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.)