There used to be a Carl’s Jr. in my neighborhood that was the definition of foul. You know what I’m talking about – that fluorescent-bulb buzzing, greasy-smelling, un-swept trash on the floor, poorly-lit parking-lot-mugging sort of joint. Not being a big fast food eater, I didn’t have a reason to go there very often, but despite this, I ate there exactly twice. Both times, it was after midnight, I was starving after a cross-country plane trip where there had been no meals, and I had refused to pay the inflated airport price for sub-par food. (I’m looking at YOU, LAX McDonald’s!!!) The burgers I consumed from Carl’s Jr. were greasy, bloated and messy — pretty typical fare, and not the worst thing if you’re famished, but I always felt like I was doing a real disservice to my arteries, waistline, lymph nodes, etc.

That being said, I really wanted to like Carl’s Jr.’s recent foray into “healthy food.” I thought it would help me overcome my deeply-ingrained mistrust of this particular fast food chain and expand my list of low-fat fast food options. (A girl can only order a 6-inch turkey sub from not-so-skinny Jared so many times). So when the new TV ads hit, proclaiming that Carl’s Jr. had enlisted the renowned nutrition experts of “Eat This, Not That” and Men’s Health to develop a trio of leaner burgers for the menu (the Teriyaki Turkey Burger and the Guacamole Turkey Burger are the other two), I was down to try it, despite the fact that I lack the Y chromosome. I thought to myself, Hey, Self, if the “Eat This, Not That” folks can endorse this product, I figure I can help them out a little, maybe satisfy my burger jones while avoiding the unhealthier items on the menu. I figured that a burger under 500 calories would be okay to eat, even if it’s still about 200 more calories than what I would normally ingest in one sitting.

They weren’t lying when they said each burger was under 500 calories, but they just barely squeaked by with that count – the Charbroiled Turkey Burger, the plainest of the three has 490 calories. Really, Carl’s Jr.? You boast about making sandwiches under 500 calories when the caloric difference is two sticks of sugar-free gum. Yes, most of your burgers are in the 700-1100 calorie range, and this burger is much less than that, but that’s kind of like being the air traffic controller who snores the most quietly while on duty. I wouldn’t call slapping together a sandwich that barely meets the “healthy” criteria an awesome accomplishment. Even the turkey burger you doused in sugary teriyaki sauce has fewer calories than your regular one! Do you see how strange that is, Carl’s Jr.? And don’t get me started on the 1,000+ milligrams of sodium.

Let’s start with the patty. It is ground turkey, and we all know that turkey is the most dignified of all poultry. It’s the only bird that gets its own holiday, and the only bird we dress up in jaunty Pilgrim hats and shiny black shoes with buckles. However, the Charbroiled Turkey Burger patty is supremely unseemly. It looks like something straight out of an elementary school cafeteria or a maximum security prison mess hall. Pale and stiff on the outside, chewy and flavorless on the inside. They probably serve this turkey burger in Hell. How could something so bland contain so much salt? The fixins are standard – I counted two pieces of lettuce, one tomato slice, and a couple teensy pickles. The pile of sliced red onion was a nice touch, but it didn’t make up for the overall lack of flavor. Lastly, there was a glob of mayonnaise on the bottom bun and a slathering of “special sauce” with chopped onion on the top. The special sauce was clearly mayo mixed with ketchup. NOT SPECIAL. Thankfully, the burger wasn’t too messy, but that was probably because the decently-toasted, whole-grain bun soaked up all the spread.

Carl’s Jr. and their partners were really trying to make something healthy here, and I commend them for their efforts. It’s just too bad that the end result tastes like a half-hearted attempt. I expected something meaty and tasty with fewer calories than their usual burgers, and I got school district leftovers. Carl’s Jr. understands that people want better choices for their quick-service meals, but I think they could’ve done a lot better with this burger, especially with the assistance they received from “Eat This, Not That.” They got so preoccupied with looking out for our expanding guts that they left our taste buds out in the cold.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 Charbroiled Turkey Burger (268g) – 490 calories, 200 calories from fat, 23 grams of fat, 4.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 80 milligrams of cholesterol, 1010 milligrams of sodium, 45 grams of carbohydrates, 3 grams of dietary fiber, 10 grams of sugar, 29 grams of protein.)

Other Carl’s Jr. Turkey Burger reviews:
An Immovable Feast
Grub Grade

Item: Carl’s Jr. Charbroiled Turkey Burger
Price: $3.61
Size: 1 turkey burger
Purchased at: Carl’s Jr.
Rating: 2 out of 10
Pros: Burger Jones. Under 500 calories. Two X Chromosomes. Red onions. Eat This, Not That. Turkeys in doublets, breeches, and tall, black hats with buckles.
Cons: Bland, school-lunch-grade meat. Really, really close to 500 calories. Enough sodium to blast your blood pressure into the stratosphere. Buying fast food at the airport. Maximum security prison.

According to the Kellogg’s Ice Creme Sandwich Pop-Tarts box, they have “25% Less Sugar Than Leading Toaster Pastries.” But if I’m not mistaken, aren’t Pop-Tarts the leading toaster pastry?

Or did I get sucked through a wormhole and end up in an alternate universe where Pillsbury Toaster Strudels are the leading toaster pastry and The Situation is a fat nobody from New Jersey who got his nickname because the person who enters the bathroom after him will end up in a bad situation?

Wait, let me tolerate MTV and TMZ to find out if I went through a wormhole.

Nope, still in the same universe where The Situation has six-pack abs, Snookie is still orange, there’s a particular hot tub in New Jersey that surprisingly can transmit STDs and Pop-Tarts are the leading toaster pastry.

But if I were in an alternate universe where Toaster Strudels were the ruling toaster pastry, the statement “25% Less Sugar Than Leading Toaster Pastries” wouldn’t be true, because most Toaster Strudels have nine grams of sugar, while these Ice Creme Sandwich Pop-Tarts have 11 grams.

So it seems Kellogg’s is admitting, in a slightly misleading way, that most of their Pop-Tarts are, as Def Leppard likes to say, sticky sweet. But at least these Ice Cream Sandwich Pop-Tarts have 25 percent less sugar than other Pop-Tarts, which have 15-17 grams of sugar. Although unfrosted Pop-Tarts, which I’m surprised still exist, have around 13 grams.

Twenty-five percent less sugar is fine and dandy, if you’re a mother trying to prevent your child from getting hyper or turning into The Situation from an alternate universe, but having less sugar makes the Ice Cream Sandwich Pop-Tarts the most insipid flavor Kellogg’s has ever offered, and that includes unfrosted Pop-Tarts and Vanilla Milkshake Pop-Tarts.

These Pop-Tarts had the potential to be really good because I loves me some ice cream sandwiches, but the vanilla filling wasn’t filled with vanilla and the chocolate crust was chocolame. I tried them every way possible, as if I broke out the Kama Sutra of Pop-Tarts eating. But no matter how I tried them, they were still disappointing. Maybe if they artificially flavored them a bit more they would be enjoyable, but with the way they are now I’d really like these Ice Cream Sandwich Pop-Tarts to melt away.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 pastry/48 grams – 190 calories, 45 calories from fat, 5 grams of fat, 2 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 2 grams of polyunsaturated fat, 1 gram of monounsaturated fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 180 milligrams of sodium, 33 grams of carbohydrates, 2 grams of fiber, 11 grams of sugar, 2 grams of protein and a bunch of vitamins and minerals.)

Item: Frosted Ice Creme Sandwich Pop-Tarts
Price: $3.79
Size: 8 pack
Purchased at: Safeway
Rating: 2 out of 10
Pros: 25 percent less sugar than the leading toaster pastry, i.e. Pop-Tarts. Contains vitamins and minerals. Use high fructose corn syrup. Kama Sutra.
Cons: Worst Pop-Tart flavor ever. Vanilla filling wasn’t filled with vanilla. Chocolate crust was chocolame. TMZ. MTV. The water in the Jersey Shore hot tub. Entering the bathroom after The Situation from an alternate universe uses it.

You know that expression: “You can please some of the people some of the time, all of the people some of the time, some of the people all of the time, but you can never please all of the people all of the time?” Well, Kashi should just stop making pizzas, because they are pleasing none of the people none of the time. Seriously, I really wanted to like this pizza. I’m normally a fan of everything Kashi – their frozen meals, crackers, granola bars, cereals, etcetera, etcetera. But in the past I have been let down by Kashi pizzas. Yet, I decided to give them one more chance to make amends when I saw the new delicious-sounding “Caribbean Carnival” Kashi pizza.

Spoiler alert: While I expected Kashi’s “Caribbean Carnival” pizza to invoke delightful imagery like friendly anthropomorphic parrots and jovial dark-skinned men wearing brightly colored beads in their hair; this pizza was neither “Caribbean” nor a carnival in my mouth. (Discuss!) Being a healthful eater, I normally resent when others disparage health food as tasting like cardboard – however, tasting like wonderful, delicious cardboard would probably be a lofty goal for this pizza.

Its promise of plantains, kale, fire-roasted red onions, mangoes and a “sweet and spicy Guava-infused jerk seasoned sauce” yielded a smattering of toppings lumped all in one corner of the pizza, which I meticulously picked apart and spread about before putting the pizza in the oven. Below all of that was some of the nastiest pizza crust known to mankind. I would like to know what think tank thought it would be a good idea to make a pizza crust out of ingredients like buckwheat and brown rice. Poor Antonio Pizzarelli, the inventor of the pizza pie*, would be spinning in his grave if he only knew. Normally the crust is one of my favorite parts of the pizza, and I couldn’t even get it down. Even the dog gave me the stinkface when I tried to pass it off, as if to say, “I’ll eat this because it’s technically contraband people food; but only begrudgingly so.”

The “toppings” provided little relief to the gritty taste bud-assault that was the crust. The pizza was covered mostly in kale and diced tomatoes, and I think I saw a few specs of yellow that was supposed to be mango. The best part of the pizza was undoubtedly the plantains — as I have expressed my enthusiasm for Kashi products featuring plantains in the past. But unfortunately the pizza only contained four slices of plantains and two bits of something that were probably the bodily remains of brave, fallen plantains who likely fought to the death against being put on this terrible pizza. And as for this alleged sweet and spicy Guava-infused jerk sauce…Well, I did detect some kind of flavor between the cheese and the crust, but I don’t think it tasted so much like jerk sauce as it did like “a funk.”

What separates Kashi’s Caribbean Carnival Pizza from your garden variety “fail” to an “epic fail,” is that it’s not even particularly healthy. One pizza, which is a reasonable-sized meal for most people, clocks in at over 800 whopping calories. You could probably eat two slices of real pizza for that and not feel let down like a kid who gets socks for Christmas.

* Look it up!

(Nutrition Facts – 1/3 pizza (120 grams) – 280 calories, 8 grams of fat, 2.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 10 milligrams of cholesterol, 590 milligrams of sodium, 39 grams of carbohydrates, 5 grams of fiber, 5 grams of sugar, 14 grams of protein and 10% iron.)

(NOTE: Here’s another take on this pizza.)

Item: Kashi Caribbean Carnival Pizza
Price: $6.99 [sale price, reg. $7.99]
Size: 12.7 ounces
Purchased at: Shop Rite
Rating: 2 out of 10
Pros: The bites with plantain on them were almost not terrible. Pleasing all of the people all of the time. Friendly anthropomorphic parrots.
Cons: Pizza crust tasted like puppies crying. No mango. Not enough plantains. Eating this instead of real pizza. Horrible taste plus not great nutritional value plus outlandish price like getting raped in three orifices. Getting socks for Christmas.

You might be thinking these new Nabisco Oreo and Nutter Butter Dipped Delight Bars 100 Calorie Packs are awesome because, after all, they contain either Nutter Butter or Oreo cookies. But if you really love those cookies, you’ll stay away from these bars because they will taint whatever love you have for them. They will scar whatever happy moments you remember from your cookie eating past.

Take it from someone who had their memories spoiled by these bars. The first time I dunked an Oreo in a glass of milk…RUINED! The first time I scraped off all the peanut butter filling from a Nutter Butter with my two front teeth…RUINED! That time I created a Mr. Peanut action figure with a Nutter Butter, black pipe cleaners and construction paper…RUINED! That time I put Oreo fillings on my nipples and convinced a dog to lick them…RUINED!

If you’re going to slap “Oreo” or “Nutter Butter” on a product’s box, that product better taste, at least, a little like it, but neither of these bars taste like their cookie namesakes or have any cookies in them.

The Oreo Dipped Delight Bar has a chocolatey coating that covers a layer of white cream filling that’s on top of a chewy chocolatey crisped rice bar. It smells like a Hostess HoHo, but doesn’t taste like one. It has a weird chocolatey flavor that doesn’t come close to reminding me of an Oreo cookie. As for the Nutter Butter Dipped Delight Bar, it has a layer of peanut butter filling on top of a bar of chewy crisped rice that’s dipped into a peanut butter-ish coating. It doesn’t taste like a Nutter Butter or even peanut butter, but for some strange reason, it does taste like pretzels, which aren’t in the ingredients.

Not only were their flavors disappointing, but the wrapper each bar comes in makes them seem bigger than they truly are. They’re quite petite, measuring at 2.75 inches long, which I expected since they only have 100 calories. But the packaging measures 5 inches from end to end. If you take out half an inch from each end for sealing the wrapper, there’s still more than an inch of space inside it. So about one-fourth of the package’s volume is just air. It’s the equivalent of putting a small penis into a Magnum-sized condom.

If you’re a calorie watcher and log everything you eat to make sure you stay under a certain amount of calories, this product might be of some interest to you, although there are tastier products in the Nabisco 100 Calorie Pack line. But if you decide to try them, I’d recommend the Oreo one over the Nutter Butter.

These Nabisco Dipped Delight Bars don’t taste like either Oreo or Nutter Butter cookies, the packaging they come in is somewhat misleading and now my memory of trying to explain the art of teabagging to my sheltered female friend using a Nutter Butter turned on its side and dangling above my face…RUINED!

(Nutrition Facts – 1 bar – Nutter Butter – 100 calories, 3.5 grams of fat, 2.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 95 milligrams of sodium, 18 grams of carbohydrates, 4 grams of fiber, 8 grams of sugar and 2 grams of protein. Oreo – 100 calories, 3 grams of fat, 2.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 65 milligrams of sodium, 19 grams of carbohydrates, 4 grams of fiber, 9 grams of sugar, less than 1 gram of protein and 2% iron.)

Item: Nabisco Dipped Delight Bars 100 Calorie Packs (Oreo & Nutter Butter)
Price: $3.50 each
Size: Box of 6
Purchased at: Safeway
Rating: 3 out of 10 (Oreo)
Rating: 2 out of 10 (Nutter Butter)
Pros: 100 calories per bar. Dipping an Oreo in milk. Scraping off peanut butter filling with front teeth.
Cons: Doesn’t taste like an Oreo or Nutter Butter. Doesn’t contain cookies. Nutter Butter version tastes like pretzels. Oreo version has a weird chocolatey flavor. Bars are significantly smaller than the packaging they come in. They will scar whatever happy moments you remember from your cookie eating past.

I think the Post Dino S’mores Pebbles cereal was created by Fred Flintstone so that there’s a Pebbles cereal Barney could steal from Fred that wouldn’t get him upset and yell, “Barney, my Pebbles.” I believe my theory is correct because this cereal is extremely bland and is something Fred wouldn’t care about if it got stolen. It’s like Post took everything that was great about Cocoa Pebbles and instead of sticking it into this cereal, they shoved it down a snaggle-toothed pig garbage disposal. I don’t know why Dino would want his name associated with this product because it’s something that he would either bury in the backyard and forget about or squeeze out as a steaming pile of poop.

I was hoping the marshmallowy boulders, graham bone shapes, and crunchy chocolatey nuggets would create a s’mores flavor that would take me back to my Boy Scout camp days when we would take showers as one big naked group, wear shorts with an inseam that would make Daisy Duke wearers blush, spray enough mosquito repellant on our bodies to ensure future sterilization, and sit around the campfire building the perfect s’more that was made up of one-third of a Hershey’s bar, with one well-done giant marshmallow, and in between two Honey Maid graham crackers. Unfortunately, the three parts of the Dino S’mores Pebbles cereal couldn’t bring back those memories because those three combined did not taste anything resembling s’mores. If I was at a camp that had s’mores that tasted like this cereal, I would cry like a baby, call for my mommy, and pee in my pants to ensure I would be sent home.

The chocolatey nuggets were not even close to being as chocolatey as Cocoa Pebbles or Cocoa Krispies. The marshmallow boulders and graham bone shapes weren’t very plentiful in the cereal. If you were a microorganism, the marshmallow boulders would actually seem like a large rocks that have the capacity to flatten you, but the small freeze-dried marshmallows that come in hot chocolate packets made the marshmallows in this cereal seem like specks of dirt.

S’mores are supposed to be delicious and messy. Sure, during Boy Scout camp I later regretting eating a dozen of them in one sitting while pooping into a hole in the ground, but while I was eating them, that sugar bomb tasted like a warm hug in my mouth. The Dino S’mores Pebbles cereal is more like a towel whip to the ass in the group shower.

(Nutrition Facts – 3/4 cups – 100 calories, 1.5 grams of fat, 1 gram of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 60 milligrams of sodium, 80 milligrams of potassium, 24 grams of carbohydrates, 4 grams of dietary fiber, 11 grams of sugar, 9 grams of other carbohydrates, 1 gram of protein, and a bunch of vitamins and minerals.)

Item: Post Dino S’mores Pebbles
Price: $4.99
Size: 11.5 ounces
Purchased at: Star Market
Rating: 2 out of 10
Pros: Vitamins and minerals. Actual s’mores.
Cons: Boring, bland. Tastes nothing like s’mores. Not chocolatey. Marshmallow boulders are small. Marshmallow boulders and graham bone shapes aren’t very plentiful. Group showers. Old Boy Scout uniforms. Pooping into a hole in the ground. A towel whip to the ass in the group shower.

The Twin Lotus Original Herbal Toothpaste combines three things I’m scared of when it comes to products to review — it’s from a Southeastern Asian country (Thailand), it’s herbal, and it looks like something that might come out of an asshole. Not surprisingly, the most disturbing out of the three for me is the fact it looks like shit, and believe me I know what shit looks like because I’ve seen the 2 Girls 1 Cup video enough that I could make the calmest reaction video ever.

Fortunately for me, the packaging came in Thai and English so I could read what I was getting myself into, but not even the English language could help ease my trepidation about the product. I’m used to toothpaste with sodium fluoride, foaming agents, and the American Dental Association Seal of Acceptance, but not toothpaste made from over ten natural herbs, sorbitol, and flavour. The packaging doesn’t even list the natural herbs, except for streblus asper and clove, which makes me wonder if this product is a true Thai toothpaste or a tourist tricking toothpaste?

Speaking of its ten natural herbs, the Twin Lotus Herbal Toothpaste gets its dark shit-like color from them, but according to the packaging those herbs also have an oral hygienic kick.

(Editor’s Note: The following quote from the package has not been altered for grammatical correctness.)

With over 10 natural herbal ingredients keeps gums and teeth healthy firmly. It relieves sensitive teeth and decreases cigarette, tea and coffee stains, eliminates bad breath, keeps breath fresh and clean.

Its scent reminded me of the Sea Breeze astringent I used to suck up the oil from my face in the late 1980s. The scent also reminded me of the alcoholic burn from the Sea Breeze astringent, which had the same rousing abilities as smelling salt. When I first brushed with the Twin Lotus Original Herbal Toothpaste, I could only stand it for 15 seconds before having to spit it out because it tasted like what I imagine the sole of a boot that has walked on a herbal farm tastes like. However, the more I brushed with it, the more I got used to it and now I can go the whole three minutes of brushing without gagging.

The foam made by the Twin Lotus Original Herbal Toothpaste was disturbingly tan in color. Also, my mouth still felt gritty after rinsing the first time, so I had to rinse a second time to ensure that I wouldn’t cause any unusual sensations if I had to French kiss or salad toss someone.

Now that I’m used to its flavor, the Twin Lotus Original Herbal Toothpaste is something I would use to brush during odd times, like after lunch, but it isn’t something I would use for brushing in the morning or before I go to bed because I love fluoride to protect my teeth. However, I’m quickly running out of it because I’m having too much fun using it to make small piles of fake dog poop.

(Editor’s Note: I would like to curse thank TIB reader LaneO for providing me with the Twin Lotus Original Herbal Toothpaste to review. Also, below is a commercial for the Twin Lotus Original Herbal Toothpaste. Come to your own conclusions about it.)

Item: Twin Lotus Original Herbal Toothpaste
Price: FREE
Size: 200 grams
Purchased at: Given by reader LaneO
Rating: 2 out of 10
Pros: Made from more than ten genuine natural herbs. English translation. Natural oral care. Makes awesome fake dog poop. Not being bothered by 2 Girls 1 Cup.
Cons: Looks like shit. Tastes like making out with Joan Rivers after a clove cigarette. Looks like shit. No fluoride. Looks like shit. Leaves a gritty feeling in my mouth. Looks like shit. Smells like Sea Breeze astringent. Looks like shit. Takes some time to get used to its taste.