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.