If Mother Nature finds out how bad the Full Throttle Mother energy drink tastes, which is named after her because it gets its flavor and energy from natural sources, she’s going to be fucking pissed and I’m afraid of the horrors she’ll unleash upon us. Just like Whitney Houston on crack or a bald Britney Spears, when Mother Nature gets mad, that bitch gets crazy.

Perhaps she’ll create hurricanes, tornadoes, snow storms, a celebrity sex tape that shows too much of her “forest,” sand storms, really hard rain, hail, or any other crazy shit found in the 2004 movie The Day After Tomorrow.

To prepare for the possible apocalypse, I’ve already started stocking up on bottled water, canned goods, batteries, waterproof matches, ponchos, toilet paper, and a first aid kit. I’m also bringing my list of women who have said that the only way they would have sex with me is if I’m the last man on Earth. If Mother Nature releases her wrath, which is more powerful than the Wrath of Khan, but with less breastfeeding than The Grapes of Wrath, I maybe getting laid.

I should’ve known that the Full Throttle Mother energy drink was going to be bad, after all, it does have the word “bad” on its can. They put the word “bad” on there as part of a marketing tagline, but it’s really an omen. The energy drink itself had a tart and bitter taste to it, which made every sip seem like Mother Nature was slapping me across my face and saying, “I’m Rick James, bitch!”

With apple, pear, and blueberry juice, along with acai berry listed in the ingredients, I was hoping that the Full Throttle Mother energy drink would be deliciously sweet, but for some reason that combination turned out wrong, like mixing the potent sperm of Kevin Federline with the egg from any ovulating female. Although no matter how wrong its flavor turned out, the bitchslapping with every sip did help keep me alert until the caffeine kicked in.

Speaking of sweet, sweet caffeine, the 142 milligrams of it per 16-ounce can is probably the only really redeeming quality about the Full Throttle Mother energy drink. That’s enough of caffeine to jump start your day or cause possible heart palpitations after a long night of playing Halo 3.

Overall, the Full Throttle Mother energy drink is bad, just like its can says. It’s probably one of the worst tasting energy drinks I’ve had. Getting its energy from natural sources and having natural flavors is nice, but it would be even better if it were a USDA certified organic energy drink, like Steaz Energy Drink. It does have a nice amount of caffeine per can, although I have to say that the caffeine content might not be enough to impress Mother Nature to prevent her from unleashing the worst PMS-ing ever for naming a bad product after her.

(Nutritional Facts - one 16-ounce can - 230 calories, 0 grams of fat, 40 milligrams of sodium, 57 grams of carbs, 53 grams of sugar, 0 grams of protein, 20% RDA of Vitamin E, 40% RDA of Niacin, 40% RDA of Vitamin B6, 20% RDA of Vitamin B12, 1,182 milligrams (or 1.182 milligrams - I can’t tell from the can if it’s a comma or period) of acai extract, 177 milligrams of ginseng extract, and 1.4 milligrams of guarana extract)

(Editor’s Note: Taurine Rules also reviewed Full Throttle Mother, but with less getting laid references.)

Item: Full Throttle Mother
Price: $1.89 (16 ounces)
Purchased at: 7-Eleven
Rating: 2 out of 5
Pros: Made out of natural flavors and energy from natural sources. 142 milligrams of caffeine per 16-ounce can. Did give me a boost of energy.
Cons: Bad bitter and tart taste. Lame product name. Mother Nature’s wrath. Not organic. Crackhead Whitney Houston. A bald Britney Spears. Heart palpitations. Being bitchslapped by Mother Nature. Kevin Federline’s potent sperm.

I am a bit wary of buying things that I haven’t seen any advertising for. I tend to feel that the product has something to hide. I don’t know if it’s a nasty side effect, a lack of extreme attitude, or a criminal record, but I am always a bit hesitant. Generally, I never know if I should buy something unless a kid is skateboarding with it or a hot chick is deepthroating it in an ad. These are the things that I think about as I go shopping.

I made an exception with the IceBreakers Ice Cubes because of its novelty factor. This isn’t IceBreakers’s first foray into the world of gimmicky products, so they should know what they’re doing. Anyone remember Liquid Ice and how stupid those commercials with the Duff sisters made you feel? Now that they’re out of the equation, no longer will you question whether it’s liquid, it’s ice, or if anyone gives a damn about your inane queries. It’s all been settled, and ice has apparently won the battle.

IceBreakers Ice Cubes also appealed to me because breaking the ice in a social situation has never really been my cup of tea. This is a big problem in all of the facets of my life. Take philosophy class for example: “According to the rules of Fight Club, isn’t this sentence paradoxical?”

Or pickup basketball games: “Dude, can’t you toss it in? Your balls keep dangling around the rim!”

And especially first dates: “I’ll be honest, one of my guilty pleasures is getting naked in front of a mirror and loudly singing the Pokemon theme song as I gyrate and let ‘em bounce around.”

So I was hoping that these particular IceBreakers would break the streak of bad ones. As I opened the small box, I was immediately hit with the headache-inducing fragrance of fake mint and xylitol. It was not a promising start.

Xylitol is apparently an alternative to sugar that’s supposed to have a natural cooling effect on your tongue. It can also cause nausea and act as a laxative in high enough doses, but the same could be said about almost anything I eat. I’m not going to hold that against it. However, I can’t excuse the fact that it’s a pretty horrible sugar substitute.

Like all of my other icebreakers, these particular cubes failed rather miserably in providing any type of freshness. Not only are they sickeningly sweet, but they have a grainy and unpleasant texture to start. Any cooling effect you’re supposed to get is completely masked. Worst of all, I didn’t even win the damn Singtone contest that I had banked my future on. How will I survive college if people can’t hear my rendition of Pat Benatar’s “Love is a Battlefield” every time my phone rings?

Overall, the only thing these cubes have going for them is their convenient shape. Now I can see why there are not seen suggestively licked on billboards. If you are the type of person who enjoys munching on sugar cubes and would like to replicate the experience in gum form, then this is the treat for you. For everyone else, the money spent purchasing these supposed “ice cubes” would be better served going towards some real ice cubes and crushed mint.

Admittedly, that would only lead you to heavy drinking after you figure out that you’re halfway towards a mojito, but I can hardly be blamed for your alcoholism.

Item: Icebreakers Ice Cubes
Price: 79 cents
Purchased at: Circle K
Rating: 2 out of 5
Pros: Extremely convenient shape and packaging. Decent enough after initial grainy stage of chew. Possibility of winning a Singtone. The original Pokemon theme song.
Cons: My icebreakers. Way too sweet and grainy. High possibility of not winning a Singtone and the ensuing disappointment. Letting creation of your own mint ice cubes lead you down path of alcoholism.

Apparently, Japan has really huge balls.

It has produced some of the most innovative products available, like fuel-efficient hybrid cars; the Nintendo Wii; robotic dogs; vending machines that dispense beer, fried foods, or used schoolgirl panties; and Japanese ads starring American actors who need a quick buck due to their decline in popularity.

But, and this is where Japan earns its huge cojones, it has also developed some of the most fucked up products that no other country has the audacity to create, like tentacle anime porn, numerous products for comforting lonely sukebe men, Pokemon, and now the Japan-only Pepsi Ice Cucumber.

Along with Japan’s huge balls, which I think helps keep its islands afloat with the over 127 million people living on its back, I also think these crazy products Japan comes up with are the result of sucking the sake a little too much, if you know what I’m saying. But I can relate to that, because whenever I pound a few ochoko (small sake cup), I also want to do some crazy shit, like reenact the music video for Prince’s “When Doves Cry.”

How can u just leave me standing?/Alone in a world so cold? (World so cold)/Maybe I’m just 2 demanding/Maybe I’m just like my father 2 bold/Maybe you’re just like my mother/She’s never satisfied (She’s never satisfied)/Why do we scream at each other/This is what it sounds like/When doves cry

To come up with the idea for Pepsi Ice Cucumber, I’m guessing it took quite a lot of sake, just like it did for all the other crazy ideas for beverages in Japan and this commercial starring Nicholas Cage.

Much like how apple juice can look like beer and urine can look like pineapple soda, Pepsi Ice Cucumber’s green color makes it looks like Cepacol Mouthwash. Its flavor is light, just like actual cucumbers. There’s a slight fruitiness to it, but there definitely is a cucumber flavor to it, albeit artificial, like Paris Hilton holding the Bible.

To be honest, the Pepsi Ice Cucumber was not as bad as I thought it would be. Still it’s slightly gross and weird, but there’s something about it that drew me back to it. It’s like the relationship that Lindsay Lohan and rehab have.

Drinking a bottle was a vicious masochistic cycle. I’d take a sip, say to myself, “Damn, this is kind of nasty,” and put it back in the refrigerator. A few hours later I’d open my fridge, take a sip, say to myself, “Damn, this is kind of nasty,” and put it back in the refrigerator. It took me three days to finish a bottle.

Pepsi Ice Cucumber was available only in Japan, but quickly sold out. Right now, the only way for Westerners to get their hands on a bottle is through the virtual garage sale clusterfuck known as eBay, where prices can get semi-expensive thanks to overzealous capitalism and shipping. Is it worth spending a decent amount of money on this novelty soda?

It really depends on how big your balls are.

(Editor’s Note: Mike’s Blender also reviewed it, but since he lives in Japan, he paid much less for them and in yen.)

Item: Pepsi Ice Cucumber
Price: $24.99 (Three 500 ml bottles)
Purchased at: eBay
Rating: 2 out of 5
Pros: Not as bad as I thought it would be. Slightly fruity. Something about it makes me come back for more. Japan has huge balls. The Nintendo Wii. Japanese commercials with American actors. Hybrid cars.
Cons: Light artificial cucumber taste was slightly gross and weird. Looks like mouthwash. Only available in Japan. The things I do when I drink too much sake. Anything with Nicholas Cage in it.

Hi. Coca-Cola Vanilla Zero here, but you can call me Coke Vanilla Zero for short.

Ever since my cousin Coke Vanilla came back to store shelves, he’s been partying it up and acting like he’s the greatest thing since Diet Coke. But to be honest he’s more like New Coke. Anyway, when he came back, he brought me along with him, and I’m glad he did, but ever since, he’s dragged me to all the parties and nightclubs just to be his wingman

I hate being his wingman and I tell him that. I’d rather just stay at home, watch some HGTV, maybe a little Discovery Channel, while eating some popcorn and sipping on a Diet Pepsi. But somehow he guilts me into going by saying something like, “Our cousin, Coke with Lemon loved to be my wingman, and would be, if he were still alive.”

I loved Coke with Lemon and may he rest in peace in Discontinued Product Heaven, but he would do anything you told him to, because he was a fucking spineless moron. Maybe he fell one too many times at the bottling plant, I don’t know, but his bottle was half-empty, if you know what I mean. For example, just because he had lemon in him, he thought he was a frickin’ Sprite.

Anyway, back to my other moron cousin, Coke Vanilla.

Being his wingman is tough because he will usually choose the beautiful woman with either a friend that kind of looks like a 300-pound Lorena Bobbitt, a friend that has the personality of anything inanimate, or a scary looking friend who should have the words “cock block” tattooed on her forehead. I think he chooses these particular women with the crazy friends just to spite me.

I don’t even think I’m a good wingman. First off, I have nothing good to say about my cousin Coke Vanilla to make him seem appealing to women, unless I like my pants on fire, like a liar. Secondly, I have “Zero” in my name. Who’d want to talk to a guy with a last name like that, because it’s like having “Penis” as a last name. Sure, I have a decent body because I have no calories, no fat and no carbs, but that doesn’t matter because I don’t even taste very good and I get all nervous around women. There’s supposed to be vanilla in me, but I don’t even taste it. It’s like the line between vanilla flavor and the artificial sweetener taste is blurred with me.

Maybe my cousin Coke Vanilla is the better soda and maybe that’s the reason why he ends up with three Fantanas and I end up with the least attractive fourth Fantana, who also turned out to be crazy, needy, and for someone who dances a lot in the Fanta commercials, she sure doesn’t move much in bed. It’s like I’m doing it with a mannequin.

You know which one of the Fantanas I’m talking about.

Item: Coca-Cola Vanilla Zero
Price: 99 cents (20 ounces)
Purchased at: 7-Eleven
Rating: 2 out of 5
Pros: Zero calories. Zero fat. Zero carbs. Decent body. Getting three Fantanas.
Cons: Can’t taste the vanilla. Not very good tasting. Horrible wingman. Having “Penis” as a last name. Getting the crazy, least attractive Fantana. Cock blockers.

“You’re going to eat me, aren’t you?” Marvo heard in an tiny accented voice as he grabbed the can of Jalapeño SPAM from the cupboard.

Marvo thought to himself, “Did this can just talk?”

He examined the small can in his hands, which his friend from Seattle picked up while on vacation in Mexico and gave to him when he visited her for Thanksgiving. He shook the can hoping to make it say something, but didn’t get a response. Thinking it was probably just his imagination, he reached for the pull tab on the top of the can, using his fingernail to help get under it.

Just as he was about to pull the tab, he heard a voice scream, “NOOOOO!”

The scream startled Marvo, causing him to drop the can of Jalapeño SPAM onto the floor making a low thud. He didn’t immediately pick it up, instead he nudged it several times with his foot, hoping to get some kind of feedback from it, like an “ow” or “Damn, you need to wash your feet!” Throwing the can away crossed Marvo’s mind, but he couldn’t let a perfectly good can of meat be wasted like that, so he picked it up, placed it on his kitchen counter, and decided to save it for another day.

As he turned around, he heard something say, “Thank you for not eating me.”

Marvo froze in his tracks, then turned back towards the can of Jalapeño SPAM and gathered what little sanity he had left and asked the can, “Are you talking to me, little can?”

It was silent for a moment and then it said, “I know being eaten will eventually be my fate, but will you grant me one wish before you eat me?”

The can didn’t have a mouth, but somehow it was communicating with him. Marvo pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Then he splashed cold water on his face. Then he pulled out a locked box from a kitchen drawer, punched in the lock’s combination code 1134, opened it and took out a paparazzi photo of pre-surgery Star Jones in a string bikini. Marvo was definitely awake.

“You know, I’m not a genie or the Make-A-Wish Foundation, so I don’t think can grant you anything great, like a million dollars, a beautiful trophy wife or the opportunity to sit shotgun in a NASCAR car during a race,” said Marvo. “Probably the best thing I could get you is a lap dance.”

“No, my wish is simple,” said the can of SPAM. “I have lived a lucky life as a can of SPAM, my journey has taken me from the store shelves of Mexico to the Starbucks saturated streets of Seattle, and now I find myself in the islands of Hawaii. All I ask is that you show me around your beautiful territory.”

“Um, you know Hawaii isn’t a territory and it’s the 50th state of the United States, right?” Marvo asked.

“Oh, I didn’t know that,” the Jalapeño SPAM replied. “I thought Hawaii was a U.S. territory, like Guam or the Virgin Islands. Well I shall keep that little nugget in my head the next time I play Trivial Pursuit or if I end up on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. Anyhoo, will you grant me my wish?”

Marvo took a deep breath, closed his eyes and thought about how lame it would be to be a tour guide for a small can of SPAM, but decided to meet the canned meat’s request. “Tomorrow, I’ll take you around the island and show you the sights, but when we come back I’m going to fry you in a skillet,” said Marvo.

“Very well,” the SPAM replied.

The next day Marvo and his new companion set out on their sightseeing trip around the island of Oahu.

“You sure do speak English well for someone who was born and raised in Mexico,” said Marvo.

“I learned by watching television,” said the Jalapeño SPAM. “Lots of the Discovery Channel, ESPN, Food Network, and American Idol. I also learned a lot from reading the issues of Playboy under your mattress. There are some great articles in every issue.”

“That’s what I keep telling everyone,” said Marvo. “I don’t buy it for the beautiful airbrushed photos of nude women, I buy them for the well written articles.”

The first place Marvo took the can of Jalapeño SPAM was to Oahu’s famous North Shore. There he showed the can of SPAM all the great surfing spots, watching surfers from shore and scoring bad wipeouts. Then he treated the SPAM to Matsumoto’s Shave Ice and gave it brain freeze.

“I heard that SPAM is a delicacy here,” said the Jalapeño SPAM in between bites of its strawberry/vanilla/banana shave ice. “I heard that people from other states would rather use cans of SPAM as paper weights or door stops than eat it.”

“Well I wouldn’t call it a ‘delicacy,’ but we probably do consume more of it than any other state,” said Marvo.

After they were done with their shave ice, the two of them drove around the island with Marvo pointing out where The Real World: Hawaii house was, where to go if you wanted to dump a dead body, the best place to buy “the good stuff,” the street to visit to get a prostitute in the middle of the day, the store that sells porn at any time of the day, and all 50-something Starbucks locations on the island.

When the evening came about, Marvo took the can of Jalapeño SPAM to the world-famous Waikiki. Marvo told his companion that it should count the number of ABC Stores they pass by. The can of SPAM shined with delight as it watched the street performers, looked at all the cheesy crap available at The International Market Place and played a game with Marvo called, “Guess Which Hooker is Really a Dude?”

“Well I guess we should be heading back,” an exhausted Marvo said. “It’s pretty late and I have to fry you up and then eat you. I don’t like to eat too late because I usually have nightmares when I do.”

“Yes, I must meet my fate,” said the SPAM. “I would like to thank you for granting me my one wish. Is there any way I can repay you for your hospitality?”

“Well, I’m going to eat you, so I’m pretty sure that will make us even,” Marvo replied.

When they got home, Marvo pulled out a skillet from the a closet and placed it on the electric stove, turning its knob to medium heat. “Can I have one more small wish, Marvo?” asked the Jalapeño SPAM. “Once you open my pull top lid, I will forget everything I have experienced and pass on. So please let me enjoy those memories for just a bit more.”

Marvo nodded and went to grab a plate and fork. When he returned to the can of SPAM, he gently place his fingers on top of it and the SPAM said, “I am ready, my friend.”

The words “my friend” rang through Marvo’s ears and caused his hands to shake as he reached for the can’s pull top tab with his fingers. He took a deep breath and then pull the tab towards him. A crack and the release of pressured air filled the room.

Marvo stood there almost motionless, except for his trembling hands. Then after taking another deep breath, he pulled the top off of the can. He looked down into the small can of Jalapeño SPAM, the light smell of jalapeno emitted from it. It didn’t look like the dense pink SPAM that he was used to that could easily be cut into strips and chunks. Instead it was like deviled ham spread or wet cat food with small bits of jalapeno in it. Marvo took the can and plopped its contents onto the skillet, causing a sizzling sound. He placed the empty can on the kitchen counter.

He fried it for several minutes and then placed the heated meat product on a plate. After letting it cool a bit, he picked some up with a fork and put it in his mouth. Marvo slowly began chewing and it tasted all right. He noticed that it didn’t taste like the SPAM he was used to, although that could’ve been because of the mild jalapeno flavor.

Marvo decided to turn on the television and after watching a Proactiv commercial, the Friends theme song began to play. While the line, “So no one told you life was going to be this way” was being sung, tears began streaming down Marvo’s face. He was chewing on his friend and felt horrible about it.

When the chorus of the song came on, he sang and danced along with his plate of Jalapeño SPAM, “I’ll be there for you, when the rain starts to pour. I’ll be there for you, like I’ve been there before. I’ll be there for you, ’cause you’re there for me too.”

He ate half of the plate before he threw the rest down the sink out of remorse and the fact that the Jalapeño SPAM was frickin’ salty. Marvo ran into his bedroom and cried himself to sleep.

The next morning Marvo woke up with Jalapeño SPAM breath and scolded himself for eating right before bedtime, since it usually caused him to have weird dreams. He wondered whether all of that time spent with the can of Jalapeño SPAM was just a weird dream.

When Marvo walked into his kitchen, he noticed a note on the counter next to the empty can of Jalapeño SPAM he left there overnight. It read, “I counted 36 ABC Stores in Waikiki. I thought Starbucks was bad.”

Item: Jalapeño SPAM
Price: FREE (3 ounces)
Purchased at: Received from friend
Rating: 2 out of 5
Pros: Mild jalapeno flavor. 11.5 grams of protein. Playing “Guess Which Hooker Is Really a Dude?”
Cons: Not dense like the SPAM I’m used to. Doesn’t taste like the SPAM I’m used to. Frickin’ salty (840 milligrams per can). Very small can. Looks like wet cat food. Number of ABC Stores in Waikiki. Eating before going to sleep. Only available in Mexico. Eating a friend.