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I'm sorry, obviously I'm twelve years old tonight, as usually I can deal with this particular change in a word's meaning, but I've been having hysterics every time I've tried to read the first page of L. M. Mongomery's (Anne of Green Gables) children's classic, Jane of Lantern Hill. Talk about memorable first sentences:
"Gay Street, so Jane always thought, did not live up to its name. [...]
Gay Street should be a gay street, thought Jane, with gay, friendly houses, set amid flowers, that cried out, "How do you do?" to you as you passed them, with trees that waved hands at you and windows that winked at you in the twilights. [...]
But at that, Jane thought, it was the only gay place on the street.
Jane lived at 60 Gay."
"Gay Street, so Jane always thought, did not live up to its name. [...]
Gay Street should be a gay street, thought Jane, with gay, friendly houses, set amid flowers, that cried out, "How do you do?" to you as you passed them, with trees that waved hands at you and windows that winked at you in the twilights. [...]
But at that, Jane thought, it was the only gay place on the street.
Jane lived at 60 Gay."