I can’t begin to express how much I loved the “What Would Yo Do for a Klondike Bar?” commercials. I must also admit that Klondike Bars are awful. Perfect marketing, but the execution was just a bit off on Klondike’s part. I’m not a fan of minty things 😦 Also, when I was a child the silver wrappers reminded me of soap.
Tonight, I’ve been thinking about what I would do for a Klondike Bar, if I actually wanted one. Or something I wanted just as bad as the crack addicts they cast in those commercials. I suppose it would be a reese cup. Seriously, those things are scum-diddly-umptious. A reese cup, surrounded by fried chicken. You know what? A deep-fried reese cup, being held by Dianna Agron from Glee. Deluxe!
So what would Paul do for a deep-fried, peanutty-buttery, reese cup, held by the blonde perfection that is Dianna Agron? Well let’s see…
I’d steal Ne-yo’s hat, revealing the portly 40yr old underneath.
I’d perform a lengthy strip-tease for Betty White. To hell with it, for Betty, I’d go the full monty.
I’d shave my head, leaving only the NBC peacock logo etched on my scalp.
I’d drink out of the same glass as Lindsay Lohan.
I’d attend a Nickelback concert.
I’d spend a full day at Costco, wearing only my Scooby-Doo costume.
I’d show up at Netflix’s corporate office, demanding a VHS copy of Ernest Scared Stupid.
I’d sit outside the Kodak Theater during the Academy Awards, singing Beyonce’s “If I were a Boy”.
I’d poke Michael Phelps in the chest, and call him “Guppy Boy”.
I’d show up to the White House, demanding to see Obama’s third grade report card.
I’d go to the gym and call every roided freak “Chelsea Clinton”, until I was beaten senseless.
I’d get on the PA system of my local Ralphs, and sing the “Thong Song”.
During that Ralph’s trip, I’d ask every sweet old lady where she purchased her ripe melons.
I’d do all of the above, and so much more. I guess it all comes down to being desperate. It’s been a while since I’ve had junk food, and I’d possibly pass out if I was offered a bowl of ice cream right now. It’s been a month now without Netflix or tv of any kind, and the desperation for 24/7 entertainment is slowly leaving me, and that’s a good thing. In it’s place is the desperation to keep producing, keep writing. I’ve wanted this ability to constantly pump out new material as long as I can remember, and all it took was giving up watching American Dad every night. Fair trade.
Paul anticipates a restraining order from Ms. Agron any day now. I swear that’s not me in her bushes, it’s just a freakishly tall bird. A freakishly tall bird wearing Scooby-Doo pjs.