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.