinyl. When the forum is offline, I don't get paid. So that's why I'm off to find the hackers and bring them to justice.

Wish me luck. I've got my whip, knitting needles, and a bowl of cherry jello. They won't know what hit them.

Back from rehab

My devoted Playthings readers may recall that I swore never to go back to my previous place of rehab. The woman in the room next to mine, her name was Amy, and she kept sneaking in drugs that made her even more paranoid. She would bang on my door at three in the morning.

I don't need that. No one needs that.

I kicked her in the shins once but I don't think she noticed the bruise what with the track marks, tatoos, and scratches up and down her jaundiced body. I also threatened to break her nose, but they threatened to kick me out. Since I needed to keep my job at PT, and that was contingent upon me completing rehab, I engineered a truce. I took to coming to the door wielding my whip, and did my hair up with my knitting needles. I guess she realized I was way cooler than her what with her propensity to walk around barefoot in the streets in her bra. We got along okay after that. I'm not sure whatever happened to her, although I do get the occasional postcard.



I don't think she's doing so well.

Anyway, fast-forward in time to TLAPD. This one mod (you KNOW who you are) and some members on Playthings got a little too full of themselves, and what with that and a ninja on the loose, I had a hell of a lot to handle. After all was said and done, the mods at Playthings kidnapped me while I was sleeping it off and were about to whisk me to an undisclosed location for rehab. Thank Saint Pleasant that Jiggy intervened and reminded them of the kindness I'd shown poor David Duchovny during his hour(s) of need.

Now personally, I don't think I needed rehab, but if they were going to make me go, I was going to go in style. And thus it was that David and I ended up as rehab roommates for a week, battling our respective addictions. I think, yeah, I'm pretty sure that I managed to distract him from his troubles. And me, well, honestly, I never needed to be there in the first place, but it was a pretty swank place and no one came banging on my door at 3 AM.

So all's well that ends well. While it took a few days to rid myself of pirate halitosis (totally rum and ale-induced), I'm back in fighting form now.

The clap and scurvy might take a little longer to cure.

Me skanky pirate ranty panties be on now

Ye know what I be sick of? "Why won't me dear ol' mum buy me my twen'y-fourth doll? What can I be doin' teh get 'er to buy me a new doll?"

Great ghost of Blackbeard 'n crew! Because you already be havin' twenty-three dolls, ye spoilt little deckswabber! If'n ye be wanting a new doll, ye best be savin' up yer own money for th' thing! Did me AGPlaythings cap'ns agree teh be buyin me Carpatina Adam when I saw how firm his vinyl is bein? Nay! "Angry Angry Jess," tey be sayin', "ye best be buyin' Adam fer yerself!" So I be savin up all teh money I make lootin' 'til I can be buyin me a new man doll.

Now I don't wanna be hearing any more about it, or ye be walkin' the plank, ye moldy rats!

Talk Like a Pirate Day

Yarr! 'Tis soon to be th' best damn'd day o' th' year. I've got me weaponry, artillery, 'n rum by me side. Ye ale-guzzling cowardly slop buckets, ye best tuck into ye own rum 'n leave me stash betides, lest I send Jiggy t' keelhaul yer arses.

T' pox-infested rotten timbered sons of double Dutchmen mods on Playthings, those salt-crusted sea-sick bilge rats, they done turn'd th' message forum piratical once again. Aye, they finally done somethin' right! Yarr!

Angrier than me.

Last week I visited my cousin in Washington.

BAD IDEA.

I forgot how mad he makes me. >(



He's ALWAYS ANGRY and he always has something to say. I can't get a word in edgewise. The entire dinner he ranted about reading intent in documents and how stupid it is or something like that, I don't know. I stopped listening sometime around "blah blah blah Breyer is a moron blah blah de blah constitution pro-life blah blah blah."

And for those who say they can't see the family resemblance, hey, we look more alike than those Carpatina dolls. So bite me.

Some messages for AG

Dear AG -

I've been holed up at the Playthings offices the last few days trying to deal with my voluminous fan mail. I'm not getting much done. Seems you chose this week to let loose with a volley of new releases. Oh yeah, the phone's been ringing off the hook here and do I ever have some messages for you.

1. First off, Barbie called. She wants her Dream House furniture back.



Seriously, don't mess with that bitch. Hand over the princess phone and no one will get hurt.


2. Mother Nature called. She'd like to know if you'd forgotten how to dress for winter?



Why is this girl wearing long underwear, a sleeveless dress, and marshmallows on her feet? Going out in public in your underwear is every kid's worst nightmare.

Wait, wait wait. Those aren't marshmallows, are they? Damn it, AG, are those bunnies? Did you kill BUNNIES, put bows on their poor sad dead bodies, and stick them on doll feet? You sick bastards. That is scary, creepy, and inappropriate personified.

3. Dora the Explorer called. She'd like to reserve one of these outfits for when she becomes pre-pubescent.



Dream on, Dora. At least you have a monkey to keep you company. Toshi sends his regards.


4. Miley Cyrus called. She wants to know how you got hold of the outfit she was going to wear on her next tour. She's so mad, she's sending Billy Rae after you to break your achey breaky whatever.



The creepy Cyrus family aside, let's talk about this. What, you could only afford half a shirt? You had to tape it to the front of another shirt, like some bum who lives in the basement of his mother's house and wears a fake tuxedo to weddings?

Also, what gives with the stickers on that sign? You think those will last long with kids? You'd best be keeping a major stock of replacement stickers handy for the parents who call in to complain that Precious and Dumpling have run out. Freaking magnetic phobia. Freaking paranoid lawyers.


5. Pocahontas called. Disney Pocahontas, I mean, not the real one. She'd like her woodland creatures back.



Overpriced plushies FAIL. I know that three Webkinz total $48 easily, but they come with online access and a virtual world. Now THAT would be all kinds of awesome: virtual Kaya guts and skins virtual animals; virtual bear chases virtual Kirsten up virtual tree. I'd buy the plushies if they were bundled with that.


6. Mia called. I hung up on her. She called maybe, oh, a dozen more times. She finally left a message wondering if you had any more toilet paper to hang off her performance costume.




7. K*Mart called. They asked if you wanted to buy any more witch costumes, because they can give you a bulk discount.



Ah, I was wondering why that outfit looked so cheap. Also, I know I've seen its like somewhere before. Wait...yeah, here it is:



That's right, it's the dress worn by the Splat Witch, the one people put on trees at Halloween.

Also AG, the seventies called about that outfit to tell you that even they know poly-blend is passé. You want to create with poly-blend? Go, create for Ivy. Poor girl has but one damned dress.


8. That kid who likes to stand outside Borders smoking? The one who wears the cape and eyeliner? Yeah, he called to ask if his girlfriend could borrow Samantha's outfit for the Vampire Masquerade party.




9. Sesame Street called. They're concerned about you offsetting the fine campaign they've got going with Cookie Monster and nutrition. That's right, you just had to give prairie girl Kirsten a heaping pile of cookies, didn't you? It's a sad day when Cookie can't get his groove on by gobbling down some heap o' greasy junk, but Kirsten Larson can stuff her face with this:




10. The NFL called. They'd like their standard issue shoulder pads back.



Poinsettia snowflakes are whacked. Just sayin'.


11. Every baker in America called. That's right, every single one.

They want to inform you that the rolling pin you gave Kit would (1) tear any dough you tried to use it on to shreds as it stuck to the damned thing, and (2) be an absolute bitch to clean.



Patterned rolling pins are meant for icing and fondant, not for cookie dough. Everyone knows that. Okay, not everyone. But you should, AG.

BTW, America's bakers are good people. They are sending me so many cookies. Which, in case you are wondering, I will NOT be sharing with Kirsten. She needs to be in fighting form now that AG has made a bear. No more cookies for her.


12. This last message is actually not for you, AG. It's for Ruthie.



Bitty Baby called. She wants her bib back.

I am offering to help

That's right. I don't offer to help anyone much. But today, I am moved. You see, actor David Duchovny announced that he has entered rehab for sexual addiction. Apparently he wore out his poor wife, Teabag Leoni. I want it known that I, Angry Jess, am willing to do my utmost to help poor David through this crisis. Whatever it takes. Jiggy wants to help, too. Whatever, I don't judge.

We're going to invite David over for tea and a swim, and take it from there.

Running Mates are for Wimps

Who mates when they run? Seriously. If you do, there's something wrong with you and I don't want to know about it (but send me pictures anyway on the QT).

The Playthings people have been on my ass from day one to pick a running mate. Fools. They don't get it. See, I don't NEED a running mate. I'm a doll, right? I get broken, AG slaps on some new parts and I'm good to go. I can't die; no need for back-up.

And as far as running the country, look, I don't need anyone to help with that. Hell, I run Playthings single-handedly. Running the country is just like running a doll message forum. Only maybe not so much talk about wigs.

So, Obama picked his running mate? McCain's still working on it? Whatever. Whoop-de-doo in a can. I hope they'll all be very happy together. But no such drama for me.

What, you're disappointed? Get over it. Here, take a gander at some photos of me and some of my biggest supporters at a recent campaign soiree.



















Also, Hannibal? He was unavoidably detained at Gitmo and couldn't make the party, so I brought the party to him:



I don't mind telling you that some of these fellows are in line for high-profile Cabinet positions.

Get Real!

It is almost that time of the year again, the time when AG comes out with the newest in holiday outfits for dolls. So let's take a moment to do some fashion retrospection and look to the future, shall we?

Last year's pleasantly pukey looking little number:


I mean, really? Let's talk about this Little Miss Muffet outfit. It's a big tuffet! Blech. This wasn't fit for a spider to swoon over. And the cheesy plastic tiara that these little ladies got? WTF, tiara! You wouldn't see me raping and pillaging wearing that POS. Might as well get a wedding ring out of a Cracker Jack box.

Now, let us go back to 2006:


Yes, you guessed it. She is a giant walking tampon. No, really, see? She even has strings!

Made of FAIL. And absorbant cotton.

Oh, but wait! Do you remember 2005?

Here Pussy, Pussy, Pussy! Oh, and we have some chocolate to go on that red little cherry, too.

GET REAL, AG! Why not make something I can use??? Here's my list of what needs to go in a holiday outfit:

1. Fishnets in black so I can dress in style this year. Nice ones, with the seam up the back! I know you can do it, AG. I wore out the Spider Witch fishnets a long time ago.
2. Boots. Big, tall, black, ass-kicking patten leather, with a safety pin like in Pretty Woman. C'mon, I need something I can kick Kailey's ass in. So if they have a little heel, that will do just fine, thanks. {What, tears for Kailey? Get over it. She wasn't a real LE anyways.)
3. Leather. No, not a boring jacket; I want a leather mini. One I can go to all those swank country club campaign parties in. And none of this pleather crap. Kill a calf already.
4. Halter top. You only wish you could fill out a halter like I do. But this time, I want one in leather. That's right, more cow.

Is this really so much to ask? AG, damn you, if you went to the effort of designing Debutant Tuffet, Chocolate Pussy, and Giant Tampon, would some basic Coolness be all that difficult to envision? It takes a twisted mind to come up with that other stuff. I'm making it easy on you.

So, get rid of the frou-frou and go with the new-new. Because this stuff? Scary, creepy, and inappropriate.

Yeah.

Smells like Doll Spirit

I am many things. Sex goddess, leading presidential candidate, poet, advice-giver to the lovelorn, moderator extraordinaire, recovering addict, Nobel Prize Winner, one hell of a good dancer, and now, entrepreneur. Let me explain the latter.

You remember that line of eu de skunk, spunk, and stink that AG produced with Bath and Body Works? Well, the whole line is going belly up, just as I always predicted it would. I mean, really, who wants to smell like strawberries and apples? Little girls?

Wait.

Okay.

My point is this: AG needs to get edgier. Times are tough; no one wants to pay a company to distill and package what they can create themselves by rubbing a wee dram of apple juice on their pulse points. AG needs a unique, affordable product line.

Enter, me.

(insert dirty joke here)

AG begged me to collaborate on a new bath and body line. Jess, they said, you know RANK. You've survived your own pathetic collection, months in the rainforest, AGPlaythings, and close proximity with Jiggy Nye.

I couldn't argue with that; I do know rank. And I can do so much better. My new line is called Revenge is Sweet and includes the following:

Sweet Stank of Superiority Perfume
That Shine's From the Murders Shampoo
My Hair's Body Kicks Your Body's Ass Hair Conditioner
Blood of 1000 Virgins Bath Salts
My Dog Has Rabies Shower Foam
Morning Anti-Hangover Invigorating Shower Gel
Afternoon Cover-Up-the-Binge-Drink-Smell Calming Body Spritz
Bitchslap that BO Deoderant



The accompanying Lip Gloss for Lushes line incorporates signature scents which I know will appeal to my comrades in rehab. But the lip glosses are totally compatible with working the program, since they taste like either chalk or Vaseline. So yeah, no chance of catching a buzz by eating the lip gloss, you drunks. Don't lie to me...I know that was your first thought.

Lip Gloss for Lushes:

Beer and Cheeseballs
Margarita Mojo
Martini and Olives
Rum & Coca Cola Rambler
Tequila Tingler
Whiskey, Tango, Foxtrot

We'll be debuting a men's line soon called Get Jiggy.

Let the Games Begin

So the Olympics are starting soon. Meh. Most sports bore me to tears, although I do love when the baseball players crash into each other. And when the soccer players crash into each other "accidentally." And when...

Well, you get the idea.

I am, however, rooting for Nadine Stanton in the shooting contest.

I'll also be rooting for hilarious but non-fatal accidents. It would be politically incorrect for me to root for fatalities.

Okay, wait. Truth must out: I'm done with this political campaign business. I'm tired of watching what I say and who I say it to. Jiggy and I, we had a falling out over the campaign videos he produced. Did you see the one with me running over Obama? Jiggy made one with me doing unspeakable things to McCain, too. Unspeakable. I mean, look, yeah, I'd DONE those things. But not with a wrinkly prune like McCain! I have my standards, after all. I made Jiggy pull that one, but I'm sure it will show up on the Internet someday. Whatever. As for Obama, I've steamrollered plenty of asshats in my day, yeah. But for chrissakes, I give them a decent running start first, and I know when to stop.

Jiggy said I just didn't want this enough, to be hung up on trivial aspects like the videos. And I said to him, "Jigs, you're right. I don't want this. This is your dream, not mine." I knew I'd win any contest, so when he put me on the ticket, it was no big deal. But campaign trails and courting favor? That's not my thing; I don't give a flying fig if people like me. That's part of my charm, after all.

So, the campaign will go on without me. I don't need it. It's for other people to have fun with. I'll make a few obligatory appearances for my adoring public if I feel like it. But it's time to get back to my life again.

So, what, the Olympics? Yeah. Sports fatalities make me giggle. That's how I roll.

AJ - running over the competition

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What say, chipmunk?

You say I look like a chipmunk? Ha!

You know who really looks like a chipmunk?



Check out those strange markings on her cheeks. And those bucked teeth - they are way more pronounced than mine. And that hair. And those chubby, chubby cheeks.

Yeah. Nellie the Chipmunk. Scary, creepy, and inappropriate personified.

And another thing that pisses me off...

Every once in a while something flies up the collective collector ass and people start pointing fingers and saying "Yeah, Jess? Worst selling LE in AG history." I reach new levels of homicidality when they go there.

Diss my book will you? Listen. I, Jess, had the most kick-ass adventure of any LE doll. Dancing, ice skating, horsie riding, surfing and whatever the HELL it is that Lindsey does for fun? Lame. Idiotic. All of it, pathetic. (Well, okay, in the right position, horse riding can do in a pinch since my fingers are welded together).

Now, Toshi is cool and my backpack is brilliant. And I'll thank the haters to stop hating on my Meet outfit. I can rock some orange and pink tie-dye when I've a mind to. People only wish they could fill out my halter top.

But AG, you assholes, where's my pistol, ammo, and dart gun for shooting coatimundi for lunch? Good eats! And how about a little metal cup for drinking pulque? Forget the damned chintzy inflatable kayak; everyone knows you need balsa wood rafts to do some serious exploration of the rainforest rivers. And while I'm on the subject, AJ doesn't need pajamas, thanks for asking. Although imitation being a form of flattery, I'm told I should be pleased that they copied my pajamas for Mia. Whatever, tell me something else. Guess AG never figured a HAT might be a necessity in the RAINFOREST, and some damned long pants, camo being my preference. I had to supply my own bandana, FFS! AG couldn't even cough up a freaking flashlight and some dental floss, the idiots.

I hate them.

You know what I'm sick of?

You know what I'm sick of? This whole Pleasant Company vs. Mattel debate. I know everyone's trying to make it into the next ninjas vs. pirates thing (pirates are clearly superior) but there shouldn't even be a debate there. Mattel is the obvious winner. Why? Because they made me.

And while we're talking about pirates, the Pittsburgh Pirates make me very, very angry. All they do is lose. They sully the good name of "pirate" everywhere they go, the bastards. Argh. Blood pressure rising.

(Yeah, I can hear you now: "But AJ, you don't have a heart! How can your blood pressure rise?" Bugger off, you literal idiots.)

Pressing the Flesh

I've been on the campaign trail the last few days. Jiggy said I need to get out there to press the flesh and coochy-coo some babies. Personally, I think this photo illustrates a better use of baby flesh, but I realize that I am probably in the minority on this issue:




What, you find that offensive? Get over it. People take their dolls way too seriously.

Think about it from my perspective. Would you like to have grubby hands pawing at you, getting strained carrots in your bandana and sticky drool all over your vinyl? Wait, I think I've just described your sex life, haven't I? No wonder you're so sensitive and uptight.

Can't Keep a Secret

Damn it.

I was waiting to announce the news about my campaign at just the right moment, since the element of surprise is so important at times like this. But those snooping, scooping fools at Playthings blew my cover. Damn them. Damn them all.

Jiggy says not to worry about it. The first round of campaign buttons went out last week, so it isn't like I could keep it a secret for much longer.

Speaking of the buttons, hey, I like them a lot. At first I worried that I looked too jowly, but then I remembered that I'm above such petty vanity.

The members over at Playthings want campaign tshirts. Yeah, right. I am made of vinyl and muslin, not money. They think I get paid to be a mod at Playthings? The hell. This is a low budget campaign; go make your own freaking tshirts, people. Personally, I think only Jess dolls should be allowed to wear them, but Jiggy said that's no way to think if I want to win.

Speaking of Jiggy, he's been a tad on the bossy side lately, since he assumed the mantle of my campaign manager. I have to watch him like a hawk. While he was supportive of my rehab, he is still tipping the bottle himself and playing the horses. One of the Playthings members said the button she received included a request for whiskey. Jiggy slipped that in, the fool. I don't know, maybe he isn't The One. I've been eyeing up those Carpatina boys lately. Mmm, mmm, mmm. All nice hard vinyl. Yeah.