Comedy is the one absolutely self-aware art form. Actually, hip-hop's another one, I suppose. Because in your songs you're talking about how good a hip-hop artist you are. It's like a painter painting a panting of himself painting a painting.
I dont hate it he thought, panting in the cold air, the iron New England dark; I dont. I dont! I dont hate it! I dont hate it!
I'm pretty sure those're my balls you've found,” I said to the man searching my pants. “You gonna count 'em out now? Because I'll save you the trouble. There's two.
It is a scene of Satyrs and Nymphs, of pursuits and captures, provocative resistances followed by the enthusiastic surrender of lips to bearded lips, of panting bosoms to the impatience of rough hands, the whole accompanied by a babel of shouting, sq...
You sure you're not just trying to get into my pants?" I joked, but I was already trying to figure out what one wears to a detox session in her boyfriend's dungeon-like bedroom.
I soak my white socks in coffee, so I can wear them with brown pants and keep my feet from falling asleep.
They say you fear what you don't understand. Maybe that's why every time I'm in South Florida, and I hear someone talking in Spanish, I always shit my pants.
There it is again. Promises. They used to hold such high value when I was younger. Now they just bore into my heart like a knife just waiting to twist. I brush the sand from my pants.
I realized everyone around me was wearing a uniform. Black pants, white button-down shirts, green ties. Gotta love the smell of institutional equality in the morning.
Some vampires wouldn't react if you shoved a rosary down their pants, though I wouldn't recommend testing the theory.
When your ship comes in, don't be in the bathroom with your pants around your ankles." quoted by Frank McNichols, father of Rose McNichols in A Nose for Hanky Panky, a Granite Cove Mystery
As she shuffled back, he glanced down at the tent between his legs. Christ, that goddamn thing in there was huge; he looked like he had another arm in his pants.
She kept walking. The very small, brave part of her brain knew that this would be her one chance. If she turned around, she would lose it.
I feel like I should love them right away. But how do you do that? You can't make yourself love someone, can you?
I moved my hand in and out of the shadow and pondered life and death. Then I put on my lipstick, pulled up my pants, and got back to work.
It’s hard to maintain dignity while wearing a coat made out of peacock feathers and pants made out of geriatric human flesh. Still, every other weekend, I have to try.
I can kill a bad guy, but I can't save anyone. I'm not a hero. All I am is a killer. A dead killer who shit his pants.
Too bad the buttons on my shirt don’t operate the elevator at work. If they did, maybe I wouldn’t have taken off my pants and taken the stairs.
When I was fourteen and first started going out, I always wanted to be the opposite of everyone else. So I would go to the club in a polo T-shirt and pants and sneakers and a hat on backward, just so I would not be dressed like other girls.
When I was doing 'A Disappearing Number' in Plymouth, we had to go on an hour and a half late, and I still hadn't written an end, so we had to make one up, and then we had to go out literally with our pants round our ankles.
Could I see myself with a British boyfriend? Absolutely. The way they wear their pants is so cute. Guys don't do it in America. Their style is cute. I just feel like Brits are honest - period. And that's what I like.
