What Would You Do For A Klondike Bar?

I received an email about a year ago to do a review of Klondike Bars. They offered to pay me in…Klondike Bars. Enthusiastically I fired off an email back saying,


 

Dear Klondike People,
If you’re asking me what I would do for a Klondike Bar, the answer is anything because those little chocolate coated frozen happiness bars are fuckin D-Lish. I will write the graces of your product while putting myself into a sweet Klondike Coma.
Love,
Forever Yours,
KlondikeFan69

 

Okay, that isn’t EXACTLY how the email went. I am using creative license here. Sadly, Klondike People never got back to me, which meant I had to purchase my own Klondikes and I got tears all over them as I lamented the $3.50 or so I would have saved. There I was, not getting a response, like when I told Bri sophomore year that I really liked her. (I don’t like you anymore, Bri. In fact, I am better off not having the four or five blog posts I would have eventually written about you had you let me take you to Homecoming.)

Why didn’t they respond? This was before I decided to take some weird moral high ground and not run advertisements I found unappealing myself. I would have sold the shit out of Klondike bars. The Girl Scout Federation of American Obesity would have called and asked me to stand outside Walmart for them, slinging Samoas at elderly folk like some sort of Cookie Matchstick Man.

“Why yes, imagine if instead of the condo in Florida, you invested in a truck load of cookies. With these cookies, your grandkids will always love you.” 

Seriously, I can sell with the best of them. Now, I am sure by this point in my post, I have undoubtably garnered the attention of ALL the brands. Hi, Nabisco *wink face*. Make me swoon and I will push Fig Newtons down everyone’s throats.

But, Klondike never responded to me, which did not rub well with my fear of rejection. I endured, rose stronger from the rejection, if not five pounds heavier from shoving ice cream in my face hole like my date stood me up.

When I decided to try to get in on advertisements again, there was a Wendy’s campaign. The idea of clogging my arteries with a Baconater made me sizzle like a fresh patty. They asked me to strip down and show them my numbers. It was my first time and they could tell. I awkwardly stood there, naked in front of a corporation with way more experience than I. As they passed on me for bloggers with gaudier numbers, I picked myself up off the ground and promised never to show my numbers to someone again unless I truly loved them and they loved me.

But, Papa, didn’t you sell flatbread?

Wrong Papa. Also, don’t call me Papa. It is fucking weird. Fifty shades of not okay. And flatbread sucks, there I said it.

My name is Briton, nice to meet you.

Here I am, a broken blogger who has sworn off advertisements. I have to wonder though. What if? What if the Klondike People did respond? Would I be sitting here surrounded by promotional things, my children wearing brand name shoes? The brand being Hostess. Little TWIN-kie shoes!

See, brands are really missing out. Quick, another one!

When you feel the need to pour vodka into you and awaken your inner Russian, pair it with Cranberry Sprite. Your hiccups will taste delightful. Cranberry Sprite, the little Russian in you approves. 

What would I do for a Klondike Bar? I will tell you what I will do when Klondike People don’t get back to me after, I don’t know, three emails. I will write a long jilted blogger post showing what they are missing out on.

Also, I have never had flatbread. I don’t trust it. Why would you flatten bread? Personally, the bread rides passenger side with me so as NOT to get flattened. What is wrong with society that we now are buying our bread already flattened? This seems the same as buying ripped jeans and I fell into that trap for a few years in high school. Flatten your own bread instead of paying extra for someone else to do it for you. Just throw it next to the milk on the car ride home and it pretty much flattens itself. Maybe I don’t understand the concept of flatbread.

And Klondike People. I have moved on. But, if you send coupons I would use them. ExKlondikeLover68 (because you owe me one, *wink face*)

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