The bow tie is what disturbs me the most about this picture. And that disturbs me a lot.
What disturbs me is the scene minutes later in my mind’s eye; flashed images of Willy Nelson desperately coughing up a Kosher Dill.
I recognize that cucumber. I can’t believe he was cheating on me.
Nice bow tie but it needs a cucumberbund.
He’s a pretty cool customer.
She’s gonna pickle the hell out of that.
You’re gonna need a bigger pickle…
Don’t get me wrong…I guess I’m a product of my times but I have a special place in my heart for fluffy-haired pneumatic and presumably (and naturally) hirsute 80’s girls with human-like proportions.
Barbie Dolls were meant to be toys, not human females.
This lady is lovely, in spite of her pickle fetish. Or perhaps more so. I guess it’s kosher; I’m just being bitter. It’s a raw dill; I’d relish the thought of being her bread and butter.
She’s cute. Give her a different hairstyle and she’s good to go.
I had that outfit in 1985.
Is “outfit” a code word for “sex cucumber”?
Suddenly, Mr. Bronc Drywall, the last two posts indicate a sudden wrenching new trajectory of this site into the world of embarrassingly sophomoric sexual innuendo.
Sophomoric behavior has never been a problem for me.
“Mine’s bigger.” -Animal House
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