Beigne a la Limette / Lime Donut

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.

La Tire/Maple Taffy

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.

The Pop Shoppe Pineapple Soda

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Chocolate and Sprinkle Covered Waffle on a Stick

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.

Purple Cow

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.

Stewart's Key Lime Soda

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.

Boston Cooler

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.

Jones Peachy Keen Soda

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.

President's Choice Piri Piri Chips

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

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!

Sweet & Spicy Munchies

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eat this now or your fucking life will be pointless.

Sparkling Ginger Ale Super Original Super Carbonated Drink

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

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

Hapi Hot Wasabi Peas

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

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

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























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

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

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

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

Recommended.

Little Debbie Chocolate Chip Creme Pies

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Home Made Beaver Tails

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

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

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

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

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

Munchies BBQ Crunchy Coated Peanuts

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

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

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

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

Back to the review...

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

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

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.

Reese's Whipps

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

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

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

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

Coke Blak

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Pros

-Fucking Awesome

-Fucking Awesome

-Fucking Awesome

-Fucking Awesome

-Fucking Awesome

-Fucking Awesome

-Fucking Awesome

-Fucking Awesome

-Fucking Awesome

-Fucking Awesome

 

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

-Tastes like Demon afterbirth

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

-Is fucking evil

-Is impossible to find anywhere

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

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

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

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

Coke Zero in Glass Bottles

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

Coke in Glass Bottles

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

Fact 1: Coke is awesome

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

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

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

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

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

I’m also really good at accents.

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

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

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

I’m going to touch your boner.