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.

Volcanoes are hot, and so am I

So, yeah, volcanoes have been taking a lot of heat lately. That is ironically timely, considering that someone on the Internet whose graphic I stole said that May is Volcano Awareness Month. I know, it's not May yet, but it will be soon. Unless the world is destroyed by simultaneous cataclysmic volcanic eruptions on all continents, that is.

I like volcanoes. I relate to and admire their collective commitment to the single-minded physical manifestation of rage: the seething cloud build-up, the oozing of hot lava, the apocalyptic eruption, and the fumarolic cooling period during which you're never quite sure when they're going to blow again. Clearly volcanoes are metaphors for my daily existence. Most people who are not me only dream about causing 1.7 billion dollars worth of lost revenue to the airlines industry. But that's all in a day's work for me and a volcano.

Volcanoes are useful, really. They created Hawaii. And there are often lots of kickass gemstones left in the wake of an eruption. There is also volcanic pumice, which keeps our heels nice and soft. Mine, anyway; yours could be like yak leather for all I know (or care). Volcanic ash enriches soil, too. Plus volcanoes have excellent grammar and syntax.

Wait, no, I'm confusing them with Vulcans. Easy mistake; Mr. Spock is also hot.

However, I call bullshit on the trope that virginal sacrifices are necessary to the care and keeping of volcanoes. WTF, what's a volcano going to do with a virgin anyway? The fire god Vulcan (not to be confused with the aforementioned Vulcans) does not need a steady diet of virgins to remain satisfied; he's clearly taking care of business all on his own. And anyway, how are you supposed to get said virgin to the caldera of an oozing volcano? It's not like you can climb up the sides with her, dodging hot lava all the way. And I don't think the tribal Pacific Islanders had budgets for helicopters. Bullshit, I say, bullshit. However, I cannot speak to the truth about volcanic Tom Hanks bloodlust. I don't think it can be true, though, because there's only one Tom Hanks and lots of volcanoes. They'd all be fighting over him. The losers would get Peter Scolari.

One thing is for sure: volcanoes do represent sex. I don't think I should have to spell this out for you. If you don't get this metaphor, you really ought not be reading my blog.

I think what I like best about the current volcano hysteria is the ensuing cognitive dissonance about Iceland having volcanoes. Hell yes, Iceland has volcanoes; 130 at last count, all with cool names that no one will ever use for an AG doll. Since the last time Eyjafjallajökull blew was 1821, it was due again. No steady diet of Volcano Virgin Chow was going to hold it back, let me tell you.

I love how people get all freaked out. Scientologists are wetting themselves about all the disembodied Thetans who are now scrambling around Europe to find bodies to inhabit, because they know that's the real reason aircraft were grounded. And then there's the panic over the EVIL EDVARD MUNCH SCREAM-FACE that showed up on on a radar image of the crater. FFS, people, zoom in! That's not Munch's Scream-face.


Yeah, me and volcanoes. We're hot.

There will be a test tomorrow.

I'm still pissed about under-aged girls getting their training thongs in a bunch about me. So here's the deal: I'm instituting a new policy over at AG Playthings. Anyone I suspect of lying about her age must pass this test before becoming a member of the forum. Mostly this is so I can be assured that the little charmers have enough common sense that the mods won't spend all day undoing their spam. Because seriously, the mods have better things to do, like cleaning my casino. That's right, I have a casino.

Here's the quiz.

You join the AGPT Message Forum. On your first day there, do you:
a) Post the same message to every thread you read.
b) Create a sales listing using stock photos, and tell people to make you an offer.
c) Create a listing for your brand new doll repair business, even though your skills are pretty much limited to brushing hair, changing clothing and taking badly lit photos.
d) All of the above


Oh, hey, look: it's the official thread on Lanie's release! You reply with:
a) "Hey, will anyone sell me their Lanie doll?!?!?!?"
b) "Supppp every1?"
c) Actually, you don't reply. You start a new thread about Lanie. Then you start five more. Then after you get yelled at, you delete your posts so none of the threads make any sense.
d) All of the above


The FAQ is:
a) The noise a duck makes.
b) A word you shouldn't use around your mother. Or grandmother. Your Dad doesn't care.
c) Tremendously long and boring.
d) All of the above


Cross-posting is:
a) I don't know, but it sounds kind of kinky.
b) Something they do in soccer, right?
c) My best friend got banned 4 it and its so not fair cuz u people r stalking what we do on the Interwebs plus who cares its just dollz.
d) What?


Necroing threads is:
a) Gross!!one11!!eleventy
b) When you reply to a thread whose last reply is older than two weeks.
c) Does it involve a zombie invasion?
d) Funny, lololol.


How do you write 'you are' as a contraction?
a) Your
b) You're
c) Your're
d) Yarr


Select the option with the proper word usage:
a) See Dick run. Run, Dick, run before Cthulhu grabs you with it's tentacles.
b) Jane is playing with Cthulhu. Its a stupid thing to do.
c) Angry Jess is awesome.


Angry Jess is:
a) Scary
b) Creepy
c) Inappropriate
d) Awesomer than you
e) All of the above


Jiggy's favorite hobbies are:
a) cussing, getting drunk, dropping acid, and betting on ponies
b) fomenting anarchy and disrupting the world order
c) wearing dresses
d) alchemy
e) prank-calling Cousin Antonin
f) eating lobster at midnight on the third Saturday of each month that has two or more vowels
g) smuggling firearms into Third World countries
h) racing sea turtles
i) cultivating poppies
j) identifying exotic roadkill as practice for classifying human remains post-nuclear holocaust
k) all of the above


My birthday is:
a) January 1
b) June 21
c) April 1
d) May 1


My favorite holiday is:
a) St. Patrick's Day
b) Mardi Gras
c) Talk Like a Pirate Day
d) April Fool's
e) All of the above


My sworn enemy is:
a) Billy Mays
b) Eminem
c) John Mayer
d) Mariah Carey
e) Kanye West
f) American Girl
g) That one mod on the top of my list
h) Lamie
i) Mary Kay
j) Too many to list


My entourage consists of
a) Jiggy Nye
b) David Duchovny
c) Adam Carpatina
d) The Rock
e) Johnny Depp
f) Every custom AG boy doll ever made, or to be made
g) All men want me
h) Many women want me
i) You want me
j) All of the above


Essay question:
You are driving a bus. At the first stop, eleven people get on. At the second stop, 5 people get off and 7 get on. At the third stop 14 people get on and 6 have to stand, but no one offers a seat to the pregnant lady. At the fourth stop a guy dies on the bus but the control center won't authorize a medical stop. At the fifth stop, this one guy sends his kid up in a flying saucer, but no one cares because they've all been there, done that. At the sixth stop a guy gets off, throws up on the sidewalk, then gets back on the bus. At the seventh stop, the wheels on the bus go round and round. Why is Angry Jess awesome?


Extra Credit:
Write a response to the following the way you should if it was a topic on the forum. Use a dictionary, thesaurus, spell-check, descriptive imagery, and alliteration: Angry Jess is to Bea Arthur as Lanie is to ________.


So, yeah. I think I've got all the important screening criteria covered. If you have more questions that will help weed out the pre-pubescent posers, drop me a line. Be serious about this, though; don't waste my time with trifles.

The Internet is a Dark and Dangerous Place

Ever Google yourself?

Of course you have. It's just not a topic that comes up in polite company. Well, go on and admit to it, because this isn't polite company. Googling oneself for fun and profit yields interesting results. Personally, I have an Entourage that Googles me regularly.

They found a lovely homage to me on YouTube, which unfortunately has since been removed by the user. It referred to my stunning visage thusly: "Creepy picture, right?" Yeah, that's right, my reputation for scary, creepy, and inappropriate preceded me. I actually quite approved of the video, especially the color dynamics. Kudos, kid, and pity you took it down. I told everyone to give you lots of stars. Next time you put up a video homage to me, remember that my personal soundtrack should include a bit of Queen, a cut from Poisonous Lookalike by Warren Zevon, that kind of thing.

The Entourage found another random comment: "I love Jess, and I will get some eventually to make into custom dolls, but Jess herself has forever been ruined for me. Now when I look at her, all I think of is Angry Jess. As much as I love AJ, no Jess will ever be as awsome (sic) as her."

Wait, what? Let's see....you love me, and yet you hate me? You're a regular doll-loving/hating Push Me-Pull You, aren't you? Speaking of which, meet my newest llama, er, llamas.



Photo courtesy of Huffington Post. Where I am a regular contributor, under various noms de plume.

I love this comment: "I saw Angry Jess’ website a few months ago. It is very vulgar and unamusing. I can’t believe she is a moderator for AG Playthings."

Yeah, we are not amused. Vulgar? Why yes, yes, and thank you.

When on a vanity search, one passes from the sublime to the irritating to the sheer WTF. Here now, an edited-for-interest discussion made of pure WTF on another site (one which shall remain nameless to protect the WTFery):

-- Angry Jess on Blogger is SCARY! She swears a lot and gets mad
-- Well of course she does, she's Angry Jess! She is also kind of mean on AG Playthings...lol.
-- What's the link for the blog... lol... I like reading doll blogs
-- WARNING - I looked at the blog before posting this (and I wish I hadn't...), and Angry Jess says a lot of swear words and inappropriate things. I would not read it if I were you.
-- Her blog posts are basically PG-13. Be carefulon Angry Jess's blog. She thinks of Lanie as a Barbie with a polo shirt.
-- Ha ha I made a Julie one

Then they digress for mindless squee over a vaguely pissed off Julie Photoshop, one of Cleft Palate Rebecca which good taste forbids me from reposting, lame alterations of JLY dolls that boredom forbids me to further examine, and an interesting if tame rendition of Zombie Kit. Then comes a brief highjack into a discussion of what ROTFLMAO means, and an admonition that one must be 13 or older to join Playthings. Damn straight, that last bit.

Trust me, my summary of this discussion is far more interesting than the discussion itself. Back to the good parts...

-- Nope, Angry Jess is all about good grammar and punctuation, and no chatspeak on AGPlaythings. That's why she's there
-- I wouldn't get on her nerves, and I bet no one on AGPlaythings wants to. I have good grammar and use punctuation.
-- mmm-hmmm. I just CHECKED out her blog one day to see what all the fuss was about, and it scared me to heck. I couldn't believe anybody could write such vulgar things! Does she like ANYTHING?!
-- I couldn't believe someone could write things like that while being a DOLL! She is the scariest doll I've ever seen.
-- I read the blog and I wish I didn't. I hate that stupid Jess. She is just ****!JK
-- I wonder what happened to make her go so... bad...
-- Yeah, maybe her previous owner always threw her on the ground, stomped on her, kicked and/or threw dirt on her, attempted to rib (sic) her limbs and head off, attempted to cut her hair, shoved her into a toychest head first, threw books on her, threw her on concrete, and many more things. In my opinion, the Angry Jess blog should be rated.....EAINFAUTAOTOEOAWDL/UP (Explicit And Is Not For Anyone Under The Age Of Ten Or Eleven Or Anyone Who Doesen't Like/Use Profanity)
-- OK! I confess!! Sheshh!!!! I....AM SCARED OF THESE DOLLS!!!! And I am 10.
-- Theres (sic) a lot more on 'Angry Words From Angry Jess'. Go check it out, but only look at the pictures and not the words, for your own sake.

Ah, do let's discuss this, shall we? Once we get past the visual of that fan-fic description of my angry origins, that is.

First of all, kids, did you happen to see the disclaimer on my blog? You know, the one that says in big letters before you even get to see so much as a pixel of me:

Content Warning
The blog that you are about to view may contain content only suitable for adults.

Dully warned, you can proceed at your own risk or back away quietly.

Hey, guess what, kids! IF YOU ARE TEN YEARS OLD, you are supposed to GO AWAY! Not stick around and "look at the pictures and not the words." FFS! What part of "only suitable for adults" don't you understand?

Yeah, I get that your judgment might not be the best, and that the Content Warning is like a sign to a leprechaun that reads "No Gold Here." But that brings me to my next point:

WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOUR PARENTS?

Because seriously, I'm not kidding: the Internet is a dark and dangerous place. My blog is the least of your worries, parents. Let's face it: if you aren't monitoring your kids' Internet surfing and they are young enough to be scared by the likes of me, you're falling down on the job.

But since the parents clearly aren't here reading my admonitions, and the 10 year olds are, let me speak directly to the kids:

Yo, 10 year olds (or anyone else scandalized by my blog)? Putting aside the fact that you ignored all common sense by proceeding after reading the Content Warning, why are you continuing to read this blog if it bothers you? What need have you to titillate and disgust yourselves with my vulgarity? You know what is going to happen if you don't stop, don't you? That's right: you will go blind. You will grow hair on your palms. You will become insane. Your growth will be stunted. You will grow up to be sterile.

There now, you've been warned.

Oh, and speaking of masturbation? Yeah, Johnny Depp found something on that other message forum for AG dolls. Something so profoundly disturbing, so non-family friendly, so unsafe, disrespectful and unkind that I hesitate to even point it out to you, gentle readers. And yet, in my role as flattener of asshattery and puncturer of platitudinarians, I must reveal this filth, this horrifying excuse for an emoticon.

Brace yourselves.


That's right. Humpy! Kitty is getting it done.

I encourage you to randomly include as many Humpy! Kitty emoticons in your posts on all forums, AG or otherwise, as you can. Do this in honor of all that we collectively hold sacredly scary, creepy, and inappropriate.

Not to mention vulgar.

In like an emu, out like a tapir. Or a pig.

It's March. Quit asking where I've been. I've been busy, and that's all you need to know.

I am going to discuss pig-related things, because yesterday was National Pig Day. If you don't like that, go suck on a hot dog.

It was pointed out to me that I neglected a rant-worthy segue relating to whistle pigs, the topic of my last blog entry. (Yes, I just used passive voice. Deal with it. I refuse to directly acknowledge certain moderators who like to point things out to me).

Here it is: LINKY THING

That's Gus, the Pennsylvania lottery's attempt to capitalize on the popularity of its state's most popular groundhog. Piece of poorly animated quasi-pork, that. Seriously, he makes Lamie's animals look well-made and attractive. Next time you wish to complain about them (And you know you will. I certainly will if you don't), consider that AG could have charged you $34 for something that looks like Gus.

But wait:


Yeah, I can see the inspiration.

Really though, Gus? "Second most famous groundhog in Pennsylvania?" That's just sad. If that's your claim to fame, you need to re-evaluate your life. Or your ad campaign. Also, don't ask me why Gus is playing for The Eagles and not The Steelers. I'm thinking it was because the Steelers are too cool to associate with this kind of ridiculousness. Gus should think on that some more because maybe he shouldn't be joining a team that has Michael Vick on it. Just sayin'.

Enough of this quasi-pig talk. Let's talk about a real pig: John Mayer. Been following John-boy lately? Total pig. We can only wish that he'd be sucked down in that "whirlpool of selfishness, and greediness and arrogance" that compels him to do things like rag about the sex with old girlfriends and drop the N-bomb in interviews.

"But AJ," you ask, "why do you hate John Mayer so much?"

Because he's a pig.

I have it on good authority that he tours in the John Mayer Weinermobile because he is obsessed with his own weiner.


Look, musically, I could do better with my fused fingers and AG's plastic guitar. And I hold him partially responsible for that breathy vocal thing everyone thinks is so cool (much like Mariah Carey is to blame for the "Every Word Must Consist of 450982342 Notes" syndrome). And John Mayer, he writes things like THIS, which is really complicated shit about I don't know what.

No. Do not want. Let's get one thing clear, John Mayer: if you come anywhere near me with your sausage (yeah, you see what I did there?), I'll finish what Pink started. Me, I do not need any man to be the fucking "guide and weight" of my world, okay? Seriously, I have an Entourage for whom I am the guide and weight of their worlds.

Which reminds me, John Mayer: stop sending applications to join my Entourage. I won't have you. Because you're a pig.

I do have to step up and say that I don't get why Jessica Simpson thinks she can handle a pet teacup piglet when she couldn't keep a muzzle on John Mayer when they were dating. Then again, I need to remind myself that after the Mariah debacle, I'm done giving advice to stupid celebrity ingrates.

Sadly, pigs get a bad rep because of the likes of John Mayer. We should be celebrating pigs, not ridiculing them. I think AG should make a stuffed pig for its next GOTY character. The pig is truly a noble creature. In Germany, where they greet one another by saying things like "Ich Habe Schwein Gehabt," pigs are meant to represent good luck.

And also, pig parts are just plain tasty. Not as tasty as llama, granted, but tasty nonetheless.

So all hail the noble pig. And Pink, who knows a pig who needs kneed in the crotch when she sees one.

Replace all of your Playthings signature photos with pictures of pigs today. You'll be glad you did

Snowmageddon, whistle pigs, and llamas

In the wake of Snowmageddon, I've been asked to go on a cross-country Weatherperson Eradication Tour. Tempting as it is to fuel up the camper and road trip it, I have to pass. Your wrath, delicious though it is to observe, is misplaced. You see, while I sympathize with those of you who only loaded up on a day's worth of toilet paper and milk when you should have bought enough for a week, it's not your local weatherperson's fault that you were misled.

Blame the whistle pig.

Marmota monax.

The woodchuck who can't chuck wood. The land beaver who brings you no candy grams.

No?

The goddamned groundhog.



Rat bastard.

Every year that fucker sees his shadow. Every year. Not that he can help but, what with those klieg lights shining on him. And then every year the press predictably makes a fuss about this, and every year PETA complains about the animal cruelty, and every god-damned year we settle in for six more weeks of winter.

Never mind that it doesn't take a groundhog to predict in early February that we're in for six more weeks of snowy cold wintery weather.

The worst thing about it is that there is now a copycat rival groundhog prognosticator by the name of Staten Island Chuck. That's right, in addition to unique social diseases, the great borough of Staten Island's contribution to modern civilization is another prognosticating whistle pig. Thank you, Staten Island. It just killed you to see Punxsutawney get more press, didn't it?

Chuck lives in a freaking zoo, the wuss. The only good thing about him is that he bit Mayor Bloomberg last year. That was cool.

Anyway, Chuck's show is rigged so he won't see his fat ass. Based on that, he predicted an early spring this year. Because ZOMG, it's Battle of the Groundhogs! In 3D!

And people were so confused. Believe Phil, or believe Chuck? Being eternal optimists and suckers for novelty (plus secretly fancying the woodchuck that bit the Mayor), most chose to place their faith in Chuck.

And that's why they don't have enough toilet paper and milk in the wake of Snowmageddon 2010. That only serves them right for their disloyalty to Phil. Phil knows the way the wind blows. Granted, he might only bite the fingers of the top-hatted Groundhog Club Inner Circle handlers, whereas Chuck gnaws on the Mayor, but Phil's 120 years old and he knows weather when he sees it.

Such drama, groundhogs. One doesn't have these problems with llamas. That's because llamas produce unique antibodies that can detect the presence of toxic bioterror agents. True fact! Read the LLAMA LINK and weep, you doubters.

My llamas can take your lame whistle pigs any day of the week.

Yeah.

Glitteratti

What do I have in common with Princess Diana, Britney Spears, Miley Cyrus and Paris Hilton? Yeah, certainly not brains; even collectively, they have none. Plus, I'm way more attractive than any of them. Also, as compared to Princess Diana, I myself am not dead. I also know enough not to get in a car with a drunk driver in Paris, although Vegas is another story.

However, believe it or not, we do share a common plight: we are all hunted by paparazzi. Shameless bastards snapped this photo the other day: LINK TO PHOTO

Now, I don't much care whether the world sees my goods, since everyone needs inspiration and something to strive to emulate. But it's the principle of the thing: since these are MY goods, I get to call the shots.

Literally.

Plus, the only reason I am targeted for such photographic torture is because of my innate awesomeness. It's not like I asked for this attention. Those others, they brought it on themselves.

But oh hey, speaking of bringing it on yourself? WTF, Mariah Carey!

You'll recall that I made it my personal crusade To Do Something About Mariah Carey, because this shit can't keep going on. It is demoralizing for the American people (the rest of the world thinks we're all whacked anyway and Mariah Carey is merely exemplary, so I'm not worried about them). So I took it upon myself and talked with her people, then I talked with my people, and then yeah, she got that role in Precious. Girl can sing and girl can act if she is deflated a bit, so to speak.

Well, never again will I lift a finger to help Mariah Carey. Because damn, Mimi can't let a good thing stand; she has to get right in there and mess it on up. She outdid herself with her drunken acceptance speech at the Palm Springs International Film Festival, where she was named Breakthrough Actress for that role I got her.



Check out the "WTF, bitch?" look on director Lee Daniels' face. That's some kind of Precious.

Now, far be it from me to criticize a sister for getting her party on, but dare I say that one must learn there's a time and a place for making a public spectacle of your damned self? Clearly Mimi skipped that class and took an extra course load of Divadom.

You make us want to look away, Mimi, let me tell you straight. The tight tasteless dresses we can forgive, because we like to point and laugh, and you like to display. But you need to shut your mouth, because when you open it up you're worse than most celebrity train wrecks, seeing as how you resemble nothing less than a tarted-up dirigible. And yeah, we all remember what happened to the Hindenburg.

So, in the face of such ingratitude and cluelessness, I give up. That's right, even I must admit failure in the case of Mariah Carey. There is nothing that can rehabilitate she who gave the world Glitter, because anyone who would name a movie after the herpes of craft supplies is simply beyond hopeless. (What? Demitri Martin knows about glitter. Once you have it you can never get rid of it, and it spreads like nobody's business down there in your business).

So while I can greatly rejoice for the latest success of my Campaign for Anatomical Correctness (that would be Delilah Noir, who comes equipped with a perfectly scaled vinyl vagina...or so I'm told by Ken), I must also despair in the face of things to come. Because I can see it now: the AG Mariah Carey Tribute doll.



Accessories sold separately.

It's a sad, sad day to see marketing standards sink to this level. Then again, Jiggy tells me that I'm not the target market for this doll and I have to trust him on that. But oh, I can just hear the calls to AG Customer Service:

"I am so unhappy! My Limited Edition Mariah Carey Tribute Doll won't stand on her own!"

And of course the standard scripted response will be "We strive for realism in our dolls and frankly, Mariah's too top-heavy and drunk to stand unassisted. These are display dolls, after all. You'll need to purchase the pink, glitter-encrusted doll stand for an additional $19.99 plus applicable shipping."

And then there will be fourteen simultaneous threads about it on Playthings. You mark my words.