American Girl GOTY McKenna Spelling

Yeah, that's right, another contender for the title of Girl of the Year is coming down the pike. Her books have been hitting shelves in advance of her release on January 1 and cover images are flooding the Internet like a leaky Depends. So, great, now my in-box is filled with people wanting commentary from me on this latest imposter.

Look folks, I'm busy. All I have to say at this juncture is that during these dire times of economic hardship, I'm glad Tori Spelling is getting work modeling for AG book covers.

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.

Terrible, Awful, No Good, Very Bad AJ

The other day I was accused of being a terrible, awful, no good, very bad human being.

I clicked my tongue against my two front teeth over the WTFery inherent in that statement. I wholeheartedly accept the descriptive homage, which I think was meant to be insulting. Duh, where have you been, over-wrought writer? I aspire to nothing less than terrible, awful, no good and very bad and exceed all of those on a good day. On a bad day, I am terrifying beyond your wildest nightmares.

But "human being?" I don't think so. Them's fightin' words.

The writer stopped short of saying I eat puppies for breakfast but I am pretty sure she suspects me of that, too. Why is this a bad thing? I'm here to tell you that puppies taste great when they're little and roly-poly, especially with the right seasoning (Read: the tears of AGPT members - mmm, salty). Cats are too stringy and are therefore not part of my regular diet. Before you run off screaming that my palate is feline discriminatory, no, stop right there. One can absolutely create interesting hors d'œuvre with cat, but they leave a lingering aftertaste of tennis racket and violin string. Do not want.

I digress. I'm here to post a public response to my would-be detractor, she who dared denigrate me as a human being. Dear one, go ye now into the wilderness, produce a flowing body of salty puppy seasoning, build a (grammatically correct) structure to spam it, and use it to transport yourself from one side to the other, gementes et flentes in hac lacrimarum valle.

Remember that Oscar Wilde once said "Always forgive your enemies; nothing annoys them so much...except for your Sworn Enemies."

What? He meant to add that last bit.

Of Pirates and Sworn Enemies

Arrr.

Take a gander at this: "Talk Like a Pirate Day" Busted: Not Even Pirates Spoke Pirate

Because the social anthropological party-poopers at National Geographic want ye lot to know that we're Doing It Wrong and that real pirates never talked like I be talkin' to ye right now.

Yeah, whatever. Who piss'd in yer poxy cornflakes, National Geographic?

Clearly the landlubbin' spoilsport prigs at National Geographic need to imbibe some grog and ogle a few photos o' naked tribes people (otherwise known as middle class preteen pr0n) whilst watching these friends of Jiggy's sing sea shanties: YO HO HO.

Bite me muslin arse, National Geographic. You now be me sworn enemy. It be Talk Like a Pirate Day and I be talkin' like a pirate. If ye know what's good for ye, ye'd lube up ye lingo and get with th' program.

Arrr.

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