Season Three: Cookie Monster

Amy


Okay, can we just cut the crap here for one second, you backstabber? I know you have them. I know what's been going on around here. You're holding out on me, aren't you? Don't even try to deny it. The truth is in your pudgy little irises. I can see it. I can see it all. I've lived in this hicks-ville of a town for twenty five years, okay? I knew what you were going to wear before you got up this morning. I've seen your face behind the rows of merchandise almost all my life. I just saw you giving them away to kids, okay? KIDS. What kind of sick freak are you? They're innocent little tykes with no clue how it's going to go down. They just think they'll always get it whatever they want. Until one day, they'll be grown, like me, and have too much shame to ask for it. Well, fuck that! I've had a really hard day, and I WANT A FREE COOKIE!!
It's not fair! I know you have free samples out there, and it's not fair! I know that as time goes on, we are denied certain things. I accepted the tragedy that was the McDonald's Happy Meal Toy. I'm still trying to accept that my metabolism is now the speed of a slightly retarded turtle. But I'm looking around this store and I cannot, CANNOT accept the substitutes for free cookies. I mean, what do you have here? Slices of bread. BREAD. WHO THE FUCK WANTS A FREE SAMPLE OF BREAD, HUH? I'll tell you who: No one. That's why there's always a ton of it out there. Or those stale corn chips and salmon dip you try to pass off as fresh! And don't even get me started on those old ladies trying to sell me tiny cups of clam chowder. I've never even heard of clam chowder acting as a comfort food. No.
I want a cookie, and I want it from you. With a big smile. I even want the condescending voice, "Do you want a free sample today?" Yes. The longer you live life, the more you need a jolly baker handing you a cookie. And when it's just one and it's free, it's like someone picking you up after you've been kicked down by a world that is filled with sugar free, lactose intolerant bastards. C is for cookie, and that's fucking good enough for me!

Season Three: Ari's Monologue

Ari is practicing in front of a mirror, wearing a veil.


Ari

All right, here we go. Here we go, here we go, here we go.

I, Ariana, take you, Steve, to be my lawfully wedded husband. Even though I think that it should be more than just lawful. What about moral or ethical? And what does it really mean to be lawfully wedded? It just means not against the law. And really, what does that mean? That gay people can't do this? I don't want our love to be purely exclusive. I mean, I do, but not in that sense. I want our marriage to be something that everyone can celebrate, and as an artist, I'm going to have a lot of gay friends in the audience. I don't want to rub that in their faces, some of them are coming from out of state, where they can't wed, into another state where they can't wed. Oh god, I'm a terrible person, I can't say this in my vows! Okay, we'll just skip that part. I, Ariana, take you, Steve, to be my husband. Okay wait. My husband? I'm going to take him to be my husband. No one else. Just mine. So that's supposed to mean what, exactly? That we don't condone polygamy? Well that's not going to work, some of our best friends are coming in from Idaho and Utah! They all watch "Big Love" and I can't have them thinking that I don't approve of their lifestyle when I'm up at the altar! The altar is like their mothership to them, it'll be like I'm spitting on their mothership. How can I be so insensitive? I'm just going to have to skip that part too. I can't worry about hurling chunks of my phlegm onto their mothership during my wedding!

Maybe I'll just pantomime my vows instead.

Season Three: Marci's Monologue

Marci


I don't know where these are coming from, but someone needs to put them back. This is a new millennium, women can be executives, sports casters, and can run for president, for God's sake! But there are some things that should not be equal. There are some things that women should not partake in, and that my friends, is the naming of our private parts. It's just a vagina! It's something that should just have an "insert here" label. It's not something to fuss over or create stupid little nicknames that don't make any sense! Who wants to refer their private parts as a Va Jay Jay or Woo Ha or Muff? Or a Peep, Poop A Loo or Pussycat? Who are these people, and when did they think that these names could work? It's ridiculous! Let men name their situations, it's embarrassing enough when they do it. I guess when it's just dangling in front of you all day you feel compelled to name it, but we're women. All of our sex organs are tucked up neatly inside. We don't just let it all hang out. We're different than our male counterparts for a reason. There are some things we can share. Love of sports, beer, certain kinds of music, but this, this is where it ends. There is just no good word for what we've got going on down there. There never will be. But can't we all just agree to not continue the search for ridiculous words for our private areas? Could we not use nicknames during foreplay? Just shut up and do me! God!