February 15, 2009

Blonde Dyke Bars

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.

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!

15 comments:

Grant said...

Is it made with real Eskimos?

First you wish Ebi-chan had bigger boobs, and now you're pining for blonde dykes? Are you sure you're in the right place? Maybe we should do an exchange program for a couple of weeks.

VE said...

Ha! The essense of unclean outhouse. Now in a convient car odorant...

lime said...

you should have mentioned your willingness to enter into domestic servitude in lieu of answering this question. i have a long list of jobs i could have given you.

however, you did amuse me with the images you conjured here. but what of those of us who are but heterosexual brunettes? woe is us, no one wants us around...

Beth said...

Wow, you sure know how to set yourself up (and your date) for a good time! Hope no one from the Yukon (i.e. my brother - an ex-Anglican priest) reads this post. Or maybe they should...

NYD said...

Grant~ I still wish えびーちゃん had bigger boobs and that seeing the occasional lesbian is a thrill, but that doesn't mean I want to give up my ridiculous lifestyle for even a short period of time.


VE~ You could get an extra mile or two just on the fumes alone!

Lime~ I am one of those weird guys who actualy like doing house work. It sure beats knocking sense into undergrads.
And as for brunettes...YUM!

Beth~ The only thing I truly know about the Yukon, aside from the fact that there once were gold in them thar hills, is from the image I see on a bottle of Yukon Jack. Does your brother look anything like the guy on the label?

puerileuwaite said...

I always wondered how snow could get so slushy and dirty. Now I know. And for me, summer can not arrive quite soon enough.

whimsical brainpan said...

LOL! I think that is the best possible answer for the question. The most I would do for a Klondike Bar is pay for it (not that I eat them often I prefer Ben and Jerry's).

Kurt said...

That was so sweet.

lime said...

bless you...

Serena said...

You say you're up for domestic servitude? I could ante up a few Klondike bars for that. And if you do a really good job, there might even be Eskimo Pies.:)

Mona said...

bigger boobs are wishful thinking? ..after all they are just orbs...

kolondike !!!! har har har!!!! In India that would be an abuse meaning son of a gun :D :D

and that is a 'Bar' too! ;D

well why indeed would YOU want a kolondike!

And Eskimo is onomatopoeically more sexy sounding.

'Seximo with Eskimo'!... isn't that more 'rhythmic'? Just close your eyes & repeat that and you will know what I mean...

I like the expression 'frosted feeling of romance' ...it seems that winter has set permanently in that department...

Megan said...

Good answer!

I like the bit about reminiscing about folks you've never met. An interesting side-effect of a rohypitini...

Sam said...

I used to be a blonde dyke, and I went to bars! Hooray!!! LOL...

Please give my dear green friend a message? I miss him and I was thinking about him today ♥

Helene (the Artist Formerly Known as Kate) said...

So did your hit count rise? lol
I came by way of Pug... just sayin... dont wantcha to think I was Googling inappropriate things or anything! lol

Big Shamu said...

Any post titled Blond Dyke Bars has got to be a good one.

More please.