Left: You’re a priest in a hardscrabble factory-town parish, listening to your brother’s son confess that he has killed a man.
Center: You’re a gangsta rapper being informed by a haughty bouncer that you are not on the list.
Right: You’re a six-year-old who has skinned his knee in the playground, waiting to cry until your mom gets off her cell phone.
Left: You’re Adam, a five-year-old boy sneaking your pet rat into your seven-year-old sister’s underwear drawer.
Center: You’re Lacey, the seven-year-old sister, having just opened the drawer.
Right: You’re Adam, hiding in Lacey’s closet as she screams, “Adaaaaaam!!!”
Left: You’re an eight-year-old boy whose friend convinced you to shoplift the latest Grand Theft Auto. Now you’re sitting in the security office at the mall, waiting for your father to arrive.
Center: You’ve just excused yourself from the table at a dinner party where you’ve been placed between the two most boring people on the planet, and you’re in the bathroom, wondering how you’ll survive two more hours.
Right: You’re the idealistic young teacher of an out-of-control fourth-grade class, exploding after 20 minutes of complete chaos.
Left: You’re a 9-year-old boy hearing about the details of sex for the first time from your 16-year-old brother.
Center: You’re an evangelical preacher, screaming to your flock, “Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, JESUS!”
Right: You’re an ex-jock dad, apoplectic over the penalty the soccer ref has called against your seven-year-old son for a tackling foul.
I love the face on the left. :P
Left: You’re an ingénue actress, new to Hollywood. Your agent has just called to say you’ve been chosen for a role in a big movie … as George Clooney’s love interest.
Center: You’re a construction worker having lunch with your buddies on the street in front of the job, calling out to a sexy woman passing by, “Hey, hon, wanna see what’s in my lunchbox?”
Right: You’re a mid-level drug dealer with a big payment due to a Mob boss, getting the news from one of your street runners that he lost the big coke stash in, “like, a weird gust of wind.”
Left: You’re a finalist on America’s Next Top Model who is hearing Tyra tell the other girl she’s out—and you’re prepping to give your nemesis a ‘sincere’ hug.
Center: You’re a stand-up comic performing at a Toronto showcase packed with S.N.L. and HBO scouts—and your “lesbian chickens” bit is utterly tanking.
Right: You’re, like, 15, and he’s, like, 17, and even tho U have only ever said, like, “Hey” in the hallways, he’s just texted 2 ask U 2 B his D8 @ the prom!!! the prom!!!
Left: You are a dedicated father who, with your wife, has just sat down to dinner with your 15-year-old daughter, who is defiantly announcing that she’s pregnant.
Center: You are a fashion designer on the morning of your big runway show, realizing that nothing in the collection is ready or fabulous.
Right: You are a blustering, pompous member of the British Parliament, giving a speech that is being broadcast on the BBC, and you’re thrilled at the sound of your own voice.
Left: You’re the cornerman for a winded female boxer, desperately exhorting her: “She’s run away with your boyfriend! She’s kidnapped your kid! Get out there and kill that heifer!”
Center: You’re five years into a contented but sedentary married life, protesting to your wife, “I said you’re ‘Rubenesque.’ It doesn’t mean fat. It means … Rubenesque!”
Right: You’re a 10-year-old in a high-rise apartment, playing fetch with your fox terrier and a tennis ball—which has just bounced out the window, with your dog in full pursuit.
I love the one on the right. :P