In our never ending quest for excellence we bring you ourů
SALUTE TO PANTS
42 TDJ entries devoted to pants as of October 26, 2001!
My wife just got me a new pair of work pants. They are nice. I've had pants before with just one button in front. I've even had one pair with a secret inside button and a clasp! These pants have a secret inner button, a clasp, and an outer button. Getting out of them to drain das vein is like getting out of a chastity belt. Thus I dub these my Chastity Pants. I wonder if my wife is trying to tell me something...
January 2, 1999
The one thing that all of these computer programmers forgot to take into account with regards to this year 2000 thing is the fact that I'm not wearing pants.
March 1, 1999
I just realized that Boy George is actually a cross-dressing homosexual male! I guess that clears up the whole "parachute pants" thing from my past.
June 4, 1999
Life would be much better if we all wore pointy pants like the Oompa Loompas and spoke in rhyme.
July 3, 1999
The world of honey mustard sauces is a fascinating one, and, when viewed in the same proximity as a good helpin' of chicken strips, causes me to bubble over with unabashed emotion. This Fourth of July weekend, let us take a moment to remember the man who invented honey mustard sauce-- Leonard Frankenheimer, of Sioux Falls. Let us also take a moment to consider why I'm not wearing any pants.
I've been listening to a rock opera entitled "These Are Not My Pants." Which is quite funny, because it reminded me of what happened when I was 12:
HEMET, Calif. -- After drinking heavily, a 33 yr. old man appointed his 12-year-old son as designated driver. When police attempted to pull their pick-up truck over, the father instructed his son not to stop. Police followed the vehicle for several blocks, with speeds not exceeding 15 mph. The "chase" ended in the driveway of the family's home. The officers found a bag of methamphetamine in the man's pants. He quickly tried to defend himself by telling police: "These are not my pants. They are my girlfriend's pants." The officers didn't buy his explanation. The police report concluded that these pants were in fact men's pants. The father was arrested for investigation of public intoxication, allowing an unlicenced juvenile to drive and possession of a controlled substance.*
A true story! Go to http://www.navicom.com/~daleg/stupidcrooks.html and do a search for "pants."
I just noticed that my co-writers eagerly began August with the last three days of July 1999 occupied by "Pants." And so, I round out the month with entries that I had rejected for being inadequate... like the time all three of us got together and got buzzed on Berry Blue Kool-Aid and SuperCool and then there was this midget and a bag of Doritos and... well, I'd rather not talk about it but it IS available on home video!
August 9, 1999
I leave for vacation today. I'm going to the lake and will be gone most of this week. (Don't worry-- through the miracles of modern technology, our special Microsoft Pentium MG-9000 TDJ Automatic MegaProcessor will continue to provide additions to The Daily Journal each and every day. Having three writers also helps.) As I lay out on a boat in the sun, enjoying the warm breeze, you can rest assured that I will be pondering one of two things: 1) Sherman Hemsley's career after "The Jeffersons," and 2) Pants.
I'm convinced that there's a secret pact between the automakers and the repair shops to keep us coming in to spend our money. It seems like whenever you take your car into the shop, no matter how new it is, you will always have to pay for something. It's always a money thing. And we KNOW that the automakers already have the plans for the perfect car that runs on water, creates no pollution, and runs for 500,000 miles without a check-up. But they don't want to make these cars because they KNOW they will lose all of that money from the repair shops. So, I've come up with a plan where I no longer have to wear pants. Sure, it has nothing to do with what I was saying, but neither does polish sausage or my mother's flower garden.
October 12, 1999
These are not my pants.
In today's dog-eat-llama business environment, there are three things that you must remember to be successful:
1. Live lobsters do not necessarily belong in your pants
2. Dancing with every person that enters your office area is not only encouraged, it's expected! Dance away you dancin' fools.
3. The more you give, the more you get (as long as you do it while other people are watching).
4. The monkeys did it. Always blame the monkeys. E-Mail.
The new millennium is fast approaching, and I think it's high time that The Daily Journal started making some predictions for the next 1000 years!
Disco is gonna make a comeback. Disco, breakdancing, and Quiet Riot.
An emu uprising will cause a stir in Madagascar.
Scientists will discover that Chive Tangerine Milkshakes cure most minor ailments.
My Aunt Ruth will shave her mustache.
No one will mind when I come to work without any pants.
Pauly Shore. Eight Academy Awards over the next 10 years.
And finally, The Daily Journal will go public on NASDAQ, opening at 62.50 a share, and our plans for world domination will become clear. Unless we can be stopped by our arch nemesis, Lyle Lovett. E-Mail.
So, what have we learned this century? What will we TRULY remember? Well, I cannot speak for everyone, but here are 5 things that I will take with me into the new century:
1. Chicks don't dig things growing out of your ears (no matter what your older brother tells you)
2. Gasoline smells great but you really should drink it (I learned this when I was three, but it's always a good idea to dig this one out once in a while to keep us on our toes).
3. If you want to get anywhere in business, you have to go to school. Oh, and it doesn't hurt to wear pants.
4. The best thing about gum is that you can keep it forever.
5. Every piece of clothing you ever own will someday make a comeback. I have kept everything I've ever had (pants, shirts, ties, jackets, socks, sunglasses, underwear, etc.) and taken the time to label all of my clothing per particular eras. I can tell you that in just a few weeks it will be time to get out the parachute pants! E-Mail.
14, 1900 (2000)
I believe there are two types of people in this world: people who get the movie "UHF," and people who eat beef vegetable soup. There are also people who watch National Geographic specials without any pants on, but they usually fall under one of the first two categories. E-Mail.
In the sasquatch community, no one wears pants. E-Mail.
Today: A DAILY JOURNAL VALENTINE'S DAY SPECIAL! The Sasquatch Guide to Dating.
First, if you are anything like the Sasquatch I know, you smell bad. Sorry, but it's just a fact of Yeti life. With a name like "Bigfoot," what can you expect? I recommend a jacket made out of Dr. Scholl's foot pad deodorizers. Big and Tall sizes are available.
Second of all, we've got to do something about the hair. I understand some chicks dig hairy guys, but this isn't the '70s anymore, you know? And if you start shaving in some crazy places, it will just grow back even worse. So we here at TDJ recommend a heavy dose of styling mousse. If large enough quantities aren't available, I have found that a big tub of lard works quite well.
And finally, once you've found that special someone, and you are ready for a night out on the town, try to downplay the whole stalking/roaring/terrorizing thing. Nobody likes a grouch. So for your convenience, our top Valentine's Day scientists have come up with a few phrases to use in those most intimate moments:
"I see you also have a hairy back."
"You may notice that as a Sasquatch, I don't have to wear any pants."
"Who's for dinner?"
and if all else fails: "You know what they say about big feet, don't you?" E-Mail.
Usually, I'm not one to complain about things, but someone has to do something about these new pants that I'm wearing. It just doesn't feel like the pockets are in the right place and the thread used to sew the inseam is a shade too light. Plus, the zipper is copper colored and I like them to be more like brass. Oh, and the length is ok (I guess), but I just wish they were a tad bit longer. That's just the way it is I guess. I can't get a size 32 1/2" anywhere! To make matters worse, the salespeople in the store where I bought them didn't know anything about where the material was made and they didn't spend enough time talking to me and answering the 100 questions I usually ask about a pair of pants. I don't think they liked me very much. That store isn't all that nice anyway. It's not close enough to the main road and the price tags are too hard to read and...well, never mind. I'm not one to complain about things. E-Mail.
I've got this horrendous headache that extends from my occipital lobe to just above my eyes, my body aches, and my aforementioned eyes are itchy and watery. That's right! I've got garden gnomes in my pants again!E-Mail.
I've never been one to wet my pants, but lately it's been happening quite a bit. Somehow, I find it liberating to just let it out whenever I feel the urge. It also makes it a lot easier to catch up on all of the reruns of "Chips". E-Mail.
So there I was, riding my llama, wearing my poncho to the soup and cheese store, when a large sasquatch sauntered by on his way to by some veal with his aardvark pals when he stopped suddenly, turned to me and said, "I'm not wearing any pants." Then he died.E-Mail.
MORE TOADSTOOL HAIKU...
Toadstool can we make
Meaning out of our dull lives
I just wet my pants. E-Mail.
Toadstool dare I say
How much you mean to my soul.
I just wet my pants. E-Mail.
I've been trying to get a promotion at work, but my boss tells me that pasting cut-out felt Bible characters to my knees isn't going to get me anywhere in this business. Little does he know that tomorrow, I won't be wearing any pants, either. E-Mail.
Did you ever wonder if there is really life out there? On other planets, I mean. Like Jupiter, for instance. Could little strange alien beings live there? Or perhaps huge, ugly, cantakerous creatures capable of coming to earth and destroying our species? I wonder that sometimes. On the other hand, occasionally I wonder why my Mom and Dad still don't like to let me wear pants on Thursdays. E-Mail.
Since the month ends tomorrow and we are about a week behind in entries, it's time once again to fill these last days with what we in the journal industry refer to as "filler". Or maybe that's the word we use for the sweatsocks we stuff down our pants before we go hang out at gay bars.E-Mail.
I really think the Charlie Brown Christmas Special would be a lot more interesting if it were dubbed into Turkish. Oh, and if all the characters didn't wear any pants. E-Mail.
An entry from The Daily Journal Big Handbook O' Ideas: When trying to come up with an idea for an entry, rummage through the items in your pants pocked for inspiration. Better yet, rummage through to pockets of a co-worker and write about how quickly you get escorted from the building.E-Mail.
The best thing about driving in freshly fallen snow is when I roll down the window and shout out, "HEE HEE HEE! I'VE GOT A LEMUR IN MY PANTS!"E-Mail.
According to Nostradaumus, the hot gift item for Christmas 2000 is parachute pants.E-Mail.
In celebration of Hanukkah, which begins at sundown, according to my religiously-tolerant desk calendar, we will be singing a song from my childhood: It's called the You-Ain't-Getting-a-Dreidel-This-Year-Unless-You-Put-Your-Pants-Back-On-and-Come-Inside Song. Now that I think about it, I'm not even Jewish. I guess that's why I never got the dreidel that I wanted all those years. E-Mail.
I'm wearing your pants.E-Mail.
I love the cheeses. They melt nicely in my pants. Gouda is the bomb.E-Mail.
Just yesterday I was standing behind my boss who was talking to one of my co-workers. In the spirit of levity, I made a few odd faces at my co-worker and exagerrated the faces and gesticulations of my boss. It surely would have made him laugh and would have been our little secret. However, I had not taken my medication and was actually standing in FRONT of my boss and behind my co-worker. Also, I was not wearing pants and I believe I may have punched him a few times. Anyway, it was all in fun, as I stated earlier, and I don't see why he was so upset.E-Mail.
One of the first things President Bush did was to reinstate the rule that all White House employees must wear pants. E-Mail.
There's a commercial that I keep hearing on the radio for a vending machine called "Oscar" that was invented by "some crazy genius." You see, the genius is crazy because this machine actually "attracts money." Of course, it's so proven that you have to act quickly to get in on the action. Oh, and it's such a sure thing that the "crazy genius" is too crazy to figure out how to make money from it himself. So, instead, he's inventing a hotdog warmer that attaches to your pants. E-Mail.
There are trolls in my pants. Right now. Three of 'em. E-Mail.
Hong Kong Fooey would have been a better crime fighter had he worn pants. E-Mail.
Geodesic dome, my ass! How about them fancy-pants scientists trying to build a geodesic monster truck? E-Mail.
My latest attempt to earn a million bucks and stop working in a cubicle is edible clothing. Today I am wearing the ever-fashionable onion ring vest with matching bloomin' onion pants. E-Mail.September 28, 2001
And now in OTTAVA RIMA!
There are many things I
like to wear
Pants, shirts, briefs, a shoe.
Sometimes a ribbon in my hair,
Always pink and never blue.
I once traded undies with a she-man Cher
But the other rumors aren't true
But my favorite is my green left sock
As I like to wear it on my anybody seen the mayonnaise?
BONUS Ottava rima:
On Tuesdays I always choose veal
With a small side order of noodles.
It's perhaps my most favorite meal
When dining with children or poodles.
But today I'll be eating with Neal
And so I shall order the strudles
My hunger it shall assuage
Before a brief Bible message E-Mail.
Right now there are three men having an impromptu conference right outside my cubicle doorway. Two of them aren't wearing pants. E-Mail.