SNACK SABBATH

Lavender Ice Cream

2009-05-25T06:36:00.000-07:00

I like to eat things that taste like junk you’d use to cover up a lady’s vagina smell.

There’s this lady at work and she would walk around and smell like she was about to be attacked by a bear (they can smell periods. SCIENCE). If her life were a cartoon she would have flies and smell lines coming off her bushel of stink. And then one day she shows up smelling like a summer morning and lavender and then I was all like “Oh fuck, I’m going to eat ice cream that taste like what her vag smells like”.

And I did.

And it was good.

So there’s this ice cream shoppe (note double-p/ e combo, denoting its high price and increased snootiness) near my parents’ place that exclusively makes home-made ice cream. They have some fucking wacky flavours: Honey, Mr. Barbu, Musk Oil, Trapeze Show Disaster, Family Picnic in the Rain.* In addition to that raucous combination they also have Lavender.

I figure I’m a fucking dude who spells “OR” words with “OUR” (example: colour, humour…) and I have a vocabulary that includes words like renaissance, dowry, and parkway so I’m obviously a classy enough dude to get down with this.

This ice cream tastes like that movie Marie Antoinette with Kirsten Dunst. Except in my movie I cut a hole in the cone and slip my wiener in it and then Kirsten Dunst eats the ice cream and then sees it and then I go to jail and she decapitates me. But at least I got to show her my creamy wang.

Fyi, THAT’S THE ONLY WAY I CAN CLIMAX. If I don’t show girls my dick covered in frozen, pasteurized, cows milk I will not be able to achieve an orgasm. It is a very specific condition that requires me to spend all of my time in the frozen goods section of my supermarket, idling behind boxed pizzas waiting to dip my pecker in some rocky road and show you.

OH FUCK YOU’RE GOING TO SEE MY DICK!

ICED CREAMS!!!!!!

*only Honey and Mr. Barbu are real flavours, the others I made up in a sophomoric attempt at humour. Sometimes dogs poop. Poop fart shit. HUMOUR.

REESE BAR LIMITED EDITION

2009-04-08T21:21:00.000-07:00

In 1999 I went to Ieperfest, a large hardcore fest that took place in a small but well known town in the west of Belgium, close to the sea. No, it's ieper, with a capital i, not leper. It was an important location in WWII, and tons of war memorabilia can be found there. The fest itsself has been going since the early '90s and still happens every year. My first time going was the year prior, '98, and I was stoked to be back. Before mp3s were standard issue, this was the ultimate place to go and get your hardcore jams. People travelled from all over Europe to be there, see bands, trade records, buy zines, perhaps even discuss vegan recipes or abortion (even though none of us had seen a vagina before). I was a full on pos-man, rocking my Nikes, camo shorts and bootleg Chain hoodie. I was there with all the Belgian Francs I could save up in the span of one year, and I was going to buy all the records and soy milks I could. I got a couple of great buys, such as the Underdog demos LP on Rev (who liked Underdog back then?), an Infest shirt, and a Project X boot. I also remember being uber bummed to see the very last copy of Breakdown's "Blacklisted" on clear vinyl get snatched right in front of my eyes. At least it was being snatched by Lord Bigma, then frontman of Mainstrike and well respected posman/hardman, so it was kind of cool.

This show was also the very first day that the first issue of my fanzine, Push The Limit was sold (with Limited UC ripoff cover). Near the end of the fest I had a couple of bucks left and a few mildly interesting records in my mind. I was browsing the table of a Belgian poscore label that I forget the name of, I think it was the dude that did Triumph fanzine in 1997. Anyway, he was selling Limited Edition covers for the Atari - Skate Tuff EP. "New EP! Only 50 copies made!" the guy said. As a young man in edge uniform, I must have been a walking target for this elderly hustler of shitty releases. "LIMITED?! Sold!"

You know what happened, right? First off, it was not a new EP, it was the vinyl pressing of their demo. Second of all, I already had the regular version. Third, the "Limited Edition" was a shitty xerox with some random Atari pics that was hand numbered to 50. Once the glory of owning a "rare" record wore off, I realized I had been duped. It's a total classic scam, and I fell for it like a real sucker. That motherfucker probably enjoyed two delicious soy milks or one of Cindy Freys' patended vegan burgers with my money. Like Civ once said... That's not positive!

And then there I was, one decade later, at the Couche Tard down the street. Many seas and oceans away from ieper, not so edge, and not interested in limited pressings of Atari records (though I still like to sing the line "Where were you when none of this was cool? ANYWHERE BUT HERE!" every so often), and I see a Reese's bar.

WAIT... Reese's don't make bars! They make pieces! And sometimes m&m's or ice cream. But not bars! Is this new? I looked at the package and there it was:

LIMITED EDITION

Sold.

I had not learned my lesson.

It is the same thing. It tastes exactly like every other Reese's product. It tastes like chocolate and peanut butter. It is dee-licious. And that, my friends, is the lesson we learn today. Reese's > Atari. Limited editions are the same as unlimited editions. But, limited edibles will soon be gone. Maybe one day I will tell my grand children about the time Reese's made bars, and they will be like "What's Reese's? Can I have a neon asbestos bar?" because that's what kids will eat in the future. And I will look them in the eye and I will say "As long as it's not an Atari bar, kid" and then I will laugh until I start coughing for ten minutes and the kids will be long gone, probably riding a hover board. And right before dozing off for a nap, I will go "Where were you when none of this was cool? ANYWHERE BUT HERE!"

President's Choice Aussie Style Black Licorice

2009-03-27T12:55:00.000-07:00

Blackest of the black
Darker than night
Come to me my bleeding light
See she comes
She comes now
Enter oblivion

Yea, here she is
Harder than life
In my arms
See she there
Entwined with love
Unclean she is

And she comes down to me
And she offers me sleep
Under her black

Whoa oh, Black Licorice
Whoa oh, Black Licorice

See she comes
On the eve of dusk
In another form
With a scent of rain upon her neck
She brings the lust
Supernatural
Ceasing never
On and
On and
On

Her stride is such
Mortals freeze
When she walks past
And she comes down to me
And she offers me sleep
Under her black wings

Whoa oh, Black Licorice
Whoa oh, Black Licorice
Whoa oh, Black Licorice
Whoa oh, Black Licorice

See she comes
Blacker than pitch
Have to make this fallen bitch
All I want
All I crave
Demoness calls
The bitch is come
For those who wait
Cross the breach in hell
See she is
Bedeviled with breasts
Enchantment on legs

And she comes down to me, yea
And she offers me sleep
Under her black

Whoa oh, Black Licorice
She's got me under wings
Whoa oh, Black Licorice
She's got me under wings
Whoa oh, Black Licorice
She's got me Black Licorice
Whoa oh, under Black Licorice
Black Licorice
Whoa oh, under Black Licorice
She's got Black Licorice
Black Licorice
She's got me Black Licoricewhoa oh
Whoa oh, underBlack Licorice her black wBlack Licorice
She's got me uBlack Licoricender, whoa oh
Whoa Black Licorice undBlack Licorice
If there's one thing Glenn Danzig knows; it's black licorice. If there's another Glenn Danzig knows; it's having (and being stoked on) sweet books.

So there's this demon from Australia and he's in the underworld and he's making bitches get abortions and getting dudes to listen to Slayer and then he makes you grow your hair out and buy leather pants. He's constantly scratching his little goat legs and polishing his horns. He's going to make you rob your grandmother's purse then he's going to make you beat your dick off at work.

Then he's going to shrink himself down into the chewiest most fucking face busting black licorice treats you have ever had. You'll be thinking oh shit this is going to be firm like all black licorice ropes and then you bite into it and it's soft and your whole body loosens and you poop but it's so fucking tasty you don't give a fuck. You eat the whole bag and let its fucking black magic turn your dick into a making women cry machine. You can only get off when you're reading the sex parts of Blindness. Your life is complete.

This is like if you could take a sledgehammer and then smash your parents faces in and then make bowls out of their skull chips and then use it to store your Fisherman's Friends or just punching yourself right in the dick over and over until your knob is so swollen you can't zip your pants up. This is like eating a box full of cat litter and then shitting on the first girl you ever tongue-kissed. Fuck this shit has me wound up! I'm going to fucking mug someone on the way home!

I got a hard dick and a sharp blade!!!!!

Fuck this is chewy!!!!!

LET'S GOOOOO!!!!!!

DAMN!

Marco Spruce Beer

2009-03-26T05:56:00.000-07:00

I am a sucker for packaging, I know it's lame and that I shouldn't judge anything based on the container it comes in (except women; Blondes:Dumb, Big Tits:Slutty Idiots). But when i saw this bottle I knew instantly I would fall in love and make babies and then run away and start a new life when I got bored/blew all my money on failed investments.

Here's the run down:

I get the bottle and it's fucking magical.

I love spruce beer (please note my affinity for gross snacks) and I'm looking at this thing thinking it's the most legit bottle of spruce beer I've ever seen. I'm thinking I'm a man. I'm thinking this is what a lumberjack or a ranch hand would fucking down to cool off. Oh yeah, look at that cap, it's awesome. Of course this is going to rule.

I start to fuck with the metal latch. It's difficult but I'm a man, I can manage. I work it some more and it starts to loosen. The cap moves a few millimeters and smoke shoots out. Smoke, steam, whatever. There is magical spruce mist funneling out the side.

Oh fuck I am a man. My insides are going to get the beating of a lifetime and I'm going to love every second of it. I'm going to grow three or four new cocks and then I will birth razorback wolves and they will suckle at my mighty wolf teets. We will howl at the moon and hang out in convenience store parking lots. We'll buy slurpees and smoke cigarettes. We'll howl at the moon and eat your babies. We'll floss our teeth with strips of your flesh and when one of us burps we'll all laugh and say we have "the humans" (gas from eating people). It will be great.

Then I get the top off and it smells like wine. And then I take a sip and it tastes like Seagram's and missing the buzzer beater for 3 in the the closing seconds of the finals and then having your whole team fucking beat you with bars of soap stuffed in their socks in the showers. I go blind. I never get a haircut again because I won't ever see my hair so I don't give a fuck. I hack my nose off so i don't have to smell anymore (and as a result have an excuse to not shower). I smash the bottle against my face. I am disappointed.

This drink sucks.

-It smells like pine trees and astroglide (used).
-It tastes like sangrina, getting mouth fucked my christmas, and gasoline.
-The bottle is so much better than the drink is.
-There was a 1$ deposit on the bottle.

Mint 3 Musketeers

2009-03-25T08:58:00.000-07:00

As a kid the candy bar selection in the suburbs of Montreal was terrible. We had Mars, Snickers, Caramilk, Crunchie, and occasionally Butterfingers caked completely in dust. As a nerdy kid with no friends and overbearing parents, candy was the only way I knew how to enjoy my shitty little life.

As one would correctly assume, the selection available to me made it quite difficult to not constantly want to fucking hang myself with my shoestrings after my folks went to bed. That's one of the main reasons I would look forward to spending summers with my Nanny in Vermont (that and in all seriousness she was the absolute greatest person I have ever known). I would stuff my dirty little face with 100 Grands, Baby Ruths, Whatchamacallits, and basically anything I could get my hands on that I didn't have at home. Thankfully, my old man, removed from the pressures of running a college for a few months, was relaxed and would happily open his wallet up and let me go fucking nuts.

I had a pretty steady rotation of snacks but 3 Musketeers bars where never a part of it. That was of course until I saw that 3 Musketeers movie during the summer of '93.

Keiffer Sutherland and Charlie Sheen, fuck I was stoked. For the rest of that summer that's all I ate. I would swashbuckle the fuck out of whatever I wanted. I was a bad motherfucker with a giant hat and a puffy shirt. I was fucking awesome. Eventually I discovered tits and I decided I would take up cockbuckling instead, so my love for 3 Musketeers (the Lifestyle and the Chocolate Bar) fell by the wayside. But every once in a while I would purchase a 3 Musketeers bar and relive the past.

It's like slipping the dick to an ex-girlfriend.

This one time at New Years' when I still got high (I am now a Straight Edge Warrior) I called up an ex-girlfriend. I was slurring my speech (I had been drinking as well: I used to RAGE) and she didn't recognize my voice. I flipped my shit completely. I just lost my fucking mind. I started accusing her of cheating on me (which was completely unfounded) and saying that when she got her hair done that one time it was like a wet poodle got a fucking perm (at the time I thought this was the fucking insult to end them all; in hindsight it's fucking ridiculous) and just being a fucking prick all around. She started getting upset and her mom picked up the phone and then I flipped my shit even more. I started telling her she had fucking warts on her junk, that her bush smelled like someone lit a trash heap on fire, once again, just being wholly miserable. The argument kept getting dialed up and I lost it and threw the phone through my friend's window, smashing it (obviously) in the process. We went outside and made snow angels afterward.

Today at work I bought this fucking skinny mint-flavoured 3 Musketeers bar. I wanted to call it up in the hopes it would forget who I was so I could smash it's stupid fucking face in with my giant heel.

Mint. Fucking Mint. Mint in combination with anything can suck my hairy ass. It's such bullshit. I don't even know what fuck is wrong with me that I would buy this piece of shit.

Imagine you have a baby, a newborn son and you and your wife are staring into its cute little eyeballs and then your little guy belches and poisonous snakes pour out of him and bite your wife in the face. The snakes spit venom in the nurses mouths and their necks melt as the poison works its way down their throats.

Their heads, too heavy to be supported by rotting flesh, snap off and fall to the floor, splashing up venom, phlegm, and a thick blood paste in the process. You vomit harder than you ever have in your life. Blood pours out of your throat and nose. You heave so hard you feel like your innards are crushing themselves, grinding your organs to powder.

In an effort to stop the continuous onslaught of snakes, you grab your infant son and smash him against a metal rod soldered onto the sides of the hospital gurney. Your head spins. Your temples throb. You black out. You awaken to the sound of your wife screaming. Everything comes back into focus. You see your wife screaming. You see nurses and hospital security start to surround you.

The room is pristine.
No snakes.
No venom.
No chaos.
No carnage.

At gun point you are asked to put your hands over your head. Despite being incredibly groggy and equally confused you attempt to comply but as you reach for the sky your right arm feels heavier than your left. You glance down and your heart sinks. You're holding your son's lifeless, mangled corpse. Your wife screams for the guards to "fucking shoot his dick off". They miss. You get it in the face. Game Over.

This snack disappointing. Imagine you took a chocolate tube and filled it with toothpaste and then ate it. Yup, it sucks.

Fuck.

Beigne a la Limette / Lime Donut

2009-03-25T06:56:00.000-07:00

So I'm at Tim Horton's (aka Canadian Church) getting a double double and a bagel when I scope a beigne a la limette (translated: lime donut). I don't know how this could possibly work but it seriously fucking delivers.

So I'm lying on a beach and I'm drinking lime rickeys. I'm scamming on fine broads in string bikinis like it's a David Lee Roth video. I'm feeling refreshed. I'm feeling alright. This drink is a zesty treat. And then some fat bitch in elastic waist jean shorts rolls through and squeezes cookie dough into my fine citrus beverage. Then she removes her orthopedic shoes and peels off her sweaty denim blouse and tells me to "Pick a fold and fuck it". And then I have the best orgasm of my life.
In addition to getting my cock off, this donut gives me hope for other wild combinations: interracial couples and peanut butter/mustard sandwiches (no joke, I knew a girl who used to eat that shit all the time).

It's so soft and squishy. It's like a lime pillow made out of tits with respectable sized nipples and being old and mature enough to poop at work and not give a fuck if someone hears the farts and splatters. You may think I'm kidding but you eventually get to an age where you don't give a fuck if your coworkers hear you shit. You fucking hate your life and have no shame or self-respect and just drop that deuce like a man possessed. You don't even wait for the bathroom to clear out before you vacate the stall. You just bust out, proud as fuck of your sounds and stink. It doesn't matter. You are a man now. A man who eats donuts.

The End.

EDIT* Immediately after posting this I went to the washroom at work (where I am right now, I don't need to travel from home to work, just to shit) and the guy in the stall next to me kept flushing every 20 seconds so as to cover up the sound of his shitting. He has not eaten these donuts.

Wokkels (Euro Snacks pt. II)

2009-03-24T21:21:00.000-07:00

Uncle Kris, who was the driver for Mental on their EU tour and one night started crying and saying he 'couldn't take it anymore' out of sheer exhaustion, so Stief went and drove so Kris could sleep in our van, but instead he just played Gameboy and kept all of us up, well he sent me two bags of Wokkels potato chips. He also founded Dead Stop, the best live hardcore band I ever saw, but he has truly topped himself by mailing this package. It is probably the most noble and meaningful thing he, or anyone for that matter, has ever done. Wokkels are my favourite chips in the world, and are only available in Holland, the country that Kris sold out Belgium for. I used to get these at the gas station on road trips, as I often agreed to play shows in Holland just so I could snack on these. We even started practicing in Holland for a while, yes, band practice in a different country, just for Wokkels.

Wokkels are simple. They are curly, and they come in two flavours: salt and paprika. I like simple. I don't need 16 different kinds of fucking chips. I don't need Extra Mild Sweet and Sour Vinegar Cream Ketchup chips. Salt and paprika, motherfucker. Keep it simple. Salt and paprika. Like chocolate and vanilla. Mayo and ketchup. Tits and ass.

I have no idea why Wokkels are so awesome. They just are. It's like the people that made them actually gave a fuck. They actually sat down and wanted to find out what makes chips taste good, and then wanted to know how to make them even better. Research, man. Snack science. Snack scientology. Also, I'm pretty sure they sprinkle crack in the bag and shake it up before they ship them. This shit is addictive. I mean I will wolf my way through any snack like there's no tomorrow, but you should have seen me with these things. I'm shocked I even managed to stop and take pictures. I ate both of these in about ten minutes. Holy fuck, I don't even know why I'm reviewing this. You're never going to eat Wokkels. Fuck you. Eat some Pringles you lousy fuck. Unless you want to start taking life seriously, and befriend some Dutch guy and start smuggling in Wokkels and giving me a cut, don't even talk to me. I'm fucking pissed. I ate these fucking chips like two months ago and just thinking of them now is aggravating me in ways you cannot understand. Unless you were a professional athlete that brought in millions of dollars a week and blew it all on buying opium for your secret harem you kept in your personal batcave (you bought the one they shot the movie in) and in hiring a medical research team to rid your dick of all kinds of fucked up foreign STDs that don't even exist yet except for on your own dick, and then you go and do some ridiculous shit like jumping out of a plane with no parachute and you just pull out a bazooka and you shoot it at the ground just in time for the backfire to slow you down, and you pull out a bottle of jack as you land and start drinking and walking at the same time while behind you an entire cattle farm is going up in flames from the bazooka explosion. You throw a wad of cash at the farmer and tell him to fuck off, because the wad is enough to buy five cattle farms made out of gold and it's just pocket money to you, but he's still pissed and puts a voodoo farmer curse on you. And then you slip on a banana peel and break both of your legs and then you try and break your fall with your hands and you break both your arms and the bottle of jack shatters and the glass goes into your eyeballs and you start screaming "I can't see! I can't see shit!" like Ray Charles and the farmer catches up with you and kicks you in the dick so hard you lose the ability to have an erection, and the board decided they can't pay a limbless blind athlete, and all the sponsors are like, dude, you don't even party anymore, you're cut, you dickless motherfucker. And you're like "dude, I still got a dick, look!" and you flash them and just as you do a cop walks by and you got arrested for indecent exposure and then you go to jail and some huge old fat guy molests you and eats his dinners out of your asshole. If that has never happened to you, then you can't fathom the pains of giving up Wokkels. They're that good.

100 Posts!

2009-03-24T21:16:00.000-07:00

We have just reached our 100th post! I can't believe it! We are a snack reviewing MACHINE. I would like to thank Alicia for helping invent this, Scotty for his endless love of snack blogging and dick jokes, Jason for being very excited about snacks but not so much for reviewing them, Vince and Brant for pretending to be contributors, and myself for being awesome. Well, that's it, see you at post 250!

Cherry Cheese Danish

2009-03-23T06:49:00.000-07:00

I really want to be a PI from the late 40s. I want to mope around smoking cigarettes getting the shit beat out of me and being too lethargic to give a fuck. I want to never crack a smile and put my dick in clients that hire me to get their company's documents back or their jewelery or some bullshit. Whatever. I'm having sex with rich socialites. I'm drinking black coffee. I'm driving my old Buick. I'm drinking Bourbon. Fuck I'm a mess but in a romantic kind of way.

For some reason I've always associated Cheese Danishes with being a private dick. I realize that this makes no sense at all. There is no correlation between those two things. But regardless, that's why I started eating them.

I used to work collections for this company that absolutely did not give a fuck what you did. You could call people and tell them you were going to ass fuck their wife on the front lawn or ram a knife into their cock holes and split it like a ballpark frank and it didn't matter. "I'm going to send the biggest Eastern European meathead motherfucker I know to your house and he's going to pecker-slap your daughter blind if you don't pay me some fucking monies". It didn't matter. There was this corner store near there that always, ALWAYS had Cherry Cheese Danishes. No matter what life tries to fuck me with, it was something I could always bank on.

I'll be honest, at first I hated danishes. I fucking loathed them. But I wanted to like them. I was desperate to fulfill my fantasy of being a private detective from the 40s, so I munched away and day after I would buy a cheese danish and be completely miserable about it. And then one day, as if by fucking magic, it happened; I feel in love with cheese danishes.

When I was in high school I smoked weed a bunch. The first like seven or eight times I smoked I didn't get stoned. It just didn't work. I thought it wouldn't happen to me. I knew it was good weed because my friends were getting ripped, but not me. So whatever, I'm out of cigarettes and on my way to my girlfriend (at the time)'s place and my buddies are smoking weed in this park I'm cutting through. They cut their weed with tobacco so I decided I would hook it up to get my nicotine fix. So I'm toking up and not thinking much of the possibility of getting baked and then it fucking smashes my ugly face in with a sledgehammer. I am high as fuck. I am giggling. I am sleepy. I'm a fucking mess. I pull out my dick in the middle of the soccer field and take a piss. Well at least I try to, for a while actually, until I realize that I don't actually have to piss at all (for some reason I was convinced I had to and terrified of the possibility of pissing myself) and that I've basically just exposed my dick to my friends, a bunch of children playing in the sandbox/on the monkey bars, and the construction workers fixing the roof of the hockey arena. I skate to my girlfriend's place. I get in, high out of my fucking mind, and without taking my shoes off or saying hi to anyone (her entire immediate family is in the living room, the room I've just walked into), I lie down on her couch, my face in her crotch, and proceed to drop the loudest fart ever and then fall asleep. While I'm asleep I pee a little and stain the couch.

That was like the first time that the mighty cheese danish fucking worked its sugary, dairy magic in my life. I grew fucking wings and flew up above the peasants and commoners and looked down bitches' shirts and made pipi on whatever I wanted. I flew up to the tops of mountains and high-fived some sherpas. I fucking flew into the middle of the sun and it went supernova and then the earth caught fire and you all died and then I flew so quickly that it reversed the flow of time and I landed back on earth one second before I took off. It was a forced rotational danish vortex.

This Saturday I had a cheese danish at Tim Horton's it was not as good as farting in mixed company. You should probably just go get a danish next to where I used to work.

Ariel Non-Alcoholic White Wine

2009-03-20T05:46:00.000-07:00

I am a delicate flower.
I am the morning dew on ripening fruit.
I am a gentle breeze.
I am a lullaby.
I am a sonnet.
I am fragile porcelain.
I am cold winter nights by the fire.
I am a sun-kissed summer morning.
I am a precious gift.

Finally there's a wine that lets me be all those things while sitting on my couch, going commando under my PJs. The beauty of just wearing jammies around the house (instead of boxers under my jammies) is that when I want to scratch my nutsack my gratification is increased because the amount of material between my soiled fingernails and pebble-pouch is decreased. That my friends is the science of ball scratching.

My knowledge of wine, while limited to what I've seen in Sideways, is as follows:

1. Wine is made of fruits and old age.
2. Wine comes in a bunch of different colours.
3. Wine makes bitches sleepy so you can slap their titties around after they pass out.
4.
5. Wine goes nicely with cheese
4. Cheese's.
5. Cheese is made when you boil up a cows stomach and make it turd into a pasteurizer.
6. Cheese is.

As you can see wine gives you the opportunity to play with a girl's boobies.

Other things that give you the opportunity to play with a girl's fun jugs:

1. Money
2. Fast Cars
3. Shiny Cars
4. Jewels
5. Fame
6. Assumed Fame
7. The Opportunity to Become a Glamour Model
8. Free Dinners
9. The Promise of Free Dinners
10. The Empty Promise of Free Dinners
11. Xbox 360 Achievements.
12. Being held at knifepoint

This wine tastes like a snooty bitch who just had her plumbing douched. This tastes like ramming a fistfull of fruit mash up a catholic school girl's dress. This is like spreading your cheeks for the Queen of France and letting one squeak past so she can see your cornchute swell and crest like the rising tide.

I don't really like wine.

Goya Ginger Beer

2009-03-19T10:49:00.000-07:00

Winter sucks. You've decided that you've had enough of freezing your ass off at the bus stop every morning, of getting frostbite while shoveling the driveway, of having to wear layer after layer of clothes and still freezing only to have to get onto a hot subway train so that end up dripping from head to toe in sweat, and then head back outside and have your sweat freeze.

You're tired of public transit where everyone is sick, and phlegmy, syphilitic strangers sneeze on your face and neck. You're fed up with having to put on giant boots and still slip on the ice and sprain your ankles. The city never plows the streets on time. You can never find parking. You keep losing your scarves. Your lips are chapped. You keep loosing your chap stick. It's dark when you get to work. It's dark when you leave work. You spend more time salting your walkway then you do your nicoise salad.

You say "Fuck it". you've saved enough. You've bought one-ply toilet paper when you could afford two. You bought no name mustard and tooth paste. You've scrimped and saved for a rainy day. Well it might not be raining but it's cold as fuck. And let's call it straight, you deserve it.

You call your girlfriend (she's a hairdresser and rents her chair at a local shop, so she can make her own hours) and tell her to pack a bag. You tell her all she needs is a toothbrush and a bikini. You can hear the excitement in her voice, she suggestively mentions that maybe she won't even need the bikini. Blood pumps from your heart downwards. This trip is shaping up nicely already.

You set yourself down in front of your laptop and purchase two first class tickets to Jamaica. You smile, beaming with pride that you're going to enjoy the finer things for a change. This trip is going to be pineapple juice and rum, sleeping in til noon, massages on the beach. Anything you want, you're going to get. You'll go for broke. This will be the trip you always look back on fondly.

You get to the airport on the day of the trip. Your plane is delayed but you don't let it bother you, you and your sweetheart are about to spend seven days, six nights, in paradise.

On the flight you sit behind a couple who insists on fighting openly out loud, without any regard to how uncomfortable anyone feels. Loudly and obliviously, they pick each other apart, cursing at each. With every drink they order their abuse of one another escalates. You shrug it off, you're almost there. Nothing can bring you down.

After the plane touches down, the airline has lost your luggage. You stay to work something out and send your girlfriend ahead to the hotel/resort a few blocks away. You smile to yourself. You imagine she'll be waiting on the bed, naked from head to toe, eagerly anticipating your arrival.

The airline takes your cell number and assures you they'll call as soon as they information.

You grab a cab and head over to the hotel. The cabbie, upon recognizing that you're a tourist, charges you double. You threaten to call the authorities but soon realize you're in a foreign country and have no recourse. You reluctantly pay up and head to your room.

You hear moaning in the hall and assume someone is having a great old time on their vacation. You get closer to your room and realize that it's your girlfriend. For a half second you try to convince yourself she's preparing herself for you, but that thought is quickly dispelled when you hear the low guttural moan of a man engaged in sexual congress. Then another moan from another voice, noticeably male, an octave or so higher.

You thrust open the door to find your sweetheart banging the cleaning guy and two bros she met when they were on their way to rent jet skis. You drop your carry on and the jewelery box that holds the engagement ring you purchased only two days early spills out. One of the college guys pulls his wang out of your lady's poophole and feces cascades onto the freshly pressed linens. The cleaning guy freaks out and runs past you and you smell your woman's vagina perfume on his face and hands. The other two, cocky, from days of liquid courage, keep pumping away. They finish up and spit in your hair as they walk past you. As ejaculate spills from her every orifice, she gargles out "I've been fucking your boss for six months now, and you have a small dick". She leaves and you get billed for the sheets.

Sure this drink is nice in theory, but the journey is nicer than the destination.

La Tire/Maple Taffy

2009-03-19T06:57:00.000-07:00

When I was in High School my entire grade went to a Cabane A Sucre (or a sugar shack to those outside of QC.) and this girl ate so much that she puked on her plate and then before anyone could react quickly enough, the vomit spilled off of her pile of beans and glazed ham, onto the table, and then all over her friends. More vomiting ensued as a result. That entire section of the dinning hall had to be cleared out so they could blanket the puke piles in sawdust to make everything more manageable. The entire room stunk like period rags that had been set ablaze in a slaughter house. On the way back to the bus she grabbed some hot maple taffy and scarfed it down without so much as a second thought.

The reason that her culinary bravery did not impress me is that regardless of what you've been through, physically or emotionally, even if you've just watched your entire family get burned alive in a horrible car wreck, their flesh and marrow melted into the faux leather seats, teeth boiled down and embedded in the backs of headrests and dashboard, your little brother's baby seat blackened with the remains of burned-out hope and possibility, you should always, ALWAYS make room for maple taffy. I cannot imagine a scenario horrible enough to make me not want to eat tree ejaculate on a popsicle stick.

I know that I can't ever do this Canadian delicacy justice by making jokes about cocks and pooping or whatever, but I would like to just take a moment away from being lewd to let you know, in all seriousness, this snack will work its way into your blood stream and replace your white blood cells with conflict diamonds and your red blood cells with going scuba-diving and watching two mermaids tongue fuck their caviar holes (AKA fish pussies).

Oh fuck this is tasty. Imagine a tree. but this tree is your big-titted step mom and while your dad is managing fools at the cookie factory you're bouncing her skull off your headboard. Your little brother catches you but you throw him a handful of smokes and some skin mags and he fucks off and you continue banging your dad's wife. You get a sugar boner and jizz blood.

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKKK.

Chocolate Bun by Rondeau Cookies Limited

2009-03-11T14:55:00.000-07:00

If you have been reading this disgusting blog for a while, you might remember the Honey Glazed Bun I reviewed, and how I likened it to peeing on a girls' ass cheeks. Well, up until the other day, I had no idea there was a chocolate version of them. Now, if you know me, if you've ever just vaguely seen me in the corner of your eye in the distance for half a second, you would know that I love chocolate. I was probably eating some right as that happened. So you understand my excitement. I had to buy it, even though I absolutely hated the Honey Glazed Bun. It made me feel like a cheap craigslist prostitute. If it was linked to peeing on a girl, and this is the chocolate version, well... I think you know what I'm getting at.

What I'm getting at, is shitting on a girls tits. I have never taken a dump on a girl before, and I hope I never do (no one knows the future holds), but I'm positive it looks much like this snack. It even looks like one of those incredibly long turds that never break and they roll up into the bowl like a shitsnake. It's like the guy that invented this thought of it while squeezing out a Cobra Turd. It's a reasonable assumption, as most good ideas come to you in the bathroom (I know this because I used to watch that movie about that con guy all the time. You know which one I mean, with the dude that looks like Dana Carvey and possibly is Dana Carvey). I bet the dude saw the cobra dump and scooped it out of the bowl and brought it to his desk and just did extensive research on it until his coworkers called the police because he'd been locked in his office for days and it started to reek and they thought he was dead. A couple of them were actually kind of stoked he was dead because they hated him. Obviously the kind of guy that researches human feces is not the most pleasant of coworkers. Alas, the man lived and this was the result, this is what he attached his name to. When he does die, this is what will go on his tombstone. The Chocolate Bun. Haha, that's actually kind of an awesome nickname. Let's say his name was Louie Tremblay, his tomb would read Louie "Chocolate Buns" Tremblay, because the guy making the stone obviously thought adding the extra "s" was way too good of a prank not to pull. Imagine going to your girlfriends' moms' funeral and you see that tomb and you just start cracking up and she gets super pissed at you and you're just like "Oh come on, chocolate buns" as you pinch her ass and wink at her in a really creepy way. If she laughs, she's a keeper. If she gives you dome in the funeral home bathroom, also.

Anyway, this snack was not that good. Kind of stale. Maybe it had just been sitting in that store for ages because no one buys it because everyone hates Louie Tremblay for ruining funerals all over the province of Quebec. Maybe it's actually really awesome and fresh and full of flavour and awesomeness. Who knows. I'm probably never going to buy one again. But like I said, I don't know what the future holds. I mean it's fucking chocolate, I'm probably going to get one tonight on my way to practice. I have to find out if it was stale or just plain shitty. Then I'll have to go for another because I can't cast my judgment on an even number. And by then I'll probably be totally addicted to the shit, and I will curse Louie Tremblay's name. Louie Tremblay and his addictive chocolate buns.

Baby Carrots

2009-03-06T10:00:00.000-08:00

I like science. I am a fan of VCRs and robot horses from the not-so-distant future. I like motor boats and bazookas. I like television and electric fences. All of these things are made possible by the good people over at Science.

While everyone’s singing their dicks off about the internet or microwave ovens, the crown jewel of science bullshit remains completely overlooked. It’s time baby carrots got their day in the sun.

Babies are only good for two things, never shutting their stupid baby faces and wiping buffalo wing sauce off my fingers onto. Babies are stupid, vacuous, germ factories that stink like garbage and can’t chew real food so they’re always dripping with apple sauce and stewed prunes. When I have a kid (provided he survives me throwing him out of a moving vehicle) he will go unloved until he can prove that he’s as useful and delicious as these fucking carrots.

Baby Carrots are the fucking apex of vegetablegeneering.

I know you’re probably thinking to yourself that vegetables can’t be snacks and that’s where you’re wrong. You’re obviously just an uncouth buffoon who probably watches wrestling and/or nascar and actually thinks that Budweiser is the “king” of beers. You should spend less time reading this blogue and more time watching Are You Smarter than a Fifth Grader.

In fucking Roman times when the Caesar would decree it was time to fucking murder dudes with swords, these militant warriors would fucking crank up the drums made out of the flesh of their victims and fuel up on a feast of vegetables. Then they’d get all oiled up and half-naked and then behead their enemies and then poop in holes they dug in the ground.

Carrots give you good eye sight so when you sneak into your ex girlfriend’s house at night to collect her hair so that you can make a doll out of it, you won’t fucking stub your Flinstone toes on her dresser or end tables.

Baby carrots have all the might of regular carrots but in a compact package just like white dude’s wangs. We can still have you end up with child but you probably won’t feel our dicks in your underpants beards.

This review is scientifically sound.

Quebon Hazelnut Chocolate Milk

2009-03-05T10:04:00.000-08:00

The existence of this little gem was pointed out to me by Casey of the Casevets, whom I've known for well over a year, and up until a few weeks ago thought Spoiler was my real name. He thought it was 'just some euro shit'. He was completely baffled that I have a regular name like everyone else. I'm not sure if he's over it. But yea, he told me to check this out. I did once, but I kind of chugged it too fast to be able to review it. Then I didn't see the shit for a few months, and then the other day on my way to practice I saw these little fuckers at a dep. I was stoked. I took pictures, took my time to taste the hazelnutty flavours, looked at the packaging. I treated that thing like I would treat my own child. Well, I didn't hit the chocolate milk, or yelled at it for getting bad grades, and I didn't force it to go to its first day of school in a spiderman mask and a dress with "FUCK THE SYSTEM" spraypainted on it because I thought it would be funny. But I did love it, gave it attention, noted its developments.

First off, chocolate milk cannot be beat. It is the ultimate (read here why). Now, for anyone to try and fuck with perfection, is ludicrous (that's how you spell Ludacris). But then, it takes balls. I respect it, even if it's a complete failure. But I must say, it isn't. It's pretty good. It's by no means as good as regular chocolate milk, so while it is a step down, it's still a good beverage and it still contains a ton of chocolate. It's the same, but different. It's like jerking off with your other hand. It's like cheating with a less attractive girl that gives a better handjob. It's like shitting your pants just for the hell of it.

Basically, it's liquid Nutella, so it's actually not that big a deal. It's a proven formula. But still, it fucks with you. Every sip you take, you're like "Mmm, chocolate milk... wait what's this?". Then you're like "Oh right, hazelnut. Mmm, hazelnut... wait what's this?! Oh right, chocolate milk! I LOVE chocolate milk!" and then you're stoked as fuck and you chug the thing and then you have to buy another because that strange sensation blew you out of the rut that is your pathetic life, but ofcourse by the time you get back the store is closed and you can't find another one anywhere for like a month, and you're busy going to work and stuff but really you want to be looking for more hazelnut chocolate milk. But then you find a place that has it and it's open 24/7 and you drink it all the time and you kind of get sick of it because the rarity of it is what made it good in the first place. Now that it's kind of common you remember that regular old chocolate milk is way better. See, THAT is why they keep this thing so rare. So you will never find out it's not that great. They want you to be overrun with joy and boners as you find this thing, like Kyle Kozak finding the holy grail and the meaning of punk. At that is exactly how I will feel when I find this next time. Like Kyle Kozak from New Hampshire, finding the meaning of punk. And then I will drink it, and I will have to start over. But for one moment, I will have known the truth: this drink isn't amazing, but it's pretty decent.

(PS: Yes that is Tony "Veggio" Frenchman and Tiny Times in the background!)

The Pop Shoppe Pineapple Soda

2009-03-05T05:16:00.000-08:00

I have an allergy to Pineapple and women who can’t keep their fucking mouths closed. Both turn me into a fucking ravenous beast. So you can imagine that my ability to have both pineapple soda or healthy relationships are pretty limited. But as luck would have it The Pop Shoppe’s pineapple soda contains no pineapple.

My whole life I’ve heard people fucking yammering “pineapple’s so good, don’t you wish you could have it?” or “oh wow, an allergy to pineapple, that really sucks for you” and you know what fucking sucks more than not eating pineapple? Listening to idiots tell me how much it sucks. Do you not think I understand the limitations of my stupid allergy? Fuck yourself.

So anyway I hooked up this pineapple soda in the hopes of filling the pointy, fruit shaped void in soul. It did not disappoint.

Admittedly I have no basis for comparison. The last time I ate pineapple, like actually sat down and savoured it I was in grade school and the end result of that endeavor was throat closing, vomit inducing disaster. So be warned, I’m reviewing this based on what I remember pineapple tasting like. There have been times since then where I’ve had a sip of juice that had pineapple in it and I immediately felt that itch in my throat and either a) went to the hospital or b) spent the afternoon vomiting until my insides bled. All that to say that my idea of pineapple and yours might be drastically different.

It smells like a dream. It’s not often I get hard as adamantium from the smell of a soft drink but it smells like perfume dripping off of Anne Hathaway’s vagina and then into a goblet made out of Jimmy Buffet records and getting handjobs on the beach while seagulls eat garbage out of hot dog wrappers.

If I could describe the taste with a series of gestures it would involve me ripping my dick off my body and then riding it to the moon like a rocket and punching the moon in half and then swimming around in space and brawling with aliens and dragons.

It tastes like I got in a fist fight with a hooker with giant fake tits and then out of ferocity and necessity I bit off her nipple and fucking rainbows and ponies shot out and then there no more wars and no one ever went hungry or sleepy again.

This drink is worth every penny and every hardship you’d have to endure to get at its fucking delicious tropical nectar.

The Pop Shoppe Lime Rickey

2009-03-04T06:02:00.000-08:00

This weekend was my first time sampling the many tastes The Pop Shoppe had to offer. While this soda is available in most of Ontario, it’s just about unattainable in Montreal and I just happened to get really lucky when I found it in Quebec City. Needless to say I’m now exceptionally poor and as result will be living out of a cardboard box on the street, eating cocks for bus money.

After wasting all of my riches I was hopeful that I would not be disillusioned with what I had hyped up in my mind as being cock shattering.

I’m not an expert in lime sodas. In fact I know about as much about lime soda as women do about not talking about their periods: not very much. But in spite of that I figured that my delicate palette have been put through the ringer time and time again and as a result I know what tastes like a suitcase full of monkey dicks or not.

The first thing I noticed is that it’s not exceedingly carbonated. If you’re at all familiar with my unintelligible ravings you will know that this is a problem for me. I guess I’m making an allowance here because in spite of this being a soda flavoured like a Lime Rickey, a conventional Lime Rickey is not very effervescent. I’m also trying to rationalize and justify not having wasted my fucking hard earned dollars.

The next thing that was pretty obvious was that the lime flavour is not very prominent, unlike Stewarts' Lime Soda which will fuck your mouth with citrus deliciousness. But once again I’m ok with that because traditionally Lime Rickey’s aren’t devastatingly lime flavoured.

I’m like an abused wife. My husband keeps coming home drunk with lipstick on his collar stinking like pussy and pinot grigio and then the only time he wants to have sex is when he’s blacking out and dry heaving. And when we do make love he calls me the wrong name and refuses to look me in the eye.

Then there was that one time when I was on top and he kept inarticulately mumbling something over and over but I supposed that this would be like most cases where if I addressed him directly he would slap me in my mouth and spit in my hair. In hindsight I should’ve realized he was whispering “Stop that or I’m going to shit” but I just kept on riding his boner hoping that if he came hard enough he’d love me more. Instead he pooped the bed and it splashed up off our linens onto me and I got a rash between my thighs and for three weeks afterward I had to walk like I’d just been riding a horse so my legs didn’t rub together and make the chaffing worse. But I’ve built myself up around him to the point where if I remove him from the way I define myself I’ll crumble and have to admit that I am a complete failure as a human being.

This drink is not very good. I am a complete failure as a human being.

Cadbury Popping Mini Eggs

2009-03-03T09:12:00.000-08:00

Sometimes you just want to eat food that sucks. Food that will fucking make you detest yourself. The pain of eating bullshit pooled with the ache of fucking hating yourself is incredibly satisfying in a getting strangled while fucking kind of way. So when I saw these fucking little morsels of gobbledygook I knew that the pastels and cute little logos were covering up the food of pure loathing.

I love candy eggs. They’re delicious and tiny enough that when compared to my testies I look like a fucking Frost Giant (Conan reference! it also implies that I am pasty in the junk: fact!). The crunchy candy shell, the firm, delicious milk chocolate hibernates beneath its exoskeleton, everything’s lined up to drain you of your spinal fluid and leave you a limp, sloppy, zombie of a man. It’s such a delicate combination and the fucking key elements are placed so precariously that fucking with it’s components will cause everything to come crashing down on your fucking skull leaving brain matter and skull crumbs all over the new button-down shirt your parents bought you with the hopes that you would land this job at the post-office and move the fuck out of their house. You just hope you get it so you can fashion yourself after Charles Bukowski and smoke hash, drink wine, and get laid by all sorts of subway-stop trannys. But you won’t be able to because your skull is split wide fucking open and everyone can see your porno dreams about horses and hairy backed women from the turn of the century. You have very specific tastes and I would salute you for it except that your face is a pile of pulp, you bastard.

While this combination is so specific and constantly on the verge of toppling over and maiming and/or flattening others, the fucking engineers at Cadbury have found out how to stack that motherfucker even closer to God without having it come down around their ears.

The addition of imitation Pop-Rocks to the hard candy shell is a stroke of genius. You kind of don’t notice the popping at first because the rocks are embedded in the candy so it basically has to dissolve in your mouth before the rocks are exposed and send your tongue and gums on a fucking magical journey. It’s sneaky and at first I didn’t realize that anything was happening so I swallowed the candy and then it went of like a crate of dynamite that I threw right into the fucking sun. What a fucking stupid combination. It's so incredibly pointless and unnecessarily aggravating but it feels so fucking incredible to eat chocolate and have your throat feel like it's being scraped with the back of a claw hammer.

It’s subtle, like the first time you get a foot job. You’re like I’m not really into having any foot play hooked up on my wiwi and then next second you’re the fucking mayor of Orgasmville. You sit back in your throne in city hall, proudly wearing the Orgasmville sash around your chunky torso like a caveman wears animal pelts or like my Uncle Henry wore little boys before they sent him off on his iron vacation.

These eggs will impress.

Chocolate and Sprinkle Covered Waffle on a Stick

2009-03-02T13:04:00.000-08:00

This weekend Vinny (who has yet to post) and I went to Quebec City with out significant others for all sorts of “close to Euro” fuckery. Everyone who isn’t me decided it would be a great idea to slide down a giant slope of ice at 70 km/h on a toboggan made before I had dick hair. Reluctantly I agreed.

So we’re in the booth where you procure the tickets when we discovered a snack so simple and glorious it never even crossed my mind to hook this up at home. I proudly present to you: Waffle on a Stick.

They had a few diverse types of this welfare luxury but I opted for Chocolate Covered with Springles (they meant sprinkles).

This behemoth looks like a giant chocolate cock covered in delicious rainbow coloured dick warts. This is supernatural.

It’s not often that I’ll eat something and just know that I’m in the presence of fucking greatness. I feel for this snack what I can only assume socio-political nerds feel about Zinn or Chomsky lectures. The key difference is that waffles on sticks will give me the runs but I don’t think Howard Zinn will (unless I ask him nicely).

Here’s the scenario:

-You’re penniless and wholly destitute.

-You have amassed ghastly drug habits.

-You are disheartened and despondent passed any and all rationalization.

-You have dug yourself a hole so unfathomably vast that you believe there is no way you will be able to claw yourself out.

-You have agreed to be hunted with the caveat that if you survive you will be remunerated with a lump sum of 750,000$.

-You are supplied with a canteen, water purification tablets, a serrated edged blade, and four pairs of dry white cotton socks, as well as the clothes on your back.

Without realising that you would be heading out to the woods right away you chose to wear your red sweatpants. Mistake number 1.

Additionally you wore a lime green mesh baseball cap with the words “Got a Bad ‘Tude” handsomely silk-screened to the front of it. Mistake number 2.

You know nothing about the woods and even less about getting shot at by professional hunters. Mistake number 3.

Inside of five minutes you get shot and die. You get no money and they leave your corpse in the woods to be defiled and ravaged by wild dogs.

The previous scenario is exactly like eating a chocolate and sprinkle covered waffle on a stick. You can’t fucking win! This ogre will constantly best you!

Also I like your red sweatpants.

Sanpellegrino Aranciata

2009-02-26T12:53:00.000-08:00

So I haven't had the best experiences with Sanpellegrino brand beverages. In fact I would like to point out that their Chinotto is in the top 2 worst drinks I have ever consumed and the top 5 worst things I've ever put in my mouth. I was apprehensive about drinking this but I have to admit that I love the thrill of knowing I'm going to be drinking something disgusting. It's hilarious and torturous at the same time. It's my equivalent of sky diving. I live a sad pathetic life.

Strike One. It's not a twist top. Let's make this clear. There is no way that this is worth the trouble of having to find a bottle opener for regardless of it's contents.

The first sniff still doesn't stink as bad as the other one did. Also, I think it's important to note, that the bottle is the colour of citrus fruits so I'm not going to be surprised when it tastes like citrus.

As I suspected this thing is tangy. To the point of being wildly repugnant. This drink doesn't taste like anything except stomach acid. But because I had expected to go blind from drinking it I am not shocked by it's offensiveness. The taste is probably comparable to taking a can of Sprite and then chugging it down and then ripping it in half and then using the sharp aluminum edges to carve racial slurs all over your body and then dousing yourself in rubbing alcohol and then setting yourself on fire. All while not blinking and eating grapefruit.

I don't understand why people would ever want to drink this. My threshold for sour is non existent. Sour is a stupid taste.

Sour does not:
Give you the runs
Make you better at sports
Get you Xbox Achievements
Make your foreskin flower and blossom around your testies
Do anything to make it worth your while

Sour is like the ugly girl at the dance. Sour, you should just go home and kill yourself because no one wants to show you their dick or rub against them titties.

Sour is like going out on a date and then buying dinner and then going to the fucking movies and buying popcorn and then when you go in for the kiss at the end of the night and she kisses back and then you ask if you can come up for coffee and she says no and then you fucking lose it and smash her head against her door knocker and then kick her in the stomach and bush and then the neighbors poke their heads out and then you throw rocks from the garden at them and because your throws are guided by horniness and rage, your rock flies straight and catches an old man in his nose and blood sprays down on you and then you're covered and then you take your shirt off and then you climb the ivy on the house and then you grab that fucking guy by the hair and then you throw him down a few stories and he's crying and he has bone fragments poking out of his shitty old flesh and then the cops come and you resist arrest and then you get maced and clubbed and then you go to jail and then you regret flipping out and a wave of panic comes across you and then it subsides and then all you're left with is hollow, empty depression and then you hang yourself and your cellmate fucks your corpse more than once.

I hate this drink.

Feeling Pear-Violet-Gentian Juice

2009-02-25T12:58:00.000-08:00

I am always on the lookout for new drinks like Attila the Hun is on the lookout for ways to ass fuck you with a fried chicken. So if I find something that looks fucking offensive and that it will be review worthy I'll scope it out. I saw this drink and immediately anticipated that it would fucking taste like watching Titanic without seeing Kate Winslet's funbags.

This drink is made up of three ingredients I could not possibly give less of a fuck about. I have the same interest in these three "key" ingredients as I do in dry shaving the base of my shaft: not a lot.

This beverage is flowers and pears. It's like what effeminate royalty would drink before eating regal bullshit like pig cocks and sheep tits. Fuck royalty is awesome.

This drink is like all foreplay and no bang-bang (that's what I call fucking, like: "it's a good thing that you're asleep, I'm going to make bang-bang on a fistful of your long blond hair. I'm going to hair bang-bang you."). This drink has no pay-off like suddenly getting X-ray vision or seizures. This drink tastes like a botanists wettest dreams. This is like valentine's day without the chance of seeing some fucking titties.

Oh man this drink is a giant piece of shit.

Flowers can eat a big fat sack of my ass. I originally had a joke here about beating women but after sound council it was decided that the joke may not go over as well as I had hoped it would. So in it's place here is a drawing I made at work:

Purple Cow

2009-02-25T09:23:00.000-08:00

Occasionally a combination comes along that will fucking unravel the space/time continuum and fucking take a poop on the begining of time so that when evolution does its thing every fiber of every being is comprised of little bits of caca. A combination like Hall and Oates or Butts and Fucking.

The combination I am referring to of course is Grape Soda and Vanilla Ice Cream.

I had one Boylan Bottleworks Grape Soda left in my fridge at home and I'd been reluctant to make a Purple Cow because I didn't know if I'd enjoy it and incidentally waste the greatest grape soda known to man. Man am I glad I gambled. Even though my wife and kids didn't leave me, gambling still paid off.

Also please note that my float skills are improving. My love making skills are still very much on par though, although I did learn a move called the sizzler. It's where I secretly set your hair on fire and continue to pummel you with my pipi so that when you realize you're burning I hold and ride you until I bust juice. I'm a scientist of making sleazy fuck.

This drink is fucking wizardry. It's like if you were a warlock and you turned your dog into a big titted stripper and then made her do your homework and then do the dishes. This drink is like setting sail on the fucking ocean and then running into a leviathan and then fucking pulling out some ninja stars and taking that motherfucker down. It's like flying a rocket into outer space and then yanking your dick around and then watching your man goo float through the air. It's like watching your mom poop and then getting a boner.

This drink tastes like medicine and clouds.

Recommended.

Candy Cane Hershey's Kisses

2009-02-20T05:22:00.000-08:00

I've had these things sitting in my fridge since Christmas and for some reason kept putting off eating them until now. I like Kisses well enough I guess but I wasn't expecting to have my taste buds put in some sort of cross-face leg lock and get the pubic hair of deliciousness rubbed all up against my cheeks and tongue.

First off, this is white chocolate and white chocolate unlike white lovers is the greatest chocolate a man can have. The reason that joke works is because typically black dudes have giant hogs. This one time back at my old place, Hans (who's black) thought it wise to show me and Vinny the base of his shaft. It was like a baby's arm. His pecker will wreck your box. You will beg him for mercy. He'll stick his wiener where your lunch goes (all in your guts).

Secondly, and I know the picture doesn't do it justice, there are little fragments of candy cane peppered throughout the chocolate to cool your mouth and melt your face simultaneously.

This is a genius combination. As a staunch believer in not mixing chocolate with anything ever (with exception of hot peppers, no joke) this was a surprising delight. It's like the first time you get pooped on. You're like oh there's no way this is going to end well, but if this is only way I can lay on my back and stare up into the chasm of your vagina then fuck it, I'm in. Release your waste as need be. I need to see your cooter, even if it means taking a load on the neck and chest. And the poop poop splashes down on you and it's warm and squishy. And you're in love and you cum right away. And it's great.

This candy is like having someone make poop on you while chewing gum and then cuming on your stomach hairs. FYI, ejaculate, like hot peppers, is not water soluble. You just need to get some steel wool and an emery board and just file it down and scrub until you're fucking bleeding like Mick Foley.

I like to eat candies.

Stewart's Key Lime Soda

2009-02-18T05:06:00.000-08:00

I went to Rockaberry the other day and in spite of the fact that they have both Key Lime pie and Lemon Meringue on the menu they in actuality sell neither. I was furious. I ended up running through 5 other items on the menu before I ended up stumbling upon something they actually had. Fuck you Rockaberry. All hype.

Anyway in an effort to alleviate my violent urge for Key Lime, I picked up a Key Lime soda (I obviously understand that soda is not pie, but whatever).

I love Stewart's. I'll just get that out of the way. I don't really like Black Cherry soda but I actually don't mind theirs (which is saying something). So my review may be biased.

This thing smells like limes which is fucking awesome. I hate "fruity" sodas that don't smell like the fruit they're supposed to. That's like going down on a pretty young woman and having her lady business smell like hibiscus and arabian mocha java; you need to know what the fuck you're getting yourself into and flowers/coffee is not it.

Smells, like boob size, should accurately reflect taste, or in the case of boobs, intelligence and willingness to sleep with you after being lied to repeatedly about driving an expensive car.

The taste reminds me of a Lime Rickey I got when I was 14 at Newberrys on Main Street in Newport Vermont. Right after I was finished I went across the street and stole my first Playboy. I got a shoplifting boner and then later got a seeing some titties boner. It was a great day for drinks and boners.

It's tangy and incredibly sweet without making you feel like you've just downed your body weight in corn syrup. It has delicate balance like sleeping with a really hot 17 year old. On one hand you want to brag about getting your peter pickled by some hot young thing, but on the other hand you want to keep out of going to jail where you will get ass and mouth fucked repeatedly by white supremacists or shived in the cock if you refuse. That's why no one will ever find out about me and Dakota Fanning (waaaaayyy younger than 17). It's called science. Read a book about it.

Airheads Xtremes Sour Belts

2009-02-17T14:44:00.000-08:00

My ex-boyfriend would get stoned and take my credit card. He would then go to the nearest 7-11 on the corner of Wrightwood & Clark and come back with bags of snacks. He would say, "I think I did a great job of covering every type of snack, don't mind that I have yet again spent over $25 dollars on Reese's Cups, Ben & Jerry's, Doritos, and, Airheads Xtremes." I would partially blame myself for being too lazy to go myself/for dating the dude in general, but I really appreciated the fact that he introduced me to Airheads Xtremes.

They look and taste delightful. I can name very few things in life that make me happy, and they are all designer and snack brands, XXXstremess included. I like these WAY more than regular Airheads, I have even contemplated wrapping sour patch kids in them. They taste sweet and sour, not sour to the point that your taste buds are ripping off, which really adds to the delightfulness and cuteness of this snack. The only problem with them is that the sugar gets everywhere and it can be a sticky mess. Man-up and eat the whole thing at once- thats what I do, I wouldn't want sugar pouring all over my Gucci bag, right? They are also chewy which is dope, with flavors such as strawberry, banana, orange and if I am not mistaken green apple. Speaking of Airheads in general, what was the mystery flavour taste? Cocaine? I am only assuming that because it was a white brick... Who knows/cares, Airheads Xtreme sour belts are the real shit.

Boston Cooler

2009-02-17T04:48:00.000-08:00

I'm sure it's pretty obvious, but I'm a bit of a beverage hound. I love beverages. I like tasty drinks more than any other snack. There's something magical and comforting about a really good drink.

I recently decided I was going to step up my ice-cream float game basically because it was non-existent and being a fucking cultured young gentleman I need to prove to everyone that I am as worldy as I claim.

First stop on this little tour: Boston.

Typically a Boston Cooler is made with Vernor's Ginger Ale and Vanilla Ice Cream, but seeing as I didn't have any Vernor's (if you have it available in your area and see fit to ship it to me please get in touch) so I swapped it out for some Canada Dry Diet Ginger Ale.

Right off the bat I want to make it clear that I am not skilled at making floats. Unlike making love I'm incredibly inept and sloppy when combining soda and iced creams. What's implied here is that I am a face melting lover. FYI ladies, I'm down for the pooper even if you've just finished eating a black bean burrito. Poop is the new astro-glide. Evidence of my ice cream ineptitude is visible in the photo above. I can't seem to keep the shit from mixing and then overflowing all over my fingers. FYI ladies, these finger are great for giving backrubs and orgasms.

The combination of Ginger Ale and Vanilla Ice Cream did not tickle my sack right out of the gate, but I have to admit it smelled pretty fucking awesome.

I don't care for either of these ingredients too too much on their own but together I came to realize that the sum of their parts was so much greater than they were individually. It's like doing it with one 16 year old is fucking criminal but doing it with two 16 year olds at the same time is ok because collectively you're showing your pickled dick to a 32 year old. A really stupid and impressionable 32 year old who can be bribed into making hump with promises of backstage passes and occasionaly, candy.

This drink was surprisingly refreshing and delicious. It had a hint of spice (although next time I'll use some Ginger Beer to really fuck with my life) but the mildness of the Vanilla complimented it instead of robbing me of that little zip. It's like humming a tune is cool and growling at the beaver (munching on some box!) is cool but combining the two is completely natural and complimentary. In addition to humming into a girl's vagina I also recommend spreading it (the vagina) as wide as you can and screaming your own name into it (i.e. "SCOTT'S THE MAN"). If someone yells back or you hear an echo you need to head for the hills.

Another great move is putting on a romantic tape next time you're getting busy like some Rod Stewart or Tom Jones or whatever and then when you're well into it and you each have a few fingers in a few holes the song fades out and you singing it fades in. So you're finger banging each other than BAM!, blasting through speakers it's you crooning the fuck out of "Rhythms of My Heart". If you don't void your cock sack immediately if not sooner then you are a pussy and you shouldn't be drinking Boston Coolers.

Salta Katten

2009-02-16T08:39:00.000-08:00

My buddy Greg has been talking up this disgusting licorice candy from Sweden for quite some time. The way he described it to me (accurately) is that it was black licorice covered in salt. I was sold. Black Licorice=awesome. Salt=awesome. I was sold. So when he told me that his girlfriend's friends from Sweden brought some down I lost my shit. I pooed a little.

I was so desperately looking forward to it. I was confident that in spite of sounding gross as fuck I would fall madly in love with them and when they got pregnant from my mighty seed I would see the birth to term. I would be a stern but proud father. I would shed a tear at his graduation and then get in a car wreck and die. They would all say nice things about me and I would be watching from Heaven and I would cry and then my tears would fall to earth and water an apple seed and it would grow into a mighty tree and then it would get struck by lightning and then fall over and fuck your car up. Eating these candies will make me fuck with your insurance.

So today was the big day. He brought them to work and I chowed down.

At first I was in love. It was romantic magic. It was potent in its licoriceness with a bold salt finish. But when the licorice taste wore itself out against the might of my tongue the salt could not be bested. It continued on its quest without his friend. And consequently ruined my life. It's 10 parts salt for 3 parts licorice. It's completely fucking unevenly balanced. What a ruse!

This was like bumping into the most gorgeous, glorious, perfect woman you have ever had the pleasure of laying your eyes on while you're at the grocery store. You fumble nervously for words, anything to keep her from noticing how terrified you are of her beauty. You make awkward jokes to cover up the fact that your heart is beating like a jackhammer. She notices and because she is humble and completely unaware of her effect on men, she blushes and stares at her feet. Your heart swells even more. So many perfect moments needed have lined themselves up for this to come to pass. With sweaty palms and a mouth arid and dry like the desert heat you ask her if you can see her again, on purpose this time. Without missing a beat, she says she'd like that. You take her out to a lavish restaurant in spite of your hours at the shop being cut almost in half. She's worth it, you rationalize to yourself. At the end of your date you work up the nerve to kiss her, she kisses right back, pressing her body hard against yours and the earth stops spinning. The stars shine even brighter than usual as walk home humming love songs to yourself. You see her as often as you can with your conflicting schedules. She calls you every day during her lunch break at the salon. You cherish every moment together, every stolen kiss, every whispered promise, every longing gaze. She spends the night at your place. She smells like Lavender and roses. You take her home to meet your parents and they hit it off right away. Your dad gives you the knowing nod of approval from across the table. You hear your mom whisper surprised niceties about her to your sister as they get the pie and ice cream ready for dessert.

Even though you've only been dating for 5 short weeks you know it's real. You feel a hope that invades your life and makes you feel an unquenchable thirst for her undying love. You can't believe that you were ever able to function without her. Your days are filled with more joy than words can give description to. Your heart is busting at its seams. You see colors more vibrantly than before. You hear hidden notes of glorious music in everything.

Then one day after a romantic dinner the two of you head back to her place where she sits you down and confesses that she has something important she needs to communicate. Apprehensive but trusting you sit down nervously and await her revelation.

She explains that when her mother got pregnant the doctor had informed her that she was having twins. Her mother was elated! Twins! What precious gifts from God. Her mother continued beaming with radiant pride until her next check up. The doctor's mood darkened noticeably during the ultrasound. Her mother knew something was amiss immediately. The doctor, with gentle speech, had the unenviable task of explaining that what had transpired was due to a rare condition known as Dizygotic Osmosis, wherein one twin begins to absorb the other. Her mother was devastated. Understandably, she was wrecked emotionally but she knew it wasn't the child's fault.

At this moment your beautiful girlfriend breaks down in tears informs you that there's more to this story before you have a chance to offer any words of comfort. She turns her head away from you. You think it's out of shame and you feel so sorry she's had to wrestle with a burden she never deserved to bear. You quickly realize it's not shame or grief when she parts the back of her hair, revealing a mangled, half-formed, child's face and marred claw like hand protruding from her skull. You vomit on her sofa and punch her in the "little twin brother". It/he explodes and you get the fuck out of there like your shoes are on fire.

You are heartbroken.

Jones Peachy Keen Soda

2009-02-16T06:54:00.000-08:00

As mentioned in the post below this one, I bought some Jones soda on Saturday night. While "Fun" was a complete disaster and an utter disappointment, Peachy Keen was the exact opposite.

There was this episode of Sex and the City that I saw where Charlotte is dating this dude who's a lvl. 99 Wizard at eating pussy. This dude is a fucking notorious muff diver. Women love his shit. Anyway he's like in some restaurant or whatever and he's maybe eating a mango or some other fruit and he's tonguing the fuck out of it. I mean the dude is going off. Just losing his pussy loving mind. And all this juice and shit is running down his face and onto his shirt or whatever. That's what this drink is like: being fucking stoked on eating some vaj.

This drink is so fucking tasty. It's like getting a fucking boner and then covering it in cherry sauce you use for eggrolls and then showing it off to your fucking neighbors and then beating off in the middle of the street. It's like sticking your dick in a watermelon. It's like getting on a rocket ship and then going to the moon and putting your dick in a crater. It's like drawing kittens on your dick and then taking a hot bath and then eating a really good sandwich.

This drink makes me want to do fucking dirty things to myself in front of an all boys choir or a private catholic school's headmistress. I don't even understand how fucking tasty this drink is. My brain cannot "crunch those numbers". This drink is carousel of yummy. But the carousel is filled with nothing but hot topless bitches who want to fuck and play volleyball.

Honestly, this drink is like everything a fruit flavored soda should be. Imagine that fuzzy peach candies were some hot broad who shaved dirty words in her pubes and let you watch cartoons while you took her any which way you wanted. THAT'S THIS DRINK!

This drink is the perfect and unattainable woman.

This drink is like sleeping with a hot hotel maid on your honeymoon.

I am so totally in love.

Happy fucking Valentine's day to my mouth.

Jones Fun Soda

2009-02-16T06:30:00.000-08:00

On Saturday I went to a show across the street from a candy store. At this candy store they had Jones soda. I do not like Jones soda very much, but I feel compelled to try every flavor at least once so I can proudly look myself in the eye when I walk by reflective surfaces/mirrors. As luck would have it they had two discontinued flavors; Fun and Peachy Keen. As the title of this post suggests I will be reviewing Fun.

I was stoked to find this because it isn't on my list of shit to drink. I figured it would be too hard to find and not worth my while at all. Then I became even more stoked because at no point in purchasing this did I ever consider what it might taste like. I only bothered to make sure there wasn't any pineapple in it (I'm allergic to pineapple and girls with huge nipples).

I cracked the top and it stank like fish guts and Mr. Clean. I know the picture doesn't do it justice but it's day-glo yellow. This looks like a pair of "Hammer pants". This drink was not good. At all. But the thing was, I really wanted to see where it went. I kept thinking I was getting close to figuring out what it tasted like but it never happened. It's like getting a painful HJ while blindfolded. You have no idea if it's a guy or girl but either way it hurts. They're pulling the foreskin back a little too far and you start to bleed. Instead of tapping out you hold on in the hopes of having an orgasm but you never cum. You limp away bleeding and confused and scream like a banshee every time you take a piss for the next 3 and a half weeks. You're left sore and disappointed.

That accurately defines the experience I had both in a Lebanese bathhouse and while drinking this.

This whole fucking thing was some crazy mystery. This drink is bullshit. The only reason they called it "Fun" is because the name "We Don't Know What the Fuck this Is" wouldn't sell shit.

This is so bogus.

*Yes that is Stewart's Ginger Beer wallpaper on my laptop. I really like their Ginger Beer.

Extreme Sour Warheads

2009-02-16T05:07:00.000-08:00

I am a man.
I am strong and able to resist above average amounts of pain. I can carry hammers and bricks and I can juggle cattle. I can drive fast in my car and curse at women. I can show you my dick and poop in a hat. I can punch a hole in drywall and show you my dick. I can you show you my dick. You will see my dick.

I can accomplish all these fucking impressive tasks but I can't eat Warheads without making a face like a fucking anus. These things are brutal. They taste like getting caught beating off and then instead of being awkward and surprised and leaving the room immediately, your mom continues to watch you rub one right out. It's like stuffing a lemon with battery acid and then funneling it into your urethra.

The candy itself is delicious once you can get past the mouth ravaging hellfire that is its sourness. The tangyness protects the sweet nectar inside. It's like a sour chastity belt keeping me from tonguing the sweet vagina within.

This candy sucks. I don't understand why anyone would ever want to eat anything that makes your eyes water and makes your soul leave your body and piss on a garbage bag full of dead kittens.

I hate this candy. It just fucking hurts. The sweetness of the candy is not reward enough to suffer through boils on your cheeks and tongue.

This candy is fucking amateur. We're fucking done professionally.

This candy is fucking stupid and if you eat this you probably fucking hate yourself to the point where you can only achieve orgasm if someone's punching you in the back of the head or choking the fucking life out of you. Fuck your stupid life.

Urban Dictionary

2009-02-13T08:26:00.000-08:00

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=snack+sabbath

Jones Green Apple Soda

2009-02-13T06:53:00.000-08:00

As I've mentioned before, I am becoming more and more of a soda snob. I am basically becoming a soda elitist which is bullshit because soda is a fucking stupid thing to be a dick about. At any rate I have an aversion to Jones soda because I feel it's incredibly cheesy. While occasionally delicious, it's still pretty lame. I would put it on par with buying a Misfits shirt at Hot Topic. Sure the Misfits are fucking awesome (Danzig era ONLY) but you still got it at Hot Topic. I'm letting my snobbery get in the way of enjoing some soda. Luckily for me Jones Green Apple Soda isn't very good so I don't have to feel bad about being all shitty about it.

I'll be honest, I only bought this because of the novelty. I wanted to be able to add this to my list of beverages consumed. Now that I have, I won't be revisiting it any time soon.

There are a lot of things I don't like about Jones soda, and this drink had all of those in spades.

1. It smells terrible. All Jones sodas smell bad (with the exception of their Root Beer that doesn't smell Root Beery enough), but as far as pure stank goes, this takes the cake. It smells like you fed someone raw dog meat for weeks then ripped their stomach open and harvested their stomach bile. It smells like the inside of a prostitute's mouth. It smells like someone got ass banged with a fistful of lollipops. Nothing about the smell made me want to drink it.

2. Barely carbonated. I crack the lid and I hear that fizziness but that's it. It's done in one shot. There's no fizz left to be enjoyed. This is like the first time every Dungeon Master everywhere has ever had sex, put it in once and it's already over. The old one pump hump. This drink is a premature ejaculator. I got fizz all over my hands but none in my mouth. Lame.

3. The drink itself has no flavor. Maybe the faintest hint of candies but it's not like when you're drinking a Coke: you know what the fuck it is you're drinking. The only way I would have been able to identify this blindfolded was because of the aftertaste. This is like getting raped by the Flash (in this scenario; Barry Allen). You only know what happened after it's over and your ass is bleeding and you have 3rd degree burns all up and down your crack. And then the burns and cuts start to heal but they scab over so every time you fart it pops the scabs and then you bleed and it ruins your underpants. And then your mom is pissed that you keep ruining your gear so to punish you she won't let you watch the Cosby show so you pack up your comics and then fucking run away from home. And then you meet a nice guy at the bus depot who says he wants you to model for him and then you feel good about yourself. You feel gorgeous and glamorous. You're going to be a model. And then you get to his studio/1 bedroom apt. and he makes you take your top off and then he shows you his dick. Nothing is working out in your favor. All that to say you can tell it's green apple only after you've swallowed a mouthful.

This drink is pretty lame. Everything about it is sub par. I had no delusions that any Jones soda would be delicious and I wasn't disappointed with this as a result. I would only recommend drinking this if you're somehow obsessed with green apple soda or you're going to get your glow sticks, take some mdma, and fucking rave all night.

Domingo Peach and Berry Bullshit Wine Coolers

2009-02-12T05:11:00.000-08:00

Have you ever walked by a mall food court and wondered what the 50 year old in the skin tight mini skirt drinks after workouts or while tanning by her above-ground pool? Answer: Wine Coolers.

They sit on their pleather couches watching LOST reruns just so they can slow-motion scenes where Sawyer's not wearing a shirt. Then it's off to the dry cleaners to pick up their best leopard print dress. They get dressed, paint their lips the darkest crimson, and drink Fuzzy Navels/Sex on the Beachs until they lose the ability to use vowels. They're out at their Cougar bar degrading the fuck out of themselves because they're desperate to feel some young hot johnson between their spray on tanned boobies. To them Young Cock=Self-Worth. (See below).

Both these wine coolers suck. They don't taste like the fruit they are supposed to. Instead they taste like desperation and playing spin the bottle with 13 year olds. This drink is for females desperate to be women, either too young to grow pubes (or to get preggers. Wink wink) or alternately too old to get wet vaginas without the aid of oils and balms.

Both these drinks taste like Calgon body spray. They taste more like fruit perfume than fruit. Also the fact that these come in cans is certainly not helping the taste any.

These drinks suck. They would be better if they came with their own MILFs: looking to relieve the pain of their kids moving out and going to college by having someone fuck it out of them.

But that's not the case. Sadly.

Cott Black Cherry Soda

2009-02-11T04:06:00.000-08:00

Most black cherry soda makes me want cherry coke so fucking hard that the meat of my dick explodes out of of cock skin. Or maybe something that makes sense. Whatever. I have a pretty smug attitude when it comes to black cherry soda.

So I hooked up some Cott Black Cherry expecting to have my cock explode in vulgar disappointment. But I was pleasantly surprised. Ill admit that I'm still not sold on black cherry soda but this is certainly a step in the right direction.

The first thing that sets this apart from other black cherry sodas is that you can very easily make out the cherry flavor. Its not hidden behind any cola taste. The cherry is right up front. It's clear as day like Bowie's dick in Labyrinth. The cherry is all over this drink like Chris Brown on women. The drawback to it being so very cherry is that most most mouthfuls taste faintly like cough syrup.

When I was 17 I got fucking wrecked on Dimetapp DM; just fucking completely plowed. I stopped at the corner store on my way home from a night out and I was fucking hallucinating my ass off. I thought there were these fucking demons commanding me to buy a carton of 2% milk and slam it down at counter as fast as I could (without engaging in conversation while I did it) or I would fall into and endless vortex of despair. So there I am at 3am, ruined beyond reason, hallucinating, slamming down a carton of milk, spilling shit all down my winter jacket, ignoring the cashier's questions and obvious frustrations. I finished up. Bought a cigar. Went outside. Peed. Dropped the cigar in pee. Went back inside and tried to reason with the cashier that while I was still on their property he was responsible for replacing cigars that were covered in urine. I don't remember what happened after except for waking up on my front steps while my dad looked on disapprovingly.

I'm sure you have deduced that I love cough syrup so that's a definite plus for this beverage.

Alas that was not enough to make it worth my while.

There was barely any carbonation which is a huge bummer for me. I never want my soft drink to be too "soft". I would prefer over-carbonation to under-carbonation. Bubbles are what make soda "not juice". I do not have a need for juice because:
1. I am a man.
2. I don't have a vagina.

End of discussion.

This drink isn't great but so far is the most cherry flavored black cherry drink I've ever had. If you're super into cherry shit then get at this, otherwise, pass. There are too many negatives to this drink to make it a sound beverage investment.

1. It comes in a can
2. It's made with corn syrup
3. It tastes like cough medicine (all kidding aside, cough syrup sucks)
4. It's flat
5. The flavor isn't rich or thick enough

I'll admit I'm becoming a bit of soda snob but this is below almost anyone's standards. I appreciated it for what it was but It's not winning any awards.

Boylan Grape Soda

2009-02-10T12:56:00.000-08:00

I don't care for grape soda. It typically tastes bad and makes me feel incredibly sick. Being a masochist, I decided to sip on some Boylan Grape Soda. It was fucking awesome.

I didn't set out to purchase this drink outright, I initially went on a hunt for some pineapple soda that may or may not have been made by Inca. They sold it at this dollar store in the subway near my old apartment but alas they didn't have any. Determined to not go back to work empty handed I scoped out what else they had. As luck would have it they had fridges stocked with Boylans. I have to admit that in spite of what I consider to be above average snack knowledge this tasty shit managed to evade me. I'll review the other ones I picked up as I go along, but for today it's all about the Grape.

I'm a sucker for soda sweetened with cane sugar so this was already off to a good start. The first thing I noticed was that this fucking concoction smells like medicine. I fucking love medicine so that's another point. Already this drink is above that fucking vile Sangria garbage (FUCK YOU SANGRIA). Without even taking the first sip I knew I was on some fucking magical adventure. I was fucking slaying dragons and wearing my ring of constant erection. My dick was hard as fuck.

So I take a sip. Fuck this is awesome. It tastes like medicine and popsicles and getting a boner while watching girls pee; amazing and amazing.

My whole life I've loathed grape soda. Just out and out wanted to punch myself right in the dick just to avoid drinking it but this fucking blew my mind right back. Just fucking destroyed my preconceptions. It was like the first time I found that Asians can make good lovers.

Pros:
-The bottle is gorgeous. No fucking around. Just straight to the point. It also tells you it's vintage soda so you know what you're getting yourself into: a big bag of fuck awesome.

-The taste is amazing. It's nothing like real grapes but real grapes suck. I'm not some fucking pussy Ceaser. I don't need the unwashed masses fanning my cock and feeding me grapes. This is some advanced grape shit. It would rip Caligula's mind in fucking half. It would make his horse shit babies and eat his own crazy horse ass. Fuck this is better than grapes.

-It's potent as fuck without being overpowering and making you sick, like all other fucking grape sodas.

-It's classy and I don't feel like some 14 year old girl with racne (aka zits on the tits) when I drink this shit. I am still a man.

Cons:
-It's still grape soda (but I knew that going in to this arrangement).

In conclusion: WOW. I finally like grape soda. I will continue to drink this. But not too often only when I want to celebrate, like when I'm finally released on parole or getting a new pony.

Speculoos by Lotus (Euro Snacks Pt. I)

2009-02-09T21:05:00.000-08:00

Jesus fuck, I honestly don't even have the words to describe the genius of this snack, or the patience to go over all the details and backstory for you ignorant non-Euros. Just believe me that this is a historic moment in the history of snacks while I try and explain this to you.

Alright, I grew up in Belgium. In my homeland, and a few other neighbouring countries, we have this dude called Sinterklaas, who is like a skinny, scary and vaguely racist version of Santa. Read more about him here. He comes and gives you treats, and one of them is called Speculoos. They're a very sugary kind of cookies with a light cinnamon flavor, that are awesome to dip in milk or coffee as a kid. If your mom doesn't make you coffee-dipped speculoos sandwiches, you are basically set to turn into a coke dealer or a smack addicted prostitute, because speculoos sandwiches are the only true way of showing affection to your children. They look like this:

So, I grew up with these delicious things, and then I moved to Canada in 2005 and went cold turkey. No more speculoos. It was like being told your mother doesn't love you anymore, while getting touched by your uncle, who is a police officer and thus has a moustache, while his wife savagely swings a bunch of kittens into a brick wall by their tails.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago, when my lovely roommate Tracey got home from a trip to Belgium, and said she had a gift for me. She opened her bag, and took out a jar that said "Speculoos". Upon seeing this word, I instantly said "AWESOME", but it took a few seconds to realize what I was looking at. It was speculoos cookies, in the form of a spread. I had no idea this existed. It was like being told your mother loves you again, your uncle died a terrible death, and you have a little brother you didn't know about, who loves you very much. Well, I popped the lid off that motherfucker and ate the shit out of it. For the next few days I would come home from work and go straight for the jar and just eat it. No bread, no spoon, no nothing. Just me and the fucking speculoos. I'm sure I could have put it in anything, I'm sure it would have gone well with anything, but I didn't give a fuck. I wanted my speculoos untouched by the stench of your foul north american foods.

I am reviewing this for many reasons. First off, it was the best snacking week of my life. Second, because I want to make you jealous. Third, because Euro snacking is some next level shit. Fourth, because holy fuck this is some tasty ass shit. Well, good luck ever getting to taste it. Unless you're planning to travel to Belgium or maybe Holland, or you have a good friend there that will cough up the ridiculous shipping costs, you are fucked. There's a tiny little bit of residue in my jar that I left for nostalgia, but if you even so much as look at it from the corner of your eye I will fucking murder you with the shards of the jar after I smashed it over the head of your firstborn child, which you will have after I violate you or your female partner and wait nine months, just hanging out in my room in the dark eating pizza and drinking cream soda and watching Seinfeld while you are tied up in my closet, buried under a pile of smelly socks (and my feet fucking stink) and cassette tapes I don't listen to anymore. There's bound to be some good ones, but you can't listen to them, because you're tied up and I am watching Seinfeld and if you make noise (cassettes or crying) I will fucking kill you. After nine months of you enduring this, plus me yelling at you for hours a day about how you are a disgusting whore of a human being for letting this happen to you, you will be forced to feel yourself being stabbed to death with said shards of glass containing traces of two things: the blood of your child you never knew, and the speculoos you never tasted. It will be up to you to decide which one stings more. If this does not sound pleasant, which it shouldn't unless you need help you sick psychopath, you know what you must do: talk a northern american company into buying the rights to Speculoos, and making it available to both you and I. Do it, and do it soon, because once the cravings set in, I will be carrying my empty jar around in the streets, hoping I catch someone glancing at it, and it could be you. It could be you. Give me the Speculoos.

Sanpellegrino Chinotto

2009-02-09T13:14:00.000-08:00

Up until that Sangria shit a few posts down this was the worst drink I had ever had. I guess that's about the only nice thing I can say about that Sangria mess. Anyway as I'm sure you can tell this drink eats dicks.

I like Brio and that's some Chinotto bullshit so I figured why the fuck wouldn't I like this. The answer is: because Coca-Cola shouldn't taste like getting mouth fucked with cleaning solvants.

And that's no joke. It tastes like someone mixed Pledge with Coca-Cola and then told you it was fucking cool to drink while you played petonk with a bunch of cranky old Italian dudes. This drink made me furious. The can was fucking sweet and I wanted to walk around looking all refined and shit, like a fucking gentleman sipping on some weirdo citrus drink. But fuck that. This drink is bullshit.

Here are some rules about delicious sodas:
1. It should never be sour. Please note that Coke with Lime is delicious and not sour, so the combination of citrus and cola is feasible.

2. A brown can should more often than not represent something coffee flavoured, especially with the shade of this motherfucker. And I'm ignorant to most fruits so if it turns out Chinotto is brown well then fuck them for not making that more obvious. And fuck this drink for being shittier than the can it comes in.

3. Fuck this drink.

And there you have it in a nutshell: this drink is bogus and you should skip it unless you're some sort of mutant who wants cola to taste like someone's whiskey dick wrapped in dish soap.

Pucca Choco Pretzel

2009-02-09T09:07:00.000-08:00

Imagine a giant vagina begging for a thin little wiener to flail around against its meaty chasm. That's what these fucking things are like. The amount of chocolate (much like the teeny weeny in my previous scenario) is not enough to fill the vast expanse of the hollowed out pretzel (like the enormous vag).

I had not anticipated the amount of air involved in these snacks. It's a fucking bum out. I had hoped that these seafood (squid and fish) shaped treats would be so full of delicious brown mana that one bite would send an ooey gooey river of milk chocolate down my chin and onto my shirt. Like Germans do with pipi and poo poo. But no. The cheap fucks at Pucca have seen fit to rob me of chocolate delight.

In addition to that disappointment these so called pretzels are more like cheap ass crackers. And if there's one thing I know, it's being a cracker. You see I used to hang out exclusively with pimps and the one thing that's true about pimps is they like to tell you what race you are in the best way possible: relating it to food that has little to nothing to do with any physical or social characteristics (i.e. a white dude is a cracker).

The packaging also sucks. It's a carboard box that you open to reveal a tin foil bag. So not only do you not get enough chocolate in the crackers (note* the pimps I used to bro-down with loved putting their chocolate in crackers) but they also fail to put enough crackers in the box (note* what I do to my girlfriend. HAZZAH!)

These snacks were worth the 99 cents but just barely. I would equate it to going on a blind date with an ugly broad but getting a handjob at the end. Busting a nut=breaking even.
I don't know what busting a nut would be in this scenario, I just really like comparing snacking to making fuck to someone's hand.

At any rate I would say this is a pass. If you get it for free don't throw it in the garbage or whatever but don't get all fucking hard over this fucking gibberish either.

Sangria Senoral

2009-02-08T12:23:00.000-08:00

I love soda. I love soda more than most people love getting their dongs rubbed up against. And it was with that in mind that I’ve been on a recent quest to acquire and consume as many different beverages as possible. Today was day one of my quest. It is not off to a great start. While I did pick up some RC Cola (guaranteed awesome) I also picked up some Sangria Senoral.

I can say with absolute confidence that this is the worst drink I have ever consumed. Admittedly I like some vile shit. Black licorice. Coke Blak. Sardines. But this is above and beyond my horribly low standards.

According to the various sources of information on the internet, this thing has a cult following which I guess makes sense when you think about dudes that live in a compound and drink suicide Kool-Aid. People are known to group together and do stupid shit. Exception: LARPers. So I can see people loving this with their entire souls. But those people are witches and need to be burned at the stake.

Sangria Senoral is marketed as a delicious alternative to alcoholic sangria. I don’t drink but I know what sangria is supposed to taste like and this isn’t it. This is poison. POISON.

It tastes like someone took an old garbage bag and then dumped grape juice in it, then pissed in it, then went and filled it up with whatever they found in the dumpster behind the abortion clinic and then blended it and poured into some sketchy bottle and then labeled it with tribal tattoos. This fucking drink sucks ass. I do not suggest you ever drink this.

I haven’t ever been more displeased with a beverage related purchase in my entire life. Imagine every bad thing I’ve ever said in every single review and then multiply it by the number of pubes I have and then ram it in your ass and then set yourself on fire. You would just be scratching the surface of how much this fucking sucks.

I hate this drink with all my heart. It’s the worst.

Fuck.

Real Brew Draft Root Beer

2009-02-06T18:46:00.000-08:00

Last night I was sitting in class when Universally Good Dude Vinny Slick texts me. Here is a transcript of our conversation:

Vinny:

Scotty: Where and how much?

Vinny: At the bio place i go to for 1.15 each.
Vinny: HOLY FUCK. This stuff is delicious. Makes Fanta tastes like piss. Tell that to your blog.

And so I am.

I was at the grocery store tonight buying some tofu dogs for a dinner thing I was heading to (where I had crème brule for the millionth time, more in a later post) when I came upon a bottle of this glorious fucking root beer.

For the record I LOVE root beer. It reminds me of a childhood without sexual abuse from a drunk step father after my sister’s confirmation. I like fucking cheap watered down root beer, caffeine free root beer, traditional root beer. Whatever, if you have root beer I will drink the fuck out of it. It’s awesome.

But this root beer is like I fucking unlocked this part of my tongue that can enjoy it like I never have before. It transcends space and time. It’s like my world shattered and then was replaced with “a complex flavour of licorice root, sarsaparilla, and anise”. Actually I take that back, I wouldn’t say it’s complex so much as it is a jackhammer of Fucking Amazing.

I had no idea root beer could taste like pure vengeance. This drink is like catching your girlfriend in bed with another guy after she said she was visiting a sick aunt in the hospital and then you calmly walk out of the room and come back in with a jerry can and a book of matches from the restaurant you took her to on your first date and then you tie her and her lover to the bed and then you douse them in gasoline and then you set them on fire and then you beat your dick off in furious (and justifiable) anger. You don’t wipe up. You let it crackle and burn with their sins and flesh.

Fuck this drink makes me want to murder people. I don’t even understand what it tastes like except for black licorice and smashing a bag full of puppies in with a sledgehammer. If pirates could somehow fuck (and then make babies with) I Spit on Your Grave this drink is what the outcome would be like.

It’s invading my life! Fuck this, I’m going out to murder everyone I see.

AAAAHHHH!!!! Fuck this drink is awesome!

President's Choice Piri Piri Chips

2009-02-05T06:04:00.000-08:00

I'll admit I bought these chips because my girlfriend called them Pri Pri and I though it she said Pipi and I was stoked to review Pipi Chips. But alas, they aren't Pipi or even Pri Pri, they're Piri Piri which, FYI, is the pepper so nice they named it twice.

I didn't have high hopes for these chips mostly because President's Choice chips aren't great quality. I like cheap food. I am a broke deadbeat. But, I like to eat quality snacks so my life is basically like Sophie's Choice. Either way Pipi chips won out because my need for culinary adventure trumped all other urges.

First of all the bag sucks. It looks like a space suit which would be cool if it had some sort of hidden dick flap so I could pee easier. But this fucking thing doesn't so I'm floating around in space and I just finished like two or three big gulps and I really gotta go. I fumble nervously for where the zipper should be. My fingers frantically searching the suit's nether regions but to no avail. Panic sets in. I break out in a cold sweat. And then it happens, I wet myself. My spacesuit is soaked. I get a bad rash and when the cute martian cheerleader asks me to dance at space prom I can't because every time my thighs rub together it burns like the 4th ring of hell. Damn you urine rash! DAMN YOU! I get depressed. Take up heroin. Die a lonely junkie. I get cremated. Keith Richards snorts my ashes.
So, fuck this bag.

Also these chips don't really have a smell which is not a good sign. Smell is my face's way of knowing just what the fuck my mouth is getting my guts into. You know what has no smell? The poison my girlfriend has been slipping into my coffee every morning for the last 4 years. It's a slow process but I'll die in 50-60 years. So you can imagine that my first thought (that these chips are POISON) left me a little unsettled.

Fuck it. I'm a man. I need to challenge myself with the food I eat otherwise I'm a fucking wiener with a soggy cock. So I ate it. And it was AWESOME.

Imagine someone lit a tire fire under a bag of All Dressed Dhips and you would then have yourself a handsome feast of this fucking Piri Piri masterpiece. This shit is just spicy All Dressed and it rules. It's not too inventive at all but whatever I can still achieve climax from a handjay. You don't need to be creative to get your dick off. I am relaying facts to you.

I am a doctor of chips and getting my wiener stroked by various bus-depot skanks.

These chips were relatively cheap and delicious AND adventurous. I fucking win on all fronts.

Eat this shit or I will find you when you're sleeping and expose your dick so that when your Mom wakes you up for school she'll think you were beating off and fell asleep before you came. Pussy.

Black Licorice

2009-02-04T06:06:00.000-08:00

I don't know many people who don't have an opinion on black licorice one way or another. Black licorice is EXACTLY like abortions in that regard. They're also both really syrupy and leave your hands coated with a delicious film.

I am a proud lover of black licorice. It tastes like spices and someone farting in the bathwater. I know I tend to review snacks that I love but then provide the absolute worst descriptions but really, I'm into some pretty gross snacks. I wholeheartedly recognize that black licorice is one of those snacks.

There's really nothing redeeming about it. Unlike red licorice, it's slimy to the touch. It smells bad. It tastes like medicine and diarrhea cramps. It's always stale. It stains your tongue. No woman will want your mouth near her chesticles (aka sweater beef) afterward. This is basically vagina repellent. But I still love it. I'm a classic self-loather. I only eat shit that punishes me. Fuck I hate my life. I'm a complete mess. This snack is 100% proof of that.

Everything about this treat screams "This is Grandma's medicine, do not put it in your mouth!" but if herpes has taught me anything it's that sometimes the consequence for putting shit in your mouth isn't so bad. A little itching. A little puss. Nothing an icepack can't fix.

Hey! I have mouth herpes. Don't let me near your smelly cooter!

Cadbury Cream Egg

2009-02-03T07:00:00.000-08:00

The people at Cadbury have a giant metaphysical flame-thrower. Here's the scenario. Three dudes clad in fucking bad ass metal chains and leather boots go hiking through the Valley of Dreams. Their mission: to hunt down dream magic and set it on fire and then stuff the inside of their Cream Eggs with the bounty.

-Handjob dreams.
-Winning the lottery dreams.
-Owning a pony dreams.
-Coming first place in a hotdog eating contest dreams.
All that shit is magic that can be harvested for their selfish ends.

They don't even care that the Dreams are screaming; they'll burn those mothers down for your benefit. They're like "Fuck you dreams. Look at our boots: leather. We obvi don't give a fuck about you. We're fucking bad ass dream melters." or something like that. I think maybe they talk about their chains more but I'm not there to document it. I'm not some fucking stenographer.

Anyway, so they fucking melt that shit down in a dirty spoon with a butane torch and then inject these chocolate eggs and then you eat that shit and then you get diabetes but you don't give a fuck. You also don't care that it looks like some unhealthy junkie finished up his business in your snack (i.e. slapped his cock around until ejaculation). Whatever. This fucking snack rules. It could look like two Germans finger banging each others' dickholes and I would love the shit out of this. For the record I don't think all German dudes finger bang each others' dickholes. I just had a mental image of these brawny Euro dudes enjoying some cockplay and in my mind they were German.

So look, this snack is fucking cream and sugar and chocolate and it doesn't sound like much but unless you've been living in some fucking Mennonite community your whole life then you have no excuse for not eating and loving the fuck out of this. It's like eating syrup made up of fairies and kittens whiskers. Nom Nom Nom.

Old Grandad's Mexican Chips

2009-02-02T12:57:00.000-08:00

On Saturday I was informed about the goodness of Old Grandad's chips. I had never heard of them because I'm an ignorant fuck. Embarrassed that I had not sampled this supposedly delectable treat I decided I would scope it out sometime during the week. Well as luck would have it the store in my building had a dickload. Honestly, they have everything. I'm not kidding, it's a fucking snack mecca.

So anyway I see these chips and then decide I'm in the mood to cry when I shit later so I got "Mexican" flavour.

Side Note: I would like to say that the makers of these chips are ridiculous. I know it's commonplace to paint flavours with broad and obtuse generalizations but Mexican isn't a taste. Sure there are common components in Mexican food but it's not like everything about (true) Mexican cuisine can be summed up by making shit spicy and taste mildly like limes. That's as fucking stupid as having a bag of "Canadian" chips taste like Maple Syrup, Beer, and Scorn for America. This is fucking ignorant snacking.

These chips are identical to Miss Vickies. Exactly alike. Honestly if there was some sort of fucking chip line up where I was blind and then had to eat chips in order to determine who fucking stole some doubloons or whatever, I would most likely send the wrong chip to prison. Miss Vicky would be crying: "Please no it wasn't me, I was at home with my kids watching Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader. I don't even know what a doubloon is. What about my kids? WHAT ABOUT MY KIDS?!?!?!?! DON'T LOCK ME UP!!!!!!!!". And then the young hot-shot cop, fresh out of the academy would say something like "Lady, where you're going other women are going to lock up your vagina with their fists and mouths". And then the other cops would high-five him even though that didn't make a lot of sense.

Either way these chips are a blatant rip-off of Jalapeno Miss Vickies.

Seeing as I couldn't find anything about the company listed online (I gave up after 23 seconds) I will assume that the "Grandad" of Old Grandad is actually an acronym for:

Gold-plated
Robotic
Android
Nano
Destruction
Android
Destroyers

If you fucking eat these chips they will infect you with their nano-virus and turn you into a fucking cyborg that will be under control. They'll make you late for work and get you arrested for jerking your dick off on the bus and then the judge doesn't believe you because the nanites make it seem like you're lying. No one understands the fucking plight of a horny cyborg.

Sweet & Spicy Munchies

2009-01-30T09:51:00.000-08:00

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.

I'M GOING TO FUCKING LOSE IT!!!!!!!

Eat this now or your fucking life will be pointless.

Perrier Lime

2009-01-30T05:48:00.001-08:00

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.

Bubbles.

Sparkling Ginger Ale Super Original Super Carbonated Drink

2009-01-26T04:05:00.000-08:00

*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

Stewart's Ginger Beer

2009-01-23T07:33:00.000-08:00

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.

Hapi Hot Wasabi Peas

2009-01-04T11:52:00.000-08:00

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.

Recommended.

Peehole Expand

2008-12-29T08:13:00.001-08:00

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.

CHEESE BURGER PIZZA

2008-12-26T19:46:00.001-08:00

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
-burgers
-ketchup and mayo
-mozarella
-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.

Little Debbie Chocolate Chip Creme Pies

2008-12-22T08:38:00.000-08:00

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

2008-12-22T07:17:00.000-08:00

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):
Ingredients
Sugar
Cinnamon
White Bread
Butter
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.

Blak Masturbation

2008-12-05T04:37:00.001-08:00

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

2008-12-05T04:24:00.000-08:00

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.

Pros.
AMAZING
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.

Cons.
None (you pussy)

Eat this shit.

Miss Vickies Rosemary and Basil Chips

2008-12-04T10:07:00.000-08:00

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.

ORANGE

2008-12-03T15:06:00.000-08:00

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.

QFT

2008-11-21T12:41:00.001-08:00

DRAKE'S COFFEE CAKE

2008-11-17T09:23:00.000-08:00

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.

Having Munchies x Eating Munchies

2008-11-11T20:46:00.000-08:00

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:

DORITOS
CHEETOS
SUN CHIPS
ROLD GOLD PRETZELS

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.

Reese's Whipps

2008-11-09T04:52:00.000-08:00

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.

MAN
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.
***

Pros:

-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

Cons:

-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

Interview With Martin Stewart

2008-11-08T19:08:00.000-08:00

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?

Example:

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

CHORUS
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.

SPEED ROUND!!!

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

MARTIN:
(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 "guttermagic.blogspot.com". It's not updated daily, but enough to be significant. Cock docking, no homo. Look up frotting. Google. com.

Honey Glazed Bun by Rondeau Cookies Limited

2008-11-06T06:27:00.000-08:00

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.

Interview with John McCain (about snacks)

2008-11-04T17:46:00.000-08:00

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 (getting louder and louder): ABORTION! ABORTION! ABORTION! ABORTION! ABORTION! ABORTION!
(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.

Peche Gourmet Shoyo Almonds

2008-10-30T07:58:00.000-07:00

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

The Ultimate French Vanilla Milk by Neilson

2008-10-29T14:53:00.001-07:00

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.

Coke Blak

2008-10-27T16:13:00.000-07:00

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.

Pros

-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.

French Vanilla Milkshake by Neilson

2008-10-25T22:28:00.000-07:00

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.

Apple Danish by Cloverhill Bakery

2008-10-19T12:23:00.000-07:00

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.

Now Available

2008-10-18T16:25:00.000-07:00

GET YOURS!

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

Yikes

2008-10-15T20:53:00.000-07:00

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

2008-10-15T18:12:00.000-07:00

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.

Pros:

-Delicious as fuck

-Colourful

-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.

Cons:

-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.

Pomo

2008-10-15T16:33:00.000-07:00

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

2008-10-15T04:07:00.000-07:00

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

Promo Spot

2008-10-07T16:38:00.001-07:00

PURE DELICIOUS RAGE

Coke in Glass Bottles

2008-10-06T17:55:00.000-07:00

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.

HOT DOUG'S

2008-09-27T22:30:00.000-07:00

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

2008-09-27T22:08:00.000-07:00

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
HAND-SELECTED NUTS!!!
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.

Banana Split Creme Oreos

2008-09-22T15:26:00.000-07:00

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

2008-09-22T03:36:00.000-07:00

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.

Marble Slab Creamery

2008-09-17T17:10:00.000-07:00

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

2008-09-17T13:47:00.000-07:00

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.

CRAAAAANBERRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm In Love! With a Burger!

2008-07-30T13:32:00.001-07:00

The best part of going to California is being able to go to IN-N-OUT BURGER . Anyone who eats burgers and has not tasted a burger from here hasn't lived. I give this a 10/10 on the burger/snack/food you shouldn't eat-but-eat scale. 100% pure beef, no preservatives, no additives, THOUSAND ISLAND DRESSING! The fries are cut inside the restaurant from fresh potatoes, as well. They even have a "secret-menu" which consists of grilled cheese sandwich, "Animal Style", 3x3 or 4x4 burger. Delicious.

Oh Boy! Oberto 100 Calorie Jerky Bites

2008-07-28T08:32:00.000-07:00

My old lady bought me these when she was picking up "let's not make babies" pills at the pharmacy yesterday. I didn't know what to expect. I've had some of the 100 cal packs before but they were all pretty lackluster. But whatever those are like cookies and crackers and both of those suck ass without lard&sugar/salt respectively. But this is meat so all bets are off.

The first thing that stood out was that there was not a lot of meat in the tiny pack and as a man who eats meat I like my portions like I like my wars on terrorism: unnecessarily huge.

The next thing I noticed was that there was no smell. I know for some people this will be a plus but those people can go suck themselves off. How are my coworkers and neighbors supposed to know how manly I am if they can't smell my beef? Answer: I will have to punch them in face and scream it into their sobbing idiot faces.

My list of petty complaints doesn't end there. All the pieces in my bag were really tiny, like beef flakes instead of thick chunks like I was expecting. I know they're "Bites" and not "Strips" but a bite means splitting the food with your teeth. It refers to the action taken just before chewing. If I can take a handful and head straight to chewing, bypassing biting all together, they should not be called "Bites".

Now for the taste test. It wasn't as spicy or salty as I would've liked but then again I was expecting it to be a little on the bland side. It did however taste like meat which was a pleasant surprise. I sort of half expected it to taste like a shoebox but it was decent. The texture was nice too; thick and tough without feeling like you're eating through a tire.

All in all it's a good enough snack for the healthy-eater set. Low cal, low sodium, low carbs, high protein. In spite of my many complaints I actually did enjoy it a lot and felt less like a dirtbag rapist than I usually do when I eat dried meats. I will definitely eat this again and not just because there are still 7 packs left in the box.

With that said though, I can't give this the Burly-Man-Meat-Eater Seal of Approval, it's just not trashy enough. The fact that this won't fukcing ruin your heart and various arteries worked against it in my rating. It's unfortunate but that the way the beef strips dry.

Tonic Water

2008-07-25T20:33:00.000-07:00

So I was on the internet doing things like looking for "The Awesome" and sometimes checking out what time the movie I want to see is playing at, when I came across some pictures of Tonic Water glowing under blacklight.

Things that glow are generally awesome (The 80s, LaserQuest, Tron…) and it was with that in mind that I decided to get hooked up with some Tonic Water.

Dayglo Abortions had a song called “Two Dogs Fucking” here’s the chorus:

it was two dogs fucking

stuck ass to ass

entwined in bestial romance

I only mention it because the name of their band has “GLO” in it, so it’s relelvant.

I’ll level with you, I haven’t had tonic water since I stopped mixing it with gin when I quit drinking years ago and don’t recall ever drinking it by itself since.

Let me tell you, I wasn’t missing out on anything special. Tonic water tastes like somebody farted in the bath and bottled it. It is putrid.

It only meets one of the multiple criteria to qualify it as “soda”: carbonation. Bubbles are important but a flat Coke is better than a fizzy Tonic Water any fucking day of the week.

Apparently the shit that makes it glow is called Quinine which as far as a I can tell is comprised entirely out of spousal abuse and shitting yourself in front of mixed company.

This drink sucks.

The only cool thing would’ve been if I had a blacklight but who the fuck has a blacklight unless all you do is smoke weed and listen to Orange Goblin all day.

To sum up: Tonic Water go fuck yourself. You are a fuck and no one likes you. You won’t ever get a handjob that you won’t have to pay for and even when you do pay for "happy endings" you’ll refer to you dick as your “peter”.

You are a fucker. 100% garbage.

I’m not going to mince words, anyone who likes this drink wants to get a few fingers in his dickhole.

Don’t ever drink this. EVER.

"Yuubari Melon cream and whipped cream Lunchpack"

2008-07-18T02:10:00.003-07:00

i still remember when i first discovered Lunchpack. in japan it sucks being vegetarian. everything has like bacon, or ham or fish. but then i discovered these bad boys. the first one i had was the peanut butter sandwich. total lunch time savior. at a convience store a veg dude has like 4 choices. konbu Onigiri(sweet seaweed rice ball), Umeboshi Onigiri(sour plum rice ball), egg salad sandwich, or Lunchpack. for like a buck fifty you get 2 sandwiches with no crust in a lunch pack. occasionally you can get new favors acceptable for veg dudes.

this time that flavor is yuubari melon cream and whipped cream. a yuubari melon is a glorified cantaloupe from hokkaido japan. shit tastes the same but costs way more. the melon cream was basically a cantaloupe flavored pudding. combined with the light puffy fake whipped cream. this sandwich set is pretty good. i would say its more of a dessert sandwich than a lunch sandwich. im not sure if id cop again but i will recommend it to others to try.

this gets a sabbath rating of Rat Salad

Chocolate Milk!

2008-07-17T12:49:00.001-07:00

This isn't so much a specific review as it is a general appreciation of the wonder that is Chocolate Milk. I have no idea who came up with the brilliant idea of taking a bland beverage that previously only existed to make your cereal less boring, and mixing it with the best thing that ever existed: chocolate. Before its creation, you could be eating a nutella sandwich with a chocolate bar, and after your chocolate pudding dessert you could get a little thirsty but not want to ruin the vibe with an otherwise fine beverage (coke, ginger ale, apple juice). You were fucked. But now, thanks to the mysterious genius behind it, you had the option of LIQUID CHOCOLATE. Insane. Life was never quite the same.

This brings me to my first reason why chocolate milk rules. You can drink it with ANYTHING. As a matter of fact I am eating a three cheese macaroni as I'm typing this, and I'm having a delicious Parmalat chocolate milk with it. Great combo. If anyone ever tries to tell you it's bad to drink chocolate milk with certain foods, you have my permission to slap them across the face. With a shovel.

Besides blending perfectly with every food in the world, you can chocolate milk ANY TIME. If I just woke up, I do not want to drink a coke. In fact I am willing to admit I am too much of a pussy to drink anything carbonated in the morning. Chocolate milk though... wakes you right up with that sugar rush. It's like the morning kicks you in the nuts, but in a pleasant manner. Sure you can drink coffee (if you're a loser), but can you drink coffee an hour before bedtime? No. Can you chug down a quart of chocolate milk? Fuck yea you can. It works in the morning, in the evening, for lunch, it even makes an awesome afternoon snack. Could you drink an apple juice at 3 pm and feel full until dinner? Maybe if you're a girl. Not me. I need that thick, near-disgusting fulfillment to hold me over.

Being an avid chocolate milk drinker, I sometimes forget that not everyone is a sweet dude like myself. There are some haters, and they always say the same two lines:

"It's not healthy". Says who? Nutritionists, apparently: "Nutritionists have criticized chocolate milk for its high sugar content. However, a study published in 2006 indicated that chocolate milk aids in recovery when taken after intense athletic workouts. The study authors believe this to be due to its ratio of carbohydrates to protein, among other nutritional properties". There you go, asshole. Why don't you go drink some vitamin water (haha!) while I become a huge beefcake just from drinking the best tasting drink on the planet. Anyways, "The study was small in scale and partially funded by the dairy industry, but the results may warrant further study". See, everyone knows that the dairy industry is always right, so I win. I think one time they said that Nick Lachey is an asshole, and boy were they ever right.

The second 'argument' is that it's for 5 year-olds. Even the canadian dairy industry is against me on this one: "In a recent study done in schoolboards across Canada, chocolate milk was the most popular drink among children between the ages of five and ten". Well guess what, 5 year olds know their shit, man. Their minds are not yet occupied with distractions such as money, getting laid, sports, or the Cro-Mags. They know three things: toys, sugary beverages, and the fact that girls smell. Don't fuck with them. They know, and they say chocolate milk is the illest. Who are you to disagree? You were once 5, and you were probably way cooler then. Now you're into reading the newspaper and the stock market. Pussy.

I love chocolate milk so much that I don't even notice the brands. It's like pizza, if it's bad it's still good. I will drink 'em all. Thick, thin, creamy, chocolate soy milk, fake milkshake (aka melted ice cream in a box, aka delicious). Bring it on. Let me level with you, I love chocolate so much that I will consume it in any way I can. I don't care in which medium, and I don't care if some brands' milk is a little softer than the other. Just give me my chocolate already.

Finally, there is one minor setback to the party that is chocolate milk: it goes bad. If you happen to step into some miserable cornerstore where no one awesome ever goes, and thus no one ever buys chocolate milk, you might get dicked into buying a stale chocolate milk. But it's the risk that makes life truly worth living, isn't it? Only a real man would blindly chug a box of possibly sour milk, because he knows the risk is never greater than the cause. Chocolate milk separates the men from the boys. The 5 year-old with the chocolate milk in his hand is a thousand times the man you are, with your safe little drink that could never go bad. Go on, be safe. Be well. Drink a light beverage with your meal. And we will go and drink chocolate milk, and live like kings. Kings.

Big Chocolate Carl.

2008-07-15T09:19:00.000-07:00

Big Chocolate Carl sounds like an old pr0n. I think its supposed to be curl but they have that mustachioed mascot dude so I call them carls. It makes them taste better. and as a double added bonus the name Carl makes me think of aqua teen hunger force(south bronx paradise baby). carls in general rule, these are no exception. its a tiny bag and there are only liky 10-12 in there but that is good. forced portion control! if not i would end up eating a million of these. plus peep the ill frog mascot on the package.
so these are chocolate carls covered in dark chocolate. fuck milk chocolate. i think ill only fuck with milk chocolate if its like a hersheys kiss or something. a carl is a crispy/crunchy puff snack. like a cheese doodle but not like a cheese doodle at all(ha!) i think actually im gonna cop these at lunch time for a round 2.

on a Sabbath scale i give these a rating of "Children of the Grave".

Cool Ranch Doritos

2008-07-15T06:48:00.000-07:00

I don't remember when I had my first taste of this tangy ranch delicacy, but I know I was probably incredibly young and I probably had them in Vermont as they weren't available in my neighborhood for a really long time. Even now I can find it around but it's completely hit or miss.

I've always had a particular affinity for Doritos; the fake cheese taste, the gum destroying crunch, the neon orange fingers... It was magic to a kid like me. But then you try a new spin on this old standard and it fucking tosses you on your head. It still constantly blows my mind that Cool Ranch Doritos are so similar to regular Doritos and yet so completely fucking different. It's like when you read a classic Superman story and then you read Superman: Red Son (an "Elseworlds" type story about Superman's rocket landing in Russia instead of the Midwest); it has the bulk of the same elements but with a few "Oh Goddamns" tossed in. Note: Superman: Red Son is the gold standard for modern superhero storytelling.

The beauty of Cool Ranch Doritos is that you still get all the same key shit as you do with regular Doritos; the delicious fake taste, the gum destroying crunch, the neon fingers (sort of an ecru as opposed to orange) but you also get a tangy new twist. It's that tangy explosion that makes the difference. It lends itself extremely well to providing you with a full and complete flavor. With regular Doritos the flavor is limited to the orange dust caked on the outside of the chip but the tangy is like a virus; it embeds itself into the inner workings of the chip so even if you were one of those gross kids who has to lick the fucking taste off of everything before eating it, you're still left with a flavourful chip.

Good:
-Delicious taste that is unlike anything found in nature
-Crispy as fuck (unless you get a stale bag which happens altogether too often around Montreal)
-Still stains your fingers but the white is easier to get out when you stain your pants (you will)
-Has been around long enough so you can jock it without feeling like a trend jumper (I'm looking your direction Sweet Chili Heat worshipers)
-Doesn't smell as strong as regular Doritos so when your whole mouth and face stink like junk food for the rest of the day (which they will) it will be a ton more tolerable

Bad:
-If you don't like Doritos then you won't like these and you're an idiot
-If you like and expect traditional (re: real) ranch flavour you're in the wrong place
-Intense flavor can overpower light-sodas so you're best to stick with Coke or Mr.Pibb over Sprite or Fresca. Exception: Mountain Dew

In conclusion the good clearly outweighs the bad and if you think the bad things are "bad" then you are a pussy who drinks Fresca and does not like his tortillas flavoured to the Nth degree.
Any time I'm headed to the States this is always at the top of my "shit to stock up on so my cupboards have no room for real food" list.
For those of you that aren't already hip to the greatness that is Cool Ranch Doritos, cop a bag and lose yourself in it's delicious synthetic flavours.

P.S. In other countries these are called Cool American Doritos

7/11, Holiday!

2008-07-11T09:48:00.001-07:00

7-Eleven chains everywhere there is a store. They will be giving out FREE SLURPEES to celebrate the day the Slurpee was created. The Slurpee was created in 1967, btw.

Fun facts about the Slurpee:The most slurpees are sold in Manitoba, Canada. They average about 5,990 Slurpees a month.

The Slurpee capital of the world is currently Winnipeg, but Kennewick, WA is currently trying to steal the crown.
Slurpees are mostly water ice and are heavily infused with nitrogen; there is less food energy in a Slurpee than in the same volume of a soda of the same name.

Oh, the options! What will I get? Fanta Wild Cherry? The Coca-Cola Classic? Jolly Rancher Green Apple?

Anchovies

2008-07-11T06:10:00.000-07:00

I had my first anchovy at the tender age of 8. I didn't have pubes yet but I did have an unparalleled love for the Ninja Turtles and if they were going to breakdance and eat midget fish then I was too. Breakdancing proved to be too hard and I had to spend the gross majority of my time trying growing pubes anyway so I said fuck it and stuck to eating weirdo fish.

What I noticed right away was how fucking manly I felt. I was able to put fistfuls of complete animals into my mouth at the same time. Entire beings from start to finish, from tip to tail, just stockpiled in my mouth like clowns in a funny car. Completely ridiculous. I felt like an evil ocean overlord. I still get (and love) that feeling.

I know anchovies are like a blanket food in that I'm basically covering the whole anchovy spectrum instead of one specific brand but let's call it like it is; all anchovies taste alike.

I don't view that as a weakness but as a strength. It means you're always guaranteed to get a good batch. What other food can you say that about. Wait, fuck that, what other meat can make a lofty claim along those lines. None.

Fun fact 1:Anchovy is to fish what Cookie Crisp is to cookies. (SAT material)

Fun fact 2:Anchovies occasionally look like vulvas.

I know that a lot of people have beef over the ratio of salty:fishy:acceptable for human consumption (which looks something like 800:800:5) but they're babies who probably poop themselves or have been molested by an uncle (just a hunch). Imagine you stopped walking because using your legs was too hard, well your muscles would atrophy and you would never be able to run away from bears or bees (both are into honey). The same goes for your tongue. It's the most powerful muscle in your body and if you don't challenge it with awesome food like tiny fish that tastes like sour tuna and boogers then you won't be able to enjoy a milkshake or a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos (reviewed in the next few weeks) to their full, glorious potential. Why the fuck would you want to do that? Answer: you hate yourself because you were touched inappropriately at a family BBQ.

Here are some more facts about anchovies to reinforce my point:
1. Good on their own
2. Good on pizza
3. Increase the amount of semen that a man produces (check fact with doctor)

In all seriousness though, I've been in love with anchovies since I was a little kid and aside from my vegetarian hiatus these have been a steady part of my diet ever since. I can't think of a single food that can enhance a pizza to the kind of level that anchovies do, nor can I think of an easier, more delicious, or cheaper source of unnecessary sodium. I feel like I've accomplished something after sitting down and eating a tin of these yummy bastards. Like my taste buds have just been sent to boot camp (Maury Povich circa early 2000's). I just feel like I've kicked some salty fish ass, like these little bastards are pissed to have been captured and killed and their final revenge is to explode with intense ocean flavour in your mouth rendering you to tears and/or ulcers but because I'm virile and potent I have powered through and made it out the other side more manly and more full of baby making possibilities than ever before.

Go out and get a couple tins for under a buck, get some saltine crackers, and get some hot mustard and go fucking crazy. You'll either go blind or discover the secret of life.

Good Luck and Godspeed.

O'zack "spicy curry" flavor

2008-07-08T06:23:00.000-07:00

Japan is the land of seasonal/limited snacks. convience store culture is huge here. they play a huge part in everyones life. you pay your bills and shit there. so im in a convience store pretty much everyday. i always peep the snack sections for anything new to try(which ends up being every couple of weeks)

this time i copped these chips.

these things were a huge let down. you open the bag and they smell amazing. strong curry flavor. but once you dig in you get bummed out. they taste like regular fucking chips with a hint of flavor. shit, they arnt even that spicy. these things were a total bumout. and on top of it the chips themselves arnt good. they remind me of those shitty old chips we used to have in the states - O'Boisies. worst.

in closing, if i was to rate these on an Sabbath type scale. these would rate as "kelly osbourne"

2008 Taste of Chicago

2008-07-06T12:23:00.000-07:00

The Taste of Chicago is the world's largest food festival in the United States. Located conveniently in my city, I usually go and eat with no disregard to anything or anyone. This year I decided to get more into my food consumption a little bit more attention. The Taste of Chicago features over 70 food vendors and brings in millions (sometimes 1 million each day alone). You can find anything and everything here. Food is purchased with tickets, 12 tickets for $8. What does that get you? NOTHING!!! Most basic entrees cost about 9-10 tickets, and most "Taste" portions (smaller portions of the foods) cost at least 4. Here is what I consumed in one trip to the Taste:

Rib Sandwich- I have never had a real rib sandwich until now, usually I get the vegan version, and I was super into it. What made this sandwich as delicious as it was? BBQ SAUCE. Perfect sauce overload, handmade BBQ sauce, loved it...until I dropped it on the floor and declared myself defeated.

Mango Italian Ice- Some of you might know it as "Water Ice" this is one of the reasons why I'm glad the Italians have such a a big influence on Chicago. This one was made not from flavoring, but from Mango purees. Italian Ice is made the same way that ice cream is made, and is technically a sorbet, but not really. Miko's Italian Ice in Chicago offers these for $1.25 a scoop, I coughed up $4. Well worth it, the flavor of Mango was on point, not too tangy and not too bland.

Banana Crepes- This was from the same joint that I bought the Mango Italian Ice from. The presentation looked great, but the banana was not a good option for the inside. It was too bland, and the chocolate syrup was way too abrasive for the overall sweetness. They should've put Nutella inside the crepe instead, and offered up strawberries.

Nutella Crepe- I am a freak for anything Nutella. After realizing I made a mistake in trying the banana crepes, I decided to get the Nutella Crepe...Perfect. Just enough Nutella on the inside, not too much whipped cream, not to mention this time the flavoring of the chocolate syrup was perfect with the other combined flavors.

Chicago Style Hot dogs-Mustard, Onions,Sweet Pickle Relish, Dill Pickle, Peppers, Tomatos, Celery Salt= Chicago Style. Originated in 1929, this is a Chicago STAPLE.. Supposedly, there are supposed to be more hot dog joints in Chicago than all other fast food restaurants combined. The only rule about Chicago Style that I break? KETCHUP. Putting ketchup on a Chicago dog is supposed to be sacrilegious, but whatever, this rule may be broken.

Giant Turkey Leg- I only tasted this, because to eat it would be the equivalent of eating my own weight, basically. Giant turkey leg with BBQ Sauce & Louisana Hot Sauce added on makes for an interesting taste. This thing is HUGE. Imagine tons of people chewing on this with no precautions: sauce all over their faces, sans bibs trying to dominate this turkey leg.

All in all, I'm still full to say the least. The Nutella Crepes and Italian Ice were #1 in my book for the night, and I spent over $40 and STILL wanted to eat ( chocolate covered bananas & funnel cakes get an I.O.U.). If you ever get a chance to go, check it out, but get there early before all the fatsos come and pillage the Taste for all its worth.

Golden Cockerel Inn Old English Ginger Beer

2008-07-04T08:06:00.000-07:00

I'm a coke guy, actually diet coke to be specific, and tend to drink nothing but that or water, but I decided recently to scope out what else is out there drink wise. Unless it's a Pepsi product, in which case fuck that, I know where my loyalties lie.

So I'm at the IGA browsing through the soda isle which I'd just like to mention sucks in comparison to American soda isles, and I'm seeing what they have to offer.
Dr. Pepper: good but whatever.
Root Beer: lame.
Cream Soda: I'm not 12.

I need a fucking man's soda. A robust cola or a delicate gentleman's brew. Something that I can be proud to pound straight from the can. And then sitting there in the dull glow of cheap grocery store lighting I found salvation: Golden Cockerel Inn Old English Ginger Beer.

I could tell I was in for a good time right away. One: there's a rooster on the can and I like roosters. Two: it has the word cock in it. Three: it makes me feel like I should go out and fight some orcs or like goblins and shit. I don't know what it is exactly, aside from the combination of so many awesome elements that gives me such a huge boner for this can, but whatever it is it totally makes me grow a big rubbery hog.

It's also important to note that this is made by Canada Dry and while my knowledge of Ginger Ales and Beers isn't Yoda-esque, Canada Dry is the high watermark without question.

Without hesitation I cracked this son of a bitch open. It was glorious. It smelled like orgy fantasies and winning the lottery. It was like ginger ale had been doing roids in the bathroom and then fucking punched through the wall to come out and shake my hand. It smelled sexy and untamed. I felt like I was in the wild west of soft drinks. This motherfucker was pungent. I almost wanted to bottle it and spray in the eyes of my enemies. It was so strong and awesome.

I was so stoked to take my first sip that I almost spilled it all over myself. As soon as it hit my tongue I was in flavour country. It was spicy as fuck. I don't know the difference between ginger ales and beers but I can guess it's about a thousand pounds of flavor. It felt like my tongue was covered in little tiny pins. It was like acupuncture for my taste buds. Sure it hurt, but it hurt the way getting your hair pulled while fucking hurts: rewarding and dangerous.

It was amazing. It was tasty and painful and delightful. It was just a whole fucking ginger experience.

Alright let's wrap it up:

Neg.
-Not good for kids or pussies, it is too potent and they will cry like assholes
-Apparently not available anywhere outside of Quebec anymore
-Not available in 6, 12, or 24 packs
-Too powerful to be chugged down/not ideal for when you're dying of thirst

Pos.
-Not good for kids or pussies, it is too potent and they will cry like assholes (it will weed out the weak and undeserving)
-Apparently not available anywhere outside of Quebec anymore (it's exclusive. Limited market means more desire for the product. i.e. look at sneakerheads)
-It's the tastiest ginger related beverage I have ever had
-Looking at the can will make you grow an extra dick
-It's incredibly carbonated and that's probably good for you. Air is important or whatever
-It has the greatest name of any beverage ever invented by god or man

I dream to one day have people come to my place and when I offer them a drink I can say "I have coke, orange juice, and a couple cans of COCK" and that will totally be cool. It'll be the fucking hip new slang; The Cockerel will take over.

This is one spicy motherfucker to not be passed up on. Seriously, cop on sight.
110% backed.

Jack Link's Kickin' Cajun Kippered Beef Stick

2008-07-03T18:58:00.000-07:00

What is there to say about Beef Jerky that hasn't been written in the Bible? Not much.

According to wikipedia: Ancient peoples—for example, the Inca—prepared jerky from the animals they hunted or husbanded. Well I don't know shit about hunting or fucking animals but I do know that man is the greatest animal of all and as a man I deserve to enjoy the world's greatest and oldest salt delivery system: Beef Jerky

With that in mind I sat down with some jerky that's commonly available in my neck of the woods: Jack Link's Kickin' Cajun Kippered Beef Steak.

Ingredients: Beef, Salt, Water, Brown Sugar, Spices, Flavourings (so sketchy), Monosodium Glutamate, Sodium Erythorbate, Sodium Nitrate

I'm going to level with you: Beef Jerky is awful but I think that's a huge part of the charm for me. It's the only time meat gets to be a snack and it's basically designed to be eaten while driving or fishing.

Right off the bat this jerky stinks. Honestly it smells like Columbus' ship back from the Orient. I'm no jerky connoisseur but this was a lot more stank than the usual commercial jerkys. Also, this thing looks like a belt that my grandfather's had since he got his first boner. But it's par for the course when it comes to salted, spiced meats.

First bite. My teeth are literally being shoved back up into my gums. Oh my god it fucking hurts. It's not sticking to my teeth so much as it's destroying my will to live. Maybe I'm a pussy who's used to pepperoni sticks (side note: Jack Link's Original X Stick is amazing) but honestly this hurts. It's too thick to be this tough all the way through. Beef Jerky is supposed to be thin enough to snap, not thick enough to bludgeon your mom with when she doesn't let you stay up late enough the watch The Commish.

Moving on to taste. Imagine that you took everything delicious about commercial jerkys and then ignored it, said fuck it and just did whatever the fuck you want. Well it appears someone over at Jack Link's had the foresight to apply such a concept. I don't know what the fuck is Cajun about this. People often get spicy confused with "leave a lump of hot molten lava in the back of your throat". This is no exception. It doesn't taste like anything expect for all-spice and flames. It fucking sucks.

To sum up this was a bummer on all fronts. I know that Jack Link's isn't the gold standard of cured meats but this was the David Hasselhoff of jerky: D-List.

I cannot in good conscience recommend this.

Skip it and find a Slim Jim.

SNACKANOID

2008-07-03T08:47:00.000-07:00

Hello snack lovers, do we have great news for you! This blog just went major league. We have added to two contributors: my man Scotty, author of the best blog ever and general snack enthusiast, and the foreign snack master JayBil, who will be posting in depth reviews of some of the intense japanese snacks he has been blogging since 2005. We're excited to add a whole new level to Snack Sabbath. We are now covering the snacksphere in the US, Canada and Japan. Are you ready? Oh... and how about these:

(both pics by JayBil)