A Movement about Saige Copeland

Overheard at the 7-11 today:  "Ass pimples are the worst."

I can think of worse things than ass pimples. But it occurred to me that "Ass pimples are the worst" would make a sublime Facebook status update. Because you know, it's all fun and games until you get an ass pimple. I'm speaking hypothetically, of course, as no such blemish has ever sullied my muslin ass.

I can't help but think that if enough people posted variations of "Ass pimples are the worst" as their Facebook status updates, we could start a movement. An ass pimple Movement.  It could save the world, because people would be so flummoxed by this that they'd forget about arguing on the Internet. So I am personally advocating a Facebook status update Movement about ass pimples.

What? Look, there are certainly worse things to take responsibility for in life, like perpetrating the marketing of Saige Copeland, American Girl's latest poser Girl of the Year character, on the doll-buying public.

It's that time of year again, so do let's talk about this. Saige Copeland arrived on the AG scene on January 1, 2013 with all the fanfare of a whoopee cushion. That's thanks to adult collectors who spoiled her debut because they had nothing better to do than sit around all day (getting ass pimples) trying to crack (ha ha, ass reference) AG's website for clues about new products that would come out two weeks later.  And oh my, what a shock they had because (brace yourselves) the collection  was revealed to be (*drum roll*) Expensive and Boring!  Plus the doll has an eminently forgettable face mold (Read: not The Jess).

However, she does have a hot air balloon:

Now based on my history, I know you people expect me to trick this baby out and use it for hot air balloon drag racing. Granted, that has some appeal. I could also use it to spy on Cousin Antonin. Since he believes anything spotted from normal aircraft is fair game for criminal prosecution, he might become so excited at the sight of the floating hot air balloon outside his window that he'd croak right there. Cousin Antonin's sudden hot air balloon-provoked death would in turn annoy the hell out of Slate, since its Supreme Court Justice Death Calculator has predicted that he'll be around until 2017. This seems like a win-win situation, killing Cousin Antonin and pissing off an online current affairs and culture magazine, all in one fell swoop.  It's not often that I can annoy both conservatives and liberals at the same time.

But then David Duchovny reminded me of the best potential usage of this accessory with three simple words: Mile High Club.

Yeah. Hittin' it, American Girl-style.

Of course, Jiggy is planning to use the balloon for drug running across the Mexican border. Fortunately the set comes with binoculars, map, pilot's log book, camera, and a messenger bag "that's roomy enough to store everything inside."  Yeah, so it's pretty much all included, although a GPS would have been nice because who the hell uses maps these days?

All must be revealed:  Saige's real name is Oregano Tokeland. And I hereby claim the record for most pot references in a single AG-themed blog entry.  Yay, me.

Oregano comes with some other stuff, like a posable horse.  I'm okay with that since little girls can use it to kick the other lame Girls of the Year dolls in the ass. There's also a painting set that Jiggy covets. He's in a post-modern phase right now, but he also likes painting naked women and, occasionally, himself. I mean his body, not self-portraits. I'm not sure there's enough paint in this set for what he plans so hopefully replacement parts will be available.

As for the rest of the collection? Yeah, Nicki Phlegmball Fleming called from 2007 Girl of the Year Purgatory and said she wants her clothes and theme back. I'm pretty sure that in addition to boring re-tread, we're dealing with corporate espionage here. Apparently spies from AG development team snuck in and stole Godzilla's Pendleton blanket vomit to make that Sweater Outfit.  It's really hard to prevent Godzilla from chewing on Pendleton blankets. Don't believe me? Come over here and try it sometime. 


And excuse me, but are these gold lame cowboy boots? Oh wow, that adds a true note of authenticity to the New Mexico theme. On the other hand, between this pair and Cecile's New Orleans pimp boots, a fashion forward collector can outfit the entire Ginger Army (whose Rise was prophesied in the Book of Nellie) in golden footwear to bring out the highlights in their hair.

No sane person will purchase any of this crap. Of course, that means adult AG collectors will proclaim it all drool-worthy and snap it up.

Oh, and in an attempt to make this year's doll culturally relevant, AG saddled her with a story about preserving arts education in schools. I approve of this and of course Jiggy's all over that concept.  It's important to keep your products culturally relevant for maximum marketability; I'll have to think about that as I promote my Ass Pimple Status Update Movement. For instance, if an update can tie into the up-coming Hollywood awards season, so much the better since Facebook's promo bots will push it to the top of reader feeds. So, something like "That Lincoln movie was so long it gave me an ass pimple!" would work well, I'm thinking. Yeah, I know Lincoln had enough troubles without being associated with ass pimples but one does what one must when dealing with marketing, because it's all about the bottom line. Substance and style do not interbreed.

Which is why AG gave you people Oregano Tokeland's uninspired collection to look at for the rest of the year. Have fun with that. 

Holiday Gift List, post-Mayan apocalypse edition

Many of you got your undies in a bunch because I didn't post my annual holiday wishlist last year.  I don't see why you should be bothered by this. I mean, I took a chance and trusted to my readership's tastes. That I received 17 sets of Dearfoam slippers, 21 pairs of Isotoner gloves, and a Snuggie was to be expected.  I did not find the Dearfoam slippers to be worthy of comment but the Isotoner gloves tipped the WTF-o-meter for thoughtlessness (I'm a doll with fused fingers, FFS). The Snuggie was somewhat acceptable since it was festooned with skulls. I donated all that to my local homeless shelter, except for the Snuggie which I gave to Godzilla. I shrugged off your feeble collective attempts at gift-giving without guidance as no better than I could have predicted. It was certainly less than the worst-case scenarios. I mean, I was expecting cartoons of Ruthie Meet shoes.

Anyway, I know you losers need help so let me pry you from your greedy grasping discussions about the over-priced doll crap you want to fill your houses with and prod your nascent altruism with this list of Things AJ Recommends as Kick-Ass Gifts in 2012. Yeah, and STFU about me posting this on December 23rd because I know damn well that you've just started your shopping. 

First on the list is this lovely item from your friends at Think Geek:

That's a Tauntaun Sleeping Bag, and it's officially licensed by LucasFilmTM because you can't be snuggling up in an unlicensed tauntaun. That's illegal in some states. Jiggy has one of these bags out in his workshop that he catches quick Jiggy-naps in when he's working on his Burning Man installations. The bag, while bulky, is portable enough that he can tote it around and use it to pass out in wherever he wants to. Jiggy's bag has a custom entrail-slit body-warming feature, but you'll pay extra for that.


Next up is a home decor item:  

Nice detailing, but it'd have been cooler if he'd been stabbed with a knitting needle.

Speaking of which:

Pirate Knitting, CafePress for the win.  I want to see all the single dollies wearing these in 2013. 

Some of you may still have the NWTF umbrella I put on my gift list back a few years ago. If you don't, you should. Not a day passes when I don't say "Now, WTF?" multiple times and I'm sure if you read the AG Playthings message forum that phrase is part of your regular vocabulary as well. Buy this item and you can punctuate your NWTF utterances by cutting a bitch in style, or at the very least perfecting your computer monitor knife-tossing skills:

I find this next plushie item to be disturbing in a "stuffed animals shouldn't be prancing around and showing their multiple legs like furry hybrid Angelina Jolies" way.

It's a Steiff Alpaca Teddytaur, which I guess every household needs that contains small children who are training to be strippers.  I don't even know. Points because it's made of alpaca, though.

When it comes to plushies, I myself am partial to these Venereal Disease Stuffed microbes.  I think all high schools should be equipped with these for health class lessons. Make learning fun and cute!

This Waffle and Syrup Sheet Set isn't my style but it'd no doubt work for some of you slobs since your, uhm, syrup stains would blend in.

 

Speaking of stains, for the love of Jiggy, someone get Mariah Carey a jug of this stuff, quick:

Looking for a useful gift for your favorite forum moderator who is not me? Look no further. They each need multiple pairs of these gloves for all the cleaning up they need to do after you people:

I can heartily recommend this item from Etsy, the Rude Little Black Book. I have multiple volumes. Now you know how I document my List.

Last but not least, I recommend you people purchase multiples of this handy workplace tool, the self-inking WTF rubber stamp.

There are some days when I wake up, stamp this on my forehead, and call it a day.  I'm sure you know that feeling if you read AG Playthings or, really, any other online site populated by people with keyboards, opinions, and a genetic deficiency of common sense and class.

As for me and what I want? Yo, I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want. You know how ancient Egyptian embalming techniques involved inserting a long, iron hook into the skull and slowly pulling out the brain matter?  Yeah, I want a really, really, really lo-o-o-ng iron hook so I can insert it into the heads of certain people and pull their brains out of their asses.  It's a debt I think I owe to humanity. You can thank me later.  Oh, and get me some of those long plastic modding gloves while you're at it.

Nuts!

You've no doubt read about the guy who was arrested for having replica testicles on the bumper of his truck. LINK

Yeah, you know it, that was Jiggy.

The arrest warrant claims that this was an "obscene display" but we all know that one person's bumper nuts are another person's art. Literally. Those bumper nuts were part of Jiggy's next Burning Man installation! He'd been worried because they weren't displaying the proper lighting sequence, decided to run out for a quick test drive, and forgot to bring his license along. The charges are totally trumped up and I'm pretty sure Donald Trump is behind this. He's always had it in for Jiggy, what with Jiggy having better hair and a valid birth certificate.

Donald Trump is on my List.

So look, people, I need to make bail and defense money. Octomom offered to send me the proceeds from her new film, which was generous and all but I told her to hold onto the money because, well, yeah. There are lines that even I won't cross. Well, mostly. I do need to issue a public apology for my part in American Girl doll parts black market trafficking. Those of you whose dolls woke up in baths of ice water with their stitches undone, well, uh, sorry. But #26, oh dear #26 with your recessive amber eyes, watch your back. I have to do what I have to do.

Speaking of eyes, while the Warren Cash cloning project is on hiatus due to Jiggy's current indisposal, I'm pleased to report that we've made headway on our other scientific experiments. Behold, the first successful doll-to-dog eye transplant:





Yeah, I know we need to tweak it a little. We used Michelle Bachmann as our prototype and the scale isn't quite right.





In other money-making news, Jiggy left instructions for the tannery to operate at maximum capacity once we got word that Cruella de Ville wanted to buy up all the Sugar dogs. This is a win/win/win situation. She gets her coat, I get rid of Sugar because AG has to retire him due to low stock, and we get an influx of much-needed cash.

I think I could rake in even more money if I could figure out a good use for Bitty Babies. I mean, they have to be good for SOMETHING. I tried to market them to Angelina Jolie as family expanders but she said they weren't diverse enough.

In other news, the adult collectors over on the AGPlaythings message forum are all a'twitter about the summer's American Girl product releases. Based solely on a signature graphic they have pegged new character Caroline Abbott as a cross-dressing, red-haired, blue-eyed, War of 1812 soldier who steals Dolley Madison's snack cakes, lives by the sea and comes complete with spyglass, widow's walk and her very own whale harpoon. Plus she has the pox and scurvy. The latter can finally be revealed as justification for the Marie-Grace face mold, so AG designers can say "What? She IS sucking on lemons. She'll die of scurvy if she doesn't!"

They are so off with their speculations, I don't even. Look, I know for true facts that Caroline Abbott is a character from 1790s Whiskey Rebellion in Pennsylvania and she comes complete with still. You know that won't be good enough for some people, though. Some fool is going to turn Caroline into a time traveler to the 1970s so she can borrow Julie's new Pinto wagon with hot spontaneous engine combustion action.

Bring it, AG. Imma scrape Julie off the street, cash in on the doll parts black market, and bail my man out of jail.

In the meantime, you people need to drop me a quick note (properly capitalized and punctuated and with excellent grammatical construction) with your ideas for fund-raising.

PS --Yo, American Girl? I want an exploding Pinto wagon. You owe me this.

Leap Day Ponderings

I am extremely busy preparing for our Ricardo Montalban tribute weekend but I couldn't let February 29th pass by without making a blog post. Because seriously, how often do you get a chance to post on Leap Day?

(The answer to that is every four years. I was going to let that stand as a rhetorical question but realized some of the sarcasm-impaired among you would think I was serious and, yeah, I don't want my in-box filling up with comments).

So the papers are full of articles about Leap Day related things. I read a headline this morning touting the ten best places to bungee jump on Leap Day. WTF people, just jump off a cliff and be done with it. Choosing a brain-splattering, bone-crushing height doesn't require much discernment.

I also read a headline stating that there are scientists all over the world trying to determine what animal is the planet's Number One Leaper. Except I misread "leaper" as "leper" and spent the rest of the morning wondering what criteria are in place to determine the world's Number One Leper. Longest incubation period after being infected by Mycobacterium leprae? Most dangly bits without falling off altogether? Most skin sores? Then I started to get itchy so I decided I'd best read the article in case I had contracted some rare form of doll leprosy, because if I'm going to get doll leprosy I'm sure as hell going to be the Number One Doll Leper.

That's when I realized the actual article was about the world's Number One "leapers." What a let-down.

The world's Number One Leaper was originally the spittle bug, which can accelerate to more than 400 times the force of gravity and jump two feet.

Spittle bugs pretty much look like you'd expect them to look:



I'd leap too if I had to crawl around in spit. And I'd jump more than two feet, too.

Alas for the spittle bug, in 2010 a bunch of Danish oceanographers documented that the copepod uses two different propulsion systems to accelerate to a speed of 500 body-lengths per second. This shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone, as I've always said that copepods trump spittle bugs. Everyone knows that. Apparently Danes have nothing better to do than document these things.



Look at that copepod. He's bad ass. He could take on a honey badger.

You know, I'm still feeling a little itchy. I think I need to talk to Jiggy about this. Hopefully it's merely due to a detergent switch.

Oh and speaking of Jiggy, a space rock called 2011 AG5 may come close enough to Earth in 2040 that scientists are now talking about how to deflect it. I'd like to start a campaign to get 2011 AG5 renamed the Jiggy Star. Please join me in the Jiggy Star End of Days Campaign by writing to the following organizations to suggest a renaming of 2011 AG5:

* Scientific and Technical Subcommittee of the United Nations Committee on the Peaceful Uses of Outer Space (COPUOS)

* UN Action Team on near-Earth objects (NEOs)

* European Space Agency’s Solar System Missions Division in Noordwijk, The Netherlands

* Near-Earth Object Observations Program at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena, CA

* Association of Space Explorers (ASE) Committee on Near Earth Objects

* Uranus

I'm not making these organizations up. Although it must be said that writing to Uranus probably isn't going to be all that productive unless Uranus knows how to read. In which case, you're more of a smart ass than I've given you credit for.

Carry on. Happy Leper Day.

For Auld Lang Syne

My drinking game for 2012 goes like this: every time someone over on the Playthings forum mentions how much better things were Back in the Pleasant Company Days, Jiggy and I sing "for auld lang syne" and quaff a cup of kindness yet.

Never you mind what's in a cup of kindness. Just remember that you'll not be getting any from me.

Speaking of Jiggy, he's started the New Year off by shaking the blues. To celebrate his post-Burning Man de-colloidalization return to a normal hue, he went swimming at Côte d'Azur (okay, maybe he's not done with the blue theme). Except guess what, there was a La Redoute photo shoot going on that day and Jiggy happened to get caught in the background:



What, need a little zoom action?



Yeah, there he is, Jiggy with a hair cut and normal colored skin. You can read all about the incident here: Naked Man in Children's Clothing Ad. The image has been blurred in a futile attempt at modesty but mostly it's to protect your sanity because god knows what you people might do if you saw all that.

Speaking of people getting depressed (which you totally would if you saw Jiggy's package and compared it to the packages you've unwrapped. What? I'm just sayin') do let's talk about the current contender for AG's Girl of the Year, McKenna Brooks alias MehKenna Spelling. I've gotten several condolence letters from concerned readers expressing their dismay about what a come-down it must be for me to deal with MehKenna's gymnastic equipment after the joys of my tricked out Lanie camper and Kanani Shave Ice and Tiki Bar.

Yeah, see, this lack of imagination goes to show why you people lead the lives you lead and why my life is something you can't aspire to in your wettest wildest dreams.

Mark the difference: MehKenna, hells yeah, she is boring.

MehKenna's collection is NOT boring.

MehKenna's loft bed, beam and bar, rubber boots and coat scream KINKY SEX PARTY.

And no, you're not invited.

In which I consider a new Sworn Enemy

Jiggy recently suggested that I add a new Sworn Enemy. I'm never loath to consider such suggestions, but who to add? There is a veritable plethora of options. I was going to pick Mahmoud Ahmadinejad on principle but the Secret Service has already bugged my muslin ass and I decided I didn't need them giving me any more trouble.

That's right, the Secret Service has bugged my muslin ass. They wanted inside information about why Jiggy turned himself blue. Why they thought they'd find that information inside my muslin ass is a mystery best kept by the Secret Service. I'm pretty sure all they found in there was premium polyester fiberfill, but I'm not going to vouch for that publicly. A doll needs to keep her secrets.

What? Yeah, it's true: Jiggy turned himself blue. Not like painting himself with woad a la the Picts (True fact: we don't actually know that the Picts painted themselves blue or any other hue. But if they did they wouldn't have used woad because woad makes a terrible body paint. All the other Celts would have laughed at the Picts for trying it, because they all knew woad was a great source of dye for clothing but doesn't work well as a body decoration). No, not woad; Jiggy has been ingesting silver treatments. Like this dude:



That's Paul Karason, aka Papa Smurf, who began ingesting silver to treat a bad case of dermatitis. He treated his skin, all right.

Ever one for novel pharmaceutical experiments, and mindful that the art theme for 2011 Burning Man was 'rites of passage,' Jiggy mainlined colloidal silver in order to turn himself blue.

However, the Secret Service believes that Jiggy has turned blue due to exposure to Cherenkov radiation and consequently developed superpowers a la Dr. Manhattan. I have not seen evidence of Jiggy developing Dr Manhattanesque superpowers, which is extremely disappointing. However, Jiggy claims he can telepathically control all of the pink pajama-clad You & Me Interactive Play & Giggle Triplets so they mutter "F*ck you, you crazy bitch" in baby-ese.



If true, I think this would make Jiggy the Borg King of Baby Dolls.

There's potential in Jiggy's new super-power, perhaps enough to see us through the temporary insolvency resulting from the unfortunate enforced shut-down of the Shave Ice and Cut-Rate Pharmaceutical Stand. Think about it. Today we give you the foul-mouthed pink-pajama-clad Triplet Borg. Tomorrow: Mo-Fo McKenna, American Girl GOTY-12 Borg. This is definitely within the realm of possibilities since we've already proven our capabilities by configuring mini Marie-Grace's face mold so she's frozen in mid F-bomb drop:



These altered profane Borg dolls will fly off the shelves. Resistance is futile.

Jiggy says he'll get right on the Mo-Fo-ization of McKenna as soon as he aces that audition with the Blue Man Group. He has been hanging out in department store men's rooms, honing his harmonica skills by playing.................................................................

Wait for it.....................................................................
.................................................................................
.................................................................................
.................................................................................

The Blues.

As for the new Sworn Enemy, Jiggy suggested I go with James Bond. I disagree. I think it is a far nobler thing to add James Bond to the Entourage. But so many Bonds, so little time! Sean? Roger? Pierce? There's nearly one for every day of the week. Too complicated.

You know, on second thought, I'm pretty sure Jiggy brought this whole thing up as an excuse to Google "Pussy Galore" with plausible deniability.

Go ahead, try it. It pretty much brings up what you'd expect.

Milestones

An Alert Reader informed me that my most recent blog entry (the one about my Moderating playlist) was my 100th post. Yeah, definitely a milestone, so thank you for mentioning it to me, Alert Reader. Although it's pathetic that you have nothing better to do than count the number of blog entries that I make, don't you think? FYL.

And no, you people won't be invited to AJ's 100th Blog Post Party. Seriously, you dare to ask?

Speaking of milestones, I'm well on my way to achieving Total Face Mold Domination. I knocked off MyAG #4 this summer and assumed my rightful place as The Asian Doll (because I'm half Japanese, you know). I am also tied for second with that lame-ass Josefina mold for GOTY doll faces and will continue to claw my way up the GOTY hierarchy. Plus, I caused simultaneous earthquakes in Virginia and Peru a few weeks ago. And yesterday, I single-handedly shut down AG's Customer Service Department by telling everyone there was a special 25th anniversary employee luncheon with ZOMG Pleasant Rowland in attendance. I dodged the mad rush to the cafeteria, then locked the doors behind them for a couple hours while I hacked the Customer Service system and wiped out all AG replacement part inventory.

Jiggy dressed up as Pleasant. I don't think anyone realized it wasn't her. He can be quite fetching when he wants to.

Best of all, even members of the First Estate acknowledge my successful journey on the path to Domination. Another Alert Reader sent me in a photo she snapped outside her church just this past weekend:



That's right. I'm here to save you from yourselves.

AGPT Moderating Soundtrack

Yeah, so, I haven't written in this thing since the Rapture happened back in May. That's because I have a real life and don't sit on my muslin ass all day in front of the computer. But you people? Yeah, let's just say that if you committed a crime with your ass (I don't want to contemplate what that might entail), the CSI Unit could ID you instantly by the butt cheek imprint on your desk chair.

Whatever. Inspired by what would have been the 65th birthday of Freddie Mercury and his chest hair yesterday, I've decided to create a new playlist on iTunes. I'm going for a "Moderating AG Playthings" theme. The other Mods seem to be cool with this but mainly I think that's because they're convinced it will keep me from kicking their shins every five minutes. Dumbass mods. How long do they think it takes to create a playlist? They don't know me very well, even after all these years.

Here's what I have so far. Now you know what I'm listening to when I mod your posts.

AGPlaythings Moderating Playlist:
1. Hit Somebody - Warren Zevon
2. My Shit's F*cked Up - Warren Zevon
3. Fat Bottomed dolls Girls - Queen
4. Mission Impossible Theme
5. When You're Evil - Voltaire
6. Some kind of long, extended pr0n riff. (Note to self: explore this in depth. With Jiggy. Allow David Duchovny to offer his pr0n expertise. No cameras.)
7. No More Mr. Nice Guy - Alice Cooper
8. Paying the Cost to be the Boss - B.B King
9. Doll Short People - Randy Newman
10. You're Pitiful - Weird Al Yankovic
11. Idiot Wind - Bob Dylan
12. Positively 4th Street - Bob Dylan (Mr. Dylan can be a cranky bastard. We get along.)
13. Your Mind is on Vacation But Your Mouth is Working Overtime - Mose Allison
14. You're Breakin' My Heart - Harry Nilsson
15. The I-95 Song - August Campbell

I was going to put Carly Simon's You're So Vain on there but that would merely confuse people who don't get irony.

Feel free to suggest more songs to my AGPlaythings Moderating Playlist, because you can never have enough mean, hateful, inspirational music to listen to while you're doing your job.

It's the end of the world as we know it

Yeah, and you thought it would be a cold day in Hell before I quoted Michael Stipe, didn't you? Granted, I've never forgiven him for mocking Dan Rather, but now's not the time to hold grudges (or at least not too many of them). Because lo, the Rapture is coming tomorrow!

Now I don't want to hear any lamenting from you lot about the Rapture. I first warned you about this on December 22, when I predicted that a plethora of dancing, singing people in penguin costumes is a sign of the coming Apocalypse. Your next warning was on Groundhog Day, when Dr. Phil saw his shadow and I told you about the electric catfish that live in the Nile River.

See? See? I TOLD you people then that the end of days was nigh and to plan accordingly. And did you plan accordingly? No, of course you didn't, because there was a free shipping code from American Girl back then and you were too busy stocking up on plastic crap that you didn't need. Impatient fools. If you'd listened to me, you'd have waited until tomorrow, when you can score all the plastic crap from AG that you want during the post-Rapture looting.

Yeah, too late now, chumps. Tomorrow is May 21 and it's the latest End of Days. For real.

I've got plans. First off, we've got several crates of dry ice that we're going to place in pairs of doll shoes that we leave in the middle of your rooms, and then we're going to hide your dolls so you think they've been Raptured.

(Actually, I'm not sure dolls can be Raptured; the Reverend Harold Camping's website wasn't exactly forthcoming about this. But if we can be Raptured, I'm for sure smuggling along some of those little alcohol miniatures in my backpack. If I leave out the Belize tour guide I should be able to fit in at least half a dozen little bottles of booze. I don't think I'll be needing that Belize tour guide at the Rapture. I've got better places to go).

Anyway, after we freak out all the doll owners, Jiggy goes into action. See, Jiggy looks enough like Jesus that he's going to wake up early tomorrow, don a robe and sandals, and go knocking on random doors crying out "Rise and shine! Shake a leg." Once he's put the fear of God into people, the Entourage sneaks in through the back door and steals all their electronics, jewelry, and sex toys.

Well, maybe not the sex toys; I don't think there's much of a market for used sex toys.

Then we head to the post-Rapture after-parties. What happens post-Armageddon stays post-Armageddon, so no pix.

The next morning, after this bullshit blows over and everyone has a good laugh (except for those people when they figure out that their sex toys are missing), I get back to work. I've completed my first children's book.



Unfortunately there was a content leak and plagiarism and legal issues involving authorship, and what-all, so I've got to put a call into Cousin Antonin. I'm confident he'll still be around after the Rapture.

See you on the other side, people

If a Llama Poops in the Forest

I'm still in Japan on my humanitarian mission. I see that some of you forgot to donate to the organizations listed in my last blog entry. I know this because I am omniscient and also, Lady Gaga has a lot of those prayer bracelets left over.

Look people, cough up some money for Japan tsunami relief instead of buying plastic shit from AG. It won't hurt you to abstain from AG spending. I, on the other hand, most likely will hurt you if you don't donate. So yeah, consider those options.

Speaking of shit, did you know the book Everyone Poops came from Japan? Seriously, it's the book's tenth anniversary this year.


Now I'm no prude, but I don't understand that book. Sure, everybody poops, but must we talk about the various shapes, sizes and smells thereof? I fail to comprehend this focus on the specifics when basic facts are neglected, like the truism that both babies and really old people poop in their pants. That seems like far more useful information to impart. The book also doesn't explore serious issues such as the nature and essence of vampire poop. Or zombie poop. Or Darth Vader's poop. Then again, the book never even answers its own question about what whale poop looks like. I think that's because the whale is constipated. However, I did learn that rhinoceroses pay no attention when they poop, which is biting social commentary of the first order about people who shit where they live. I'm not naming any names, mind you; draw your own conclusions.

I was thinking that if those has-been celebrity apprentices on Donald Trump's show can write a children's book in two weeks and get published whilst deserving real authors toil for years without publication? Yeah well, me being me, I ought to be able to churn out a book for publication overnight. That one book If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, that was some high concept. I could do a variation called If You Give an American Girl Collector Doll Shoes, except it would have limited market appeal since only morons care about the slippery slope of doll shoes. Goodnight Moon is a classic; I could write Goodbye Sun about a super-nova that destroys civilization as we know it. What, too much of a downer? Whatever; seems to me that toddler lit could use a dose of reality. How about Goodnight Moonshine, a gentle farewell to Grandpa Bunny's still in the days of Prohibition?

Oh but you know, there's that Click, Clack, Moo book, the one about union-organizing farm animals. I think it got banned in the state of Wisconsin recently. I could write something like that, only about llamas putting on a 70s era variety show. It's high time the world learned how good llamas look in gold lamé. Jiggy says he'll illustrate it, just as soon as he's done deconstructing Everybody Poops as a performance art piece for this year's Burning Man. The theme at Burning Man this year is 'rites of passage' so, yeah, this has potential.

At any rate, let me know if you have any ideas for children's books that I could write. If I choose yours I might give you an acknowledgment. Or I might not; depends on how much you donate to Japan tsunami relief.

聖パトリックのハッピーデイ

Top of the Irish to you.

I don't even know what that means. But I'm half-Irish, you know, so I'm talking the talk and walking the walk in my ass-kicking green boots. That's right, green ass-kicking boots. Never let it be said that AJ isn't fashion forward and color coordinated.



Also, I dyed my hair green for the day. All of my hair. No pics of that.

Anyway, I'd like to take this solemn Irish occasion to address some concerns related to the other half of my ancestry. Because I'm half-Japanese, you know. And right now, I'm celebrating St Patrick's Day in Japan. This sort of sucks, because there's no green beer and also, the nation of Japan has just experienced the worst natural disaster since Charlie Sheen...but more about him later. Just in case you are in denial and have your head buried in...whatever...an 8.9 magnitude earthquake hit Japan last week approximately 250 miles northeast of Tokyo, causing a tsunami that resulted in incomprehensible destruction in northern Japan and has precipitated a potential nuclear disaster.

I've been called to Japan because of my expertise in disaster relief, seeing as how I survived my own AG collection and gone onto bigger and better things. That plus I'm half-Japanese, you know.

Thus I'm here to tell you people how you are going to help Japan in its hour of need. What you need to do is this: put down the green beer for a couple seconds and go donate money to each of the following organizations. You need to do this by midnight tonight, and I've got all AG dolls on high alert to make sure it happens. So don't wimp out...or else. I'm half-Japanese, you know.

Salvation Army
** Text the words Japan or Quake to 80888 to contribute $10 to disaster relief efforts. The donation will be charged to your next phone bill.
** Call 1-800-SAL-ARMY (725-2769) or visit www.disaster.salvationarmyusa.org.

Red Cross
** Text REDCROSS to 90999. The text sends $10 to the Red Cross and charges the money to your next phone bill.
** Call 1-800-RED-CROSS (733-27677) or visit www.redcross.org and donate to Japan Earthquake and Pacific Tsunami relief.

International Medical Corps
** Text MED to 80888 to give $10 to International Medical Corps and learn about other ways you can help medical teams provide support and health care.

Lady Gaga Prayer Bracelet
What? My close personal friend Lady Gaga has designed a $5 "We Pray For Japan" Wristband and it's for sale right now on her website, with all proceeds going to tsunami relief efforts. You can also give an additional donation, which you'd best do because it's not wise to piss off Lady Gaga. Click HERE for that.

Facebook Global Disaster Relief Page
Yeah, this one is for you people who play those boring Facebook games and want your time to actually, you know, be put to good use. You can donate money by purchasing virtual goods in CityVille, FrontierVille, FarmVille and those other crap games, with the objective of raising $2 million for Save the Children's Japan Earthquake Tsunami Emergency Fund. Click HERE to find out more about that.

There. Now you people on Playthings know why I've not been commenting on your pervy threads comparing my underwear to Molly's (WTF? And really, what makes you think I actually wear underwear? I'm half-Irish, you know.) or correcting your pathetic grammar and spelling (because that's a lost cause anyway). Clearly I have more important things to do than babysit you lot. And also, in case you haven't noticed, you cannot evoke, provoke, or summon me by clicking your heels and sassing with faux-chatspeak in your posts. In fact the harder you try, the more pathetically attention-seeking you appear to be. Seriously, do I look like your first grade teacher? I'm half-Japanese and half-Irish, you know. Get it straight, people: I choose the place and time of my apparitions, not you. Indeed, given my humanitarian mission right now, I scoffed at your shameful presumptions that I've nothing better to do than recover from Mardi Gras, get in fighting shape for St Patrick's Day, plot for April Fool's and party with Charlie Sheen.

Because let me tell you about Charlie Sheen. Charlie Sheen is my Sworn Enemy. We had this Thing, last summer when he was in between pr0n stars and wives, wherein I allowed him to join the Entourage on a trial basis. That didn't last long. Two and a Half Men? Yeah, well, Charlie's less than half a man, if you know what I mean. And also, he's a thief. I was working on a performance art piece at the time called Winners that featured me and Jiggy as a pair of star-crossed lovers masquerading as a half-Japanese, half-Irish goddess and a Vatican assassin warlock. We effortlessly and magically converted tin cans into pure gold and lobbed violent torpedoes of truth on a daily basis. We had magic and poetry in our fingertips most of the time (and this includes naps) and only rarely needed to dine on llama blood to replenish our strength. All the other gnarly gnarlingtons' lives were shameful train wrecks filled with blind cuddly puppies, but we defeated earthworms with our words...and you can only imagine what we could have done with our fire-breathing fists.

So you see, in a funny way, I'm responsible for Charlie Sheen. Because that bastard Carlos Irwin Estevez stole my high concept and is using all my best material! Rest assured that I'm not going to let this pass. I'm busy in Japan but I've got Cousin Antonin on the case back home. I had to get in touch with him anyway last week for his 75th birthday. I called him up and shouted obscenities at him. He knew it was me; it's an old family tradition. So yeah, I called in some favors and Cousin Antonin will take care of Carlos for me. And if he doesn't, Righteously Bald Undead Yul Brynner is on the job. Because Charlie Sheen, he's my Sworn Enemy, and we all know what happens to my sworn enemies.

Resolutely the Best and Worst of 2010

Yeah I'm a few days late. What of it?

Seriously, what dumbass makes resolutions on New Year's Day? That day is meant for nursing hangovers. True fact: 99.99% of all resolutions fail because people are hung over when making them. It's not that they don't achieve their goals, it's that they can't remember WTF the goals were in the first place. (The other .01% of resolutions fail because people make them while they're getting drunk).

So trust me on this: you're better off waiting a few days to get a feel for the new year and perspective on the old. Having done that, here's what I have to say about the years past and present:

AG Best of 2010
Nothing.

AG Worst of 2010
Everything.

Gee, that was easy.

Now if pressed (as in if money is pressed into my hand), I could elaborate...

Best Thread on AGPT:
All of the ones that got locked because everyone got pissed off and yelled at each other and lost track of what the original topic was. Those are perennial joys. I pass the popcorn and settle in to watch. Admit it; you do, too.

Best Random GOTY-10 Animal:

Coon in a can. While llamas have a lifetime lock on this category, Coony held his own in 2010. Especially considering that his competition was a Tang-dipped steroid-enhanced Toshi-clone. Then again the gigantic, rabid, radioactive-enhanced squirrel was close competition so maybe this one is a draw.

Best AG 2010 Release:
Camper. But only my customized version thereof.

Greatest Missed Potential for 2010:
Fulfillment of the Wikipedia "Casey Jones is the next GOTY" rumor. Because every GOTY needs a theme song and the Dead's Casey Jones with its catchy "Drivin' that train, high on cocaine" hook is made of awesome and win. Plus Jiggy could have consulted on the doll's collection: doll would wear red, of course, and have a lovely pharmaceutical collection. And yeah, her big ticket item would be a train. We're talking money in the bank with this one.

As for resolutions, considering I don't need to improve on anything, these are merely goals and reminders for me to focus on in 2011:

Reminders for 2011

1. Never watch a televised parade again. Jiggy wanted to watch the Mummers the other day but I sent him out for Peach Snapple and Twinkies instead as a distraction.

2. Find missing link for Warren Cash project. Jim Morrison's estate might need to be consulted on this. Possibly Freddy Mercury's as well.

3. Organize National Photobombers Convention. Or better yet pay someone else to do that, and just show up in all the pictures.

4. Try not to think about what this picture implies about the parentage of Mariah Carey's babies:



5. Step up the timetable on that total face mold domination thing. Also, outsource management of the Campaign for Anatomical Correctness, Female Division, to those people who make that Delilah Noir doll.

6. Coin a better New Oxford Dictionary "Word of the Year" candidate than "refudiate." That should take me, oh, two seconds.

7. Create a zoo populated by miniature animals like wee little ponies; panda cows; and pygmy goats, hogs, marmosets, rabbits and hippos. Then shrink down my sworn enemies to be the perfectly scaled zookeepers.

8. Send pictures of Righteously Bald Yul Brynner to Barack Obama in order to convince him to emulate Yul by shaving his head, now that he's stopped smoking.



9. Hire a personal assistant for Jiggy. He's going to be busy this summer, what with running the mobile Tiki Cocktail Stand AG made for She Who Does Not Officially Exist.

10. Post notices on AGPT about monthly blog raffles of locks of Jiggy's hair. Benefits the worthiest cause of all: me.

Macy's sucks.

Last week Mariah Carey announced she was having twins. I presume this means she'll count for two Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade balloons, as she'll be that inflated.

I haven't thought about Mimi in ages, actually. She's certainly not significant enough to make my List, nor is she one of my Sworn Enemies. But thinking about her reminds me of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. I missed celebrating Thanksgiving in real time because we were in Costa Rica and couldn't find any canned cranberry jelly.

What was I doing in Costa Rica? Never you mind.

Anyway, thinking of Mariah Carey made me feel like watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, so I TiVod it. Not because I actually LIKE watching parades, mind you. They are boringly predictable: floats and/or balloons, celebrities, occasionally some nice old cars, marching bands and more marching bands, and if you're really lucky some horses in diapers. And I'm here to tell you people, the Macy's parade was both amusing and awful. Let me break it down for you, blow-by-blow, AJ-style:

First off we need to assume that the real thing is way better in person, sans incessant interruptions from commercial breaks. Even better if sans marching bands. Does anyone really like watching marching bands? I mean, really? I see that One Mod raising her hand; figures. Look, no one whose kid isn't in the band is likely to plunk down $100 to get front row seats to a marching band performance. Marching bands are even more torturous to watch on TV than in real life because televised sound quality sucks so hard that the bands seem like they are all playing the same song. People don't realize (likely because they don't have me around to remind them) that in this age of digital remixing, the only reason marching bands have survived this long is because they have been conflated with football. Voilà! Football = built-in marching band survival plan!

What was I talking about? Oh yeah, the parade. Well, it has cheerleaders...or maybe dancers. I've never been sure of the difference, since as far as I can tell they serve basically the same function and also, cheerleaders dance. Dance teams do perhaps less cheering. Not all dancers are cheerleaders, though, so it's confounding. What's funny about the Macy's dancers/cheerleaders is that because there are so damn many of them, what with the way the sound is carrying, those at one end are out of sync with those at the other end. Ha ha, Macy's dance/cheerleader Fail. But Fail sighting notwithstanding, it's all way too peppy for me. And the costumes look like something envisioned by Mattel.

Following cheerleader/dancer Fail comes an interview with Random Actor, who while reasonably attractive and using passable grammar, has nothing profound to say. I think he was promoting something but I don't know what it was since Jiggy chose that moment to let loose a cannon volley on the roof. Random Actor was followed by show tunes on a float. Show tunes performed during shows are bad enough, but on a float? Fail. I am reminded to ask if this "Memphis" is a Broadway musical about segregation? That's got guaranteed success written all over it, because audiences have been clamoring for segregation showstopper tunes for ages.

Also, I want to know why the women are in costume but half the men are wearing just khakis and polo shirts. That's a costume? Hell, that's what that One Mod wears to work every day. (Jiggy has been spying on her via webcam for blackmail material, if you're wondering how I know that. At least that's why he's supposed to be spying on her...).

Moving onto random songs that are, well, passable. I mean, my ears aren't bleeding or anything in response. Sonali's ears would be bleeding, though, since they are blobby. (Don't tell her I mentioned that; she's still so sensitive about the Blobby Ear Haters).

Commercials. Too many. And that commercial with the baby on the interstate ranks up there on my list of Most Annoying Commercials, Ever. The song is irritating and the baby isn't All That. Every baby looks like Winston Churchill anyway.

According to the Macy's Parade, there's now a Green Day musical. WTF. This trend of stringing together musicals from band repertoires has to stop. It's lazy and shiftless. Don't even talk to me about Mamma Mia. Don't especially talk to me about Mamma Mia, the movie.

What this parade doesn't need is a giant inflatable Spongebob. And giant inflatable Smurfs. And yet somehow, both of these balloons managed to sneak into the lineup, and there's nary a sign of Mariah Carey.

Al Roker is not as funny as he thinks he is. He ought to stop getting in the way of marching bands. As boring as marching bands are, I concede that it is probably difficult to carry a full set of drums whilst marching. I keep hoping a marching band will stampede and smash puny Al Roker. He'd not have needed gastric bypass if he'd simply gotten in the way of a marching band. Stampede = instant weight loss.

This parade is not a total waste: it features a fake!Johnny Cash. I'll take what I can get until my clone project succeeds. This guy can at least lip sync decently, so if nothing else he gets bonus points for that.

Fake!Johnny aside, I'm getting bored. How many aerial shots of New York City do we need? You can only look at the balloons for so long anyway. At least I can. For so long. It's been too long already. And there needs to be a law about how many random product placement interviews with random stars that individuals can be exposed to per parade. I'm going to talk with Cousin Antonin about this.

Seeing as how it's New York, yeah, The Rockettes are here. While Jiggy admires their flexibility, I find them boring. Also, I happen to know that most of them can't spell their way out of a paper bag. I keep wondering when the nude edition is going to debut. Nude Rockette shows would be a must-see tourist attraction, seeing as how Times Square is so boring now. And plus Radio City Music Hall is only a hop-skip-and-a-jump from American Girl Place. AG could even get in on the action and sell store exclusive Rockette G-strings and pasties for its My AG line.

Alton Brown is dressed like a pilgrim and riding a turkey. I appreciate that on several levels. I would totally hire him to cook for me on George Foreman's days off. However, this float, it is ruined by a Clay Aiken clone. Playing a yellow piano. Bopping along to his own "music." Stop that, Clay Aiken clone. Go stand over there with Al Roker.

I am coming to the conclusion that the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade is an exercise in total absurdity, with or without Mariah Carey. I think I just saw bobblehead pilgrims. That's right. Pilgrim bobbleheads. Oh oh oh, but here's something good: what appears to be Lamie's float, complete with giant, scary creepy and (probably) inappropriate woodland animals. Sandra Lee is on it, and she either doesn't know what to do or else she's bored with waving. There are also lots of peace signs. Why? Oh wait, Arlo Guthrie, that's why. I thought he was dead. He looks like he should be. And also, he looks like Santa Fe threw up on him. There is an unidentified random chick standing with him and singing; why is this? Did the chattering heads tell us and I wasn't paying attention because I don't give a damn? Ha, maybe it's Alice.

Speaking of people who can't sing, who the hell told Jimmy Fallon he could sing, and who gave him those douchebag glasses? Oh wait, Jiggy says he did. Way to go, Jiggy.

In terms of parade transportation, I have to say that Ronald McDonald's shoe car is ugly. The Weinermobile, however, is perfection on wheels. Also, Ronald's balloon is creepy. Clowns are scary enough without making them gigantic, okay? How many kids do you think went to this parade or watched it on television, and are still traumatized even now? Clown PTSD is real. It's in the DSM-IV. Fuck clowns. Clowns are my sworn enemies.

Mannheim Steamroller is fantabulous. Period. No need to discuss this. It is an established fact.

There is an Uncle Sam balloon and I can only conclude that the government can't afford a balloon that looks like it was made by someone out of elementary school.

The parade features a Pizza Spinning Team. I like this. I like this so much that I am going to have the Entourage train as a Pizza Spinning Team for Naked Wednesdays. Parades need more random shit like this to make them tolerable and interesting. Enough with endless repetition of float - Broadway musical performance - celebrity lip syncing - marching band - float -- Broadway musical performance - celebrity lip syncing - marching band - float --

There is, however, one good float: a pirate ship on wheels. FML, I need one. We need new wheels anyway since we finally sold the camper. My Macy's choices are either pirate float or Weinermobile, because the fugliness of the Jimmy Dean float defies my descriptive powers to convey. It's an orgasm of neon airbrushing mounted by people dressed up as breakfast foods. Ha ha, sausage man. There is also a Princess Academy thing that looks like Mattel's wet dream. So far as I can tell that float was built entirely of ego.

Parade features Big Time Rush, that band from the self-titled Nick show. The band is made up of four brothers who are exactly the same age. Three of them are pasty white dudes. One is named Carlos. Either they're all adopted or something was going down in that family. But hey, I don't judge. Possibly the parents genetically engineered their own boy band to be super pretty, good at boy band dances, and vocally competent. Perhaps I ought to talk to their parents to get some genetic engineering tips for the Warren Cash project. I notice one of the Big Time Rushes isn't allowed to have a solo, so maybe that genetic engineering stuff wasn't entirely a success. Tricky stuff, DNA.

There is a Stomp knockoff group that is kind of cool. Not as awesome as the Pizza Spinning Team, though. OTOH, Pizza Spinning Team doing Stomp impression, that would revolutionize the world as we know it.

Now here we have Gladys Knight. Gladys is looking lovely these days despite her advanced age. Why can't Gladys Knight be on every float? I'll add her to my "to clone" list. I like writing the word "Gladys." If Jiggy and I had a vinyl-human-hybrid-love-child we'd name him Gladys, I think.

OMGF, it's Kanye West! Doesn't he have better things to do than show up at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade? This is so sad. Most of the celebrities at this shindig are up-and-comers, teen starlets, or aging stars looking to jump-start some royalties on their old portfolios. And then there's Kanye. Whose minders apparently told him that appearing at the Macy's parade would rehabilitate his image.

Ha ha, having someone standing at the top of the "Big Apple" to be the stem is hilariously pathetic.

"As her students and instructors perform a traditional Bollywood dance...." What exactly is "a traditional Bollywood dance?" Which is to say, here the NBC commentators are talking out their asses once again.

I have to end this soon because I can't stand it any more so let me put it bluntly: a plethora of dancing, singing people in penguin costumes is a sign of the coming Apocalypse. Happy Feet is creepy in real life and life-sized penguins should not sing and dance. Not ever. That is all.

I'm fast forwarding past Victoria "Jailbait" Justice (Jiggy wants to know, is she eighteen yet?) and lots of lip syncing and other fail. And....there's Santa. OMFG, that's an hour of my life gone and I can turn this shit off now. What was I thinking?

To sum up: Macy's and its parade suck. Mariah's gestational debut appearance would have improved this debacle. Don't take that statement to assume that I am pro-Mariah. I am, however, anti-marching band, anti-lip syncing, anti-autotuning, anti-Kanye and anti-show tunes. Also, anti-clown. And I do appreciate the irony of Macy's declaring the start of the holiday season on Thanksgiving, given that its actual retail establishments declared the start sometime in late October.

Regardless of when it started, soon it will be over. And not a moment too soon.

Monkey of the Year Smackdown

Take a break from customizing your Celebrity Glass Eye Theater dolls -- because that is totally what you were doing, right? I have a bet with Jiggy that no one will take up my challenge. However, he has more faith in humanity than I do (ironic considering the depths of depravity he personifies). But me, yeah, I don't think anyone is brave or creative enough to take on my Halloween Costume Contest challenge. Then again I have perennially low expectations of you people, although I am willing to be surprised.

Anyway, take a break. Join with me in welcoming our contestants to the ring for the Monkey of the Year Smackdown.

Because there can only be one AG monkey left standing at the end of the year.

"But AJ," you whine. "Unfair! Fio is an orangutan, not a monkey."

More fool you. Yes, Fio is SUPPOSED to be a goddamned orangutan. But let's face facts: Lamie's entire collection is nothing more than a better-financed retread of mine. So that precious orangutan of hers? Yeah, it's nothing more than MY Toshi, hopped up on steroids, dipped in carrot juice, with its tail whacked off.

WTF, people. THIS is an orangutan:



THIS sure as hell is not:



And I know for a fact that "Fio" means "cheap rip-off of AJ's monkey" in the Riau dialect of Malay.

One of them must die, and it's not going to be my monkey. Toshi and I have been training for this event all year long. I understand that Fio has gotten a few tips from that reprobate raccoon in a can but whatever, you get what you pay for.

So bring it. Time for the Monkey of the Year Smackdown.



Refereed by my close personal friend the all-seeing Geico Sandwich, with Sugar the Evil Yorkie of Doom in the pocket of Team Fio:



So reach for your bankroll because Jiggy's bookmaker and smart money's on Team Toshi. Fio is going DOWN.

(And a big shout-out to Robot for skinning me up over on Playthings).

Who knew bail was so expensive?

My mailbox spilleth over from my legions of fans wondering where I've been. Listen, legions of fans, I'm not cleaning up your spills. If you'd read my blog at all this summer, you wouldn't need to pester me incessantly about my lack of blogging and posting.

Clearly memories are short. To recap: Jiggy and I crossed the country in our tricked-out Lanie camper on a corporately sponsored Summer of Love tour. I can't reveal the identities of the corporate sponsors (thereby building upon my allure as an international doll of mystery) but they are related to national security, international drug cartels and Peach Snapple. That's all you need to know.

Jiggy and I finished up the tour at Burning Man about a week or so ago. Things took an unexpected turn when Jiggy set out to register the tricked-out Lanie camper with the Black Rock City Department of Mutant Vehicles. Seems the camper wasn't mutant enough to qualify, but Jiggy was. He was immediately granted a license as an art car for reasons unknown but likely having to do with the quantity, variety, and laser illumination of his body piercings. However, he was later booted and hauled away for seven years worth of unpaid parking tickets. Here's his mug shot:



Who knew bail for this kind of thing would be so expensive? I need to sell the camper to recoup my losses on this. But it's time for that thing to go because after the various autopsies, parties, and crop harvesting, it's pretty much trashed. I stripped it of the sound system, warp drive and other accoutrements. But it will still make an extra special holiday gift for someone's little girl, especially once this sucker sells out at AG.

So yeah, if you see this ad on Craigslist, it's totally mine:

FOR SALE: 26 inch tall institutional green custom American Girl camper. Less than a year old with mileage, but runs on ethanol so your expenses will be low. Full disclosure: soiled bench cushion (may or may not be bodily fluids); shower does not work but custom platinum bidet is functional; dart and bullet holes in wall; lingering unidentifiable odors. Message board pulls down to create an autopsy table; medical instruments not included. Comes with early experimental edition of Warren Cash; rare and one of a kind (do not feed after midnight). Custom art decor of pretend loaf of bread, jars of peanut butter and jelly, pasta box and jar of sauce, juice cans and drink cartons decoupaged to walls. Due to its size, this item cannot be shipped USPS or to APO, FPO, the American Territories or Canada. Serious inquiries only.

Innerstar P. U.

Wondering where I've been? Yeah, well, at the moment I'm tapping into someone's unsecured Wi-Fi while road tripping in the tricked-out camper. Prior to that, I paid a quick visit to the AG hospital for some Magic Eraser treatment after scratching my vinyl.

No, I'm not telling you how I scratched my vinyl.

But I will tell you that things at the AG Hospital have changed. Whooo boy. They busted this illegal eyeball trafficking ring down South last month, so things are tight over there now. The Hospital triage person actually had the gall to try to refuse me service on the grounds that I was a "custom doll" and "scary, creepy, and inappropriate" to boot. FFS. I think they were afraid I was going to suction out some eyeballs when no one was watching.

Which I totally did.



Anyway, I kicked some sense into the Hospital staff, got smoothed out, gave the Entourage a few weeks off, sent Righteously Bald Undead Yul Brynner down to rescue Gulf Coast sea gulls, and settled in with Jiggy to enjoy a quiet summer vacation.

Only I'm not precisely sure where Jiggy is. When he dropped me off at the Hospital, he muttered something about how there's "....nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge." That was three days ago. I'm not worried, though, since I have the keys to the stash. He'll be back soon enough.

In the meantime, I've been playing online games. I'm here to tell you that most online games are stupid and could be vastly improved by, well, me. Take, for instance, Farmville on Facebook. When you start playing Farmville, you are given something like fourteen plots of land filled with mature eggplant, and encouraged to trade cows. Really, Farmville, eggplant and cows? I don't think so. This is what my Farmville plots look like:



Screw Farmville.

But hey, there's all this hub-bub about AG's new virtual world, Innerstar U. Excuse me, but did we not recently have a talk in this very space about illegitimate compound wordings?

Innerstar, my muslin ass.

At least they didn't name it Inerstar U. That's like intentionally misspelling your kid's name so it will be 'different.' Let me tell you, your darling little Izabellahs, Mychals, Zacharies, Alisyns and Maddissynns don't want to be 'different.' They want to kill you while you sleep. They're all going to grow up to be strippers at the Inerstar Gentleman's Klub, with names like that.

Anyway, stupid games are in abundance at Innerstar U. Fortunately, I have better versions ready to slip into place once the site goes live on July 13. Read on:

Good Sports Center
With games like Dive In and Pom Pom Power.

Dive In is a Mississippi Delta Blues bar where you can drink til dawn, shoot pool, play high stakes games of air hockey and join the Monday night darts league. Pom Pom Power has to do with hot girl-on-girl cheerleader action; more than that I cannot say.

Shopping Square
This section features stores like Casual Closet, Girl Gear, Twinkly Toes, Pet Palooza, Real Beauty Salon, and Dream Decor.

Twinkly Toes is the most innovative venture from AG to date, representing the first attempt to reach out to the enthusiastic and vocal gay male AG lover. The Real Beauty Salon offers myriad options for tats, piercings, and gauges for your doll, while Dream Decor allows you to try Barbie fashions on your AG avatar. Girl Gear is a lingerie store for dolls. Mosh pits and crowd surfing are great fun for your AG pets at Pet Palooza.

Real Spirit Center
Featuring something called Body Balance. Can you make your floppy-limbed, non-ferruled, loosely-knotted doll stand up?

Yeah, we didn't think so. But you can try to do so here. Gravity not included.

Blue Sky Nature Center
Here your girl can learn about irony.

Rising Star Stables
With Jump for Gold.

Columbian Gold. Or Cuervo Gold. I can't decide.

Star Student Center
Cupcake Crazy, U-Rah-Rah, High Score Kiosk.

You go here after you've spent the night at the Rising Star Stables. What happens at the Star Student Center stays at the Star Student Center.

Brightstar House
With Fashion Fun, Pet Play, and Yearbook.

What? WHY IS ANY OF THIS COOL? I don't even....

Okay, wait, Yearbook? Yeah, I sign your virtual yearbooks. That's what happens there.

By the way, AG, I'm taking away your rights to alliteration right now. You've abused it one too many times and you're cut off.

Sparkle Studios
I told you, you're cut off.

Here, you get to draw pictures of me.

Five Points Plaza
This is a chat area. You get one point if you correct someone's grammar. Two points if you manage to segue the conversation to racism. Three points if you convince everyone that Molly is being archived next. Four points if you cause a stampede to the AG site by telling people something is either sold out or back in stock. And the winner with five points is she who manages to post lyrics to Bohemian Rhapsody, in its entirety, before getting booted off.

Starlight Library
Featuring Help Desk Hubbub and Borrow a Book.

Well. Maybe you did it right this time, AG. Yay for reading.

Starfire Boathouse
This is where your dolls go to get it on. Contraceptive machines are in the lobby for you anatomically correct types.

Morningstar Meadow and the Market
With Bright Kites.

WTF? Bright kites? Oh wait, this must be where Jiggy gets his hallucinogens. That explains the bright kites.

UShine Hall
With Melody Maker.

Yeah, Melody Maker. She's a stripper.

Trust me. This Innerstar thing will be so much better when I'm done with it.

Scary, creepy, and inappropriate musicians

I'm here today to talk to you about musicians.

But first, let's talk about Jimmy Buffett.

I had to start new paragraphs there, because putting "musician" and that man's name in the same one would upset the time-space continuum due to the enormity of the oxymoron it would generate.

That loser Jimmy Buffett! I have it on good authority that he owns a time machine, because how else was he able to steal both the parrot that should rightfully have belonged to me (and fuck you for that, AG) as well as my musical career?

That's right. I wrote Margaritaville, not that loser. All those songs about booze? Yeah, mine. And those songs about pirates? Also me. "Why Don't We Get Drunk" (and Screw)? Okay, that one was Jiggy's, but it was about me. Volcano? Also by me. (See previous post on why volcanoes are awesome. Not that this needs to be elaborated upon because, clearly, they just are.)

That "He Went to Paris" travesty was all Jimmy, though.



He did not, however, steal my sense of style. Obviously. Granted he'd look ridiculous in a black American Girl shirt and a red bandana, but frankly it would be an improvement over the above photo.

So now the truth is out, next time you see Jimmy Buffett wandering around (because really, how could you miss him?), do give him a kick in the shins for me.

Jimmy Buffet is on my mind because I am bothered by not having any living musicians in my Entourage. Not that I'd consider adding him! He just pisses me off, is all. And before you ask, yeah, I'm still working on bringing Warren Cash to life. Be patient: DNA is tricky stuff. Also, my offer still stands for a lifetime Entourage position to any musician who can beat John Mayer out for more awards at the Grammys...or any other contest...or who can kick him in the balls.

So yeah, I've been thinking about musicians. To remedy the Entouragical lack thereof, I have decided to add Voltaire to my Entourage.



I think he'll fit right in. The man has a song called "Zombie Prostitute." You should be able to tell from the title alone that it is pretty much the definition of "scary, creepy, and inappropriate." And that you shouldn't listen to it while your kids are in the room.

Also, his violinist is awesome.

"But AJ," you say, "how does that make him awesome?" You're a fool for asking. Everyone knows that violin/fiddle in modern music is both awesome and under-utilized. Voltaire had the good taste to include violin in his music and to hire a kick-ass violinist.

Ergo, Voltaire is awesome. Photogenic as well. And now, part of my Entourage. Welcome, Voltaire.

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.