Johnny Cash is awesome, and dead.

I'm here today to talk to you about Johnny Cash and how awesome he is. I just learned he lived on a llama farm in his later years. His favorite llama was named Andy. If it turns out that he ate llama burgers on a regular basis, he might just replace Warren Zevon as my favorite artist. Although it'd be a tough choice because Warren (who is also dead) has a lot of really good songs about murder and headless people with guns and that classic one about lycanthropes and hockey enforcers and Elvis and Rottweilers and dying of cancer and monkeys and, yeah, really good stuff like that.

So AJ you ask, what about Johnny Cash? Well, for starters, WHY HASN'T SOMEONE CLONED HIM YET? (Note: the same applies to Warren Zevon.) Or, alternately, why is money being wasted on the cyrogenically frozen head of Walt Disney and not the frozen head of Johnny Cash? I mean, who do we need more in this world? The Man in Black, or a guy who animates furry woodland creatures for a living? Right, no debate, the answer is The Man in Black. Unless you're Lamie and are lobbying for the first animated motion picture produced by American Girl, in which case Walt is your hero. But trust me, Lamie, there are hundreds of other animators of furry woodland creatures from whom you can choose. Be original and go make a pr0n movie with furry woodland creatures. Oh wait, that's Snow White. Never mind.

While we're on the subject of furry woodland creatures, let me just ask you people: how many does one doll need? At last count, Lamie has five and even six if you count the fact that she stole and molested my Toshi. The count doesn't even include whatever's coming with the second set of releases. Tell me, does she really need a rabbit (which, if she lets it loose in the garden, will soon turn into a hundred rabbits); a raccoon (menace) doing an Oscar the Grouch impression; a cross-eyed owl; a badly-made giant, mutant squirrel (vicious beasts that no one should try to domesticate); a constipated fox; AND that horrifying offspring of a union between a midget orangutan and a traffic cone?

Seriously, that squirrel? Is the take-home message going to be "Beware: Radioactive waste is bad; causes giant, mutant squirrels who want to bite your face off"?

Well crap, someone just poked their head into the AGPT offices and said I'm supposed to make some resolutions since it's a new year and all. Yeah, I don't think I need to change anything, especially considering the service I'm doing for you losers by providing this blog AND grammar tips on AGPT. Plus, my mere existence is inspirational for all.

Still, I do have an off-the cuff to-do list for 2010:

-Do swear at Cousin Antonin more. Do not agree to edit his memoirs.
-Remember: Beer before liquor, not liquor before beer.
-Test cattle prod on anyone who uses 'alright' instead of 'all right." Or 'alot' instead of 'a lot'. Full body tasing for those who can't get the your-you're distinction. Death for the there-their-they're idiots.
-Come up with really good April Fool's joke for AGPT. Oh, wait, I did that last year. Top that, suckers.
-Raise profile of TLAPD. Use cattle prod on anyone caught not talking like a pirate on TLAPD.
-Use cattle prod more on that one mod. Also, use taser. And heavy artillery if called for.
--Use cattle prod, taser, and heavy artillery more, period.
-Clone Johnny Cash and Warren Zevon. Make Warren Cash clone, as an experiment. He can be my manservant if it turns out well.

Lamie.

So an advance American Girl catalogue arrived at the Playthings offices last week with Lanie Holland and her camperload of crap plastered all over it. I could have posted photos from it onto the forum, but suck it, I already did my community service bit by posting the announcement about that Julie: An American Girl Musical. So yeah, I took the catalogue into the back room, ripped the Lanie centerfold out for my dart board (Chrissa was in shreds anyway) and decoupaged the trash can with the rest of the photos. Then I kicked the can into the windows a couple times and threw it at that one mod for good measure.

Listen up, AG. You need to go do unspeakable things to your corporate self with a gardening hoe.

BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO MY TOSHI????

The hell? You touched my monkey? You dipped him in carrot juice and pumped him up with steroids? I'm going to fucking kill whomever did this to my monkey. Monkeying around with my monkey, not cool. No one touches my monkey unless I say they can my touch my monkey, do you hear me?

FFS, Lanie's collection is nothing but an ugly blonde version of what mine should have been. She got the premium accessories because AG failed with my collection and I'm here to haunt them about it for the rest of their unnatural days. Such dickweeds. Need I remind you people that my motif was butterflies? That's right, and my color palette was orange and pink with outdoorsy green leaf accents.

So that sundress Lanie has on, it belongs to me. And her camping gear? You bastards, AG, I needed that stuff out on the archaeological dig site in Belize. Tree hammock, my muslin ass. And I see you gave Lanie a goddamn hat but left me to cook my brains out in the hot Central American sun! But apparently it's okay for Lanie to get skin cancer elsewhere on her vinyl torso, since bitch has no sunscreen. I like to fantasize that Lanie won't last a whole year because she'll be retired early for the chemo treatments. Hell, she already has the wig.

Whatever, sure, Lanie has a lot of stuff. But she has no common sense so far as I can tell, what with cavorting with rabies-prone wild animals. Seriously, who the hell is going to pay $28 for canned raccoon? Yeah, right, the same chumps who will shell out $34 for plushie animals whose genetic origins have something to do with the radioactive waste from Pennsylvania's Three Mile Island. AG tried to keep the random plushie animal theme going but nothing is going to top random llamas, nothing. And Lanie, yeah, we get that she loves nature. But I already told you that sheep fear her for her nature-loving ways. You mark my words about that.

However, the irony of the non-biodegradable plastic recycling bin never fails to amuse me. And I do have dibs on Lanie's stash, so all is not lost here.

And let me tell you about that camper. Yeah, the Entourage is tricking it out right now for Jess and Jiggy's Incredible Adventure. When we're done with it that thing will have a wet bar; waterbed; state-of-the-art subwoofers; home theater with 5.1 surround sound; kickass ground effects, spinners, and hydraulics; a Dominatrix-inspired roof rack; a priest hole for when the cops come; mirrored shower stall with pulsating adjustable shower sprays and nozzles; 24 hour catering service on call (I will need a George Foreman grill, and by that I mean George will travel with us and do my grilling); sidecar for Toshi; greenhouse on the roof for growing herb/s; and optional warp drive. And no matter what they cost, I want railroad air horns and a military spot.

Because that's how I roll, bitch.

Pervs on Playthings

Yeah, you, I'm looking at you. That's right, all of you, talking about gifting yourselves so you 'peak' in dollgasm, and then heading off to shave your Coconuts.

Seriously, fixated much? Yeah, I know, you only wish your lives were as interesting as mine.

(Here's a hint: shaving is quicker, but waxing is much more hygienic and longer-lasting. Your Coconuts will thank you for waxing them).

Bingo.

The Playthings mods had a group photo taken for their holiday card but they 'forgot' to tell me about it. So that's why I'm not in it, in case you were wondering.

Oh excuse me...what's that you say, you can't log onto Playthings? Yeah, that's because revenge is a dish best served by tattooed vinyl goddesses. The mods shut down the forum for maintenance to undo the damage I did after they invoked my wrath by excluding me from the photo.

They never seem to learn not to mess with me.

Anyway, once they get things figured out and the forum is enabled back online, you can start playing AG Collector Bingo. Your card is HERE. When you get a bingo, make a post in whatever thread you're in; the post should read BINGO. That's it, nothing else. Just write BINGO. It will confuse the hell out of the fools who don't bother to read my blog.

The Real Scoop on GOTY 2010 Lanie Holland

Those towels? Yeah, they're for you people to clean the hell up after yourselves as a result of yesterday's wankfest on Playthings over alleged Lanie cover art. I'm not touching that hot mess.

Seriously people, you're collectively delusional if you thought I would let any other GOTY have the kick-ass weaponry and accessories that AG was creating, as described in my recent blog entry. Oh hell noes! I kicked that doll and her treasure trove to the ground...and that's why you're left with Barbie in a polo shirt.

But hey, all is not lost. You people are so wound up, you can't see past the color of her face to the very best part.



What? Can't quite make it out? So here:



Yeah, Lanie 'Holland.'

Because it's totes legal there.

My Holiday Wish List

Yeah, yeah, yeah, so Thanksgiving, Black Friday and Cyber Monday have come and gone. While the rest of you were stuck in the 80's channeling your inner Gordon Gekko, I was doing something far more enjoyable and productive: celebrating Naked Wednesday.

Actually, it segued into a week long event. Once we'd cleaned up the marshmallows, collapsed the trampolines, and paid hush money to the Shriners, it was time to complete my annual Holiday Wish List.

Of course, it couldn't be that easy, not with my moderating responsibilities on Playthings. Damn you people, you anger me to distraction! Endless pages of wank on Playthings about stained sex toy AG dolls on eBay. Also, advice for sewing up doll crotches! FFS, what? Sewing up doll crotches!? That is wrong, wrong, and wronger. It is also not in keeping with my Campaign for Anatomical Correctness. (BTW, the sex toy doll on eBay? Yeah, that was Jiggy's).

Then I find out Time Magazine Online raised Rebecca's profile by including her on its Top Ten Oddball Online News Stories HERE by making her seem bad-ass, seeing as how she shares a name with some Canadian arsonist fugitive. WTF, really, arson? Seriously, that's what you call bad-ass? Yeah, I don't think so. Most Canadians of my acquaintance are not arsonists per se, although I'll grant you that they routinely burn things to keep warm and sometimes ownership issues are overlooked. Time's fact-checkers scored even more negative points with an aside about Gwen (Remember her, of the Homeless Doll Wank?) being from the Great Depression.

Yo, listen up, Time Magazine Online: you suck.

Also sucking? Ad companies that don't screen the ads they farm out, so that they then spread viruses on the computers of unsuspecting message forum users. You totally suck, ad companies. Thankfully, I am around to help Proboards sort out that mess.

On top of all that, I've had to deal with Dick Cheney quitting his job as Man Servant. Sure we all saw that coming, but he could have given more notice. I've had to pull Jiggy away from his regular Jiggy Duties to cover Man Servant Detail. Jiggy has many talents, but Man Servant is simply not his thing. He dumped half a box of ammo into a bag of clothing meant to go to the thrift store, and then some Playthings member found it. (Better her than Dick Cheney, I suppose).

Fortunately, things are finally settling down. Yeah, sure, I still need a new Man Servant, but these things have a way of falling into place.

On to the important things. My Holiday Wish List is as follows:

1. In the wake of the week-long Naked Wednesday festivities, I need to put in a request for a case of this stuff for the Entourage and the llamas:

Use your imaginations as to why. Wait, no, belay that. You'd only frighten yourselves with the possibilities. Just never you mind why.

2. Nothing says holiday cheer like shiny new weaponry and implements of torture in one's Christmas stocking. I would make good use of anything from THIS PLACE.

3. I'm sticking with a weaponry theme as I redecorate the condo guest room, so I think this would be a lovely addition:


As would the Prickly Pear Chair:



However, the latter needs some modifications. Seriously, where are the prickles? Also, the color is all wrong. I can make it work, though, so go ahead and throw it into your carts.

4. My sworn enemy Billie Mays died before I could use one of these horse heads on him, but trust me, there are other sworn enemies. So, I need this:



5. Logistics can be tricky with a busy Entourage like mine. Until I can get them all in one place for a Naked Tattoo Party, these slip-on tattoo sleeves will come in handy.



6. I love me some fried eggs in the morning. This Gun Egg Fryer from Urban Trend will start my day off right:



7. Every well-equipped kitchen needs these Ketchup and Mustard Dispensers. I'd like one for each member of the Entourage, personalized with their initials.



8. This will break up the monotony of those endless AG consultations I'm called in on, and has possibilities for harrassment of unsuspecting Playthings mods.



9. Of course, I'll need a half dozen or so of these shirts:



Also these:



10. These Godzilla ornaments are precious. I need five dozen for my holiday tree.



11. Playthings people are always lamenting about how AG needs to create Science accessories for the dolls. I'm totally with them on that; bring it on. First order of business is this Cocktail Chemistry Set, because yeah, I'm all about the Science.



12. My good friend Dave Barry profiled these Metal Detecting Sandals recently. Although I'm loath to remove my ass-kicking boots, I'm with him on the utility of these sandals in uncovering pirate booty. So yeah, I'll have them.



13. I need these bolt ear buds, so I can be Franken-stylin' when I listen to my tunes.



And these:



Jiggy wants these:



14. I actually don't want this educational Sperm Snow Globe for myself, but I thought I'd throw it on the list for those of you who are still obsessing about that stained sex toy doll on eBay.



15. Darth Vader Build-a-Bear, want. Do NOT fuck with me by sneaking in the Jonas Brothers voice chip.



16. Lastly, I need more Hummel figurines to add to my collection.


I coat the insides with plastic and use them for jello shot molds.

Ho.

What Really Goes on in the Archives

All you whiners who said that poor dear Samantha and Nellie and Kirsten would die of boredom in the cruel, cruel AG archives? Yeah, suck it.

Because from what I can tell from the olde eBay photo gallery, your Sammy-kins is just beginning to get her groove on.

Peek-a-boo!



Losing inhibitions is a good thing. Samantha's damned proud of being an American Girl these days.



Princess never looked better. Love the tat.



Lay lady, lay, lay across your big brass bed. Just don't lay on the pizza, party girl. Also, that is totally a vibrator between her legs.



Ah, but sometimes a doll can go too far:



Surgery is indicated here, but hey, that also means she gets to score some kick-ass drugs. By the way, while I am not responsible for the navel and nips action in the above photo, my Campaign for Anatomical Correctness takes the credit. Navel and nips FTW.

Yeah, you people only wish you were archived.

American Girl Lanie Revealed

OMG, all this chatter about the GOTY for 2010 and it's only the beginning of November! Clearly, you people need me to set you straight sorting fact from fiction. So here's the deal: yes, Lanie is in fact a girl of color. Magnificent, glorious color. Heart-stopping technicolor, even. Here's a preview:



What, you were expecting her to be green? Enough with the "green" rumors, people. Even AG wouldn't be that obvious. No, no, no. Lanie loves Nature the way that Sarah Palin does: shot from a helicopter, gutted and skinned on the spot.

In fact, rumor has it that Lanie likes Nature a tad too much, you know what I'm sayin'? Seriously, sheep live in terror of the very mention of her name. Even my llama herd seems wary of her, although llamas are pretty much game for anything. Lanie's proclivities in this area reportedly stem from a failed experiment in the name of the Campaign for Anatomical Correctness. Trust AG to get that wrong. And pity the poor sheep.

Here are her plot summaries:

Lanie
Lanie reads a book about Ethiopa and decides she doesn't want to go there, so she books a helicopter tour of Hawaii instead. Along the way, she accidentally harpoons a Right Whale and destroys a coral reef. Fleeing outraged environmentalists, Lanie goes on the lam but doesn't really get the concept. She soon learns that sheep don't appreciate her advances. Chaos ensues, and it's up to Lanie to make her peace with Mother Nature before it's too late.

Lanie's Real Adventure
Lanie meets a sprightly leprechaun who takes her back to the time of the Bubonic Plague. She learns about the importance of good hygiene after watching 60% of the world's population wither and die. She launches a Hand-Washing Awareness Campaign at her school but it fails because her fellow students are too buzzed from drinking anti-bacterial lotion. Lanie learns a hard lesson about survival of the fittest and decides to take matters into her own hands....

Lanie comes with a full collection of Nature accessories: muzzle-loading rifle, crossbow, laser sights, range finder, machete, taxidermy kit, a tree stand, and of course a helicopter (batteries not included). There is also a rumored plastic recycling bin and compost heap. I hear those were made in limited quantities because, you know, the irony of plastic compost is that plastic is made of petroleum in a not-very-Earth-friendly process. There were the predictable protests, so those latter two items are sure to sell out quickly and land on eBay at jacked-up prices later.

Lanie doesn't come with much of a wardrobe to speak of, just a camo Meet Outfit with hip waders. She does have a pet, though:



No, that's not Karl Lagerfeld (although perhaps he was the inspiration). That's Sugar Daddy Ken. He's Lanie's pet and he always does her bidding. She keeps him in the front pocket of her hunting jacket.

All in all, I have to say that I approve of Lanie. She's not as awesome as me, of course. But AG seems to have learned from the mistakes it made with my collection and has given her some kick-ass accessories. We'll see if they make the final cut.

Let Me Explain This To You

I am told that there was a great deal of confusion about my Halloween contest, in that you people couldn't grasp what exemplified Scary, Creepy, and Inappropriate.

It's really quite simple:



Keep this in mind for next year, will you? I don't want to have to explain it again. Those of you who got it, you have my compliments. (What, you were expecting prizes? Yeah, I don't think so. Bask in my commendation. That's prize enough).

Boo

Yeah that's me, letting my hair down, pretending to be a poltergeist pumpkin or some damned dumb thing. I did it on a dare. I won the dare. Now I own my own yacht. Sometimes dressing like a pumpkin and using cheesy bad Photoshop effects can yield large returns. Try it sometime. Just don't tell me about it, because I don't care what you do.

Except this: starting now, submit unto me your Scary, Creepy, and Inappropriate doll costume photos via email at agplaythings@yahoo.com or via PM on the Playthings forum. I will post them in this space as they come in. We all need a healthy dose of scary, creepy, and inappropriate in these saccharine times so, yeah, cough it up.

So, entries:

______________________________________________________

1.
Supernonamegirl, going for the Trifecta. And doing a damned fine job of it, too; that is all that Scary, Creepy, and Inappropriate should be. Welcome to the Archive, Kirsten.
_______________________________________________________

2.
Sail Away's Trailer Trash Doll is Inappropriate.
________________________________________________________

3.
Whit5733's Cereal Killer. She says Inappropriate, but I think it covers Creepy as well. AG dolls remain a good source of fiber.
_________________________________________________________

And now, for a musical interlude: CLICK.
_________________________________________________________

4.
Alexandra A.'s Creepy Samara from The Ring.

You are a child's plaything.

People have asked me to comment about Christian Louboutin claiming that Barbie has fat ankles. That's worth about two seconds of my time, seeing as how Barbie doesn't actually HAVE ankles, fat or otherwise. She just has stumps at the end of her legs that folks anthropomorphically refer to as feet. So I can't really bring myself to care much about this. I mean, have you taken a look at American Girl dolls lately? They have fat, stubby, non-proportional arms. Like, T-Rex arms. And that's okay, because they're JUST DOLLS (author excluded, of course). At no point did American Girl ever claim to be manufacturing scale models of human anything.

Seriously people, it is time to stop elevating your playthings to the level of blistering social commentary. I'm looking at you, Homeless Gwen Haters, because OMFG, you're idiots.

I've read quite enough about Tabloid Columnist's rant about Homeless Gwen. It was a lame rant to begin with; no one rants as well as me. This is my opinion on the issue, insofar as it touches Playthings:



Gwen-haters, listen up. Gwen? Is a doll. AG never marketed her as a Homelessness Poster Child. She's a secondary character whose story includes a personal experience of homelessness, which is there to illustrate to little girls how fucking cruel people can be to one another. And you, Tabloid Columnist, have succeeded in giving a real life example of said cruelty with your screed about homeless political indoctrination. Apparently not only are your undies in a bunch, but you've got a big old stick up your ass, too. I can't tell if that illustrates how big an asshole you are or have, but no matter, I think it's pretty much the same thing.

To those of you who think AG ought to donate proceeds from sales of Gwen to programs targeting homelessness, yes, you have a fine point. Petition AG about that. But remember that AG does in fact donate millions of dollars and dolls to charities, one of which is national non-profit homeless housing group HomeAid. AG is not quite the soul-less corporate entity bloggers would like to portray it as in their black-and-white, good versus evil online worlds. Of course, it's not as much fun to rip on something when you have all the facts, right?

Look, don't want your little girl exposed to Gwen's story? Fine, don't buy it. It's that simple. Just don't believe everything you read on the Interwebs. Tabloid Columnist's sole agenda was to sell papers and get her name in print; don't even try to tell me her noble mission is to Protect The Children. I don't have children, but if I did, I'd sure as hell not want someone else dictating to me what they can and can't read or what I should or shouldn't buy for them. No, her mission was Attention Whoring, plain and simple. Not that American Girl is complaining much about Gwen-gate, mind you, because Tabloid Columnist managed to pimp their product line just fine. Even bad PR is PR. Notice what little AG has had to say on the matter, while their cash registers keep on going k'ching? Right. They couldn't buy this kind of exposure.

What's funny to me is that while Gwen is homeless due to no fault of her own, the canon historical characters AG created are all pretty much dumb asses. For example:

--Kaya abandoned babysitting her younger siblings to race her horse.
--Felicity snuck out at night wearing some random dude's pants, steals a horse, and does this repeatedly without her parents catching on.
--Kirsten adopts a wild raccoon who burns down the family home. Also, she gets chased by a bear.
--Samantha sneaks around New York City and harbors fugitives in her attic.
--Rebecca climbs to the top of a Ferris Wheel to rescue her cousin instead of letting, you know, professional firemen do it. Because what's the point of that?
--Kit sneaks out at night, goes to a dangerous Hobo Jungle, gets arrested, busts out of jail and walks a railroad track looking to get...what, laid? I don't know. She lost me at Hobo Jungle.
--Somehow escaping the clutches of the Hobo Jungle, Kit and Ruthie agree to keep secrets about Kit's family going bankrupt because they totally know they can solve the problem themselves.
--Julie lives in San Francisco in the 70s and never meets a gay person, never smokes pot, and does not wear a Dead tshirt. Tell me, how is any of this possible?

Molly is just a brat, and Josefina is too much of a coward to do anything other than sneak into town with her older cowardly sister. And Addy, well, I guess when one goes through escaping slavery, it lessens one's desire to do stupid, reckless things. So she gets a free pass for having a spine of steel. But yeah, the rest of them are sneaks and idiots. And YOU want to complain about Gwen? Well, far be it from me to be an apologist for American Girl, but I'd like to point out that toy manufacturers have done far, far more gauche and offensive things in the name of product development. Oreo Barbie, anyone? Obama Sock Monkeys? Happy Family Midge with detachable fetus? Nope, not making those up: LINK

I trust I have had the last word on Homeless Gwen. It's time to get a grip and start worrying about the important things. Like this:



Crass exploitation of poor helpless chocolate addicts! They don't even try to hide it! Stop the presses!

(By the way, those of you participating in that Halloween doll treats exchange on Playthings? I would like to request that you make wee Rice Krispies treats with mini razorblades in them. It would bring back my fond memories of the 70's if you did. Thanks).

One more week until my Scary, Creepy, and Inappropriate Halloween Costume Contest.

The REAL Halloween Costume Contest

Playthings posted its lame-ass Halloween Costume Contest categories this week.

My contest is so much better.

PM me on Playthings, or email me at agplaythings@yahoo.com to submit your entries for SCARY, CREEPY, and INAPPROPRIATE doll costume beginning the week of October 26th through 30th.

Your costume can be scary, or creepy, or inappropriate...or you could go for the trifecta. I don't care. Just slap it on an AG doll or AG doll-clone and take a decent photo.

But don't dick around with fancy Photochop effects (I can tell from some of the pixels and from seeing quite a few shops in my time). Do crop and adjust lighting. I don't care if you're a member of Playthings or not; will take all comers. I'll post all the photos here on my blog on Halloween itself, and we'll vote. Details about that later. Just get scary, creepy, and inappropriate now.

See? Totes better contest. Get to work.

Dr. Fail

Yeah, Dr. Fail McGraw. That's how we say it around here.

Today, with little fanfare, Dr. Fail teamed up with American Girl to devote a show to teaching girls about important things they need to know. At first I thought this to be a most excellent development, because it's high time network television devoted an hour to the proper usage of the English language.

But alas, 'twas not to be.

Because you see, Fail's agenda was about tackling "the most important issues facing tweens. Parents, if your young daughter is asking questions about her body, bullies or the birds and the bees, don’t miss this special show! And, for the first time in Dr. Phil history, the audience is filled with girls! Find out what the younger generation has to say!"

Bodies, bullies, birds, and bees, boo-yaah. I'll give him points for the alliteration. But WTF, for the first time the audience is "filled with girls?"

Really?

And I don't think we're talking about Girls Gone Wild here. That, I could understand.

What kind of promotional angle is that? See here, Dr. Fail, you've set a dangerous precedent that you are going to be hard-pressed to top. I can see it now: "For the first time in history, the audience is filled with midgets!" Then the next week "For the first time in history, the audience is filled with ponies!" And it escalates: "For the first time in history, the audience is filled with Martians! Pope clones wearing 3D glasses! Dragons!" And then it turns tragic when the studio catches fire from dragon sneezes because everyone knows that dragons are allergic to bald asshats. Everyone except you, Dr. Fail. You could have prevented this tragedy by not populating your audience with young girls. Or dragons.

Let's call this for what it is: shameless ratings pandering for Dr. Fail and positive PR spin for AG in the midst of Gwen-Gate. It was terribly ill-conceived (As were you, Dr. Fail. Your parents told me all about it but tried to swear me to secrecy because they knew the truth would traumatize you. Surprise!). If CBS needed a cutting-edge ratings boost, they should have called me. Not only is the mere mention of my name sure to increase the karma of all who utter it, but FFS, what does Dr. Fail know about being a ten year old girl?

Oh wait, right, he's an expert. Or at least he plays one on TV.

I'll give him this much: Dr. Fail is an expert in hiring staffers who know how to stick cute text onto videos. And he's really good at showing his age by using all kinds of old-timey expressions. "Greasers"? "Pencil-necks"? (BTW, Grease? Terrible movie. Much as I love leather, don't put it on if it's not your thing. Especially not if some guy tells you to do it.)

But here's a plus: Dr. Fail did cite Pink as a positive role model for girls. I approve of that. Girls everywhere should be encouraged to be like Pink and kick John Mayer in the balls. The world would be a far, far better place if that were done more often.

On Dr. Fail's show, we got the typical "OMG my daughter/ZOMG but my mom!" tripe. Listen up, you whiners. The appropriate age for Facebook and Myspace is age 13 or older. Not going on 13, not looks like 13, but actually 13. Parents, don't permit your tweenage daughter to lie about her age to join online forums. Seriously, you suck if you do that. And yes, I'm looking at you, parents who say it's okay for your doll-loving underage child to join Playthings and/or who don't monitor your kids' online habits. I'm tired of chasing down your little girls and giving them the slapdown because you can't be bothered to do your own damned jobs.

What really pisses me off here is that while I'll grant you that Dr. Fail's AG Expert Person did cite the Facebook age as 13, no one there bothered to mention COPPA, the Federal Trade Commission Children's Online Privacy Protection Act. That's only the federal law that protect children's privacy and safety online. We don't make this shit up, you know? It's the LAW. Cousin Antonin could tell you all about COPPA but we're not speaking at the mo' seeing as how I'm still pissed at him for not including me in the acknowledgments for his new book. I edited the hell out of that book. You wouldn't think Cousin Antonin would be capable of such chatspeak. I blame his friend Clarence.

Anyway, after flapping around some more about "where are the parents?" Dr. Fail sold his message that we should all stick together. That's all well and good but let me tell you, I'm not going to sit in a circle, hold hands and sing Kumbaya with just anyone.

Truth is, you learn to stick up for yourself when you get knocked down enough, and you learn to stick up for those who can't speak until they find their own voices. And that advice to "speak up?" Yeah, well, don't kid yourselves; saying it doesn't make it so. It's not that easy. The learning curve is wicked. I write this knowing that there are those out there who think I am a bully, but in reality I am the Anti-Bully, the Robin Hood of Bullies, the Squasher of Asshats and Puncturer of Platitudinarians.

At the end of the day, it comes down to this: if Dr. Fail knew anything about anything, he'd be giving all the girls Jess instead of Chrissa. After all, it's but one small step away from Chrissa to Gwen the Homeless Doll.

But that's another topic for another day.

What Should Really Happen to Stupid Questions on Ask a Stupid Question Day

On a day like this, when I've been shut up in the Playthings offices answering stupid question upon stupid question, it's nice to know that there are such talented assholes in the world. CLICK LINK

Yeah, that was for you, all you people with your stupid questions. If that dude could catch your queries, he'd have my undying gratitude.

Oh by the way, here are a few that the Playthings mods (speaking of assholes) said I couldn't post on their forum.

Q: Why are my pincurls SO hard? Felicity
A: Viagra.

Q: Why did I not come with pincurls? Elizabeth
A: Because your boyfriend needs to work on his technique.

Q: Can I give you a make over? Nicki
A: This is an exceedingly stupid question to ask because it will not only result in the creation of several anatomically correct orifices on your muslin body, but the plugging-up of said orifices with, well, ask Richard Gere. I'd include a visual but even I can't submit the Banff Squirrel to such torture.

Q: What is the ratio of dogs playing the fiddle to cows jumping over the moon?
A: I am not one to contemplate the ratios of masturbating dogs to anything. But hey, I'm not judging. Whatever floats your boat.

September 2009 Releases

Once again, AG doll forum members followed the usual "OMG NEW DOLL SHIT" schedule:

Day 1:
Stay up all night in anticipation of new dolly shit. Fall asleep five minutes before site is updated.

Day 2:
"OMG COFFEE. OMG NEW SHIT! YAY! SQUEE!" Start 14 new doll shit threads until I do the official smackdown.

Day 3:
"I'm bored with this stuff. The new shit sucks. When are we getting new shit?"

Well, guess what? I'm not bored yet; I'm still laughing at this stuff and I think I will be for a while yet to come. I do have some questions, though. First there's Julie's Jumpsuit:



OMGWTFBBQ. Look at that thing. Did someone's Satanic turquoise llama throw up on Julie?



That's some serious Satanic llama puke fabric. Oh by the way, Earring Magic Ken called for Julie.



He wants his cock ring back.

Next, we have the revised Flip Chair.



So let me get this straight. After the Satanic turquoise llama pukes all over Julie's outfit, it pukes on the old flip chair? No thank you. No self-respecting doll will put her pristine muslin arse on llama puke.

Then we have the Fancy Flowers Outfit.



Why lookee there! I do believe we have finally identified Coconut's true calling: shrug fur. Note to AG: above doll needs to see a chiropractor due to serious neck misalignment.

Sweet Melody Outfit? I'm not singing any sweet melodies, and neither is this doll:



What the hell happened here? Did she get dressed in the dark? Because seriously, I can find no other explanation as to why someone would pair these pieces together. Also, I suspect AG raided Michael Jackson's closet for those Moon Boots, opportunistic bastards that they are.

Now, I want to direct your attention to these new dolls.



This appears to be the Rise of the Ginger Army as prophesied by the Book of Nellie. I have it on good authority that they quote the Andy Griffith show like Bible verses, seeing as how Ronnie Howard is their Messiah and all.

But lo, your salvation is at hand:



A new !Jess. Eventually we will achieve face mold domination. But none of us will be wearing the Penguin PJs & Robe:



Tell me, AG, why does this doll have a penguin growing out of her armpit? It also looks like AG killed the stars of Happy Feet in order to keep dolly feet happy. My doll feet, they are not happy, no matter how many penguins you try to shove on them, AG, so shove your penguins somewhere else.

But more importantly, will the aforementioned Ginger Army be clad entirely in themed pajamas? Because I swear every time AG has a new release, they give us pajamas. The casual observer would be forgiven for thinking that AG was tying to outfit an army. C'mon, AG. Enough jammies. I keep asking you people for leather, fishnets, and more variety in ass-kicking boots. Cough it up already.

The most wonderful day of the year

Arr, me hearties, it be Talk like a Pirate Day once again. Note that it also be Rosh Hashanah, so yeah, Shanah tovah to yon Jewish mates. Ye lot can feel free to sprinkle some derogatory Yiddish terms in with yer pirate-speak, savvy?

Listen up, ye, I don't give a flying Dutchman if it is politically incorrect to glorify piracy. Cut me an effin' break and pluck that oar out of yer asses. This be for fun, not glorification. I know bloody well that pirates didn't swash around like Errol Flynn or swish around like me pal Johnny Depp's Cap'n Jack Sparrow. And me bein' the international woman of reknown that I am, you can rest assured that I know far more than you do about the lack of a functioning central government that has pushed the Somalian pirates to lawlessness. So do not presume to fill my message box with yer triflin' lectures, ye lice-infested bilious mothers o'spitless llamas.

There now. Off for some mo' grog, rum, and whate'er else I can guzzle. Carry on.