A Prickly Situation

Gown Goddess: Stoopid photographaar! I told you posing amid cactus would be a biiig mistake!

Sweater Girl: On the plus side, I don't think I'm a virgin anymore.

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.

One Carry-On & One Buffoon Per Person

Ditz Guy: What do you mean, none of my things are contained in all this luggage?

It Girl: Darling, it's Fashion Week! Everyone knows you're a total nobody unless you arrive with no less than five suitcases. Of your own.

Ditz Guy: But my Hugo Boss suits! You know they cut me just right at the hips. Do you want me sitting next to Anna Wintour, looking like a fatty?

It Girl: With that face, you'll be lucky if you get a seat in the back with the stylists' assistants. The second assistants, that is.

Ditz Guy: But I'm sure your VIP status will be just fine. If you lose the wig.

It Girl: You're riding home in the cargo hold.

The Big Heist

Left Shoe: We got her! Go! Go! Go!

Right Shoe: I'm going, I'm going. Jeez, do you remember her being such a fatty? Eight months in Belgium and she goes from a slender clutch to a wide-load tote.

Left Shoe: She's a little weighed down, but can you blame her with all the waffles and chocolate and beer she's been subjected to here? And don't forget the french fries. French fries originated in Belgium, you know.

Right Shoe: Can't say I did know that. What I do know is my arch is starting to bend the wrong way and I think I just popped a shoelace. 

Left Shoe: I hear that. My chunky platform cannot handle the weight. After we get her back to the States, a visit to the cobbler is definitely in order.

Handbag: Um, hello? I can hear you. And, I'm not fat. I've got a wallet in the oven and it could be either of yours.

Right Shoe: Now my sole hurts, too.

Left Shoe: You are such a heel.

Super-Duper-Size Me

You go on one little five-month, fast-food binge and the next thing you know, you're relegated to being photographed in coats the size of the Empire State Building. You're darn right I'm not smiling about it.

Pillaging and Plundering for Good Booty

Ahoy me hearties! I'm back, with a clean poop deck and padded treasure chest, looking for a buccaneer with a robust booty to flog this yo-ho-ho before shivering me timbers with a jolly roger.

Party Pooper

Whoever came up with a city chic dress code for a ranch party better have a cute cowhand waiting by the bar with an armful of Shout Wipes.

Twisted Sisters

 

Chubby Cheek: Wait until she finds out Jimmy gave me his peanut-butter sandwich at lunch yesterday. Pretty Girl won't be sleeping so peacefully then.

Unfairly Chic: I can hear you. I'm not sleeping, I'm resting for my playground tete-a-tete with Bobby. You know Bobby? Whose dad owns the Handi-Dip? Guess who won't be getting her signature Double-Sundae-With-Everything anymore? And everyone knows Jimmy has cooties. He's made the rounds of the entire third grade.

Chubby Cheek: You take that back! The part about my sundae, that is. As for Jimmy, I guess that explains me waking up with a cold sore this morning. Thanks for hiding it with your silky hair.

Unfairly Chic: The Beautiful People are here to help in your time of need.

These Things I Cannot Bare

I wouldn't feel so ridiculous if I could cover up with those red panties. Or maybe just the coat.

Stuck Up

Krazy Glue really, REALLY works.