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!

Concealed Weapons (of Mass Destruction)

Two-Bit: That knee comes up any higher, he'll know this chicken is made of sausage.

Super Lit: That knee comes up any higher, she'll know this sausage ain't nothing but a patty.

Naked Eyes

Double Ds: Mother thought she was so special because of one little ad in her underpinnings. 

Pointy Cs: I am a legend, captured in time, virile and womanly, my fruits ripe for picking.

Double Ds: Speaking of fruits, have you seen my melons? Clearly they're not from your side of the family.

Pointy Cs: You know what they say: "More than a handful..."

Double Ds: I believe that ends, "...would have kept Dad from deserting the family."

Pointy Cs: You have always been my least favorite child.

Open Admiration

Woman: No, really, you have to see this.

Man in the Mirror: Sigh I highly regret suggesting you go commando.

Woman: Seriously, how do you find your way around down there? I don't even know what I'm looking at.

Man in the Mirror: That's because it hasn't seen a gardener in 25 years.

Woman: Are you dissing my fun field?

Man in the Mirror: Stay put. I'll be back with a hoe to help me till your soil.

Woman: Fine, but hold the fertilizer, please.

Coitus of Convenience

Sockless: Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Victor. No, wait.

Souless: Mother was right. Trade school wouldn't have been all that bad.

Sockless: Victim! Is it Victim? 

Souless: At least he's buying that I'm into him.

Sockless: No, it's Villain. Yes. That's it. Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Villain. 

Souless: At least he's buying.

He's Got Legs

When I brought up role reversal, I didn't think his legs would look better than mine.

Shoe Box

Model: You're looking up my dress.

Artist: I assure you, I am not.

Model: I clearly saw you glancing in the direction of my nether region when you're supposed to be focusing on my shoes.

Artist: Do you not see me hard at work on my sketch?

Model: Indeed, and based on my shaving practices of late, that's a pretty accurate depiction.

Artist: Yeah, what's up with that? Not your best look.

Model: A-hah!

Artist: That doesn't answer my question.

Model: Shut it, mustachio.