He looks like R Kelly version 5.2. He's time-traveled from the year 2033 to warn himself to stop pissing on underaged girls during sex because in the future when the world is under martial law and technology and robots rule the world, "them 14 year olds grow up to have themselves a real fucked up sense of payback."

He looks like a harp who's only dating her because he heard she does anal.

They look like the cause of little Billy Stanton's lifelong terror of boobs. What started as a family effort to help him with his 3rd grade science project, quickly turned into an unforgettable night when a combination of glue fumes and poor ventilation made the women giddy. Billy was arrested 14 years later in the French Quarter of New Orleans when he reflexively punched an intoxicated young woman who, thinking he was cute, suddenly appeared before him and flashed him. As officers led him away, witnesses claimed he was in tears and remorseful, muttering, "They never give you a choice....those crazy bitches just never give you a choice."

They look like...having your first lesbian encounter can be really awkward if your dad just won't leave the room.

He looks like after presenting at his ob/gyn for the 4th time in 3 weeks with complaints of severe, throbbing breast pain, the doctor shaved Jeff's chest into bra which quickly eased his symptoms and improved his quality of life.

"How did you know that would work?" the nurse asked the doctor after showing him the thank you card from Jeff with this happy picture printed on the cover.

"He's a man who keeps showing up at the ob/gyn. Sometimes you just have to treat delusion with delusion."

"Brilliant," said the nurse, as she took off her scrubs and let the wise old doctor have his way with her on top of his desk, which was their custom on Wednesdays when he could stay late at work while his wife attended her weekly bridge game.

He looks like Vladislav Kardashev, a Russian man who was somehow talked into signing up to be a mail order groom by his sister, Masha, who had grown old and fat as a spinster and was determined not to have her shy, sensitive younger brother suffer the same fate.

"In America, you find movie star to adopt you, like Angelina," she said as she filled out the paperwork while Vladislav sat quietly next to her, stroking his cat, Sergei.

"A man must be with woman, share bed, make babies," Masha said as she filled out Sergei's basic information, checking the box next to "thin" under the section "Body Type" rather than being truthful. She figured a woman purchasing a husband through the mail should not be a stickler when it comes to minor discrepancies. Vlade meanwhile, was looking out the window, hoping to catch the young boys from the nearby primary school passing by on their way home. He had a particular fondness for the slight, dark-haired timid boy who always walked alone, far behind the laughing, playful group.

"You deserve to be happy, Vlade. Do not let your life waste like mine."

Though Vlade had stoically stayed by her side and been her constant companion ever since their parents had died while they were both young, she always did feel that her inability to find marital companionship should not also obligate her younger brother to a lifetime of bachelorhood. But to be honest, there was a larger ulterior motive for this plan--she had heard from her neighbor Raina, that she had been paid 250,000 rubles for her son Boris by a lonely American widow living in Florida. And despite occasional worries about not having heard from Boris since he left for America, she now lived comfortably by her neighbor's standards. Masha hoped Vlade would fetch close to the same amount, as she had her heart set on a liposuction operation that would cost 120,000 rubles and maybe an extensive facial hair removal procedure with the remaining funds in hopes of pleasing the eye of the charming postman who had once told her she would not be so repulsive if she didn't look like a cow.

When the letter from the service arrived and stated that a woman named Sarina was interested in Vlade, Masha insisted he accept the offer. Sarina was looking for a loyal, virile man to be her companion and was willing to pay a hefty fee that would afford Masha her surgery and then some.

Vlade obediently accepted and headed off to Beverly Hills, California, where he discovered Sarina not to be the exotic, dark-haired young woman in the picture that had come with the offer, but an old, demanding Iranian woman who kept him in her house as a house boy and who often whimpered in her sleep. He did not mind though, as he had been able to take with him his faithful companion, Sergei, and he spent most of his days laying in bed in his boxers, dreaming of a fantasy life of friendship, hand-holding and secret-sharing with the slight, dark-haired timid boy he had seen walk by his house so many afternoons in his memory.

They look like members of the devout Christian missionary group, Ready for Rapture, on their way to Israel to promote understanding of the impending battle of Armageddon and to teach non-believing Jews that those who don't convert will suffer eternal damnation while those who believe will be sent to heaven, leaving a pile of their clothes behind. To their euphoria, the Rapture occurred while they were in midflight, bringing to fruition the event to which they had dedicated their entire lives. To their chagrin, it was their clothes, not their souls, that God was ultimately interested in.

She looks like she's surprised to say, the number of table accessories that she can stick up her cooter is limited to nine. He's determined that she can handle at least one more.

He looks like he just discovered that getting crabs from a teenage prostitute in Thailand ain't no joke...

He looks like a great example of the age-old Christian debate, what makes a child gay? Is it the immense enjoyment of a phallic oral applicator for his cough medicine, or wearing shirts made from his sister's recycled bedspread?

He looks like Alton, the guy who operates the Tilt-A-Whirl down at the shitty amusement park behind the Walmart. When asked what he likes to do when he's not working, he replied, "Seven? Yeah, seven's a lucky number...I ate m'hat." Alton drives around town in a brown 1990 Datsun hatchback covered in hundreds of bumper stickers. The one that people notice most is the one on the back window that reads, "The only Bush I trust is the one between my legs." Ironically, Alton is neither a feminist nor does he know who or what Bush is. He's just a simple man who really, really likes stickers.

They look like the Hartford boys of Plains, Kansas, who were all born within the confines of their parents' modest two bedroom farmhouse. Their father was affected by a deep-seated fear of hospitals and even deeper-seated belief that blacks, whom he often ranted were spilling out of big city places such as discos, whorehouses, police stations and hospitals, carried a contagious disease that caused wanton slothfulness and deviant sexual desires. Thus, he insisted that the boys be delivered at home by Dr. Sharper, the local veterinarian. This arrangement seemed to work out well when Gaylord (left) and Otis (right) were born, but when it was time to bring Laverne (2nd from right) into the world, the good doctor neglected to thoroughly wash his hands after treating the Grossman's sick piglet for dysentary, exposing Laverne to a bacteria that lead to what many believed to be mild mental retardation and what his mother believed to be a dire need to breast feed her youngest son well into his teens. Gaylord is 3 days away from being expelled from Central Christian College after his roommate, Josiah "The Xsperminator" Samuels turns in a surprisingly well-written paper with Gaylord's name on it, arguing that "blue-balling" is inherently unethical and providing a graphic two-page description of a woman's role in oral relations in proximation to a man's testicles (excerpt: MY BALLS/YOUR CHIN/I WANNA PUT EM ON YOUR CHIN, etc.).

The fourth young man at the table is Todd. Todd lives next door. Todd came over because Laverne told him they had an Atari. They don't have an Atari. Laverne just wants Todd to touch his penis.

He looks like he would have been more appropriately dressed had he complemented his outfit with tan argyle socks to match his shoes. That white on brown ensemble just makes him look tacky.

He looks like what began as a fun night of dropping acid with the boys, is about to turn really ugly when someone notices his head has grown a cake.  

She looks like a sexy photo entailing a deep lunge inadvertently became a pivotal point in her life.

Suddenly, the rip in her universe where boys have penises and girls have vaginas paralleled the rip in her taint where unexpected testicles tumbled through, bringing upon her a lifelong limbo of gender confusion and a deep regret for every Jamie Lee Curtis joke she ever made.

"Look at it this way," consoled her best friend Charlie-Ann May while standing at a distance, careful to keep her mom's van between them, "At least now you know why you were always really, really good at softball."