Showing posts with label pain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pain. Show all posts

Monday, February 16, 2009

Extreme Sour Warheads


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.

Sunday, January 4, 2009

Hapi Hot Wasabi Peas























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

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

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























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

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

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

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

Recommended.