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.

Not My AG

As Jiggy and I continue our corporately-sponsored Summer of Love tour across the continental USA in the tricked-out camper, eschewing campsite hook-ups for other means of hooking up, I've been amusing myself now and again with a little online hacking. Last week I poked around the American Girl Innerstar U site and stripped a few unsuspecting avatars buck-naked and righteously bald. Because, really, they look better that way. The stuff AG has for virtual 'sale' in those Innerstar shops is inexplicably lame, even for AG.

What is it with the sloppy school-girl theme AG is pandering these days? Where are the assless leather chaps and the thong underwear that were supposed to be part of the new AG Meet ensemble? This stuff, it sucks.

And I know what sucks in the fashion industry because I read Vogue Magazine.

For instance:

Pretty and Plaid Dress

This? Otherwise known as Ode to Friends. Seriously, that plaid thing layered over a shirt is pure Rachel from Friends, circa 1994. Except she had some fashion sense, so maybe it's more Darlene from Roseanne, once she started dating the nerdy guy they're now pretending is young on Big Bang Theory. What, too many obscure TV references? Whatever. Point is, this dress screams retro 1990s to me and before that it screamed scary 1970s. Screaming in horror, across the decades.

Innerstar U Outfit

Hey kids! You, too, can don the standard Monday Morning uniform worn at institutes of higher learning everywhere. You'll be stylin' when you show up to class in old sweatpants, a mismatched sweatshirt, and a beanie cap to hide the fact that you haven't washed your hair since hitting the Row last Thursday night for that Greeks Around The World bash. Unidentifiable crusty stains and unwashed funk odors not included.

Starry Logo Hoodie

This item is meant to upgrade the aforementioned college uniform. Swap this hoodie out for the green sweatshirt outfit above and you are now the goody-good Liberal Arts student who opted out of the Around the World bash in favor of watching a Jane Austen marathon on BBC America. Pro: You've now seen the good version of Persuasion. Con: You still haven't gotten any. Unless you count getting felt up by your drunk roommate as she stumbled home at 2 AM, which damn well ought to count for something.

Western Riding Outfit

Are you one of those dolls who loves the rich nuances of American History but hates that the Women's Suffrage Movement eliminated the need for specialty female riding attire? Well hey, you're in luck now! Because AG has given you the Western Riding Outfit, ironically named given that it's only practical for riding if you're groovin' on one of those European side-saddles.

Fancy Riding Outfit

AKA the Dressage Diva Ensemble, this is for the doll who asked Mumsie and Diddums for a pony for Christmas and actually got one. I have nothing more to say to the likes of you.

Sweet Treats PJs

Here we have a unusually versatile offering from AG. It is juvenile enough for a 4 year old, but transitions nicely to a sexy stripper outfit for your forty year-old exotic dancing alter-ego "Cupcake." Nipple jewelry sold separately.

Bath Wrap Set

What is that? WTF. This, for the doll who is afraid to be naked for the thirty seconds it takes to get out of the shower and put on a god-damned robe? My former cellmate Martha Stewart has a money-saving DIY tip for you: grab a dish towel (preferably clean) and sew some straps on it. Voilà! Instant doll bath wrap. Hope you took notes on that, as this project will be the next featured Sew-Along over on Playthings.

Pet Show Outfit

What happens when Sugar the Evil Yorkie of Doom yarps on this outfit at your pet show? Because you know he totally will, being the high-strung rat bastard that he is.

Pet Show Accessories

You know who did this better? Yeah, every animal toy ever made. From Puppy in my Pocket to Littlest Pet Shop to Breyer Horses, it's been DONE. C'mon, AG, step up your game. Give us some real pet show accessories: pooper-scoopers, nail clippers, scissors to cut out the matted dingleberries from your pooch's posterior, and the discrete flask of Bourbon one needs after your ten grand furry "investment" decides to pee on a judge's shoe.

2-in-1 Running Outfit

This is for when you're on a tight budget and need to outfit two dolls at once, plus you want them to look like Mary Lou Retton and Bela Karolyi.

Healthy Smile Set

The hell? AG dolls have two teeth. How much hardware do they need? For that matter, where's the dental floss? Apparently AG wants your teeth to rot so they can then sell your doll dentures?

But hey, that's got me mentally seguing to the idea of geriatric AG dolls complete with Depends, Dearfoam slippers, and motorized Scooters. AG already has a Scooter design template based on my Scooter of Fail. This is brilliant: put together a decent MyGeri-AG collection and market it to mentally regressed nursing home patients. Yeah. I'm on it.

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.

Feminine Mystique

One person's trash is another person's treasure. One person's art is another person's pr0n.

I am speaking, of course, about the perennial controversy surrounding bras for American Girl dolls.

Yes, they are out there; go look ye on eBay because I can't be assed to post photos. (What? Dare you complain about the lack of photos? Yeah, do that and I'll be forced to post random photos of naked AGPT moderators in retaliation. I guarantee you'll then have nightmares for weeks to come. The mere thought of naked AGPT mods makes me reach for the brain bleach).

Pix or not, I'm here to tell you that the notion of bras for AG dolls incites passions...and not in the way Jiggy's passions are excited, either. Some love the idea, some hate it. Me, I say live and let live. Superior dolls who have lovely lady lumps made of muslin and stuffing need support that is both beautiful and functional to keep our bodacious ta-tas front and center. That's the way of things. Of course, there are the other, lesser dolls in the AG universe who could host a shuffleboard game on their collective chests. Mind you, I'm not naming any names (coughLaniecough). And sooner or later, those flat-chested sisters will bloom, too, with the right combination of injectible illegally-obtained hormones from Jiggy's stash. (Guess we know what else Lanie's been growing in her "pizza garden.")

Suffice to say that there's a wide variety of cleavage and the lack thereof among AG dolls and damn, someone has to meet our needs. Because AG? All they ever crank out are those lame cami and brief sets.

Seriously, I don't get why the concept of doll bras is so scintillating to people. It's not like these are stained doll bras, after all. That is an entirely different wank.

So yeah, enough wanking about AG bras. You really want wank, you bring up the topic of maxi pads for AG dolls to collectors. Yes, yes, people have made them. And yes, yes, much wank ensued at the time. Now admittedly, it's a little harder for me to be sanguine about this topic, seeing as how it only serves to point out the long distances yet to be traveled by my Campaign for Anatomical Correctness. And don't even get me started on the topic of AG tampons. Because really, where the hell would the average AG doll (that excludes me, natch) put a tampon? It's not like she could even tuck it behind her ear, James Dean-old school style, since her ears are welded to her head.

And you know, I hesitated there to bring up the topic of ears because I just know someone will segue to wailing on about Sonali's "blobby ears." OMG fuck the blobby ears, people, seriously! She's just made that way, ALL RIGHT? (See what I did there?)

Sonali is totally fine with her ears, or at least she was until you people started complaining that she was "defective." Seriously, you blobby ear haters are like the Mean Girls of AG fandom. All you're doing is making Sonali self-conscious about her China-factory-given differences when you point and laugh. Leave off. Her ears are FINE, damn it.

The things that incite wank, I'll tell you what, they are mind-boggling. People need to chill or else I'm going to need to slap some tampon artillery on Righteously Bald Undead Yul Brynner and call it a day. That's right, tampon artillery. There is in fact one good use to which AG dolls could put tampons: inciting riots in the name of doll feminism and the Campaign for Anatomical Correctness.

THIS HERE is all you dolls need to start mass panic and maybe even get arrested for home-grown terrorism in your very own backyard. Because screw Lanie discovering the world in her own back yard; it's time for Tampon Wars!

Tampon Wars are the wave of the future in terms of infiltrating meetings of...uhm...okay, who isn't letting women into their exclusive gentlemen clubs these days? The Knights of Columbus? The Shriners? The Boy Scouts? Whatever, just pick one and commence battle. The best part about this concept (aside from the inherent element of surprise associated with an invading army of 18 inch vinyl and muslin dolls armed with tampons, aka the Rise of the Ginger Army as prophesied in the Book of Nellie) is that you get to freak out the men who are squicked at the mere suggestion of menstruation. Seriously, the fact that we sisters bleed from our hoohas on a lunar cycle? Yeah, it grosses them out.

Yo, men, listen up. We deal with this EVERY MONTH, okay? Stop being squeamish about it. It's not like you're involved in the gory parts, anyway...although maybe some of you are, I don't know. I don't judge.

Anyway, I think old boy clubs need more infiltrating. Forget the lady auxiliary branches; we want the real deal. Maybe Sandra Day O'Connor could infiltrate the Supremes on the basis of her superior intelligence and smoking hot body, but it's going to have to be Tampon Wars for the rest of the gentlemen's enclaves.

You need proof of Sandra Day O'Connor's awesomeness? You are pathetic. Feast your loser eyes upon this holiday card that a Playthings member received from Sandy back in the day.



Inspired? Good. Time to gird up.


The future's uncertain and the end is always near. Plus, Target is having a Bogo sale on eco-friendly Tampons this week.

I am your vinyl Grammar Goddess, and I am all right

So someone (read: one of those AGPT mods whom I refuse to publicly acknowledge) linked me to THIS, created by a self-described "grammatically conscientious person who frequents internet forums and YouTube." That right there is a rare breed.

I bring this link to your attention because I think the Alot is a stroke of brilliance, maybe even two strokes, possibly three. And yeah, if I think it's brilliant, you know it really is some kind of fucking brilliant.

To display my reverence for this anthropomorphic snarky genius, I have decided to add a pet Alot to my menagerie. Hopefully Godzilla won't eat it. Or alternately, that it won't eat Toshi. That would be a tragedy of epic food chain proportions, but I suppose it's a risk I'm going to have to take.

You know what else I need to add while I'm at it? A pet Alright. The Alright's name derives from its physical appearance, as all its outward features protrude from the right side, creating a most unusual effect. Witness:



I claim copyright for the Alright, but now it is in your brain (more on that below). The Alright is necessary because, hey, guess what kids? Brace yourselves: there is no such word as "alright."

The proper usage is "all right."

One could make an argument for "allright" as a compound word, if one were sufficiently lubricated by one's beverage of choice and arguing with someone who is not me. Because that compound word argument fails. Think about it: it's not like you start dropping letters out of the middle of other compound words. Why would you do so to alleged compound word allright? I mean, it's not a "balroom" or a "bilboard" or "dicwad," is it? Therefore, citing grammatical precedent, it's not all right to use alright.

And you know, I blame this slipping of standards on The Who. I like The Who, but can't forgive them for coining alright. To prove my point: CLICK HERE. Whoa, cosmic lipsynching fail! Seriously, what were the electic guitars plugged into, a duck's ass? The punters in the background all have very proper "WTF?" looks on their faces, probably because Pete Townsend had clearly not yet perfected his trademark windmill move. Maybe the guitars were plugged into Pete's ass, I don't know.

Anyway, I curse The Who for this non-standard abbreviation. Curse them! Even the American Dictionary, swimming in vernacular tides, decided in 1996 that they might as well acknowledge 'alright' as a wordage. Yeah, well, they suck.

You people, you write what you will. But remember this: every time you use the word 'alright' that Alright up there is going to crawl into your right ear and take a bite out of your brain.

And you know, the Alright's steady chomping away of your brain meats may very well explain the existence of The Squee:



Yeah.

Llama Tales

You've no doubt heard about the llama who showed up for the Bible reading? What, no? Here, read all about it: BORING RELIGIOUS LLAMA STORY HERE.

Yeah, whatever, my llamas don't go in for that. They are, however, known for wandering down to the corner bar and pulling a couple tall cool ones on a Saturday night. And they're more likely to cuss you out (in llama) than they are to quote Scripture. But hey, to each his own.

Right now my llamas are righteously bald.



Yes, I know that is a picture of Righteously Bald Yul Brynner. I happen to think it is more interesting to look at a photo of angry Yul Brynner than it is to look at a pathetic shorn llama. Yul Brynner, he was hot. Llamas, they are not hot...but they make good eats.

Anyway, my llamas were shorn last week so Jiggy could send their fleece to Louisiana. Llamas don't have oil in their hair, see, so their fleece makes the perfect absorbent for catastrophic oil spills. The llamas don't care about being balded so long as they have a few brews handy and access to the latest installment of ROCKET LLAMA. Plus now they will be all comfy cool in the summer heat. We had a neighbor once who used to shave her collie in the summer, and that dog looked like ass without fur. Its ass especially looked like ass, and let me tell you, a collie ass should not be hairless.

But llamas? They're used to getting shorn. And it's for a good cause.

What is not good in any way is this lousy oil spill. WTF, is someone out to destroy New Orleans? I know I'm not the first to articulate that paranoid idea but really, I don't think it's so damned paranoid when you get right to it. The good times we're supposed to be rolling in down there aren't meant to be soaked in crude...or at least not that kind of crude. My outrage covers plenty of political ground because as I see it, there's plenty blame to go around.

Things Need To Be Fixed, that's what I'm saying. And if they aren't fixed soon, I've got surplus stock of llama beans to pass along to the lazy asses what should be doing the fixing. And hey, I'll raise Yul Brynner from the dead to deliver said llama beans while I'm at it. If you thought Righteously Bald Yul Brynner was fierce? Yeah, you don't know fierce until you've messed with Righteously Bald Undead Yul Brynner.

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.