Quotes About Pants

The age demanded that we dance and jammed us into iron pants. And in the end the age was handed the sort of shit that it demanded.

Style is innate to who I am. My father gave me a picture the other day. I must have been about seven, and I had on wing-tip shoes and some cool pants. I thought, 'Wow!'

I remember seeing Norman Cook swimming in a pair of burgundy pants. I thought: 'Wow, he looks great.'

I seriously don't give a crap how I get the pants; just that I get 'em before my next class. A wet crotch is not the way to show Brittany I'm a stud.

I lay there in my black slip dress and wondered if I ought to have worn pants. I mean, who knew what I was going to find up there? What if I had to do some climbing? People might see my underwear.

And the truth is, I'd felt kind of a thrill about wearing Jason's Big Boy pants. I was a sick kid, even way back then.

You're right, bro," Jetsam said. "Why should I give a shit if a driver don't have pants on? Sometimes I forget where I'm at." Then he looked at his partner and they said in unison, "This is fucking Hollywood!

The question of whether or not it is sinful for a woman to wear pants is such a point of confusion, division, and animosity among Catholics today that it should be addressed here. The issue needs to be settled once and for all. The question of wearing pants is the last thing Catholics should be outwardly attacking each other for.

He's so optimistic that he would buy a burial suit with a change of pants!

Thurmond—same thing. Kennedy, Eisenhower, Clinton . . . all men of power, and the power went right to their pants. Even FDR fooled around. This

Doing my homework one day, in the little box room in Cedarwood Road, I looked out the window as Guck Pants went by on a unicycle. Playing the trumpet.

When I wink at him, his eyebrows jump high. "We should cut him up," Camouflage One says. "Cut him into little pieces." I feign being startled and turn toward him. "Oh my, I didn't see you there." "What?" "In those camouflage pants. You really blend in. By the way, they are very fetching on you." "Are you some kind of wiseguy?" "I'm many kinds of wiseguy." All the smiles, including mine, grow. They

During a recess game of Four Squares—the dumbest game since Tetherball—Lance's pants had split. What made it worse, what made it one of those wholly horrifying childhood incidents, was that Lance had not worn underwear that day.

Myron showered and threw on a pair of sweats. His pants had blood on them. His own. He remembered that old Seinfeld routine about laundry detergent commercials that talk about getting out bloodstains, how if you have bloodstains on your clothes, maybe laundry wasn't your biggest worry. The

Where are your pants, son?

furthermore, I should be a ray of sunshine in my father's lonely life. I suggested that one could be a ray of sunshine in pants just as well

Dear designer of questionable intent, Please send me a photo of yourself. Please be wearing the knitted pants that you designed. It's not that I don't believe that there is anyone out there thing enough to wear horizontally stripped trousers knit from chunky wool, it's just that I would like to know whether you are deliberately cruel or whether you are the one woman these would look really great on.

And the truth is, I'd felt kind of a thrill about wearing Jason's Big Boy pants. I was a sick kid, even way back then.

One of the fundamental axioms of masculine self-regard is that the tools and appurtenances of a man's life must be containable within the pockets of his jacket and pants. Wallet, keys, gum, show or ball game tickets, Kleenex, condoms, cell phone, maybe a lighter and a pack of cigarettes: Just cram it all in there, motherfucker.

Clayton had a number of troubles but his greatest one was his trousers.

I don't wear slacks, but I Iike jeans.

I really love jeans.

I don't believe in god, so I don't have to make elaborately sounded structures. ... Pain always produces logic, which is very bad for you. ... As for measure and other technical apparatus, that's just common sense: if you're going to buy a pair of pants you want them to be tight enough so everyone will want to go to bed with you. There's nothing metaphysical about it.

As for measure and other technical apparatus, that's just common sense: if you're going to buy a pair of pants you want them to be tight enough so everyone will want to go to bed with you. There's nothing metaphysical about it. Unless, of course, you flatter yourself into thinking that what you're experiencing is "yearning.