Monday, December 29, 2008

Peehole Expand

Adding to the ongoing saga of how people stumble upon our handsome blog is the term "Peehole Expand". Someone googled it and ended up here. Amazing.

Well friend, all you need for "Peehole Expand" is a couple of fingers and a willingness to never pee normally again.

Friday, December 26, 2008


After eating a ton of holiday food, Dan, Fred and I concluded we needed to celebrate our post-holiday time off work with a food that was more ridiculous than anything we had ever tasted before. I don't even know how we came up with this, but we figured the most awesome, trashy, unhealthy food was a cheese burger pizza (in our case veggie burgers). Here's you make them:

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. You need:
-premade pizza bottoms (make sure they come with sauce)
-burger buns
-ketchup and mayo
-a block of cheddar
-cheese slices

Fry those suckers!

Melt some processed cheese on 'em!

Spread tomato sauce on the dough, put the bottom buns on it, make the burgers.

Put mozarella all over that shit. The whole bag!

Grate a brick of cheddar all over the pie and pop er it in the oven, ten minutes and she's good!

Aww mannn! Look at that shit! Beautiful!

Look at the layers! It's every good food ever melted together. Next time we are adding hot dogs, poutine and chocolate cake.

As ridiculous as the idea was, this actually tasted incredible. The flavours all blended together nicely, and I was shocked to see the mayo and ketchup survived the oven perfectly. It was fucking great. I suggest you try it, and tell em where you got the idea from. I had txted Scotty about my plans for this food of the gods, I had updated him on the taste, and about an hour later I was txting him from the bathroom, because one slice of this thing and I was running. But then maybe I shouldn't have insisted on drinking chocolate milk with it.

Monday, December 22, 2008

Little Debbie Chocolate Chip Creme Pies

I would like to preface this entire review by stating my penchant for all things Little Debbie. They can do no wrong. From the fox on the box to the sweets that can’t be beat: Little Debbie is and forever will be What’s Up.
Example- Little Debbie: That’s What’s Up.

The first time I fell in love with Little Debbie was after sneaking into an ex-girlfriends’ house while she was away and stealing a box full of these and then peeing in her pool (from the deck). I walked home eating the entire thing, completely fucking ashamed that I, as an avid snack lover, had not yet sampled what I have since deemed to be the greatest cookie related snack that has ever existed.

I don’t have these very often because unlike Coke I worry that it won’t have the same magic if I scarf that shit down everyday. It’s like butt play. Putting your wiener in a girl’s pooper is fucking incredible but it’s even more incredible when it happens out of the blue or only on Friday nights after Battlestar Gallactica. If you had it everyday you would take it for granted and get used to your axe handle smelling like inside of a bathhouse.

The point is, these are fucking magic and I want to make sure it stays magic for as long as I’m able to eat them (i.e. until adult-onset diabetes).

This snack is basically two cookies with a cream filling except that the cookies are so incredibly soft they stop becoming cookies and become cakes. It’s like they fucking decompose and evolve at the same time. Darwin’s probably rolling over in his grave but when he gets to his stomach his boner is so huge it props him up and his bony ass bobs in the air.

Here’s how clouds are made:
All air has water in it but near the ground it’s a fucking pussy and hides out in the form of some shit called water vapor. Warm air is like a boner. When air gets warm it gets fucking horny as shit and expands and then it cools down. The thing is that cool air can’t hold in the water vapor the same way that the warm air does (because it’s a fucking baby) so some of the fucking vapor condenses onto the little baby pieces of dust that just sort of dick around in the air and then they fuck and make little babies (i.e. tiny droplets). When all these droplets get liquored up and organize a big dirty gang-bang, that’s called a cloud.

Imagine that the droplets were replaced by petting zoos, getting a promotion you don’t deserve, and nailing your girlfriend and her sister in a fucking mind-blowing three-way. Now imagine that they then formed a cloud and then you ate the cloud. Well that’s exactly what a Little Debbie Chocolate Chip Creme Pie is like.

Go buy it now. And then have a three-way with girlfriend and her sister or your sister and her friend.

Home Made Beaver Tails

Canada has a lot of good eats; beer and maple syrup being chief among them, but we also have some other good shit to offer i.e. Beaver Tails.

Beaver Tails are a “hoser” pizza made out of sugar and lard. As I’m sure you can tell by the title of this post as well as the picture, I will not be reviewing these tasty treats but instead be reviewing the most welfare alternative possible: Home Made Breakfast Tails.

I’m on vacation so I’m not going to the Old Port to hunt down real Beaver Tails because:
a) It’s not in my living room
b) I would have to put on pants (it’s winter here)
c) The Jefferson’s aren’t on in my car

That and the fact I’d rather spend my money on having someone massage my meaty hog (I’m looking at you, hookers who need to pay for daycare after your John’s kept complaining about cumming in front of your child). So with that in mind I did what I usually do: beat my dick off to the thought of having an orgasm via prostitute in the back of ’78 Oldsmobile while a small confused child looks on in tears. Then I made breakfast.

Here’s the “recipe” (if you legitimately think this is a recipe then you are functionally retarded. Barely):
White Bread
Peanut Butter (Optional)

1. Put white bread in toaster
2. Take toast out of toaster
3. Butter the toast
a. Put Peanut Butter on toast (if that’s your thing)
4. Dump a teaspoon of sugar on the toast
5. Dump some cinnamon on the toast
6. Spread that shit around
7. Eat it.

Many of you are thinking that this is disgusting but you’re babies who have never paid for ass massages (inside and out).

Here are some facts:
Toast is good
Sugar is good
That’s all you need to know.

Eating this will give you the strength and energy you need to beat off repeatedly during down time at your shitty I.T. job. This probably tastes as much like Beaver Tails as my farts smell like my dinner but it’s all carbs and sugar and that’s basically all you need. It’ll make your balls swell in your shorts like blowing up a balloon inside of a tube sock. Like riding a bike in leather pants on a hot summer’s day. I think it’s safe to say that this snack will enhance your testicles to the point of amazement. If you’re looking to have your cock pale in comparison to the increasingly large size of your pebbles then eat this fucking snack asap. Your coconuts will grow until they ache and then you’ll worry they’ll pop and all your sack juice will make it look like you whizzed yourself.

This snack is easy to make and cheap as fuck.

All Pros.

Friday, December 5, 2008

Blak Masturbation

This is not a snack related post; it's simply a Snack Sabbath related post.

It amuses me to find out how people get to this blog via google (i.e. what they search to end up here).

This morning we had a new one: blak masturbation.

Someone searched blak masturbation (and spelled black wrong) and decided that instead of continuing on their quest for pictures/videos of well hung black men pleasuring the shit out of themselves they would read my review on Coke Blak.

Snack Sabbath now has the power to cure your lustful carnal urges.

Snack Sabbath and Casts on Both Hands: Curbing Masturbation Since Who the Fuck Knows When.

*EDIT: Someone also got to Snack Sabbath by googling: fuck my melons milk

Munchies BBQ Crunchy Coated Peanuts

Imagine if you will a rose. A solitary red rose. An expression of love. A simple romantic statement. A testament to the perfection of mother nature. Now imagine it covered completely in strippers eating each others' asses right the fuck out. That is exactly what Munchies are like. You take something nature made and then cover it in fucking gold doubloons and video games and Pamela Andersons' breasts. This snack doesn't even make any fucking sense. It's peanuts covered in like fucking delicious chip crumbs and then baked or something. I don't really know how these are concocted but then again I'm a fat slob reviewing snacks and not some fucking doctor of legumes who's planning on reverse engineering peanut snacks.

The first time I had these they were someone else's and being a gentleman (and having them belong to someone's dad) I decided not to steal the whole bag in spite of the fact that every fiber in my body was telling me to club him with a mallet and rob the shit out of them. But instead I left early and bought some on the way home. And then stuffed my face like food would cure my depression or make cute boys ask me to dance.

Of all the snacks I've had the privilege of reviewing this is the closest to perfection (exception: EVERY coke product is perfect and by its very nature, unbeatable). If my mouth could have an orgasm, these nuts would be just the cock to do it. The BBQ smell is amazing. It has that fake zip of every chip bowl from every child's shitty birthday party throughout the history of time. It's crunchy. It's tangy. It's spicy. I don't really know what else I could possibly ask for. The texture is incredible. It's like there's a delicate crunch (for ladies) and then it's immediately followed by a giant man crunch (to weed out the pussies). It has two kinds of crunch! It's a fucking peanut that crunches twice! I'm not sure you can grasp the multi-layered snacking that is really going on here. It's a fucking crunch vortex!

This review was written in two parts because I had to go write some bullshit exam but as I'm leaving work I pass by my buddy Hans' cubicle and guess what the fuck that man is munching on. Munchies! What the fuck. It's an omen. So I'm like "Hans, I'm reviewing that shit right now!" and he's all like "Spoiler just told me that they've had these things in Belgium forever". So Belgium has chocolate, Munchies, and Jean Claude Van Damme. Why the fuck would you ever move? That's the trifecta! You're living the dream!

Back to the review...

These peanuts are amazing. It's like normal peanuts coated in armor that makes them noble but then you're like a big fucking dragon who says "Fuck that. I'm a dragon. Your armor can't protect you against arrows or maybe a broadsword but not against my fucking dragon teeth." And then BAM! you eat them and feel awesome about yourself.

In conclusion, if you don't like these you have an allergy to peanuts and are a pussy and should probably keep taping your glasses and using your asthma pump.

Will make the tip of your cock tingle like someone's rubbing their feet on the carpet while wearing wool socks and then reaching down your shorts.

None (you pussy)

Eat this shit.

Thursday, December 4, 2008

Miss Vickies Rosemary and Basil Chips

So I'm on a meat hiatus. I know that I'm a fucking viking of a man with an unruly face and stink like cigars and drunk driving. I'm a fucking MAN! I have a thick meaty dick and a wild patch of thick coarse pubic hair. It's because of all these things than I can not eat meat and still get boners. Other men who are less manly and don't possess the essence of virility that I do would have to continue to eat meat. But not I.

So it was because of that that I was on this healthy/hippie shit. Not the lame kind of hippie that holds up peace signs and protests shit, I'm talking about the kind of hippie that gets fucked up and puts his dick in all kinds of sluts. WITH NO RUBBER. I know what you're thinking: "what about STDs?" well let me reply to you by offering a science fact that your mothers and virginal school teachers don't want you to hear: if you lube up your hotdog enough the STDs can't stick to your wing-wang. Yeah. You're welcome. Anyway this hippie thing... I was like "I'm going to stuff my fucking idiot face with these here Rosemary and Basil chips".

Usually I like Miss Vickies, especially because she's not married and I obviously have a chance to bone the shit out of her, but these chips are complete garbage. They taste like a socialist commune. It's the underside of someone's leather sandal. Fuck these chips. They smell like hemp and taste like a sack full of road apples (frozen horse shit that us poor Canadian kids use to play street hockey with when our skates are being sharpened).

Let's run down the list of suck:

1. They're coated in flavoring that is the same color as Caucasian flesh (like mine) so I didn't even notice that my fingers were covered until I looked at the legs of my jogging pants (it's what I use to wipe my hands on)

2. They stink like communism and pro-bono lawyers

3. The bag sucks. It's ugly and there's no lighthouse (a la sea salt and malt vinegar)

4. They taste like chalk and cardboard and handfuls of ass hair

5. They make your mouth dry like you have an allergy to medication

Everything about these chips is a bummer. They will stay in my cupboard until I inevitably spend too much money on comic books (or sex with Asians) and have nothing else to snack on.

So don't buy these unless you have dreads and want to organize a "sit in".

Fuck these chips

*Note: I could not find a picture of these chips online so fuck it I drew it. It's awesome.

Wednesday, December 3, 2008


I remember a few years ago at what I think was an Agnostic Front show, someone handed me an orange. I looked at it and said "how do these work?". People laughed and it was quoted for a while. And guess what? Nothing has changed. My boss offered me an orange earlier, and insisted that they were delicious. Having been sick for a while, I caved to his wishes and took it. In a moment of weakness, I thought maybe I had matured since that show, and maybe I needed to start eating oranges. Now, for the record, I do not consider an orange a snack, because I'm not your mom packing you your lunch. But I guess some people actually do consider this a snack, and I review for the people. Even the stupid ones. May they learn a nugget of wisdom from my gigantic all-knowing brain. Here's what I think of your 'oranges'.

First of all, who the fuck wants to peel a snack? The point of a snack is instant gratification. As in, I know what I want, and I want it now*. If I wanted to work for my gratification I would be in the gym, or having meaningful sex. No, a snack is supposed to be like jumping into a pool of everything that is awesome, and drowning, and going to heaven. So right away this "orange" as people like to call it, named after its color, is a huge failure. You have to peel the shit, it sprays juice everywhere, your hands get messy, you stain your pants. It's like losing your virginity all over again.

Once you're done with the peeling and taking off the disgusting white shit (takes about 30 minutes) you can now put a piece of orange in your mouth. This is when you remember exactly why you hate oranges. Biting the thick skin is probably the closest thing to knowing what a vampire feels like when he has to bite a fat old chick. Instead of blood flowing out though, all you get it orange juice. Plain old OJ. I don't get it. Why would I go through all this trouble, all this gross messy bullshit, just to get regular OJ? You would expect fucking OJ Simpson to pop out and confess to the murders for all the trouble you had to go through. Then once the juice is out, you're just chewing on fat skin like a creepy cannibal. Awful. Disturbing. Vile. Orange.

So in conclusion, basically an orange consists of a bunch of small juice containers made out of thick veiny skin, and all of these containers are inside of another, much thicker skin that looks like a mans ass if he had just sat down on a bag of Cheetos. Yea, that sounds delicious, sign me up. Sign me right the fuck up for this party. Oranges. Get the fuck outta here with that shit. I know what you're thinking. But it's good for you, it's healthy, all the vitamins are in the skin. Oh yea? How about I go buy vitamins in a bottle? And orange juice in a bottle? And some chocolate milk and a Zero bar? High five! Oh no wait, you have gross orange juice and goo on your hand. Sorry. Mother nature 0, snack industry 1.

* I want you, 'cause I'm Mr. Vain.

Friday, November 21, 2008

Monday, November 17, 2008


Being of European decent, I grew up watching a lot of American TV shows, and they featured a lot of things that were not available to me in my surroundings. This could be anything from Yoohoo, to the Empire State Building, to palm trees, to Pamela Anderson, to Hollywood Boulevard. In my early twenties, I got to see a good number of those things with my own eyes while touring. Some of them were rewarding (Yoohoo), some of them not so much (Hollywood Boulevard). I've since moved to Canada, where a good number of "things from the tv" are common (not a lot of palm trees though). Last weekend I managed to find a gem in the state of New York, one I had never seen, and never fully realized was a real product, sold to the common man: I found a Drake's Coffee Cake.
To be completely honest, I am reviewing the experience moreso than the actual coffee cake because I can barely remember the actual coffee cake. I was in a higher state of being, you see. I bought the thing with a huge smile on my face, walked over to the van, and announced that I had just found a Drake's Coffee Cake. I didn't hear anyone's response, though I can imagine someone might have referred to how funny that is since only a day earlier I had said the Omegas should go to Monk's and take a group shot in front of the Restaurant sign for the LP cover, then a shot of us eating at a table for the back cover. But, if this was said, I didn't hear it. I was picturing myself being Newman, and everyone else in the van as the cast of Seinfeld. Tony was Kramer, Dan was George, Ryan was Jerry, Skibra was Peterman, Yan was Puddy, and that leaves Jay as Elaine. Matt was actually not a Seinfeld character, he was Frankie Coffee Cake (get the reference for bonus points). But instead of trying to bribe me with Drake's Coffee Cake, or stealing it from me, I was eating it like I was intended to. I consumed that thing like there was no tomorrow, like I had just told the world that zip codes don't mean anything. I remember the cake being very soft and fluffy, and there was a brown sugar covering the top. I think there was some cinnamon involved, but the memory is hazy. I now know that Drake's Coffee Cake is real, and that it can be purchased in New York. I will live on being torn between the glory of having eaten the DCC, and the pain of not fully remembering it's flavors, until I find myself eating another. It may be this confusing state of mind brought forth by the DCC that had Elaine, George and myself (Newman) in such a frenzy in the first place. It is like a holy grail of snacks. Even if you believe it exists, even if you hold it in your own hands, even if you eat it with your own mouth, you can still never truly taste it. You must keep eating it, and eating it, and keep trying. Drake's Coffee Cake symbolizes freedom: one knows it can never truly be obtained, yet one must never give up it's quest.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Having Munchies x Eating Munchies

Sometimes I smoke weed. Sometimes I like to eat hash muffins from this lady that hangs out at this local bar.  I get stoned and go in search of food.  One of my favorite things to eat sober and not sober are Lay's Munchies...the Flamin' Hot being my bag of choice.  Let me give you the rundown:


I'm Mexican so I love anything that is hot, minus Miami.  The seasonings are so dope, I end up eating the entire thing, and honestly, that's not very attractive, but who the fuck cares. I love Picante flavor anything,  and they are so good I don't even care my fingers end up with the red powder from the Flamin' Hot Cheetos.  The Sun Chip x Cheeto collabo is on fire!! If I was Mariah Carey, I'd have these on my roster every night.  According to the serving size, its 3/4th a cup, but to me that says, "Eat the whole bag, who cares."  Seriously, so good.  Oh, and another thing, the great thing about getting these stoned is that you no longer have to purchase 4 bags of potato chips and look like "that guy."  Problem solved, snack solved.

Sunday, November 9, 2008

Reese's Whipps

Sometimes companies rip off other companies but then make the product better, like what white people did with soul music (see Hall and Oates). Well Reese’s just ripped off the 3 Musketeers bar from the black man that is Mars Inc.

The Reese’s Whipps tastes exactly like if a 3 Musketeers was filled with peanut butter (that was made completely out of icing sugar). It’s so good it’s almost criminal I haven’t seen any ads for this delicious treat. If I could design an ad for it it would basically look something like:

A child gets hit by a speeding car and he's bleeding out badly. He's hemorrhaging. A stranger stops his car and throws 500-600 candy bars at the injured child.

Won't be needing these anymore.

He then pulls out a Reese's Whipps and drives off at 200 miles an hour straight into a brick wall.

Roll credits/give me my fucking Oscar.


-All the pb is uniform, no lumps, no air pockets.

-The chocolate casing is thick enough so that I can still tell I’m eating a chocolate bar and not just a fucking brick of pb.

-Unlike a 3 Muskateers, the chocolate casing doesn’t splinter off when you bite into it so you always have the same ratio off chocolate to peanut butter


-A little bit tinier than a 3 Muskateers

-Could have added a thin layer of caramel like Mars bars have.

Injured children and speed demons love this shit

Saturday, November 8, 2008

Interview With Martin Stewart

Below you will find an interview about Snacks with Martin Stewart from every single band ever from California (Terror, Donnybrook, L.I.O.N, Potential Snack Themed Jackyl Cover Band...) and not Martin Stewart the keyboard player from ska band extraordinaire, Bad Manners.

Here it is (p.s. prepare to have your life fucked with like the lacrosse team just slipped you some roofies.)

SNACK SABBATH: You're a well-traveled dude, touring the world and junk, so I'm assuming you've had the opportunity to chow down on Snacks all across the globe. With that in mind, what in your opinion is the Snack capital of the world? In terms of quality.

MARTIN: Definitely the US, that's why we're such slobs for the most part. The great thing about the snack game in the US is that you can find snacks from pretty much any part of the world if you just look for it. There's certain snacks that I've gotten myself hooked on when I'm in a different country and am able to find at home once I get back. You could say that we have the snack game on lock.

SNACK SABBATH: I'd be inclined to agree as well. I still have to travel to the states to pick up Cherry Coke and 4 liter jugs of Arizona Iced Tea.

MARTIN: Cherry Coke is unbelievable. Even better than the jugs of Arizona is the jugs of Tea / Lemonade from Wawa. You can only get those on the East side of the country though.

SNACK SABBATH: Can you give me some examples of the type of Snacks you've fallen in love with on the road?

MARTIN: For the longest time in the U.S. I was hooked on these chip-like things called "BBQ Twists". I felt like I had to get some every time we made a stop. Japan had my favorite snack combo so far. They were a Japanese version of Koala Yummies which is like a small 3D cookie or cracker in the shape of a koala with chocolate inside. I would get some of those and a Milk Tea. They only sell Milk Tea in Japan or if you find an authentic Asian market somewhere. SO GOOD.

SNACK SABBATH: Seeing as we're getting international with Snacking, what do you think of Snacking in Quebec? I know your significant other is from this beautiful province so I'm sure you've had a chance to get hooked up with The Almighty Poutine on more than one occasion.

MARTIN: Let me start by saying that I'm not a fan of poutine AT ALL. I've tried it many times over again thinking that maybe my tasting experience was soured because of either the establishment making the poutine or maybe even the snacking mood I was in, but every time I still come out unsatisfied. I just can't get around that strange squeaking of the cheese. I love Harvey's and Ashton is always great after a long night of alcohol consumption. I'm a huge fan of the abundance of A&W throughout Canada, some very good snacking there. Your ice cream shops are the jam though.

SNACK SABBATH: I can understand not digging curd cheese. I was raised on it so I take for granted that people don't want their dairy sounding like plastic wrap. Have you ever tried an "Ontario Poutine"? It's the same thing except the cheese used is just plain grated cheddar. FYI this is viewed as inferior by all true poutine connoisseurs.

MARTIN: Even though I don't like poutine I definitely respect the fact that if I did like it that Quebec would be the only place to get it since they do it the best. You can find fake poutine in the states sometimes under the name "Disco Fries". How corny is that?

SNACK SABBATH: When my girlfriend and I are sleeping in bed and we're spooning and shit and she isn't wearing any undies I like to rest my weiner between her butt cheeks. Sort of like just docking my cock if you will. Like a ship waiting for its chance to sail again. Thoughts?

MARTIN: I was under the impression that "docking" was when 2 uncircumcised men connect their foreskin and simultaneously jerk each other off?

SNACK SABBATH: Holy shit, that's amazing. I wonder what Spoiler's doing later.
Being from California, what are the top Snacks that other parts of the globe are totally missing out on?

MARTIN: I'm not exactly clear on the definition of snacking so I'm not sure if my first instinctual response to this question is valid, but the rest of the world flat out sucks when it comes to making Mexican food. Southern California Mexican even puts Mexican food from Mexico to absolute shame. It's always funny when I'm around the globe and some locals try to rant and rave about their special burrito spot and then when you try it out you're wishing that you had just eaten Taco Bell instead. No disrespect to T-Bell, I love the place. Mexican food and In-n-Out Burger. There's not really much else in the snack realm that Cali's got on lock. Canada's got to get into Jamba Juice though.

SNACK SABBATH: What would you say makes the Mexican food in California so much better? Geographical location?

MARTIN: Just the whole experience of going to a small Taqueria where they don't really speak English, the way it smells inside, the way the juke box always manages to randomly blast some wild music in the middle of your dining session. It's weird that we're so close to Mexico in So. Cal. but the food here is so much better than in Mexico. It's probably just the magic in the air of our beautiful state that makes it taste so damn good.

SNACK SABBATH: If you were driving your car and then you ran over a witch and just fucking ruined her and then before she died she cursed you and turned you into a hamburger and then sent you to a deserted island would you be willing to maybe gnaw off an arm to stay alive?

MARTIN: So does that mean that only my torso is a hamburger and I still have my normal arms and legs? If so, my answer is no. I wouldn't eat my arm because that would probably taste like garbage. On the other hand, I would eat some of my delicious torso. Not even to stay alive though, but just because I taste so damn good.

SNACK SABBATH: Follow-up question 1: What kind of burger do you think you'd be? I think I'd be a Big Mac and I would spill my special sauce wherever the fuck I wanted.

MARTIN: I'd be a double-double from In-n-Out. Always fresh and so exclusive & cool.

SNACK SABBATH: Follow-up question 2: Why were you not constantly on the lookout for witches while driving?

MARTIN: That's obvious, witches fly in front of the moon not your car. There's no reason to watch out for them unless you're in a flying machine or on a broom yourself.

SNACK SABBATH: Have you ever considered starting a band called Snackyl that only plays Jackyl covers but with the lyrics changed to reflect your love of snacks?


I was born in the snackwoods
Of a two-bit nowhere town
Fathered up some Coca-Cola (baby)
So you muthers could snack on down
I ain't whistling dixie
No, I'm a rebel with a real smooth cock
All around the world they go 'round and 'round
When they dig on my chocolate milk sound

I'm a lumbersnack baby
I'm gonna snack you down to size
I'm a lumbersnack baby
And you're the snack that snacks my snack
And when snack snack my snack snacking
You know I snack be snackin' a snack
So I'm gonna show you my dick and snack up and snack snack

I'm a lumbersnack baby
I'm a lumbersnack snack baby
I'm a lumbersnack baby
I'm a lumbersnack snacky
But I snack snacked my snacks snack
Since snacks snack snack snacks

MARTIN: Absolutely not. But since you seem to have this band so figured out already I'd be more than happy to join.

SNACK SABBATH: I'll send you demos by the end of the week.


Top 5 favorite snacks of all time in any order you see fit.

(in no particular order)
1. Big Texas Cinnamon Roll
2. Cinnamon & Sugar Pretzel Sticks from Auntie Anne's Pretzel's
3. Orange Dream Machine from Jamba Juice
4. Perfectly ripe fruit
5. Banana Creme Blast from Sonic Burger

SNACK SABBATH: Coke or Pepsi?

MARTIN: Pepsi by far.

SNACK SABBATH: Most underrated Snack?

MARTIN: Koala Yummies.

SNACK SABBATH: Most overhyped Snack?

MARTIN: Potato Chip.

SNACK SABBATH: And that concludes our interview. Any closing thoughts you would like to add? Perhaps how this was the greatest interview you've ever participated in? What about cock docking? Pretty cool right?

MARTIN: This interview is THE greatest interview I have ever participated in! Isn't that weird!? I would like to add the suggestion of checking out my blog "". It's not updated daily, but enough to be significant. Cock docking, no homo. Look up frotting. Google. com.

Thursday, November 6, 2008

Honey Glazed Bun by Rondeau Cookies Limited

The Honey Glazed Bun is part of my breakfast routine more often than I would like to admit. I pretty much never have time to eat breakfast, because as much as I love food, I love sleep equally. Equally, you ask. Yes, but, breakfast involves a chore, and sleeping does not, so I pretty much get a smoothie or random garbage on the way to work every day. On days that I'm late, I go into work first, then head over to the vending machine. I am by far it's best customer. By the time I get to work I am fucking starving and the honey glazed bun just happens to be the largest item up in that bitch, and it's only $1.50. Let me be honest right off the bat: it's not that good. I checked this local companies website for an image of it and they don't even fucking mention it once. I almost feel bad for this slimey, gooey mess of a snack. But I don't. It's sub par, and it's not even that filling either.

A few months ago I was talking to this chick on the internets and pretty much the only thing I would talk to her about was how I was going to put it in her ass. This was not just because I'm a pervert and my mind has been fouled by reading Scotty's posts but also because she was boring and I didn't want to talk to her about much else. This morning snack was as much a morning ritual as talking about deep anal penetration to this girl was, so I soon addressed the topic as "glazing her buns". Pretty soon I figured that honey is yellow, and pee is yellow, so this snack had to be some french guys' dirty metaphor for peeing on a girls' ass cheeks. And I just didn't know if I was into that. Sure, I'll pee on a girl, I guess, like maybe in the shower, which the girl in question had apparently done with an ex before. Like she let him pee in her mouth and shit. Disgusting. But yea, peeing on a girls' ass? That's just fucking weird. It's kind of cool just because it's dirty, and if you're really that horny it probably rules but in general terms, it's just gross and messy. The same mindset applies to this snack. Unless you are starving like me on a monday morning, don't eat this. You will feel the way a girl feels when she just got creamed in the mouth by a guy that doesn't respect her. You thought it was a great idea, cheap and huge, you like the familiar taste, but now you're covered in sticky goo and you feel empty inside. Wow, I'm never going to eat this again. Especially now that I looked at the wrapper and it says 640 motherfucking calories. What the fuck! It's not even that tasty! Fuck this shit, don't eat this. Oh, and I never ended up putting it in that girls ass either because I met a way hotter girl and stopped talking to her, a situation similar to how I'm about to meet a nice Chocolatine Gondole from Andalos and never think about honey glazed buns again.

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

Interview with John McCain (about snacks)

Snack Sabbath: Well first of all Senator let me say it's an honor to be interviewing you today. I truly appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule to sit down with me and discuss snacking at a governmental level.

Sen. McCain: No problem Sean, it's my pleasure.

Snack Sabbath: Uh, it's Scott actually.

Sen. McCcain: Sorry Scott. You meet so many people when you’re running for leader of the free world that sometimes it's hard to keep names straight.

Snack Sabbath: I can only imagine. I ran for Dong Master of my College fraternity, so I can totally relate.

Sen. McCain: I'm not so sure I'm familiar with the position of "Dong Master".

Snack Sabbath: Don’t worry about it too much. Now moving on to snacking... Given the opportunity to travel back in time and eat any snack that has ever existed what would you eat?

Sen. McCain: Bringing out the big guns right off the bat I see... I know you'll probably think this is too "Vanilla" what with your blackberrys and your microwave popcorns but if I could have any snack ever I would have to say figs. You see Sean, the fig is pure, like America and when you add things like sugar (Mexicans) or bake it in with other fruits (integration) it ruins its natural and delicious God given flavors (white people).

Snack Sabbath: I understand your racist metaphor, but you'd really pick a fig over let's say a banana split or some homemade chocolate chip cookies?

Sen. McCain: Call me old fashioned but I would choose to eat figs over anything any day, they're America's fruit. So yes, figs... Well either that or abortions. Goddamn it abortions are delicious.

Snack Sabbath: Uh... I'm sorry, come again? Did you say you love to eat abortions and then lick your lips and then tuck your boner under your belt buckle so that I wouldn't see it?

Sen. McCain: No I did not. Absolutely not Sean. I'm a Maverick and a Maverick would not participate in these types of activities.

Snack Sabbath: Actually sir, it's Scott. My name... Scott...

Sen. McCain, I'm sure it is.

Snack Sabbath: What's that supposed to mean? Uh… Sir?... Can you please stop that?
(At this point in the interview a pregnant woman walks to the park bench we’re seated on while speaking on her cell phone to what I can only assume is the father of the child she's carrying and it's not going well. Sen. McCain is mumbling something in Latin and feverishly rubbing his testicles over his slacks)

Sen. McCain: Do you think she's going to keep it?

Snack Sabbath: Excuse me?

Sen. McCain: The baby, you maroon, do you think she's going to go the distance?

Snack Sabbath: Whose baby? I'm not sure I know what you're talking about. Do you mean the woman on the phone?

Sen. McCain: Oh never mind; you wouldn't understand.
(The pace of his genital rubbing has increased exponentially. He starts to mumble in Latin again. Beads of sweat form on his brow and run down into the deep crevices of his wrinkles and then down both sides of his face)

Snack Sabbath: Uh... What?

Sen. McCain: Listen Steve do you want to talk snacks or what?

Snack Sabbath: Not if you're going to keep slapping around your ding dong like that.

Sen McCain: You don't understand anything. You young people sucking at the teat of the liberal media with your "not letting me eat abortions" and your "making me wipe after I go number two".
(The pregnant woman's phone conversation is getting louder and increasingly aggressive)

Sen McCain: She's going to do it!!!! She's going to have an abortion! Cindy!... Cindy!!... Damn it Cindy bring me my big spoon and my elastic waist jeans! Daddy's eating heathen tonight!

Snack Sabbath: Senator, what are you... What are you doing?
(Senator McCain takes of his pants and smiles ear to ear. He makes eye contact with the woman on the phone and grins, beaming even wider at her. He mouths the word "whorecakes" to her and then spits in his palm. He reaches into his underwear but never breaks eye contact. The woman looks noticeably disturbed)

(Sen. McCain keeps beating his dick off as he screams like a goddamned banshee. Surprisingly his staff doesn't seem the least bit concerned by this. He tries to cover his orgasm by coughing loudly but the hot wet mess in his shorts is evidence enough)

Sen. McCain (out of breath): Fuck I love snacks.

Snack Sabbath: Thanks for the interview I guess.

Sen. McCain (with his eyes closed pinching his nipples, still out of breath): Whoooooooooooweeeeeeeeeeeeee…

This interview took place on November 2nd 2008 between breakfast and lunch.

Thursday, October 30, 2008

Peche Gourmet Shoyo Almonds

The lobby of my building (at work) is the fucking mecca of snacks. They have everything: Cool Ranch Doritos, Ritter Sport, Zero Bars (refrigerated), and a bunch of other completely fucking freaked out euro chocolate bars with wacky shit like orange peel and zebra musk. They also carry the complete line of Peche Gourmet; a French Canadian company that produces generic candy (cherry blaster ripoffs, peach gummies...) and then packages them in the most boring bags imaginable. The only thing cool about the packaging is that they have this logo of a rotund child-devil licking his chops after feasting on the abortions of the white and wealthy. ***Please note the logo in the picture is of their old logo where the devil was chasing interacial couples off of public transit. They changed the logo because of societal pressures.*** This testament to French Canadian snacking also sells a delicious assortment of nuts. Now I've been know to chomp on some goddamn legumes every once in a while and today is no exception. I hooked up (as I do at least weekly) a delightful bag of Shoyo Almonds.

Now I know you're thinking "What the fuck is Shoyo?". The answer may surprise you. It basically stems from an old Japanese tradition where on Halloween, Demons from Azkata-Zu (the underworld) come to feast on the virginity of 10-14 year old girls. The demons (known as Onataro) steal a piece of the girls' virginity (called Domodonu) and take it back to Azkata-Zu to feed the horned beasts that pull the plows and harvest the crops. This causes the young girls to bleed from their vaginas. In short, the demons are what give Japanese girls their first periods. What Shoyo does is it places a force field over the girls' lady parts and keeps the Demons from giving them their fucking mensies.

It's either that or it might be raw soy.

So whatever, these almonds are fucking salty without having any salt on them. I think they bake the shoyo into them or use some kind of Asian voodoos to infuse that shit into my almonds because I can't realistically figure out any other way it could be accomplished.

These things are fucking yummy and will make women think I'm healthy and pull back my foreskin when I'm washing my ding dong.

I don't think I can recommend them because they're not meat, sugar, or synthetic in any way. These are just barely a snack. I don't even think if you were on a diet they would count as food just like cheating on your girlfriend doesn't count if it's with a dude or your eyes are closed.

If you're into almonds then buy these, they're like almonds times awesome. But if you're not then you can skip it. Actually don't, they're filled with Asian magics that will make you a lot better at math.

Japanese Magicks +1
Math +34
Snack +/- 0

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

The Ultimate French Vanilla Milk by Neilson

I picked this up shortly after reviewing the French Vanilla Milkshake, figuring it would be the next Neilson product of amazingness, the next French Vanilla OD, the next cool smooth Milk Shake Frenzy. Boy, was I wrong. I should have noticed this milkshake doesn't even say "Milkshake" at all. It just says "French Vanilla Milk". By the time I had downed half of this thing, and wondered why my mouth wasn't partying harder than a guy in the 1970s, which was when AIDS didn't exist, but the pill did, and acid was still good, and weed wasn't related to radio rap yet. And then I saw it. 160 calories. I remembered that the milkshake had 330. Fuck. This is once again proof that "calories" is an old word from a long gone language of cuisine chefs that translates, basically, to "FLAVOR COUNTRY". This thing is exactly what you would think it is: a flat, boring, stale version of the Milkshake. Basically, it's milk. Fucking milk. Cereal enhancer. But ooh, look, with a hint of "French Vanilla". Whatever. I used to love it, but now I'm not even sure what it is anymore. This thing fucking sucks. You have wronged me, Neilson. There is nothing Ultimate about this product. Well actually, since I now know 'French Vanilla Milk" equals "really boring and pathetic excuse for a milkshake" then yes, I guess this does qualify as the ultimate. Nice one, wise guys. Keep it up. Keep making jokes. We'll see who laughs when I... when... well I guess I got nothing. I'll just have another milkshake, please.

Monday, October 27, 2008

Coke Blak

Sometimes a thing is awesome and then adding something that is also awesome to it makes it different but awesome in a different way.

Here is an example of what I mean: Sometimes putting your ding-dong in a girl’s veej is awesome and sometimes peeing is awesome and combining the two is different but awesome in a different way. In case you can’t do the math let me math it out for you: PEEING IN A GIRL’S VAGINA IS HILARIOUS (and according to sex ed in grade 8 she can’t feel it until it runs down the inside of her thighs and butt crack; I asked).

Here is another more Snack related example: Coca-Cola is awesome and Coffee is awesome and combining the two is a different awesome in a different awesome way.  If you were a doctor of waking the fuck up at 6:00 am to go work at a puppy mill you would have invented your own combination of the two called “Dr. Puppy Mill’s Wake Up and Murder Some Puppies That Didn’t Sell Juice” but you work in a bank helping degenerates order new checks so Coca-Cola had to invent it for you. It’s called Coke Blak and I’m about to review the shit out of it.

The downside to this review (aside from the fact that we aren’t face to face so that I can scream it into your ugly, sweaty mouth) is that Coke stopped producing Coke Blak, deciding to sell off the remaining supply and call it a day.  That was in 2006. So basically after I fucking sell you so hard on this product you won’t ever be able to hook it up for yourself, which is pretty lame of me, sorry.

Coke Blak was never made widely available in Montreal. It was only ever made available at random locations for a period of about 2 months. I never saw any marketing campaigns for it around here ever and never heard anyone talk about it. It was the best kept secret of the cola world. It got a slightly bigger push in the states (where I first sampled it’s sweet caffeinated nectars) but still had a super short availability to the public. Bummer.

I can’t recommend this drink enough. I know the combination of cola and coffee doesn’t sound super appealing and I’ll admit the prospect of it didn’t get the blood flowing to my flaccid penis but after the first sip I was hooked. It’s delicious brown magic. It tastes like burnt marshmallows and black-tar heroin. It’s poison. It’s like drinking abortion shame and spying on your sister while she pees. It’s a cocktail of caffeine and self-loathing. This drink makes me fucking hate myself for loving it as much as I do. The combination of these two ingredients is vile and sour and oaky but I can’t help but mess where my bathing suit covers every goddamn time I have a sip.



-Fucking Awesome

-Fucking Awesome

-Fucking Awesome

-Fucking Awesome

-Fucking Awesome

-Fucking Awesome

-Fucking Awesome

-Fucking Awesome

-Fucking Awesome

-Fucking Awesome


Cons (and these are only cons if you are total baby with no pubes)

-Tastes like Demon afterbirth

-Will make you hate yourself in deeper and more profound ways than you ever thought possible

-Is fucking evil

-Is impossible to find anywhere

This video is an example of a lesser man's reaction

This drink is fucking awesome (see “Pros”) and if you ever see this anywhere drink it immediately then throw your pregnant mother down the stairs as the evil of this drink devours every part of your soul. This drink will fill your masturbation vault (or spank bank if you will) with images of snakes eating live sheep and owls ripping apart a field full of fetuses. This drink will ruin you. The only way you’ll ever be able to cum after you drink this will be when you’re pooping or beheading a neighbor.

Buy it on sight and send some to me. Seriously I will fucking paypal the shit out of you if you have any of this lying around.

Drink Coke Blak immediately if not sooner. It will rape everything good right the fuck out of your life.

Saturday, October 25, 2008

French Vanilla Milkshake by Neilson

The French Vanilla Milkshake is exactly what it sounds like. A fancier version of a regular vanilla milkshake with more arrogance and more class. While most milkshakes you buy at the gas station taste like melted ice cream, this is a beverage of a higher nature. It's thick, but not too thick. It tastes like dairy, but not too much. It's sugary, but too sugary, so even better. It has a delicious aftertaste that stays on your tongue until you take the next sip. It tastes so delicious that you want to take a huge chug, but at the same time you want to take tiny sips and take the time to taste them all. If you put the bottle to your mouth, and breathe in, you can smell the vanilla. You can smell the pure dairy. This drink makes you act like a total douchebag wine connaisseur. Hence the "French" in the french vanilla. Luckily, this thing is so amazing, it's totally worth it. It actually makes you feel good about yourself just drinking it. You can even be a gross longhair scumbag in a leather jacket, wearing a shirt of a monkey fondling a passed out chicks tits,

and still feel like a classy frenchman taking in art at the Louvre. Go on, embrace your inner moustache curling baguette eater, and indulge in this fine product.

Sunday, October 19, 2008

Apple Danish by Cloverhill Bakery

I am typing this review on a sunday afternoon, while eating the reviewed snack in question, on my bed, while jamming "sabbath bloody sabbath". Life is good.

This Apple Danish has been a staple in my gas station snack shopping for a long time. I get really stoked on road trip stops or when I go buy snacks in betweens bands at a show and I find this bad boy. Most Couche-Tards (yes, that means retarded vagina) carry them proudly. The sheer sight of it is like christmas, but with less decorations and more sugar.

Getting back to Sabbath, the first taste of this Danish is actually very much like the first riff on the "sabbath bloody sabbath" album: instant gratification. You take a bite, and you're there. You don't have to wait for some aftertaste, or eat your way to some creamy center. It's just there for you, no bullshit. Like the song, it just starts. You take a bite, and if it's your first time, you will immediately be amazed at how soft this thing is. You're like, but it's a pastry! In a plastic wrapper! How is this even possible? Before you can even begin to answer that question (*) you are hit with a ton of the best flavors in the universe. You get the soft pastry, swirled with delicious cinnamon goodness, and the extremely sugary white stuff thrown all over the top. What's that shit called? Frosting? Who cares it's delicious and I don't want to use my brain for anything other than tasting, processing taste, and reporting it directly to you. There is also apple, which is really soft and cold and gooey. Oh man. I don't even know why it's so fucking good. They took an old classic recipe, and they just made it work. They put the perfect amounts of all ingredients (way too much) and it is awesome. No need to fuck around with it.

Now that I'm finished with this incredible snack, I am thirsty as fuck. I doubt that the Cloverhill Bakery makes any sort of beverage, since you can't bake a beverage, so this is not some crazy scheme of a danish to get you thirsty and buy more of their products. No, friends, this is a legitimately amazing snack that gives you an honest thirst. I do know that the guys and gals at Cloverhill make one other snack, it's always right next to the apple danish, so obviously I have never bothered to even see what it is. Sometimes a store will have only the other one, obviously because the apple danish is superior and sells out much faster. I get so bummed when this happens. I can spot the red and green logo of the apple danish miles away, and the other one is some weird pink or orange logo. I don't even want to know what it is.

Now that it's been a minute after devouring the danish (the snack, not the people - though that would rule!) I have calmed down slightly and can give some you some other interesting details. First off, this motherfucker has 420 calories in it. Holy shit! Now you know you are dealing with a real snack, not a woman's excuse for a snack. You know the kind, they have words like 'lite' or 'utter garbage' written on them. Besides calories, this guy also has 17 grams of pure fat. I'm not sure if that's a lot, but I'm going to go with yes. It does have 5 grams of protein, so you are pretty much getting jacked while eating this. Besides getting over three times as fat, that is, but let's not get difficult here. Oh, I have had some time to think of the answer to your question (*). It is fairly simple: Preservatives, preservatives, and more preservatives! All the good my body needs!

Holy fuck, I just noticed the package says, in fairly large lettering in fact, "Delicious Microwaved!". Man, I have never read that before. Well that's it from me, I am going to consume a beverage and then I am going to buy a Cloverhill Bakery Apple Danish and microwave the hell out of it. Updates will follow!

Note: I just wanted to state that I have eaten a Danish in Denmark. You can trust my deep knowledge on the subject.

Saturday, October 18, 2008

Now Available

Free if you live close, postage if you don't.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008


I like to drink Red Bull on occasion.  Usually when I do, vodka (Grey Goose) is involved.  These Red Bull reps were hanging around my campus and they were handing out Red Bull Cola.  Being a strict fan of Coca Cola and hating any other type of cola product I was skeptic, BUT I was running on 3 hours of sleep, so why not? 

Strong & Natural, my ass. Seriously, this shit tastes like flat-week old Coca Cola.  Fuck that.  It of course contains Taurine, but if I can't taste it, I don't want it.  Energy drinks make me feel hungover anyway, they make me shaky and nauseous.  I rather die of thirst than drink this.  Why would they market themselves as 100% Natural?  HELLO, WE LIKE ARTIFICIAL COLORINGS AND WE LOVE ARTIFICIAL FLAVORS.

G2 Fruit Punch

What’s exactly like singing the national anthem before a hockey game and the first time you jerked your dick off in your parents’ bathroom to a nudie playing card you stole off some dude in Home Ec class?

The answer shouldn’t surprise you at all. It’s drinking G2 Fruit Punch made by the fine people at Gatorade.

I like Gatorade as much as the next sex pervert but I’m not a “Gatorade Guy”. Everyone knows that dude. He’s the guy with the wrap-around Oakley’s always going on and on about electrolytes like a date rapist. The guy who goes to the gym before work and has a daily grooming routine that involves “exfoliating” and “washing”. But whatever, that guy will probably become a stock broker and develop a coke habit and then spend all of his client’s money on drugs and have to flee the country and do it with horses just to buy a loaf of bread and then he’ll clean up and go back to school and become an engineer and then he’ll work on building better elevators and then he’ll miscalculate and the elevator will plummet seven stories with him in it but he’ll survive but be paralyzed and then he’ll go the hospital and the orderly (who has a coke habit) will roll him over, face down into his pillow, forgetting that his patient is paralyzed and can’t roll himself back and then the former lawyer/recovering drug addict/engineer/paraplegic will suffocate and after he dies his muscles will stop working and he’ll poo a little but it won’t all come out in a tube-like cylinder because he’s still upside down and gravity is working on pushing his feces flat against his anus and cheeks.

I on the other hand do not wash my face ever. A real man grows a beard to alleviate himself of such trivial worries. A real man also poops exclusively in cylinder-like shapes. And as a real man I drink Gatorade because it has sugar in it and it tastes like what fruit would taste like if God didn’t vote right wing. Side note, God goes around to all the school dances and makes sure the guys and girls dance with their genitals at least 7 inches apart. To prevent grinding and boners.

So you can imagine my skepticism when I found out that G2 has half the calories and half the carbs that regular Gatorade has. Doctors and Geologists know that carbohydrates make a man’s peehole expand wider during orgasm to aid in the making of  “future abortions”. I typically like my wiener tube stretched passed conventional dong sizing but I gave it a shot anyway.

This drink is awesome. It tastes like Gatorade but doesn’t make me feel like complete garbage when I get to the end of the bottle. All flavour. No “sugar shakes”. You know the sugar shakes. The last gulp of a Gatorade (especially anything that comes in Red or Purple) that tastes like cough syrup and rat poison, the gulp that makes you squint and wheeze like you just choked down a shot of whiskey. That’s what bums me out the most about regular Gatorade but G2 completely relieved me of my pain. It’s tasty and sweet and unlike most “light” drinks, you know exactly what it is you’re tasting.  You can tell it’s what Gatorade thinks Fruit Punch tastes like and not a cheap imitation of what Gatorade thinks Fruit Punch tastes like. Sure it tastes fake, but at least it doesn’t taste like a photocopy of a photocopy of a photocopy of a photocopy.


-Delicious as fuck


-Ease of consumption (you could slam this down in one shot without tearing up from carbonation pains i.e. chugging sprite)

-Not super bad for you

-Makes girls think you’re into sports and/or own a horse and as a result they will fuck your boner.



-Healthier than regular Gatorade so people will call you a pussy and spit in your coffee when you go to the bathroom on your break at meat packing plant

- Makes girls think you’re into sports and/or own a horse and as a result they will expect you to go hiking and hiking is fucking bullshit unless there’s an episode of Battlestar Galactica and a steamy bowl of handjobs waiting for you at the end of it.

-The name of the drink has a number in it and that’s fucking garbage. Having numbers in the names of things that aren’t Police Academy movies is bullshit to the Nth degree.


In summary, this drinks tastes good and I will buy it again. You should also drink it because it tastes nice and it’s refreshing and will keep your dickhole within average human proportions (if that’s your thing). I haven’t tried the Orange flavour yet (it’s the only other one available in my neck of the woods) but in complete honesty I don’t like anything Orange flavoured unless it’s vagina or money I don’t have to spend on child support.

Drink up.


Put this in your signature so when you write "first post!" and feel great, people will know you actually are.

Coke Zero in Glass Bottles

everything exactly as described in the below post but for diet soda drinkers

Monday, October 6, 2008

Coke in Glass Bottles

Have you ever been drinking a Coke and thought to yourself “Wow, buddy, you’ve reached the top of the mountain of flavour”? Well then you’re a piece of shit orologist (look it up instead of reading The Secret and making a Vision Board).

Fact 1: Coke is awesome

Fact 2: It’s the greatest drink of all time. People say water is but Coke has water in it and it has syrup and you put syrup on pancakes and pancakes are better than water so ipso facto Coke is the best.

Hidden fact between facts 2 and 3: Sometimes if you pet your dog in a funny way near where his butt is he shows you his secret tube of lipstick.

Fact 3 (prepare to have your dick shoot right off your body): Coke is AT LEAST 37 times better out of a glass bottle.

Now that your cock has turned inside out and is smoldering please accept this simple truth: you have been missing out because you are a cheap fuck. I put off buying Coke in glass bottles because before I won the lottery and patented condoms for astronauts (they’re called Star Fuckers: for men who want to put their dick in whatever, in space) I was cheap as shit. But my former roommate and always friend Sweet Dee had his old man bring me four 20oz. glass bottles of Coke from the maritime fun zone of Prince Edward Island. Now I’m hooked. I cannot possibly get enough. I’ve made my girlfriend get numerous abortions because it wouldn’t be fair to bring kids into a world where they will be less loved than my cola.

That first sip of glass-bottled Coke had my pubes straighten the fuck out like my wang was a smooth ass pimp from the 70s threatening to cut you as opposed to stabbing you like a normal person would do in a fit of prostitute owning rage. Then my balls tingled like I flipped my sack over and scratched them, to the point of erection. Then my tongue caught fire and I discovered a new element on the periodic table: Tastyonium. It’s two parts fingerbanging while your girlfriend’s parents are asleep in the next room and one part leaving your pregnant wife at the alter so you can beat your high score at Battletoads.

I’m also really good at accents.

Let’s say you were a doctor from the future and found a way to isolate all the important and incredibly delicious elements of Coke and then put them through a magnifying glass made of tits and catching fly balls with your Mom’s new boyfriend, Uncle 1986 Camaro, and then bottled that enhancement, you would have the savory masterpiece that is Coke in a glass bottle. But if you were a doctor from the future you should probably use your outerspace dollars to buy stock in Star Fuckers: for men who want to put their dick in whatever, in space because we already have Coke in glass bottles you idiot plus you’d be even more fucking rich and have even more space bucks.

So listen up doctor, quit curing things and start drinking Coke in glass bottles. You’re surgery will increase by +6, your charm by +4, and your having someone else put your gloves on for you by +45 (+49 with the shield of the Taking Days Off to Play Golf).

If you like Coke and think you have reached the upper echelons of soda consumption then you my friend have been jerking your dick off in valleys but if you heed my words I’ll give you orgasms on the most marvelous peaks.

I’m going to touch your boner.

Saturday, September 27, 2008


Whenever I go anywhere, I am always inclined to try their hot dogs. Why would I want to try hot dogs that aren't hot dogs from Chicago?  I once got in an argument with this lady over NY versus Chicago Hot Dogs. NO contest, SORRY! She was from Brooklyn, so I couldn't understand much, and she was also in town because she drove her 17 year old kid to show off his Jordan collection for a documentary they were shooting and would not even TRY Chi-Style's. ANYWAY, there are MANY places in Chicago to score a Chi-town Style Hot Dog.  BUT, my favorite Hot Dog joint, the one that makes me feel that "Harold & Kumar satisfaction" is HOT DOUG'S, because not only do they have the best Chicago Style, they have gourmet hot dogs.

  It's self-described as the "sausage super-store & encased meat emporium." What that means is GOURMET Hot Doug's and complete satisfaction.

Along with having tons of different gourmet hot dogs named after celebrities, the selection of condiments exceeds all:

Mustard (yellow, spicy brown, honey or Dijon), Caramelized Onions,Relish, Tomatoes, Pickle, Celery Salt, Ketchup, Raw Onions, Sport Peppers, Sauerkraut, Spicy Giardiniera, Chili, & Cheese.

Here are a few selections of hot dogs with descriptions:

The Trefor Proud-Irish Banger with Guinness Stout Mustard and Cheddar-Chipotle Cheese 

Spicy Thai Chicken Sausage- Sriracha Mustard and Sesame-Seaweed Salad

The Kobe Cinci Dog-Wagyu Beef Hot Dog with Yellow Mustard, Cincinnati Skyline Chili and Sharp Cheddar Cheese

Jamaican Jerk Pork- Sausage with Passion Fruit Mustard and Sautéed Plantains

Magical. I could go on about this place, but I have to say it is the one place I'll wait in line to eat at, and it's the one place where I wake up early, hustle on lunch to go to. More Info: Here.

Ritter Sport, Date Me

 I honestly can't explain the taste of Ritter Sport.  Spoiler turned me on to them, and FINALLY I was able to find a place in Chicago that sold them.  Now, the U.S. economy is fucking shit and we all know this, but what I didn't expect to find was paying nearly $3 for a Ritter Sport. Okay, fine, I am 100% completely fine with it, because for the taste, one can be satisfied in ways most people can't be satisfied.  

250g whole hazelnut, I couldn't even flickr a picture of the wrapper due to binge snacking:

Fast Facts:
  • 23% crunchy Levantine hazelnuts from Turkey
  •  77% of our classic milk chocolate
  • Fine Cocoa from Papa New Guinea
  • Cocoa Beans from West Africa
  • Fat in g-94,75

All the nuts are perfectly distributed, not like in Hershey's Almonds where you are lucky to get 8 almonds in a whole bar, or one per letter and you get ripped off for a huge portion of the chocolate bar. Not in this one, it's the Chanel of chocolates.  Chocolate Couture, hand picked with different cocoa flavors and perfectly distribution.  The throwback or "recession-proof pricing" version of this can be bought from the local softball team or "off-season" basketball husslin' these. The chocolate is so delicious, perfect. I am in love.  Fuck the U.S "recession." Ritter Sport is $3 a pop, gas is about $4.30. Snacks over gas. Also, peep their site, it's pretty swanky and cute.

Monday, September 22, 2008

Banana Split Creme Oreos

Oreos are pretty good and apparently Vegan but I don’t know for sure and don’t care either way. Fuck it, they’re Vegan. Go eat them Vegans. Also the new Angus Burgers at McDonalds are Vegan and so is everything at Outback Steakhouse.

I like Oreos. Just like. I’m not one of those fucking weirdos that thinks it’s the greatest cookie of all time. That honor goes to any of the Peek Freans Shortbread Cookies. The only “greatest” that Oreo has hooked up is their ice cream sandwiches. But their regular cookies are just decent.

On a recent excursion to America I procured a box of Banana Split Creme Oreos with the intention of eating 2 or 3 and laughing at how disgusting they were then pawning them off to anyone who was fool-hearty enough to give these a sampling. I had one and knew no one else was getting any.

This was like the first time I spewed forth mighty ejaculate from my pipi. I had the opportunity to have this previously but I never knew it was this fucking awesome. Now I’m all about giving myself orgasms and eating Banana Cream Oreos. Other pleasures I never knew were so awesome but tried and fell in love: Fresca, and sniffing my finger after scratching the meat of my anus.

Banana Split Creme Oreos taste like if you filled an Oreo with the banana medicine your doctor gave you after he put you to sleep and diddled you like a fucking maniac. The only way you cannot like banana flavoured penicillin is if you had allergies and wore glasses and loved to eat your scabs as a child.

Here’s the deal: Penicillin is good for you and Oreos may or not be Vegan which is good for you, so eat this healthy food or you will get cancer.

These are probably the most artificial tasting fruit flavoured things I’ve ever eaten in my life. But fuck it, if I wanted to taste something God made I’d eat bagful of hatred for gays and not allowing women to vote. God made Aids when he made Noah do it with a monkey so it probably means that eating actual bananas will force you to beat your son’s head in with a rock to appease Him (which I recommend).

God is a weird dude. He picked the name God knowing full well that if you jumble the letters around it spells dog and everyone knows dogs eat there own poop and make women get abortions. That’s like Kevin Spacey keeping the name Lou Sable Cablastlk knowing that his name was an anagram for Absolute Ball Sack.

This tastes awesome and you need to eat it because it will make you better at sports and getting excellent grades that your parents will be proud of. Not to mention it taste like fruit flavoured poison. Honestly its really good despite most of this review sounding sarcastic. I sincerely recommend eating this food.

Scotty Shows You How to Make Snacks In an Effort to Get Your Weiner Touched: PB Cookies

Alright Gentlemen,

Ever feel like there was the opportunity to get your ding dong rubbed up against but you missed the chance? Here's the solution: Roofies. You just slip a little in a woman's drink and her body becomes a playground for your pervert hands to run around on.

I'm kidding (but seriously it works). What you should've done was bake. Women love a man who can cook and make them all kinds of shit in the kitchen. It lets them know that when you get married they can get fat as fuck and watch reality TV on the couch while you do everything. Women love the prospect of getting fat more than they love complaining about their periods and being bad at video games.

If you're looking to get a woman's hopes up about you only to sneak out of her apartment in the middle of the night and never call her again after hours and hours of defiling her then I whole-heartedly recommend baking. It's like Spanish Fly, women cannot keep their legs closed for a man who can bake. Lucky for you this marks an exciting new feature at Snack Sabbath: Scotty Shows You How to Make Snacks In an Effort to Get Your Weiner Touched. I was going to show you how to make Snakes In an Effort to Get Your Weiner Touched but I didn't want to put my dick in a Viper.


Here's the bullshit you will need:
-1 cup of Peanut Butter (I don't recommend the kind of pb your grandmother eats where you have stir it back to life every fucking time you want toast)
-1 cup of Sugar
-1 Egg

-OPTIONAL (but recommended): Crushed up Reese Peanut Butter Cups or M&Ms. Any candy will work actually but gummy shit is gross in cookies and if you like it you should probably go back to your rave and wear your size 50 jeans and fuck with your glow sticks you asshole.

How to Make It:
-Preheat your oven to 400°F / 205°C.
-Mix your ingredients in a bowl.
-Roll up whatever size balls you want (this will determine cookie size, idiot).
-Place on a non-stick cookie sheet.
-Pop them in oven.
-Wait 8-10 mins.
-Take them out and serve.
-Refuse to wear a condom when you get busy.


And there you have it, the easiest recipe I know. If you can't make this then you're a piece of garbage and an A1 dickface and I highly recommend shoving things in your dickhole and trying to breathe under water.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Marble Slab Creamery

Your Iced Creams are fucking garbage.

There, it’s out in the open.  I know what you’re thinking, “shut up dickface I love the Blizzard at Dairy Queen, you don’t know anything.” Or occasionally “ My grandma’s homemade ice cream is the best”. Guess what fuckbag, Dairy Queen is for Child Diddlers (that’s pedophile for those of you who don’t speak Shakespeare) and your grandmother is a hooker.

I too had a deep lusting for subpar frozen dairy but it’s only because I was ignorant as fuck to what else was out there. Well this week I had the ignorance of my ice cream perceptions raped off with the mighty dick of The Marble Slab Creamery.

I didn’t even know this was a place like a week ago but now that I know it exists Heaven seems like a pay by the hour motel with crabs and abortion shame on the sheets.

I’ll be straight, this place is fucking expensive; the come-to for my old lady and I was just shy of 15$ which would be absolutely ridiculous to pay for ice cream if it wasn’t  so fucking amazing.

Essentially the premise of this joint is that you get your ice cream (Vanilla, Pumpkin, Birthday Cake etc.) then you pick your “Mixins” (Skor, Gummy Bears, Ding Dongs) and then they take both the ice cream (homemade daily by the way) and the “Mixins” (not homemade but individually wrapped which sucks for mother nature but is awesome for freshness) and then they smash the fuck out of them on a marble slab (hence the name of the place).

After the glorious mashing you get to decide what ice cream delivery vehicle you would like. They pushed the bowl on me but I’m no ones bitch, I knew ahead of time that a plain waffle cone was included and was not about to get fucked out of free food. I didn’t end up taking the plain waffle cone in the end but it’s the principal of the matter that chafes my dick. I ended up hooking up the Butterfinger waffle cone for a whopping 1.45$ extra. But fuck was it worth it. It’s a plain waffle cone rolled (inside and out) in crushed up pieces of Butterfinger.  It’s a diabetic’s nightmare.

I got: The Snickerdoodle which is Vanilla Ice Cream, a Snickers bar, and an ungodly amount of Caramel.

My Old Lady got: The Peanut Butter Crunch which is Swiss Chocolate Ice Cream, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, and Nestle’s Crunch

Hers was waaaaaayy better but mine was still head and shoulder above every other piece of shit mouthful of ice cream I’ve ever had.

Ups: Everything was fucking amazing. Unbelievably tasty.

Down: Price and my cone had little pieces of Nerds in the bottom which would rule  ordinarily but they were melted in and turned the last inch/inch and a half of my cone to an inedible, rock hard, multi-coloured disaster.

If you’ve been given the chance to eat this and passed it up, your foreskin is longer than your dick and you love to smell your own farts. Eat it or go fuck yourself.

Cranberry Juice

Ever wonder what the inside of your dick looks like? Well I don’t. Here’s why: Cranberry juice. Not only is this delicious as fuck but it’s good for the old cock tubes and junk.  So I know that my semen sewer is fucking top shape. I got the Alaskan pipeline between my legs thanks to this tangy fuck.

Also awesome: it’s the color of blood and mixes well with both club soda and/or vodka. 

I have no interesting story as to when I got into this beverage but it’s probably around the time I decided I didn’t want to piss chunks of cement out of my wiener opening. At any rate it’s awesome. It’s like if lemonade were made of blood and cock clump destroying enzymes (or some other science shit).

Cranberries are cultivated by drowning grass like witches and then shaking trees (thanks internet) and then they squish them and then add anti-oxidants. The end.

This review probably won’t make you want to drink this juice but you’re a pussy anyway and won’t even appreciate it unless you want to ease off the blood when you’re fucking with your Ouija board in the graveyard at midnight.

Drink this if you have a dick and/or are desperate to be a vampire but don’t want to commit all the way.