Top 394 Underwear Quotes & Sayings - Page 6

Lingerie has gotten really cute, with little booty underwear and the cute little bras. They've gotten really detailed. I saw one the other day with little baby pearls on the strap. I had to have it.

When a lot of people wake up in the morning and put on their underwear, the first thing they feel that day is terrible about themselves. When you see that your body is not what other people want, it can be really devastating. I have so many friends that I grew up with who have had serious eating disorders.

I'm not the sort of person who poses in their underwear. I hate the red carpet. I prefer the green grass. After the games the highlights show mostly the goals, scoring chances, assists. The spectator tends not to remember that as a goalkeeper I make difficult saves at great risk and start moves with my efforts.

Calvin had finally taken a look at the ET tape, and he had reacted just as she had expected he would. He loved it; he loved me. Suddenly he was thinking of me for everything: underwear, jeans, suits, even the Escape fragrance campaign.

They call it torture when our guys put underwear on a guy's head, stripped him naked, put an egg between his buttcheeks and made him do jumping jacks. You know, if it can't get you into a fraternity at Chico State University, it's not torture.

When I was covering games, and this is back in the '60s, you'd go into the manager's office. I can still visualize Earl Weaver from the Baltimore Orioles. I can just see Earl now in his underwear... with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other, holding court. And that was the way it was done then.

Our focus is on the forward end of things: the customer and what does he want to do? If you're buying underwear and household items ladders and everything else - I buy all sorts of stuff on Amazon Prime - why shouldn't I buy this? Any legal document, contract or otherwise, that prevents me from doing that, I don't want to be a part of.

I'm a big fan of, like, wearing old, vintage slips and stuff as outdoor wear. I got, like, a pair of these little silk bloomers. I think they were even, like, considered underwear in the '40s. I wore them as shorts the other day.

She would try picturing him in his underwear, but that was even more disturbing since all it did was make her hot and even more nervous… He had to be the only man alive who could pull off intimidating in his tighty-whities. God, what if all that massive hotness was commando?

That so-called feminine ardor for clothes shopping had been flagging for some time. Between 1980 and 1986, at the same time that women were buying more houses, cars, restaurant dinners, and health care services, they were buying fewer pieces of clothing-from dresses to underwear.

To me, Fight Club was a comedy. When [David] Fincher sent me the book and I read it, the first thing I asked him was, "This is a comedy, right?" he said, "Yeah, that's the whole point," and I said, "Okay, I'm in." I certainly wasn't imagining myself as a dramatic actor when I was running around in my underwear in that film.

I think everybody should be able to do anything they want and let roving bands of people punish each other for things they don't agree with. People with no underwear doing anything they want. Wouldn't that be fun? You wouldn't need television.

Getting stopped in the middle of the lingerie section, when you're trying to stock up on a few things, by an older man who wants a selfie is a little bit awkward... but I don't let that get in the way of me trying to do normal things, because that is when I get to interact with people as well. Preferably not amongst the underwear, though.

As we drove uptown, I spotted a Kmart on a corner,with its familiar red sign.I cleared my throat."Wait. Can we stop for a minute?" "What for?" "Just - I need a few things." He looked irritated, but pulled into a metered space. "We don't really have time to go shopping." I glared at him."yeah, excuse me for being so frivolous. You have your suitcase all packed already; I dont even have clean underwear.I'll be right back.

When I was 15, I had lucky underwear. When that failed, I had a lucky hairdo, then a lucky race number, even lucky race days. After 15 years, I've found the secret to success is hard work.

Uh... ," Ivy stammered, and I glanced up to see her eyes wide in consideration. "I'm kidding," I said. "It passed the lethal-amulet test, remember?" "Not that. You keep it in your underwear drawer?" I hesitated, wondering why I was embarrassed. "Well, where do you put your elven magic?" I asked.

I've always been very comfortable wearing not much, in my swimwear or my underwear, or running around naked. I've always been very free like that. I don't really know why, exactly, but I just have been. Not really too shy about that.

I remember an era when you could get your nose sliced off for sticking it too far into another man's business. Now you can find out anything about anyone with the click of a button. There is no privacy and no consideration, and everyone is prying into things that aren't their affair. You can probably check on the intertube and find out what color underwear I have on today.

I have had fans make me the big picture collages of the photo books; I have had fans send me birthday cakes... sing to me on my voicemail. I have had fans flash me. I have had older fans give me their bras and underwear onstage.

I could point out that that's not a dress, that's underwear, but I doubt it would be in my best interest." "Need I remind you," said Sebastian, "That that is my sister?" "Most brother's would be delighted to see such a clean-cut gentleman as myself squiring their sister's about town.

I do not like football, which I think of as a game in which two tractors approach each other from opposite directions and collide. Besides, I have contempt for a game in which players have to wear so much equipment. Men play basketball in their underwear, which seems just right to me.

Would you want people walking up to you and pointing at your d--k? I can't believe I'm still talking about this. But I've worn underwear every day of my life and the fact that I'm painted as this exhibitionist is a little annoying. It's become a meme, I guess. Being someone who people want to photograph, you have to open yourself up to the positive and negative. It is what it is. If I get mad at it I'll look like a douchebag. But it's silly.

An Oklahoma girl like me wouldn't even know how to be a diva. I'm just a person who has a cool job. I love to be at home. I rarely go to clubs... and I always wear underwear! I just know I'd fall down, and that's not for everyone to see.

I never thought I'd have to give you-a former Sunday School teacher-a lecture on ethics." "Former Sunday School teachers don't go around without their underwear." "You show me where it says that in the Bible.

I love the Army-Navy surplus store Surplus Value Center. They have really good long underwear and multicolored bandanas, cool camo jackets, and really, really scary-looking knives. If you're into that sort of thing.

No book worth its salt is meant to put you to sleep, it's meant to make you jump out of your bed in your underwear and run and beat the author's brains out.

I once had this idea that I wanted to make the perfect boxer short that's not too long, not too short, with pearl buttons, made from real shirting fabric. They were coming in at $215. Well, not even the richest guy in the world is going to pay more than $125 for his underwear.

The Tao of Jen was very much the Tao of hiding everything that didn't look good. The Tao of Jen is wearing a cocktail dress with underwear with holes in it. The Tao of Jen is all style and no substance.

When it comes to dressing well, American culture is so self-fulfilled that it has not only disregarded this courtesy of self-presentation, but has turned that disregard into a virtue. "We are too superior/busy/cool/not-uptight to bother about how we look to other people, and so we can wear pajamas to school and underwear to the mall.

If I want to walk out in the desert and heat up a can of beans on a fire, I still can. In those movies like Gattaca or whatever, the space age stuff is always all there is. But in the world there is never just one way of living. It's more like a big junkyard. Put it this way: I'm not afraid I'm going to end up on a space station in aluminium-foil underwear.

Energy in itself is a sort of redemption. No wonder we admire Satan. But if the Devil were listless, if he were a pale man in his underwear who watched television by day behind closed venetian blinds - oh if that were the devil I would fear him.

He would have felt safe if alongside the Dentrassis' underwear, the piles of Sqornshellous mattresses and the man from Betelgeuse holding up a small yellow fish and offering to put it in his ear he had been able to see just a small packet of cornflakes. But he couldn't, and he didn't feel safe.

Sadly, as with so much about history's heroes, it's the spotting of potential fame that's the difficulty, whether it's publishing their poems, hanging their paintings, or buying their old underwear. Think of the great men whose lives passed in penury and hacking coughs due to public unawareness that their littlest possession would end up at Sothebys or the basement at Fort Knox.

When a male stunt performer falls down a flight of stairs, he has a lot of clothes on and can wear all this padding. But because actresses never have a lot of clothes on - they are always falling in their underwear - you can't wear any padding whatsoever.

When I get home, I'm not the boss like I am at work - I slip into a more feminine role. I take everything off and put on my Stella McCartney silk robe. I'll put on a red lip or red nails, and it lifts my mood. Sexy underwear also gives you a spark.

Legendary photographer Annie Leibowitz persuaded us to pose in our underwear. When the magazine hit the stands we were horrified to see the caption 'Go-Go's Put Out.' Regardless, I was extremely excited to see us at every newsstand on every corner, our faces on the cover of 'Rolling Stone!'

Throw away your 10-function chronometer, heart-rate monitor with the computer printout, training log, high-tech underwear, pace charts, and laboratory-rat-tested-air-injected-gel-lined-mo-tion-control-top-of-the-line footwear. Run with your own imagination.

I hate false advertising, like 'Skittles: taste the rainbow.' No one's ever been like, 'Rainbow, right you guys?' Or what's Reese's? 'There's no wrong way to eat a Reese's.' Oh, really? Tell that to my uncle who used to put them in my underwear. Alright, maybe your uncles didn't love you.

My studio's always in my house. I want to wake up and be like, 'You know I'm gonna make music today in my underwear. You know what, I'm gonna be in my pajamas. You know what, I'm actually just gonna stay inside for the next three days so I can make music.'

Ship small art. Then, ship medium art. Then, ship world-changing, scary, change-your-underwear art.

glancing back I got my first clear look at the monster. He was seven feet tall, easy, his arms and legs like something from the cover of Muscle Man magazine-bulging biceps and triceps and a bunch of other 'ceps, all stuffed like baseballs under vein-webbed skin. He wore no clothes except underwear-I mean, bright white fruit of the Looms.

Would you like to assist me with my choice of underwear as well?” My sarcasm whistled right over his head. “I would be delighted. While I’d love to see you in a balconette bra, I’m afraid for this particular occasion I would have to go with a foam-lined seamless due to the tight fit of the garment across your breasts . . . Perhaps I could come over and review what you have available . . .

My deal was that they would use a full-length picture of me in my underwear and a full-length picture of me all done up, and they would write about how long it took and how much it cost, because that was the whole point. It was very liberating.

On TV, talking heads wrung their hands over a lack of traditional feminine values and wondered if girls’ sports were to blame. Then they cut to a commercial featuring a sexy college coed vacuuming her dorm room in her underwear.

...I have to tell you that I'm not all that comfortable with the idea of spending the rest of my life sleeping next to somebody who's got the power to fire me if my underwear doesn't make it all the way to the hamper." She repressed a smile. "I'm sympathetic to your problem, but I'm not selling the team just so you can be a slob." "Somehow I didn't expect you would.

Men want the same thing from their underwear that they want from women: a little bit of support, and a little bit of freedom.

We usually have a beautiful, sparkling Christmas tree and my dad reads us 'A Child's Christmas in Wales' in front of the fire and it's all very cozy. Then we pack up and head to meet my extended family, where we live out our yearly tradition of everyone gifting everyone underwear in their stockings.

Al-Awlaki was born here, he is an American citizen. He was never tried or charged for any crimes. No one knows if he killed anybody. We know he might have been associated with the underwear bomber. But if the American people accept this blindly and casually that we now have an accepted practice of the president assassinating people who he thinks are bad guys, I think it's sad.

I'm always very careful to make the distinction between music criticism and music journalism. A lot of people don't. But criticism doesn't require reporting. You can write criticism at home in your underwear. On the other hand, journalism takes legwork - you have to get out there and see things and talk to people.

I just try to laugh at the little things. Like, I'm always amazed by how long it takes two kids to get dressed and out the door. Every morning I say, 'Come on! Let's go! Five minutes!' And they're still in their underwear. Or they say they're ready, but they're not wearing shoes.

The main thing you can change is how you perceive yourself. Stop looking in the mirror and realize that you're living for yourself, not other people ... I have belly fat like everybody else, and I don't want to be airbrushed on the cover of a magazine. I don't want someone to swap out my stomach with a supermodel. I don't want dirty old men looking at me in my underwear.

I never expected to get the Tom Jones treatment and it amazes me that I do. Strangely it's women who throw their underwear at me when I'm performing live. My male fans tend to be quite shy. My female fans are wild. I never know what to do with all the lingerie that lands at my feet. Maybe I should open a shop.

It's perfect. It's awesome. Every day is just filled with just wins. All we do is put wins in the record books. We win so radically in our underwear before our first cup of coffee, it's scary. People say it's lonely at the top, but I sure like the view.

You never see Beyonce stumbling out of a club drunk and on drugs without underwear on - nor do you see Justin Timberlake pashing 5 chicks in a club. You never hear them slagging anyone in the media...They are composed and somewhat mysterious and that fascinates me!

Why? You want to know why? Step into a tanning booth and fry yourself for two or three days. After your skin bubbles and peels off, roll in coarse salt, then pull on long underwear woven from spun glass and razor wire. Over that goes your regular clothes, as long as they are tight.

Benji usually tries to match his hair with his underwear, and you know how he had the pink hair for a while well we caught him in a pink thong one day!

In the glory days of Orioles, when I was a newbie baseball writer for the Post, the roster of talkers was as good as the everyday lineup. Singy - Ken Singleton - Flanny, and Cakes - the underwear spokesman Jim Palmer - were my go-to guys, occupying stalls along one wall of the shabby chic clubhouse.

Different things make me feel sexy. Sometimes it's just a manicure or when I buy some new underwear or just receiving a compliment from a guy on the street. But I think to feel sexy, you just need the right person next to you, who's going to complete you and make you feel even sexier.

I was standing right behind Marilyn, completely invisible, when she sang 'Happy birthday, Mr. President.' And indeed, the corny thing happened: Her dress split for my benefit, and there was Marilyn, and yes, indeed, she didn't wear any underwear.

Back in the Sinatra era, you called women "broads," and the broads didn't mind. If Sinatra called you a broad, you were flattered. When Sinatra walked in, and you know what you did? You ran up and you tried to kiss him. Who hasn't seen women throwing their underwear at the Beatles and this kind of thing?