Friday, January 30, 2009

Sweet & Spicy Munchies

At my break today I went down to the snack palace that's in the lobby of my building and looked for something incredibly unhealthy to eat. Lo and behold I found a flavour of Munchies I had yet to try. It was basically a guarantee that I was going to love them no matter what the flavour so this entire review is totally biased.

Today I had the privilege and honour of procuring a bad of Sweet & Spicy Munchies. These things fucking rule.

First of all they're Munchies, so they already have the mind-fuck combination of peanuts and magic. You could sprinkle toe nail shavings and paprika on it and it would still be the most amazing snack ever. Regardless, they're still fucking incredible.

I don't know how to explain the flavour without drawings of tits and getting dick play from every school teacher young boys have gotten boners over. It's sweet and spicy like the name would suggest but the combination is not what I expected.

Here's how it plays out in your mouth hole:
You pop it in your mouth, oh it's sweet. Then Bam you chew it and you're in spicetown. Then you swallow it and it's shifted back to sweet. And then just to fuck with your life some more it flips back to spicy for a fucking delectable aftertaste. This is some schizophrenic snack shit.

It will basically confuse the balls out of your sack. This is a fucking snacking enigma. It's like eating the Bermuda Triangle or the female orgasm.

This snack will fuck your mouth up. It will give you a mouth attack and the only cure is more Munchies.


Eat this now or your fucking life will be pointless.

Perrier Lime

I am a big sloppy dude. I am quite literally a mess. I don't always remember to pull back my foreskin when I pee. It's safe to say that I do not display the qualities you would typically associate with royalty. So in order for me to feel like the fucking prince of some distant and magical nation I will not be able to rely on any sort of natural ability. That's where Perrier Lime comes in.

Never has a drink made me feel more like I should be wearing a crushed velvet cape and carrying a giant peasant smashing scepter. I'd be furious because they did not carve the stink lines over my dick like I asked when making my giant bronze statue. Then my rage swells and I kick the giant statue over and I crush the peasants. Then I pull my wiener out ever so slightly and then I smash it with my scepter and then I cry. And then I eat a handful of grapes and then I cover myself in perfume instead of showering. Being a prince fucking rules. Then I go to the money making spot and pose for pictures so that I can be on all of my nation's currency. I make all my friends Earls and Dukes and then we fucking go fist fight other nations. Hey Zimbabwe you fucking eat dicks at fencing and your penmanship is bogus and then we pull out phone books and smash them in their faces. We would then continue to Russia, hopping and skipping all over the map as we fucking please.

This drink didn't taste very good the first 34 times I had it but because I'm not a quitter (except at raising illegitimate children) I kept at it. Also it doesn't really taste like lime. It actually tastes more like the way dish soap smells which I guess is sort of awful.

Umm... this drink really isn't good come to think of it, but I buy a bottle of it like four times a week. I think I just like the bubbles. I can't think of anything aside from carbonation that makes this drink worth drinking. I guess the name does. It's pretty fancy. If it were named Steve's Bubbles I wouldn't drink it. Actually that's not true, I would but for different reasons. This drink is pretty bogus. I wouldn't have reviewed it if I didn't have bottles of it lining my desk and recycling bin.

So in conclusion, if you can buy a bottle of bubbles then go ahead, otherwise you can buy this, it has bubbles.


Monday, January 26, 2009

Sparkling Ginger Ale Super Original Super Carbonated Drink

*authors note - new years resolution is to post on here more. i promised spoiler a while back i would. its very intimidating writing on the same blog as scotty as he has the gift of gab and i have the gift of nothing. but fuck it cause i have easy access to Co.Jp snacks. so eat shit.
ps. this post was written while listening to Uncle Murder "i really mean it" on repeat. such a killer jam. so hard.

this drink wins the title of best drink name ever. hands down! i mean it has "super" in it twice. how can you top that? this gingerale is the exact opposite of scottys last post about stewarts ginger beer. this ginger ale had that real nice taste of a spicy ginger beverage without all the pretentious "im a cool drink thats too fucking hot to drink" quality. just a nice refreshing beverage. what about the packaging?!?!? a fucking mini 40oz bottle! genious. finally a non alcohol beverage to rival St. Ides Crooked I. obv i poured a little out for the fallen soldiers(man i miss my dawgs)(shoot out to weezy)
overall this shit is backed fully and i dont even fuck with sugar soda anymore

Friday, January 23, 2009

Stewart's Ginger Beer

Ladies and gentlemen, the mighty throne of Spicy Ginger has just been usurped. Golden Cockerel is no longer the most potent of ginger drinks. Sometime last week I was at the supermarket buying the usual bullshit when I came across a bottle of Stewart's Ginger Beer. I was like this will be good or whatever because all of their shit is tasty but I did not expect to get my taste buds mouth raped by stranger. This is the spiciest mother I have ever consumed. It burned like fuck and left my girlfriend in tears (no joke).

I present to you the play by play:

I sit in my car and adjust my sweatpants.
My balls are stuck my leg.
I unstick them and feel relieved.
I pull the bottle out of the bag.
Fuck it's not a twist top.
Wait yes it is.
I open it.
My nose catches fire and I vomit on myself.
The pungent aroma of spices from the Orient invades the car.
I get a boner and rip my jogging pants.
I take a sip and my face melts off my skull.
My skeleton catches fire.
I bend down with my erect dong poking out of my ripped jogging pants.
I collect my face and slap it back on.
I take another sip.
My face melts again.
The hot spicy magma coats my insides and burns my loins.
My skin bubbles like newts in a cauldron.
I die and come back to life as a turtle.
I float down into the sewer and accidentally land in a puddle of neon green mutagen.
My body transforms.
My tiny turtle arms grow exponentially.
I am huge.
I love pizza and live with a rat.
I also like to ride my skateboard.
I only go out to the surface in a trench coat and over sized hat and somehow people don't realize that I am not human.
I meet a man who coats his body in purple robes and silver armor.
He says that my rat friend scratched his face and now he has to wear a mask.
We dance to Vanilla Ice and then I throw him off a building into a garbage truck.
My friend Casey Jones crushes his bones and then tongue fucks a reporter.

You seriously need to drink this.

It's spicy as fuck.

Sunday, January 4, 2009

Hapi Hot Wasabi Peas

There’s a rumor going around that I like to eat foods that challenge the tongue and bowels. This rumor would in fact be quite accurate. Eating foods that make my ass bleed and heave with the devil’s milk (aka what my mom calls the galloping trots, aka the runs, aka the green apple splatties, aka diarrhea) is a huge badge of honor except instead of it being worn around my neck with pride, it’s making it impossible for me to sit without it feeling like I’ve just been cast in a homo-erotic prison rape film.

It’s with that in mind that I signed up to try Hapi Hot Wasabi Peas.

My girfriend’s parents bought this giant coffee tin of pain and couldn’t stomach more than a handful each so they pawned it off to me. I can understand why. This is basically the most ridiculous snack that has ever existed. There’s nothing good about them. It tastes like someone plugged your nose with horseradish and then made you gargle some dijon mustard and then dropped a cinderblock on your face from 7 stories up. And then rammed handfuls of hot peppers into your face and ass.

Each pea is coated with an unhealthy amount of wasabi; some are so coated it’s as if the pea ceases to exist, the wasabi has swallowed it whole like a snake eating a baby sheep. Every single bite of this is bad news. It burns. It stings. It hurts. It chafes my innards. I cringe before every bite. I am literally afraid before I pop a handful in my mouth.

And yet I’m completely compelled to keep eating them. I can’t just have a handful. I need to eat them until the fear of getting an ulcer overrides my willingness to eat poison. It’s basically green crystal meth and I’m just a junkie. I know I should not be participating in this. My lips are chapped and my insides are black and rotting into a disgusting gelatinous syrup. But I can’t fucking quit it.

It’s like being in an abusive relationship. I keep getting punched in the teeth for not having dinner ready on time or asking questions during LOST but I still love him anyway. I have hope that he’ll change, but he won’t. He’ll come home drunk and want to fuck and I’ll cry the whole time and he’ll punch me in the back of the head and say shit like “Shut up cunt. I can’t make white with you sobbing like an idiot” and then I’ll weep quietly and every painfully deep breath I take to keep from crying causes my vageroo to tighten like a vice grip on his wang and he completes the transaction. But he won’t let me wipe up. He tells me “It has to dry inside of you so other men know I was there first”. And I still can’t get enough.

So to sum up, this snack is painful and will completely make you hate your life, but you will eat it until you poop blood.