Here I am again, trying to live up to my my mentor by doing my best to stretch out this Memterview for as long as I can and milk it for as many comments as you folks are willing to give. The title of today's post is intended to produce more hits from perverted Google surfers and of course, blonde dykes. You can never have enough blonde dykes in your life. When I finally get my little snow bunny back to her igloo we spend hour after hour watching the perpetual sunset. As the frosted feelings of romance flare and the hot embers of lust start to melt the walls around us I am givin enough lovin for four lifetimes! The best thing about going into a Klondike bar is leaving with some Eskimo Pie!
This is question number 5. What would you do for a Klondike bar?
Are you kidding me, lime? Why didn't you just ask me to do your laundry for a week?
I would have gladly been your domestic
slave servant than have to answer this query.Well, now I know what this idiot would do and Hell yeah, I would too for a cool $100,000!
I don't know what I would do for a Klondike bar, but I definitely got knowledge of what I would do in a Klondike bar. Before I actually enter said bar I would have to head on over to Lumberjack -N- Oil rigger Outfitters and get myself the appropriate duds. Then a quick hop over to Grizzley's Aromarama for a thorough saturation in bear musk, machine oil, sweat and essence of uncleaned outhouse. The way to spot a tenderfoot is by his unnatural cleanliness and the lingering sweet smell of Dove soap. Once I have ingratiated myself with the locals by drinking the local lemonade and line dancing, I would begin my search for Mrs Right-now.
Through the smoke filled room amongst the hardy weather worn workmen and fur trappers I would spot her, sitting at a corner table with her back to the wall dealing straight poker to Eskimos and opening beer bottles with her teeth. I would casually walk up to her and ask her for a cigarette then lighted a match on the three day old peach bristle that graced her bovine upper lip. Before her anger could rise I offer her a rohypitini AKA Panty remover, my favorite cocktail. We spent the rest of the evening reminiscing about folks we had never met and discussed the future of walrus ranching-coo coo ka choo!
When I finally get my little snow bunny back to her igloo we spend hour after hour watching the perpetual sunset. As the frosted feelings of romance flare and the hot embers of lust start to melt the walls around us I am givin enough lovin for four lifetimes!
The best thing about going into a Klondike bar is leaving with some Eskimo Pie!