Because Angry Trumps Grumpy

"Oh hey AJ, why are you holding your knitting needles like that?"

Because I'm going to use them to lobotomize the next bitch who asks me if Grumpy Cat is me in feline form. That's why.

 
Seriously, people, this is what you think about? The world is full of happenings far worthier of your attention. I mean, China pulled 1000 dead ducks and 16000 dead pigs out of its rivers, and George W. Bush pulled a talent for painting puppies out of an unnamed orifice. There's a terrorist plot to mess up Donald Trump's hair by building a wind farm near his Aberdeen golf resort. (Well played, Scotland, well played).  The publisher of Fifty Shades of Gray just posted record profits, thus cementing the allure of plodding pr0n prose and the wallet-power of people who prefer masturbating to reading (I know you're one of them. Whatever, I don't judge. Just remember, Santa sees you when you're sleeping and he knows when you're awake and playing with yourself. So yeah, we'll see if he brings you that new American Girl doll after what you did there).  North Korea and Iraq want to blow things up, Cyprus is about to financially implode, and the worst international crisis of all is looming because Prince Harry is coming to the US in May to play naked billiards with your daughters.

And all you people can talk about is a constipated-looking cat?

Let me spell it out for you: stop sending me messages about Grumpy Cat. I thought it would stop after the first three but we're now on message #27 and counting.  FFS, enough is enough.

 

Don't get me wrong; I like cats. I like cats more than dogs, even. Of course, I like Godzillas more than cats, and I really like tequila. But I digress; those things have no bearing on this particular situation. My current frustration isn't born of anti-cat prejudices, that's what I want you to know.  I'm just sick of seeing that damned cat and having comparisons drawn.

Granted, David Letterman built his career on beating jokes into the ground through repetition, stomping on their dead punchlines and reducing them to bloody comedic pulp, then watching them resurrect and take on new lives as anti-jokes. That's not what's happening here, people. You aren't David Letterman, and sheer repetition of memes will not bestow the kiss of comedic genius upon your sweaty brows. Sheer repetition of memes will get you knitting needles to the skull.

And no, I don't care that Grumpy Cat is on the cover of Time Magazine. Whatever.  I'm on the cover of Cosmo.

And as the blockbuster sales of Fifty Shades of Gray proved, smut will always outsell serious.  Just like angry trumps grumpy.

So take that, cat.

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.

Sandy is a stupid name for a hurricane

WTF kind of name is Sandy? Wasn't that the name of the character that Olivia Newton John portrayed in Grease?

Why would you name a hurricane after her? She couldn't even tell that John Travolta was gay!

I seriously hated Grease. It tops my List of Worst Musicals Ever. Well actually, it is tied with Annie. But if American Girl ever makes Julie: The Musical that one will push them both off the List.

Anyway, I'm here to tell you that Sandy is a lame-ass name for the storm to end all storms, the storm-apocalypse, the Frankenstormaggedon of all times. Damn it, this storm is meant to contribute to the fulfillment of the Mayan prophecy of the end of days in 2012 along with the earthquake in Canada, those tsunami warnings in Hawaii, and Yoko Ono's latest album release. And they called this thing SANDY?

FFS. They could have at least called it Jess in honor of its scarifying natural wrathfulness.

Whatever. I just want you people to know that even though you piss me off on a regular basis, I've got your backs. Someone needs to step up and protect you lot from the horrors of Sandy. So fear not: I've sent Godzilla to the eastern seaboard. He'll be coordinating search and rescue operations.

Yeah. Now that American Girl is selling Licorice again, I expect you people to feed him well.

"Insecurity is as cruel as the grave."

Yeah, that's what Nicki Minaj said related to her feud with Mariah Carey. Right after she threatened to shoot Mariah.

My, my my, this shit is gettin' REAL, people. I'm concerned.

See, Mariah is a charter member of my List. No one else has dibs and only I can take her out.

So back off Nicki, go pick on someone your own size. Judging by your emaciated status and abnormally chiseled facial bones, that would probably be one of those scary-ass Sybarite dolls.

OMG, that picture of red hot Nicki and Mariah?  Every time I look at it, I feel the urge to deflate all four of their boobs with a sequined red thumbtack.  But hey, we all know that the spilling-over boobage look sells. Let's face facts:  even little girls in AG's target market want dolly décolletage. They sure as hell don't want a sports bra for their flat-chested dolls. WTF, sports bra: 

No self-respecting pre-teen girl wants to look like that!  My American Girl, my muslin ass. Come on AG, market some inflatable boobs to slip down in there and sell them for $28 a pair. Imma tell you what, they'll fly off the shelves.

Yeah, maybe someday. Don't hold your breath waiting, though. After all, it took American Girl five long years to finally step up and emulate my own trademark fashion-forward look:

 Yeah. You know you want it.

Glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife

The latest round of releases from American Girl came out today and collectors over on the Playthings message forum are salivating and skating in their drool puddles. Of course, half of them are bored already with the new stuffs and are ready for the next round of releases.

Fickle fools. As if it's not enough that American Girl has allowed Julie and Ivy to reach paradise by the dashboard light in their new custom wheels with none other than Meatloaf.

The resemblance is uncanny, although it must be noted that the above photo is a more recent one of Mr. Loaf. At the start of his career he looked like Charles Manson's older, meatier brother.  Actually, he pretty much looks like that all the time.

We might need to add some Meatloaf DNA to the Warren Cash project. He could stand to look a little meatier and also, he needs to howl better. Werewolf of London sounds anemic.

C'mon, sing it, Meatloaf. Show the kids how it's done.

Paradise by the Dashboard Light

Yeah.

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.

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

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.

Public Service Announcement: This is not a Simian Baby

Because I know you people are easily confused, I want to assure you that this eBay listing is not for a prototype Bitty Baby. Nor is it an auction for a new line by AG called Simian Babies.



The listing in fact reads

"Your are bidding on 1 large prototype package of the 12" planet of the apes figure. This package is direct from the factory, and is in a heart printed box from the American Girl line (mattel).

Thanks for looking..paypal only"

So let me spell this out for you: you need to use Paypal only if you wish to purchase this twelve inch Planet of the Apes action figure shoved into an old Bitty Baby AG box.

Yeah. That's right. I'll be at the bar if you want to join me in a round of "WTF is that?" Because I don't even know where to begin with this one (mocking the grammar and spelling fail notwithstanding, because that's like shooting fish in a barrel).

Anyway, I'll have you know that Godzilla does not approve. Don't EVER try to shove Godzilla's ass into an old Bitty Baby box and peddle him on eBay. Many have tried, and none have lived to tell the tale.

And now for a short break to discuss the weather

I have it on good authority that the end of days draws nigh. How do I know this? Well, Dr. Phil saw his shadow today, which means he is still a fat pig. Granted, that doesn't necessarily spell the end of days, but it's worth mentioning. Meanwhile in Punxsutawney, I am told that Phil the marmota monex did NOT see his shadow today, prompting Joe Wilson to rise up from whatever hole he lives in and cry "You lie!" Seriously, Phil, have you looked at the weather lately? Early spring, my muslin ass. See you in six weeks, at which point I expect a lot of chumps will be calling for your ass in the barbecue. You have naught to fear from me as I neither believe your feeble prognostications nor have I a hankering for woodchuck meat.

But really, the crux of the matter regarding the impending end of the world is this: in Egypt, there are electric catfish that live in the Nile River. Really. Electric catfish. If ever there was evidence that the end of days was drawing nigh, it's this. Because everyone knows that eels are zombie-like creatures, and electric catfish are related to eels. So voilà, it stands to reason that quasi-zombie-like creatures which emit electromagnetic energy are going to rise up and take over Egypt, which surely signals worldwide doom and destruction. Ergo, the end of days is nigh.

Take a look at Egypt right now and tell me I'm wrong about this. Go ahead, try. It's similar to the Rise of the Ginger Army as prophesied in the Book of Nellie, only not really.

But you're not particularly concerned about the end of days, are you? "No, not really, not unless it impedes my products being shipped from American Girl in a timely manner, AJ."

Right. What you people really want me to do is explain why AG is caught in an endless cycle of product retreads, aka a perpetual AG Groundhog Day.

There are two aspects to this. One is when AG goes and uses the same mold, paints it a little differently, and markets it as a new shiny for the ignorant masses. Like Kaya's fire here:


And the Campfire and Treats fire here:

See? Same damned fire. Well, sort of. Kaya's is a bit shinier, as befits her being from 1754. Rocks were prettier then, being part of unspoiled nature and all. And of course, the second fire pit is actually an upgrade because it plays "four classic summer camp songs." Yeah, I don't know what four classic songs your battery-operated plastic fire pit plays, but mine belts out The Doors' C'mon Baby Light My Fire, Hendrix's Let Me Stand Next To Your Fire, Talking Heads' Burnin' Down the House, and of course The Stones' Playin' With Fire.

There are many examples of this sort of retread, such as MY water bottle and the Hopscotch Hill water bottle, MY scooter redone as a generi-modern doll scooter, MY Toshi hopped up on steroids and force-fed Tang to turn him into an orangutan of fail (but we all know what happened in the end, so it's all good), multiple cases of same shoe-different color, AG's various Pet Carriers and Pet Beds and Grooming Tubs, and the identical designs marketed as Stars and Moon and Flower trundle beds (both of which splinter the moment you look at them sideways). I'm sure there are more incidents of AG retread fail that escape me at the moment; come up with your own if you are so inclined.

Now to be fair, it's not like one can whip up a helluva lot of variation on water bottles, fire pits and pet furniture design. But the rest, yeah, that's plain lazy-ass design.

Then we get the variations-on-a-theme thing that AG does. See, AG sells toys. For sure they are pricey toys, but they're toys. The window of opportunity to hook kids is a small one, given how quickly kids grow up. So every couple of years, AG repackages some damned outfit or accessory and sells it to a whole new 'generation' of kids. That's why we get multiple variations of boogie and paddle boards, flippers, cheerleading and dance and ballet and riding outfits, bowling uniforms (WTF, why?), snowboards, ski gear, inline skate sets, and best of all, MY pajamas for Mia and that current imposter for GOTY, Kanani.

You might conclude that AG wouldn't know an original idea if a groundhog came up and bit it on the corporate ass. And you might be right about that, but remember that the end of days is nigh and plan accordingly.