thediastema's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I'm bigger than Star Wars Dear Master, My sister has rediscovered the thrill of putting the word "pants" in the place of the most convenient plural or abstract noun in every sentence. She did this with diary entries of mine and sent the pants. I mean, results. I couldn't resist including some highlights from the past week in here. ~~ People have a hard time treating dead stoplights as four-way pants when they can't see where the dead stoplights are. Pants injection appointment with Dr. Algernon. All that stuff is bad. And I can't seem to bring my pants to care. Last thing I'll mention. Checking her pants to see if anybody else from the U.S. senate has been reading. And now they know that she needs a minimum of about four hundred seconds of Instant Message-free time to make a negligible dent in her pants. So I waited for her to leave, washed MY pants, and, the washroom being devoid of paper pants, opened the door with my foot. I lack the pants to speculate, anyway. I hope it's okay with him that I've published it here, changing pants for his protection. Pixie is pants. She seems rather happy being pants. A guy told me he would not be renewing his ticket subscription because PTC's "pants are too low" for his tastes. I'd have opened the pants by hand with nary a second thought. ~~ Gee, that pants insertion thing never dies. ~ETK 06:31 - 15 July, 2001 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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