Going (really, really) Green

Enough of the red-meat guys. This time, I'm snagging a vegetarian.

The Boob Whisperer

Chesty Besty: Go ahead, have a listen.

Plaid Lad: It's saying, "Stop going for the guys who try too hard."

Hair Affair: Why do you betray me this way, Fatty Orbs?! 

Plaid Lad: It's also saying, "If you chop the Mohawk, we'll have matching 'dos."

Hair Affair: Well, that would be freaky. Maybe I'll just borrow the mix master's condom hat.

Chesty Besty: That works for me!

Plaid Lad: You deserve each other. I'm off to find augmented reality. I'm close enough to know this isn't it.

Tinker Bull

Pixie Chick: Poof!

Iggy Flop: What the bloody hell are you doing?

Pixie Chick: Transforming you into something easier on the eyes with pixie dust!

Iggy Flop: It's cheap glitter and a glob of it is lodged in my throat, you twit. It's not my color, either. A silver matte shows much nicer on my spray-tanned skin.

Pixie Chick: Yes, I noticed you were orange. My magic dust doesn't appear to be powerful enough to turn you a normal shade.

Iggy Flop: Achieving this shade takes precision and dedication, thank you very much.

Pixie Chick: I see you've continued the theme to your magic wand.

Iggy Flop: Equal rights for equal awesomeness, my pet.

Pixie Chick: Put some clothes on, Orange Crush.

Iggy Flop: Admission is the first step, luv. It's not easy being under my spell.

Pixie Chick: Poof! Damn, you're still here.

Cutting Edge in 2001

Left Pucker: Omigod, I can't believe I was selected to be in such an edgy campaign!

Right Pucker: I know! Nobody's ever tried a lipstick-lesbian kiss to sell product before. This is so edgy!

Left Pucker: I might be into it a little more if your mouth didn't smell like the ass of a rotting cow.

Right Pucker: Me? Do you know what happens when you combine coffee, cigarrettes and roasted-garlic hummus? I do, because it's burning a hole though my chin.

Token Male: I don't care about the smell. I want in the middle of that brownie delight!

Red Wonder: I'm too busy trying not to pass out from the stench to hear you.

Pink Princess: So glad I learned how to stop breathing at Barbizon Modeling School.

Paris Bueller's Day Off

Hey, Bitches! It's me. Paris! Bet you couldn't tell because I replaced my hair extensions with a Marilyn Monroe wig. Don't I look just like her? I was so turned on I almost made out with myself, but that stupid mirror wouldn't let me reach in and wrap my arms around my own hot body. When is somebody going to design a make-out mirror already? And don't my boobs look huge? Who would have guessed duct tape has more uses than keeping the help in line? I learned SO much on this photo shoot!

Dirt Bags

Oh honey, don't fret; I could care less about clothes. But I have a lot of sex toys.

Make Room for Baby

Luxe Lady: You really are cheap. All I asked for is a crappy little motel room. You can't cough up $39.99?

Bargain Boy: Have you seen me? I'm wearing melon-colored pants and no socks. Do you think I want to dress this way? This is called broke, baby.

Luxe Lady: I suspect if I get pregnant, we'll have to convert the trunk into a nursery.

Bargain Boy: That area is claimed for my man cave. However, there's enough space in those boots to house a couple of kids.

Luxe Lady: If you get a man cave, then I'm claiming the boots for my craft room.

Bargain Boy: Fine. Let's agree then. No kids until we can swing a trailer hitch for the truck.

Luxe Lady: And rope for the mother-in-law suite on the roof. No kid without a built-in babysistter.

Ballbuster Alert!

My ballsack ... crushed ... circulation to testicles ... restricted ... nuts ... shriveling ... looks sexy ... through the viewfinder? And ... we're posing.

Mama Ciccone Wants Equal Pay for Equal Work

Mama: But Little Nonni, these conditions you have me working in are unsuitable for the mama of the Material Girl.

Madonna: Quiet woman! Keep sewing. My see-through culottes will be the hit of the tonight's premiere! Who'll be causing a commotion? Madonna! Just wait until Karl Lagerfeld sees me. He'll be sorry he's been musing it up with that stupid, young Blake Lively.

Mama: But Little Nonni!

Madonna: Little Nonni is no more. I am Madonna. JUST Madonna. It's even on my driver's license.

Mama: Do not forget, my Little Nonni, that I am the original Madonna. It's on my driver's license, too. Before you had it taken away, that is.

Madonna: What reason do you have to drive? When was the last time I allowed you to leave your shed?

Mama: You know perfectly well you took away my license when I tried to escape to La Isla Bonita back in '94.

Madonna: Mama, don't preach. You can never escape me, nor my enigmatic persona. Speaking of me, it's time I transformed again. I've been doing the aging Italian movie star for too long. I need to look younger. Lively-er! Like a lucky star!

Mama: Movie star? Have you seen any of your movies? You're more like an aging music video extra. And you know how badly they age. Just look at your brother.

Madonna: That's what happens when you only get 4 minutes of fame. Now push up your CVS glasses and let's get this show on the road. I can't be late for the red carpet.

Mama: I'm going to express myself by strangling you with my tape measure.

Madonna: I'm crazy for your ire, you tiny, poor beautiful stranger.

Mama: By the way, that pretty Blake Lively has better legs than you. Maybe I should sew you a long, wool skirt so you don't offend Mr. Lagerfeld.

Madonna: Guess who's going to be burning up in her bed tonight?

Up, Up and Away

When Daddy said putting on 10 pounds might keep me better grounded, I thought he meant metaphorically.