More specifically, a particular pair of jeans.
Last I recall, they were on the bedroom floor. They’re not there now. They’re not in the laundry, and they’re not in the wardrobe.
More specifically, a particular pair of jeans.
Last I recall, they were on the bedroom floor. They’re not there now. They’re not in the laundry, and they’re not in the wardrobe.
If your jeans are walking away by themselves you should probably wash them more often.
Either that, or the SDMB hampsters are tired of eating posts and have moved on to eating threads.
crickets
Get it? Threads, like in clothes? See it’s a pun, or play on words…
Never mind.
[sub]creeps shamefacedly away[/sub]
You’re wearing them.
I’ll give em back as soon as I’m through wearin’ em. They make my butt look good.
If the ‘post’ time is correct, it’s the middle of the day for you. And you JUST realized you don’t know where your pants are?? What the devil have you been doing all day w/o your pants on?
Naughty boy.
And if I were you I’d check the top of the door, that’s where I hang mine sometimes.
Check under the bed.
OR In the refridgerator.
That two-drawer chest where you sometimes throw things when you take 'em off? Check behind it. That’s where my tuxedo-front shirt was.
Recovering (But I’ve made it to work now. In different jeans.)
Nope
Nope
?!?!
Nope
You do realise how unflattering that admission is?
You loaned them to your sister, remember? She was going to that party and needed a faaaabulous pair of jeans? Well…she ended up in a bedroom with some guy and…
That’s where your jeans are.
You left them at Mornington Crescent.
(come to think of it, that would add a certain spice to the game…)
Ah, so we were right about her and Tom?
Still, don’t think she’d have worn my jeans. Except as a joke.
How dare you insinuate that my gameplay is anything less than scintilating!!! :eek:
You know that night, when you went out, got pissed, and can’t remember much else…
Well… I nicked 'em.
Have you tried calling Information? it worked for Stephen Wright…
“This morning i couldn’t find my socks, so i called Information, she said they’re behind the couch…”
“they were”
If you were a Rangers fan, Angua, I’d probably believe you…
They’re not that bad, are they?
They were last night! Drunken bastards, every one of 'em.
Surely Rangers fan and drunk is a tautology?
Touche. ‘Rangers fan’ and ‘bastard’, too, I suppose
But you’re not bitter at all, are you?
Will no one think of the denim?!
If it were me, they’d be under a tumbleweed-sized ball of dog hair in the footwell of the car.
(No, I don’t get a lot of requests for rides home from work, now that you mention it…)