I don't think I'm capable of doing anything other than watch movies whenever I'm wearing pajama pants. They have some sort of special power to make you completely unproductive and sluglike. Maybe slothlike is more apt as I don't seem to be leaving a sticky silver trail of slime in my path. I wonder if pajamas tell your brain and body that it's time to do nothing or if the fact that I haven't changed out of my pjs is a result of lethargy. It's the whole which came first the chicken or the egg conundrum. That's enough heavy thought, maybe I can think more clearly if I ever change back into street clothes. That is of course assuming that I can escape the powerful black hole-like pull of the pajamas.
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I'll grant them that pajamas or pyjamas (is that like how you spell color - c-o-l-o-u-r?) Granted pajmas sound funny when you say it, but I think you made them titter because they were so awed by a man with the cojones (that's balls in spanish) to take a stand. Clearly they were intimidated by your self-confidence and your devil-may-care-attitude. Or maybe they just think pajamas are silly. Which is bullshit. Pajamas pants make a powerful statement. However... the matching pajama top with the bottoms is kinda queer in a 9-year-old boyish way.
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