American Girl has managed to shock and awe the blogosphere yet again with an adorable new addition to the company's collection. Meet Gwen Thompson, the homeless friendccessory to Chrissa, AG's doll of 2009:

That's just her head, but you get the point.

For $95, you can purchase Gwen along with her book which you'll probably have to read to her (because she's illiterate) and her lone accessory, a $7 toy hairbrush and the only thing the kids in the shelter didn't steal. While many of you may deem Hobo Gwen "offensive" and "exploitative," mostly because none of the Mattel's profits will actually go to homeless relief efforts, I think she's pretty edgy. I mean, a white blonde homeless doll in 2009?! That's quite progressive, even for Mattel. Now, if only American Girl's Doll Hospital accepted the uninsured.

Which reminds me, here's to the NEW REFUGEE GIRL DOLL OF 2009!!!

Drum roll please...

Her name is la Gloria Portadora and she's a resistant little firecracker from Mexico. Gloria, along with her piglet, Estornudo, flew to America in the Spring of 2009 after a deadly epidemic swept through their native region of Veracruz.

In American, she lives with her cousin, Carlos, an adjunct faculty member at the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta, Georgia. Gloria's hobbies include riding public transportation, laughing, coughing, not covering her mouth when she coughs, licking door knobs and guitar hero.

As far as accessories, La Gloria comes with a $5 toy brush (cheaper than Hobo Gwen's because it was made in Mexico), a stockpile of Tamiflu that you can actually eat (they're sugar pills, but don't underestimate the placebo effect) and a corresponding book set (en Ingles y Español).

In her first book, ¡Que Puta la Escuela!, Gloria is sent home from school for being a bio-health hazard. In ¡Oh díos mio!, we learn that sometimes, when you think you're in heaven, you might just be in a coma. And in La Gloria Dice NO a Las Drogas, we discover that certain drugs lose their efficacy when taken recreationally. Oh, and unlike the Gwen doll, a portion of La Gloria's proceeds totally go towards helping the homeless (me!).

This past summer I had the privilege to open for Jessica Delfino at the Soho Theater in London. It was my first time performing stand-up comedy outside of the country (ok, fine, I did a few shows in Toronto a while back but no one could even hear me through my SARS mask) and overall the experience went well. Anthropologically speaking, I did take note of a few cultural differences:

For one, the Brits seem to enjoy a darker, drier brand of comedy... which I'd imagine pairs well with the ghosts of limeys past trapped in the London Underground.

Also, the Brits place more economic value on comedy than we do in the states, as evidenced by the hefty pay checks comedians get for performing. For instance, Jess and I were invited to play a private "ladies only" event where we were payed £130 just to do a few minutes of comedy, which would be comparable to  $190... if it wasn't in the form of a sex toy. That's right, we were paid in vibrators:

We unassuming Americans were roped into performing live comedy at a British product launch of a new sex toy, called the SaSi. Sadly, our time onstage was cut short once the rosé was passed out. Apparently,  drunk British women are not our target demographic...

But back to the sex toy, the reason this product is so expensive is because it's equipped with "a fancy system of programmable stimulation settings so that it learns what you like."  Which, in a round about way, brings me to the point of this blog: sex with robots.

Robophilia, Technosexuality, J-Date... whatever you want to call it, this inorganic fetish is sweeping the nation. And it makes sense, with the ubiquity of STDs, serial murder, and flaky peeps who wait three days to text you back, I can see why a lot of men and women are reverting to synthetic materials for sexual gratification.

And while sex with a robot might not be my cup of tea*, a few more years of being single in New York and I may change my tune.

*my cup of tea is definitely English Breakfast, I love it...  so robust and earthy.

I recently tuned into MTV's 16 and Pregnant, and while I'm not really the show's target demographic, I did learn a lot. Here are some key takeaways:

If you're birth name is Amber, Brandy, Maci or CateLynn (spelled that way) you're probably gonna have a baby before a driver's license.

Sudafed + Iodine Crystals + Red Phosphorus = Meth & GOOD REALITY TV.

X-box and ramen noodles are potent aphrodisiacs (contrary to popular belief).

If your step-dad's name is Butch, you should be glad your baby isn't his.

Artful sketches make the gory details of childbirth look awesome.

If someone proposed to my prego ass with a $21 wedding ring from Walmart, the shock alone would most likely induce miscarriage. 

Brand integration has reached an all time high:

and lastly, Dr. Drew would make a great baby daddy (although his myspace profile says that he's already a "proud parent").

... I can't wait for 15 and Pregnant!

Looking back on my last post, I have to admit that it kind of gave me the cheese chills the second time around. But to preserve the integrity of this blog, I decided not to "pull an Iran" by deleting it. Below is a pretty awesome video that will alleviate any overwhelming sense of cheesiness you may have gotten from the John and Yoko love fest:

Which brings me to my list of all time favorite 80s movies:

1. Teen Witch (1989)

2. Lady In White (1988)

3. Sleepaway Camp (1983)

4. Troll 2 (1990) ... but the prequel was shot in the 80s

5. Once Bitten (1985)

6. The Last Unicorn (1982)

7. Elvira, Mistress of the Dark (1988)

8. Earth Girls Are Easy (1988)

9. The Watcher in the Woods (1980) 

10. My Stepmother is an Alien (1988)

I recently had to cry on command for an audition, but with all the comically disturbing celebrity deaths this week, I just wasn't in the mood.

As someone not so "in touch" with their emotions, crying on command is not an easy task. In fact, aside from a dewey-eyed reaction to the ubiquitous Susan Boyle clip, I can't remember the last time I shed a tear. So, in order to artificially wet the ducts, I turned to an old staple:

Note: This clip is most effective if, while watching it, you the recall Lennon's tragic death, particularly as the media portrays it (complete with images of Yoko reeling and the flood of global public outcry) and skip out on his wiki page (namely the parts about his estranged relationship with first son Julian and pre-Yoko misogyny).

This week, according to a tripadvisor.com poll of over 4,500 travelers, 34% reported being more germ conscious after the recent swine flu "outbreak." Oh H1N1, you make me sick (figuratively), parading around like a real pandemic, discouraging people from taking advantage of their frequent flyer miles and instilling fear into all the aortas of my would-be blood brothers. Enough already!

In response to this whole SWINE FLU FEVER, Trip Advisor editors decided to list their Top 5 Most Germy Places In The World, which includes Blarney Stone in Blarney, Ireland, Seattle's Gum Wall, Oscar Wilde's Tomb in Paris, St. Mark's Square in Venice, Italy and Grauman's Chinese Theater in Hollywood, CA.

Really, Trip Advisory? I think you missed a few spots:

Navy Pier's Funhouse Maze in Chicago, Illinois -  just because I've been there and it's gross. Black lights and sticky children allowed to run amuck don't mix well.

The Ganges River in India - where a 4 mile stretch of bathing ghats in the holy city of Varanasi contains 120 times the official limit of fecal matter considered safe for bathing (thank you, Wikipedia).

Russian and Turkish Baths in the East Village, New York - give Africa a break, AIDS totally started here.

but speaking of Africa, how about...

Wet 'n Wild Ebola Virus Water Park in the Democratic Republic of Congo- with the $4 bottles of water its kind of a tourist trap.

Rutgers University, New Brunswick, New Jersey - the only campus bookstore where HPV is airborne.

China, in particular, all of it.

and last, but certainly not least (drum roll please)...  

Mercado De Brujos (Witches Market) in La Paz, Bolivia - where I witnessed a postpartum market woman lactate on a dried llama fetus she then tried to sell me. 

Am I missing any other places?  You bet, but I have enough ideas up my sleeve to turn this entry into a daily calendar- or better yet a witty parody book that might sell one copy at Urban Outfitters.

I love rain. But contrary to my opinion, an article in todays New York Times, entitled "New Yorkers Near a Saturation Point," suggests that many of you feel the opposite (I'm assuming the bulk of my readership resides in the NY metropolitan area).

The author claims that due to the recent spat of "bad" weather (it has rained all but 4 days in the past 20) more Manhattanites are experiencing rain rage; local Weight Watchers clients are reporting gains, gardens are flooding and obscure parades and rooftop screenings of indie hipster flicks are getting postponed... all of these things translate to little victories for me, but my schadenfreudian tendencies aside, I wouldn't go so far as to blame New Yorkers' tenuous mental states on the rain.

If anything, I'd imagine that there is less rage on the streets of New York during rainy days, if only because we come into contact with less people. Don't get me wrong - I LOVE people (to the minute capacity that I am able to), but there are far too many of us on this little island.  And, I know I'm not one to talk (I'm NEVER one to talk), as I moved here less than a year ago, but the over-saturation of humans in this city is kind of a public health hazard. Just visit the Trader Joe's in Union Square or observe our nonchalant expressions to a machete wielding crazy person, with scratches on his face, trudging down 1st avenue in broad daylight... it's just not natural.* 

Is this post snarky and unfunny?... maybe I'll blame that on the rain.

p.s. I do commend New Yorkers for their tolerance to crazy, particularly in the East Village.

On my most recent visit to Chicago, I ran into a friend who started a "yogurt blog" after discovering that an ill-conceived coupon on a certain product, when paired with his employee discount, actually earned him money upon purchase. When he invited me to be a guest blogger/contributor to his borderline O.C.D musings on the product, I couldn't help but say yes. If you're interested in checking out the rest of his blog, friend "Aaron Ackerson" on Facebook (the blog is set to private so as not to upset the higher-ups).

Here's to creativity spawned from boredom:

11:23 AM (CST) After informally accepting the invitation to be a guest blogger on A.Y.B (Aaron’s Yogurt Blog) last night, I couldn’t punk out this morning when I woke up with a head cold and the inability to breathe, let alone taste the yogurt that has been Aaron’s muse for the past month. But, to preserve the integrity of his blog, I decided to suck it up, figuratively and literally.

For starters, I mixed my OIKOS Greek Vanilla with an oatmeal raisin cookie from The Chicago Diner, which they also sell at Aaron’s “anonymous” employer (hint: it rhymes with Whole Foods). The vegan dessert paired well with the tart organic bacteria… much better than the mucus slowly building up in my throat.

Halfway through, I ran out of cookie crumbs* so I sprinkled a little bit of Trader Joe’s Almond Cashew Cranberry granola on the OIKOS to cut the overwhelming flavor of the acerbic white paste. This allowed me to finish the yogurt with ease.

After consuming my yogurt-cookie-granola mess, I washed it down with a tall glass of NyQuil. Much like milk, NyQuil coats your stomach quite nicely… although, it’s a little on the sweet side… speaking of sweet, I think I’m going to go to sleep now.

*because I only used half of the cookie, maybe if I still lived in the Midwest I would have eaten the whole one.

As I alluded to in my blog the other day,  American Girl's newest doll shares a pretty common name with Jewesses everywhere. In fact, there are 9.2 million Rebecca Rubins registered on Facebook alone (I'm guesstimating). This week, the doll caused quite a stir when bloggers at HEEB Magazine (I heart you) discovered that her name also belongs to a wanted arsonist. SCORE! 

As I alluded to in my blog the other day,  American Girl's newest doll shares a pretty common name with Jewesses everywhere. In fact, there are 9.2 million Rebecca Rubins registered on Facebook alone (I'm guesstimating). This week, the doll caused quite a stir when bloggers at HEEB Magazine (I heart you) discovered that her name also belongs to a wanted arsonist. SCORE! 

While this latest controversy isn't as awe inspiring as previous American Girl slip ups (like when the company offended Chicago Latinos by labeling Pilsen, the culturally proud yet gentrifying Mexican neighborhood as "dangerous" in Marison Luna's backstory... or when AG was exposed for underpaying non-union child actors to play the parts of children protesting child labor in their play... got that?) it has inspired me to do a background check on the names of other American Girl dolls- guess what guys, they're all convicted felons.

JK, but here's the first thing google came up with:

Felicity Merriman is Regional Chair of the "Conservative Woman's Organization" in London. 

Addy Walker is a Realtor from New York who graduated from The School of Hard Knocks (it's actually written as such on her resume). 

Julie Albright is an award winning researcher and lecturer, and a trusted expert in the media for stories related to popular culture, relationships, sexuality, gender, and plastic surgery, and the social aspects of the Internet, including online dating and social networking sites like Facebook, Craigslist and Myspace. This Dr. Julie and I would be great friends.

Kirsten Larson is a 25 year-old Pulmonary Hypertension patient turned documentarian recently featured on Montel Williams.

Kit Kittredge is also Abigail Breslin's fraternal twin that she ate while in utero.

Samantha Parkington is a UCF College of Business Administration student on LinkedIn. Join her network!

and Molly McIntyre is a detective, a mother and the focus of the CBS special "A Mother's Duty," about her experience coming to terms with her son/convicted murderer, Patrick, who she brought to trial...

not as cool as Arsonist Rebecca Jewbin, but I'll take it!

Disney's newest animated feature, which hits theaters December 2009, has already generated a ton of negative buzz around the blogosphere. The Princess and The Frog (originally titled Uncle Tom's Cabin) is Disney's first effort to add a Black heroine to their Princess franchise and the poor unfortunate corporation has already come under attack for the feature's allegedly racist cast of characters.

This is a low blow for Disney, a company that has a long history of breaking new ground with their cultural tolerance and political irreverence. For instance, there was Aurora from Sleeping Beauty, the first cartoon with narcolepsy. Even before that, Snow White was the first children's character to struggle with a debilitating drug addiction. And let's not forget Beauty and the Beast, animation's first love story about paraphilia (google it).

I believe Disney's heart is in the right place with this movie. But if it's not, just forward your remaining criticisms to Oprah (one of Disney's paid "cultural consultants" on the project), who is super accessible via her website at Oprah.com. And let's not forget what's really important here: tapping into the psychographics of insatiable aspiring little princesses everywhere and cashing in on their purchasing power - regardless of size, skin color or socioeconomic background.