What are you doing, Jack in the Box? Are you going all healthy on us with your Jack in the Box Strawberry Banana Real Fruit Smoothie? Whatever you’re doing, stop it! Because it’s freakin’ me out!
It’s like I’m in an alternate universe where Jumbo Jacks, Big Macs and Whoppers are healthy, while vegetables and organic foods are bad for you. It is also a universe where Jared is still the spokesperson for Subway, except Subway makes sub sandwiches the size of actual submarines, and Jared weighs 700 pounds, doesn’t know where his penis is, looks like Jabba the Hutt, and hasn’t moved his ass off of his couch since 1999.
Actually, there aren’t any nutritional facts on the Jack in the Box website right now so it’s hard for me to know if they’re healthy or not. This worries me because fast food joints have the ability to turn something healthy into something that’s not, like salads and adults collecting kids meal toys. For all I know, this fast food smoothie might be the most unhealthiest thing on the face of the Earth and they deep fry the bastard when no one is looking. But what I do know for sure is that the Real Fruit Smoothies are made from Minute Maid fruit juice and non-fat frozen yogurt, which sounds somewhat healthy to me, but then again I believe I can get all my daily vegetable servings from eating a full sheet of carrot cake.
Don’t expect the Jack in the Box Real Fruit Smoothie to be like anything you would get from Jamba Juice or Robeks. Jack in the Box only uses fruit juices, while the two smoothie specialists uses a combination of real fruits, fruit juices, free boosts, and fancy smoothie names usually reserved for girly, fruity alcoholic beverages which I enjoy for a few sips, then pass out, and then either wake up pants-less in some stranger’s bed or pants-less in the middle of the orangutan exhibit at the zoo.
The Jack in the Box Strawberry Banana Real Fruit Smoothie had a fruit taste that didn’t seem natural, but then again the idea of a strawberry-banana juice seems unnatural. If I squeeze an orange, I’m going to get orange juice. If I squeeze a banana, I’m going to get baby food and stink eyes from monkeys. There was an artificial sweetener taste to it, so perhaps that’s where the unnatural taste came from.
Overall, the Jack in the Box Strawberry Banana Real Fruit Smoothie was decent and was what I expected from a fast food joint. It’s definitely not something I would get my daily servings of fruit from, because for that I would eat an entire apple pie, but I think that it’s probably healthier than a deep-fried Jack in the Box Oreo Shake.
Item: Jack in the Box Strawberry Banana Real Fruit Smoothie Price: $3.89 (16 ounces) Purchased at: Jack in the Box Rating: 5 out of 10 Pros: Decent tasting. Made with non-fat frozen yogurt. Enjoyed the satisfying crunch of the coarse ice crystals. Possibly healthier than a Jack in the Box Oreo Shake. Cons: Had a slight artificial sweetener taste. Strawberry-banana juice seems unnatural. No nutritional facts on website. Getting stink eyes from monkeys, because flying poop is soon to follow. Waking up bottomless in the middle of a zoo exhibit spooning a primate. The power of fruity, girly alcoholic beverages.
The lack of a burning sensation in my mouth and an absence of alcohol in the ingredients list means that the Listerine Mint Shield Smart Rinse is either made for children or cry baby pussies.
Back in my little man days, I only had the original formula Listerine and when it burned, it felt like a chlamydia-filled fiesta in my mouth. Whenever I felt that burn, I cried like a third grader who just pooped in his pants in the middle of class while learning cursive writing, but eventually I sucked it up and realized that the burn made me feel like it was working to make my breath antiseptic fresh.
Today’s little snots have it easy with their Happy Meals, fruit-flavored toothpastes, child-proof medication bottles, and Capri Suns with straws that can actually poke through the bag. Why are we coddling our children with burn-less Listerine?
Life is hard. Life is painful. Shouldn’t mouthwashes be as well? How are today’s children going to cope with the ups and downs of life if they’re not even faced with the agony of Listerine burn? Pain teaches us lessons. Burning your hands while taking something out of the microwave oven teaches us that gloves protect our hands. Being a public official and getting caught with a high-priced call girl teaches us that masturbation is okay.
I feel sorry for those kids who have to settle for the Listerine Mint Shield Smart Rinse. Besides not causing a burning sensation, it’s not very minty. The Metromint Spearmint Water I drink to make me look like a sophisticated prick has more mint flavor than this. If it isn’t very minty, how am I going to mask my breath after making out with a low-priced call girl.
Another difference between regular Listerine and this Listerine for Wussies is the amount of time vigorously swishing them in your mouth. Regular Listerine takes only 30 seconds, while the Smart Rinse takes one whole minute. Good luck getting your children to do that.
What also sucks about the Listerine Mint Shield Smart Rinse is that you can’t eat or drink anything 30 minutes after rinsing. I don’t know what happens if you do, but I’m not about to find out, especially after what happened when I operated heavy machinery after taking NyQuil. Perhaps the worst thing about this product is the fact there there isn’t any alcohol in it, like regular Listerine does, which disappoints me because it would be so cute to see little kids tipsy from Listerine.
Item: Listerine Mint Shield Smart Rinse Price: $4.76 Purchased at: Wal-Mart Rating: 5 out of 10 Pros: Helps prevent cavities. Handy squeeze measuring top. Masturbation. Gloves. Cons: No Listerine burn. No alcohol. Mint Shield flavor is lame. Can’t eat or drink anything 30 minutes after rinsing. For pussies. Operating heavy machinery after drinking NyQuil. Life is hard.
Like a young woman who does not understand why she got so excited while watching Brooke Shields in the movie “Blue Lagoon,” I am confused about my feelings towards the Cherry Chocolate Diet Dr. Pepper. Half of me thinks that this unusual tasting soda is good, but the other half of me thinks that if you drink too much of this shit it gets kind of fucking nasty.
I may not truly know how I feel about this chocolatey variation, but just like any post-Ricky Martin Menudo lineup, I do know that it is not as good as any of its predecessors.
Just like the living arrangements in the TV show “Three’s Company,” the combination of cherry, chocolate, and Diet Dr. Pepper seemed like it would make for a good threesome, but as I wrote earlier, the Cherry Chocolate Diet Dr. Pepper has an unusual taste.
The chocolate flavor stands out, but it is a weird chocolate flavor that doesn’t bring back my memories of Yoo-Hoo, Chocolate Soldier, or that night with Hershey’s syrup and plastic sheets. Overall, I think it tastes like a maraschino cherry, which I enjoy and are usually found on ice cream sundaes, milkshakes, or in my mouth as I try to impress the ladies with my ability to tie its stem with my proficient tongue.
I thought it had a very sweet and syrupy taste, despite not having any sugar in it. It was a little too sweet for my liking and I couldn’t drink an entire bottle in one sitting without getting a little sick, but I liked the initial sips I took, which are the reasons why I’m torn about the Cherry Chocolate Diet Dr. Pepper. I don’t know whether I should love it, leave it, or wait until it goes away since it is a limited edition soda.
(Nutrition Facts - 1 cup - 0 calories, 0 grams of fat, 40 milligrams of sodium, 0 grams of carbs, 0 grams of protein, 28 milligrams of caffeine, and limited nutritional facts)
(Because I’m slower than Lindsay Lohan’s reaction time after a few drinks, many others have reviewed the Cherry Chocolate Diet Dr. Pepper. Here’s one. Here’s another. And another. Also, thanks to Kristen, Melanie, and Nakeisha for suggesting this for review.)
Item: Cherry Chocolate Diet Dr. Pepper Price: 99 cents (20 ounces) Purchased at: Walgreens Rating: 5 out of 10 Pros: Unusual taste. I like it in small doses. Zero calories. Zero grams of fat. Zero carbs. Threesomes. Cons: Not a significant source of any other nutrients. Unusual chocolate flavor. Too sweet and syrupy for my tastes. Too much of it made me a little sick. Not as good as other Diet Dr. Pepper variations. Post-Ricky Martin Menudo.
Sorry no podcast today. I’m a little under the weather.
When I found out that Carl’s Jr. had a new breakfast burrito, I wasn’t too excited.
One - most of Carl’s Jr.’s breakfast food consists of about five different types of ham and sausage bundled together with hash browns. It’s a little nauseating to say the least.
Two − eating the Huevos Rancheros burrito in Southern California is like having KFC while you’re in Georgia. I couldn’t imagine that the restaurant down the street wouldn’t have a better version.
Three − they didn’t have an advertising blitz of Paris Hilton having sex with it like they did with one of their Six Dollar Burgers. Paris Hilton isn’t my cup of tea, but I appreciated the thought.
As previously mentioned, I can’t walk a block without running into a restaurant that serves huevos rancheros. Huevos rancheros is a traditional Mexican breakfast dish meant to satisfy a farmer’s hunger. It consists of a foundation of corn tortillas, eggs, and salsa, with a few other optional ingredients. “Huevos” means eggs in Spanish, and “rancheros” means rancher.
Interestingly enough, “huevos” is also slang for testicles, so you’re basically eating the balls of a rancher. If you make sure to ignore the laughter from the waiters after you order, you will be rewarded with a hearty breakfast.
Since I have had my fair share of rancher’s balls throughout the years, I have developed a very discerning palette when it comes to this Mexican breakfast. You can understand my skepticism when it came to trying this gringo-ized burrito. The Carl’s Jr. version is made up of scrambled eggs, cheese, refried beans, corn tortilla strips, and a ranchero sauce. I cut into it, noted the strange texture of the eggs, and took a bite.
My first thought was that it was surprisingly good. It was not as heavy as I thought it would be and the lack of meat was a nice change of pace for a breakfast burrito. However, I soon realized that it tasted exactly like a regular bean and cheese burrito at more than double the price.
You can’t really taste the eggs, which is probably a good thing since they are overcooked and spongy. Real huevos rancheros have delectable sunny side up eggs; these only pale in comparison. The ranchero sauce is very tangy, but lacks the spice appropriate for a manly Mexican breakfast. The tortilla strips felt tacked on and soon become soggy and lost within the depths of the refried beans.
In the end, it is a glorified bean and cheese burrito with a fun-to-pronounce name. I had suspected as much, but can’t help but feel disappointed by the lack of heat and flavor. It is a shame that every slutty Hollywood starlet happens to be in rehab or jail, because only the raunchiest of commercials could make this burrito memorable.
(Nutritional Facts - 1 burrito - 660 calories, 34 grams of fat, 10 grams of saturated fat, 490 milligrams of cholesterol, 1550 milligrams of sodium, 60 grams of carbs, and 30 grams of protein)
Item: Carl’s Jr. Huevos Rancheros Breakfast Burrito Price: FREE with coupon from nice PR person (retails for $2.39) Purchased at: Carl’s Jr. Rating: 5 out of 10 Pros: Adds variety to Carl’s Jr.’s meat-centric breakfast menu. Tastes like a decent bean and cheese burrito. The shameless, yet entertaining advertising techniques employed by Carl’s Jr. Cons: Generally lacking any heat and unique flavor. Pretty pricey when compared to regular bean burritos. Tortilla strips fade into refried beans. Eggs look like some type of strange membranous creature when cut open.
I’ve never been in prison — unless watching an episode of the HBO series Oz counts — but Mean Bean, Big Black, and Loca Moca sound like nicknames of people who would rape you in a prison shower, but they’re actually the flavors of the new Java Monster premium coffee drinks.
For those of you who are regular energy drink drinkers, Monster is most likely a familiar name because you’ve probably drank from one of their cans for liquid energy sustenance during either a 24-hour Halo 2 session, a History 151 final exam cram session, or while accidently listening to New Age music.
With their Java Monster coffee drinks, they’ve taken 1,000 milligrams of taurine, 200 milligrams of Panax Ginseng, and their “energy blend” found in their popular energy drinks, which consists of L-Carnitine, Glucose, Caffeine, Guarana, Inositol, Glucuronolactone, and Maltodextrin, and stuffed it into a coffee drink, like Rosie putting on spandex.
With 120 calories, 2.5 grams of fat, 1.5 grams of saturated fat, 20 grams of carbs, 19 grams of sugar, 4 grams of protein, 20% of calcium, and 100% of your recommended daily allowances of Vitamin C, riboflavin, Niacin, Vitamin B6, and Vitamin B12 the Java Monster coffee drinks have about the same nutritional values as their colorful Monster Energy Drink cousins.
On the can of Java Monster, it says it contains half the caffeine of regular coffee, but twice the buzz, which slightly concerned me since I’m a huge proponent of caffeine and would probably snort it using rolled up hundred dollar bills if given the option.
Oh wait. That’s cocaine. I’m sorry. I got my drugs that start with the letter C mixed up.
If Java Monster gives twice the buzz, I wonder if I could triple or quadruple the buzz by drinking a Java Monster while either sniffing rubber cement, inhaling the gas that comes out of canned whipped cream, or painting my bathroom canary yellow without a mask and then passing out on the floor?
Of course, I could try to do all of that at the same time while drinking a Java Monster, but I’m not Lindsay Lohan.
Despite not having as much caffeine as regular coffee, the Java Monster did give me a nice boost of energy and did it with a great taste. All the flavors had a delicious even balance of coffee and cream flavor that was really easy to drink. They weren’t too sweet, nor were they too bitter.
However, just like choosing which of Hugh Hefner’s three girlfriends I like best — because they all look alike and probably have the same STDs from Hef — it’s hard to choose which Java Monster flavor I prefer, since they pretty much all taste the same.
Item: Java Monster Price: $1.99 each (15 ounces) Purchased at: 7-Eleven Rating: 5 out of 5 Pros: Great tasting. Despite not having as much caffeine as regular coffee, it does give a nice energy boost. Easy to drink. Uses reduced fat milk. Big 15-ounce cans. Cons: They taste all the same. Flavor names sound like prison inmate nicknames. Only half the caffeine of regular coffee. Rosie putting on spandex. Accidently listening to New Age music. Having sex with Hugh Hefner.
If there is one thing you should know about me it’s that I’m all about obsessive-compulsive cleanliness, so I was totally stoked about finally getting a Rumba vacuuming robot.
It’s been the number one thing on my wishlist for the past couple of years, ahead of my desire for a new Steven Seagal movie that doesn’t go straight to DVD and more episodes of the supersonic helicopter television series Airwolf.
There were many things that surprised me about the Rumba. The first was its cost. I thought these household wonders were about $199 and not the $1.99 I paid at the convenience store down the street. Another surprise was that it didn’t need to be plugged into an outlet for power. It apparently was solar powered, which I figured out thanks to the picture of the sun on its body.
If you don’t own a Rumba, the best part about having one is the fact that they’re semi-autonomous. Just like the Ronco Showtime Rotisserie and placing children in front of a television, you can “set it and forget it.” I didn’t know how to program mine, since it didn’t come with a manual, so I just touched it and hoped for the best, but unfortunately it didn’t do anything.
I didn’t think it was broken, I thought it was just shy, so I decided to leave it alone and set up a camera to take time-lapse pictures of it in action. Here’s what the camera took and as you will see, it definitely took some hot action:
(Editor’s Note: If you can’t watch YouTube clips, you can view a Quicktime version of the video here.)
As you saw in the video, the Rumba gave my iPod some sweet, sweet — possibly a little rough — electronic lovin’. But it wasn’t just my iPod that I caught it with. The Rumba “plugged itself into” any device that had a port/hole in it, like my laptop, the subwoofer that came with my computer speakers, a USB hub, my wireless router, the cable modem, my cell phone, and I don’t know how it did it, but it also got it on with the camera that was taking the time-lapse photos of it.
I guess robots need love too.
I knew I had to stop the Rumba from humping my gadgets to prevent it from breaking them, so I decided to open up the Rumba to see what was wrong with it, despite the fact that it might void my warranty. In doing so, I discovered something surprising.
It turns out that the Rumba I got was not a gadget-humping vacuuming robot, instead it was a gadget-humping can of energy juice.
On the outside, the Rumba Energy Juice looks like any other energy drink out there, but inside the can is one of the best energy drinks I’ve ever had — and also probably the horniest energy drink ever.
It’s non-carbonated which means it’s REALLY easy to drink, like malt liquor is for a homeless alcoholic. What also makes it easy to drink is the fact that it tastes and looks just like orange juice, but not only does it contain orange juice, it’s also got apple, pear, peach, tangerine, pineapple, and white grape juice concentrates.
Despite the fact that it tastes like OJ, drinking it after brushing my teeth didn’t cause it to taste funky like regular OJ does.
If you look closely as the picture above, you’ll see a bunch of tiny white particles floating around in it, which I’m going to assume is some of the energy goodness found in the Rumba Energy Juice. It contains all the usual energy ingredients, like B vitamins, taurine, ginseng, caffeine, guarana, L-carnitine, and inositol, all of which did a good job of giving me a boost of energy.
No wonder the Rumba Energy Juice had a lot of energy to pound every electronic device I own.
Item: Rumba Energy Juice Price: $1.99 (15.5-ounces) Purchased at: 7-Eleven Rating: 5 out of 5 Pros: One of the best energy drinks I’ve had. Looks and tastes like orange juice. 100% juice. Easy to drink. Non-carbonated. Gave me a good energy pick up. Lots of vitamins and minerals. Airwolf. Cons: Not a Roomba Vacuuming Robot. White particles floating around in it. Likes to hump gadgets.
Today’s review is all about helping my fellow rice-eating Asian brothers and sisters with keepin’ it real.
Are you the only Asian in your town and every time you’re at a party the only starch available is either potatoes, pasta, or bread?
Sure, you’ll scoop some mashed potatoes on your plate, but deep down, you really wish those potatoes were the OTHER white starch. You also don’t want to shovel those potatoes in your mouth, because your rice farming ancestors are probably watching you and waiting to see if you keep it real.
Sometimes your non-Asian friends will make Uncle Ben’s rice to accommodate you, thinking rice is rice, and on the outside you’re appreciative, but in the inside, you know that Uncle Ben’s rice will not suffice. It’s just not the same.
Then sometimes some drunk dude at the party will ask you if you can introduce him to some Asian chicks because he heard they were “tight” and will “love me long time.” Then another person will ask if you know karate, judo, kung fu, or any other of the Asian martial arts. Someone will ask you if you’re related to Jackie Chan and you’ll say you’re not, then correct them by saying your last name is Chen, not Chan.
Then some random woman will come up to you and say that she really enjoyed reading The Joy Luck Club and the movie version made her cry. Then some REALLY drunk dude will want you to apologize for Pearl Harbor. Someone else will ask you if you can solve a math problem for them.
Then an older woman will want to know if Calgon detergent really is an “ancient Chinese secret.” Some creepy guy will quietly ask you where he could get his hands on some “Japanese monster tentacle sex cartoons.” Another person will talk with you about how much they love their Toyota Camry. Then another drunk person will wonder how comfortable those “thongs” are that sumo wrestlers wear.
I can’t help my fellow Asians with any of the situations described in the last three paragraphs, but I can assist them with making their rice farming ancestors proud of them for keepin’ it real with the Shirakiku Microwavable Rice.
Each container contains 7.05 ounces of rice, which is enough for two meals, unless you’re a sumo wrestler, then it’s an appetizer. It also contains 318 calories, 71 grams of carbs, 0.4 grams of fiber, and 5.6 grams of protein. The rice itself was very good, it was fluffy and sticky, just like the way I prefer my cotton candy, but not too fluffy and sticky, just like the way I prefer my strippers.
It was also surprisingly better tasting than anything I’ve ever made in a normal rice cooker, which either says a lot about this product’s quality or says a lot about how much my rice cooking abilities suck.
The best part of the Shirakiku Microwavable Rice is the fact that it’s really quick and easy to prepare. Just pull back the lid a little and then heat it in the microwave for about one minute. If you’re old school or afraid the microwave’s radiation will mess with your DNA, you can also prepare it on a stove top by heating the container in boiling water for about 14 minutes.
Well I hope today’s review will help my fellow Asians get out of a rice-less situation with ease. Sure, carrying a container of Shirakiku Microwavable Rice in your purse or jacket pocket is a pain the ass since the container is about an inch thick, four inches wide, and eight inches long, but just think of the smiles you’ll receive from your rice picking ancestors when you meet them after you die.
(Editor’s Note: For more microwavable food reviews, go visit Heat. Eat. Review. For reviews from some Asian kid, go visit Here To Eat.)
Item: Shirakiku Microwavable Rice Price: $1.39 Purchased at: Uwajimaya - Seattle Rating: 5 out of 5 Pros: Quick and easy to prepare. Better than the rice I cook. Fluffy and sticky. No need to add water. 5.6 grams of protein. Enough rice for two meals, unless you’re a sumo wrestler. Keepin’ it real. Cons: Pricey if you compare it to a 20-pound bag of rice, which goes on sale for $5-$6. Not for people on the Atkins Diet. Packaging isn’t very compact.
