I decide to release myself the only way I can imagine: I pee my pants.
Oh, god…” I whimper. “I haven’t done anything yet, baby,” Colton growls. “I know,” I pant. “I was just saying your name.
Neve, you're wicked," he groaned as she rocked up against him even harder. "I hope that's not a problem for you," she panted.
I think that androgyny is so amazing. Men's shows I can look at and say, 'I would wear that.' But there's things I see at Nina Ricci, and I'm like, 'They need to make that in men's,' or 'I want those pants.' Everything is inspiring.
The select natures who pant after the ideal, and find nothing in pantaloons or petticoats great enough to command their reverence and love, are curiously in unison with the narrowest and pettiest.
The rhythm of the footsteps, the sound of whatever is coming down the ladder is driving both me and my mom steadily toward peeing our pants.
I drink coffee the way other men put on their pants—only after they’ve paid the hooker.
Your pants didn't get smaller, Mommy," I assured her. "Your butt got bigger.
We don’t need to take off our pants and stand naked in the snow to experience the harshness of life; a clever person even can feel it with a bottle of wine.
Her need was as big as the stars, and he was down there on the beach, so quiet she could hardly hear him.
In my pants is where you need to look to find out everything you want to know about love. I got the magic formula from your grandma.
After our date, I spent about an hour trying to get in her pants before finally giving up. Her pocket was just too tight.
I took my pants off slowly, thinking if I did it too fast I’d possibly rip a hole in the center of the universe.
Hi honey, I’m home! Take your pants off!” Wesley announced. He kissed my cheek as he passed me and put his lunch container in the sink.
I put my pants on one leg at a time, just like everyone else. It's the way I take them OFF that makes me better than you.
I had always done these 3D things that you could walk through. They were always done off the seat of my pants without blueprints or course.
I see so many guys, really athletic guys, wearing pleats and I just shake my head. Like, Tiger Woods used to wear pleated pants! I'm like, 'C'mon, Tiger!'
You can't teach an ear, you can't teach talent, but you can teach people who have those things not to just fly by the seat of their pants.
My belt holds my pants up, but the belt loops hold my belt up. I don't really know what's happening down there. Who is the real hero?
In every decade rock and roll starts to get very serious and navel gazing and kind of self serious and every once and a while it kind of needs a kick in the pants.
In my early performing days, I played gigs under the pseudonym Whitey McFearsun. I painted my face blue, wore crimson lipstick, and strung on some tight silver latex pants.
