I’ll admit it: I enjoyed the original Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers when I was a little brat. All those “teenagers” working together to kick some ass was just awesome, even if Lord Zedd was just a Shredder/Krang rip-off. And come on, who doesn’t like giant fucking robots, even if it looked like it was colored by a blind toddler? Now let’s all enjoy a flashback to a time when the Easy Bake Oven still used a pansy-assed light bulb to cook batter.

(Author’s Note: For some reason, the people who own the rights to the series are being tightwads and have prohibited YouTube from allowing embedded videos of Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers. Therefore, you’ll have to relive a cherished childhood memory you promised yourself you’d stay the hell away from. Go ahead. I’ll wait until the sobbing stops.)

What exactly does a cheesy live-action martial arts TV show have to do with the Panera Bread Breakfast Sandwiches? Did I lose my mind after watching Aphex Twin’s video for “Windowlicker” one too many times? Did I ironically skip my breakfast when I wrote this review?

(Author’s Note: No, I did not lose my mind; you can’t lose it if you’ve already lost it by getting your Mr. Bean bobble-head get to 3rd base with your sister’s Barbie!)

It’s the concept of the team, of course. The best teams have what is clearly the cream of the crop…or those who carry the team. In this case, it’s the Red and Green/White ranger. I’ll be honest, when me and my friends played Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers, all three of us wanted to be the Red Ranger. The problem wasn’t that there were three Red Rangers (we were clones or triplets, or some equally ridiculous soap-opera explanation), it was that we only had two Red Ranger belt buckles and a Pink Ranger one. I always ended up with the Pink Ranger belt buckle. Speaking of the Pink Ranger, the best teams always had their weak links — people who were utterly useless (I’m looking at you too, Yellow Ranger!), through no fault of their own. Eh…who am I kidding? It’s their damn fault. Then there’s everyone else; neither leader nor loser nor awesome. They just manage not to suck as bad as the weak links.

That’s basically what the Panera’s breakfast sandwich is to me. It’s a pretty good sandwich that manages to stay above the crowd despite a mismatch of ingredients. The obvious star of this team is the ciabatta bread itself, which is not exactly a surprise since it’s sold by Panera Bread. It tastes great and is pretty soft inside with a relatively crusty exterior. It’s so good that I can overlook the fact that the rest of the ingredients aren’t large enough to match the size of the bread pieces, making it seem like a gyp. The weak link of the sandwich would have to be the egg; it’s almost as if it’s not even there. The whites are almost watery in taste and the yolks are fairly dry.

If you get the applewood-smoked bacon version of this sandwich, it’s also disappointing. You get three shriveled pieces that make you think “What the fuck? I paid $3.50 for this? Fuck you and your mysterious smell-blocking glass sneeze guard!”

The white Vermont cheddar cheese is an average addition to the sandwich; sharp and overwhelms almost everything in the sandwich, but it’s a nice addition to the bread. The sausage patty version is not bad. It’s certainly a little thin for the price, but I don’t feel as ripped off as I do when I buy the bacon version and it’s not greasy.

The sandwich, as a whole, manages to work well and goes down pretty light. It’s the perfect breakfast for getting the energy to do some Kung Fu fighting or playing Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers with your friends.

(Nutrition Facts - 1 sandwich - Bacon - 510 calories, 24 grams of fat, 10 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 215 milligrams of cholesterol, 1060 milligrams of sodium, 44 grams of carbohydrates, 2 grams of dietary fiber, 2 grams of sugar, and 28 grams of protein. Sausage - 540 calories, 27 grams of fat, 11 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 220 milligrams of cholesterol, 980 milligrams of sodium, 44 grams of carbohydrates, 2 grams of dietary fiber, 1 grams of sugar, and 26 grams of protein.)

Item: Panera Bread Breakfast Sandwiches (Sausage and Bacon)

Price: $3.49 (with meat)
Size: 7.5 ounces
Purchased at: Panera Bread
Rating: 8 out of 10 (sausage)
Rating: 6 out of 10 (bacon)
Pros: Awesome bread. Overall good sandwich. Light. Giant fucking robots. Aphex Twin’s “Windowlicker.” Mr. Bean getting some love. Red/White/Green Ranger.
Cons: Non-existent egg. Pricey. Lord Zedd. Terrible color scheme for giant fucking robot. Pansy assed light bulb. Yellow/Pink Ranger. Kung Fu doesn’t work.

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.

I apologize to those who don’t live near a Carl’s Jr., but keep an eye out for another prize drawing TIB will be holding soon.

To enter this prize drawing, just leave a comment for THIS post with whatever you want to say. Please fill out the email field, because I’ll be emailing the winners for their mailing addresses. The Impulsive Buy will stop accepting entries on Saturday, November 22, 2008 11:59 p.m. Hawaii Standard Time. Only one entry allowed per person and it is only open to those 18 years old or older.

Good luck!

Fine Print: The Impulsive Buy promises your email address will not be used to send you emails about a Kenyan prince who needs money to get his fortune back. The Impulsive Buy also promises your mailing address will not be used to send you information about State Farm Insurance is better than your current insurance. Bribes will not be accepted. The Impulsive Buy will not be responsible for lost mail, damaged mail, or not having a Carl’s Jr. near you.

With 1390 calories, 83 grams of fat, 17 grams of saturated fat, 4.5 grams of trans fat, and 2190 milligrams of sodium, Taco Bell’s new Fully Loaded Nachos looks like it’s meant for two people or one person who just doesn’t give a damn. It’s made up of twice the seasoned beef than their Nachos Bell Grande, fiesta sauce, guacamole, sour cream, hearty beans, a three-cheese blend, nacho cheese sauce, and tortilla chips inside a tortilla chip bowl. As you can see from the picture above, it basically looks like a taco salad without the annoyance of lettuce. It’s available for a limited time. Now let’s enjoy a funny commercial about the inventor of the giant taco salad.

It began with 5-Hour Energy. Now it’s six hours of energy? You know what gives me 16-18 hours of energy? Sleep and hitting the snooze button on my alarm clock five times. (via Energy Drink Ratings)

The Limited Edition Candy Cane Oreo with help prepare my palate for all the candy canes I’ll receive/shoplift/steal from shopping mall Santas/bully away from school children this holiday season. (via Gigi Reviews)

My face burns red with shame because the Japanese can only fit three berries into a Kit Kat bar. Japanese ingenuity has died. (via Japanese Snack Reviews)

I promise I’m not linking to this video review of the Skyline Chili and Spaghetti frozen meal because the reviewer is a fellow Asian. I’m linking to it because I miss Heat Eat Review. (via Freezer Burns)

Pfff…A hand renewal dishwashing liquid? Nothing is sexier than rough hands and fingers stroking my back and making me imagine I’m caressing Bea Arthur. (via Cheaplander)

The Carl’s Jr. Big Country Breakfast Burrito is meant for the daring. It’s made for women who are willing to dance with the guy in the corner wearing sunglasses at night, with two popped collars, and clubgoers always form a large circle around him, not because he needs space to break out his dance moves, but because he has poor personal hygiene. It’s made for men who have the huge brass cojones to write a heart-warming sonnet that uses the Shakespearean rhyme scheme ABAB CDCD EFEF GG to proclaim their love for combing the manes of their My Little Ponies. It’s made for the small dogs who go up to significantly bigger dogs and bark the words, “You are my bitch.”

This breakfast burrito is only meant for the audacious diner because its ingredients list makes the KFC Famous Bowl seem a little less famous, like going from Alec Baldwin to Daniel Baldwin, and its nutritional values would make a doctor’s heart skip a beat. The cavalcade of ingredients not only consists of the trifecta of pig products — sausage, ham, and bacon — it also has scrambled eggs, hash brown nuggets, shredded jack cheese, shredded cheddar cheese, and white sausage gravy in a flour tortilla. It’s like they took George Orwell’s Animal Farm, wrapped it in tortilla, and scraped out the equines and communism.

With all of those ingredients, I was thinking some would overwhelm others, like normal people being stuffed in a room with Robin Williams clones, and it turns out that I was correct. All I could taste was the egg, tortilla, ham, and sausage gravy, although the white gravy was a little weak, making biscuits everywhere cry a little. I was hoping there would be a strong sausage and bacon flavor, but I guess ham is the Highlander and there can only be one in this breakfast burrito. The hash browns were soggy to the point where its texture was as soft as the eggs, so it didn’t add any crunch to it. Perhaps if I ate it in the restaurant instead of eating it ten minutes later in the comfort of my love shack, the hash brown would’ve still been crunchy. Despite not being able to taste all of the ingredients, it was decent as a ham and egg burrito, plus it had a nice heft to it, but I probably wouldn’t order it again.

(Nutrition Facts - 1 burrito - 770 calories, 47 grams of fat, 13 grams of saturated fat, 495 milligrams of cholesterol, 1530 milligrams of sodium, 57 grams of carbohydrates, 4 grams of sugar, 6 grams of dietary fiber, and 31 grams of protein.)

Item: Carl’s Jr. Big Country Breakfast Burrito
Price: FREE (with coupon from PR peeps)
Size: 308 grams
Purchased at: Carls’ Jr.
Rating: 5 out of 10
Pros: Meant for the daring eater. Decent tasting as a ham and egg burrito, since that most of what I could taste.. High in protein. Six grams of dietary fiber. George Orwell’s Animal Farm.
Cons: Couldn’t taste sausage and bacon. Sausage gravy was a little weak. Hash brown were soggy. High in sodium and saturated fat. Being in a room filled with Robin Williams clones.

Don’t get me wrong. I may be a passive pacifist, but I’m not one of those beatniks who believe that everything can be solved without violence. Somebody has to be the bully or the badass with the poo on the stick once in awhile, but Jack Bauer’s chewing Doublemint gum right now, so he’s a bit too busy to kick ass, and Chuck Norris is retired from Delta Force…which is why we have military forces to take their place, armed with state-of-the-art weapons and MREs (Meals Ready to Eat).

Cheese Omelet with Vegetables Power Performance MRE is fairly low in calories and quite nutritious for something its size, but that comes with a caveat. It’s got the longest list of ingredients for an omelet I’ve ever seen. Here’s a quick rundown of what it contains (which is only a wee fraction of the entire list): liquid eggs, cottage cheese, green chilies, mozzarella, water, cream, modified starch, and about seven or eight preservatives. It’s just like dear old grandma’s secret recipe for a prize-winning omelet (incidentally, I’m still waiting for her to pass on her coveted buck cake recipe)! It’s supposedly designed to last for at least 14 years, which explains the caveat, I guess. It’s also packed so full of cholesterol that the plaque-y goodness must aid the preservation process.

I tore open this bag to find myself utterly devoid of patriotism. I knew that MREs had a bad reputation, but this was completely uncalled for. It belongs on a stick…a very long stick. It tastes like crap and quite frankly it reminds me of really terrible and rancid coffee, which dominates the palate, both on and off the tongue. The texture is basically what you’d expect; extra congealed and crumbly, with the dryness of extra hard boiled egg yolks despite an eerie moistness, which is the only thing remotely egg-y about this thing. The veggies were a lost cause as well, since their flavors were completely dominated and their texture was soggier than wet toilet paper. It smelled like really bad tin can food.

I tried to play with it and build little mounds of crap for my green soldiers to march over, but my wee plastic commandos mutinied and started an underground bordello for G.I. Joes and Mr. Potato Heads. This thing is completely irredeemable and worthless like Switzerland’s military might. It’s a giant fuck you to our soldiers, who deserve better like laser ray guns that go pew pew or robot butlers/maids.

At least it comes with a sah-weet brown spoon. Let me tell you, this spoon is truly badass compared to all the other wimpy plastic spoons out there. It’s frickin’ Schwarzenegger from Commando or Terminator 2. This spoon is bigger, stronger, thicker, and heavier than your average plastic spoon. It’s brown so you can eat this crap without breaking your camouflage cover, if the smell didn’t give you away first. It’s also strong enough that it can be used as a weapon of minor destruction if one finds themselves without anything else after killing too many sissy minions. Now that’s American justice: death by plastic spoon. Too bad it’s not a spork.

(Nutrition Facts - 1 mysterious package - 300 calories, 16 grams of fat, 4.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 530 milligrams of cholesterol, 680 milligrams of sodium, 14 grams of carbohydrates, 1 grams of dietary fiber, 6 grams of sugar, and 23 grams of protein.)

Item: MRE - Cheese Omelet with Vegetables

Price: $4.45
Size: 8 ounces
Purchased at: eBay
Rating: 0 out of 10 (8/10 for the badass spoon)
Pros: Nutritious. Shelf-stable. Badass brown spoon. Grandma’s buck cake recipe. Bordellos. A badass with poo on a stick. Death by spoon.
Cons: Rancid coffee-taste. Terrible tin can food smell. Crumbly texture. Long list of ingredients. A number of preservatives. Jack Bauer chewing gum. Plaque-y goodness of cholesterol. No badass spork.

The idea of fruit rolls-ups seems like something that was the result of a pleasant accident, like the Slinky, Post-It Notes, and possibly your youngest sibling, unless you’re the youngest child, in which case, you were planned. Someone apparently came up with a way to smash fruit better than a Sledge-O-Matic that also doesn’t get the first few rows of a theater covered with the carnage of fruit. If fruit roll-ups were an accident conceived in a laboratory, kitchen, or back seat of a Pontiac Firebird, I’m glad it happened because it led to the Strawberry FruitaBü Organic Smoooshed Fruit Rolls.

Although targeted towards children and people who love umlauts, I could see myself eating these in order to get the one serving of fruit they provide because according to nutritionists I don’t consume the daily recommended amount of fruit, unless a bag of Skittles or a 24-ounce Strawberry Slurpee counts as a serving. The FruitaBü is certified USDA Organic, which I would explain, but I would probably bore you with jargon like, “compliance,” “regulations,” “exceptions,” and “booteeshockee.” Basically, the Strawberry FruitaBü Organic Smoooshed Fruit Rolls is an organic and significantly much shorter version of General Mills’ Fruit by the Foot. While Fruit by the Foot provides “3 feet of fun,” the FruitaBü Fruit Rolls only offers “19.5 inches of interestingness.”

However, the ingredients in those “19.5 inches of interestingness” includes mostly of an inventory of organic apple, white grape, and strawberry concentrates and purees that provides all the sugar in each roll, while the “3 feet of fun” includes extra sweeteners, like sugar and corn syrup. Despite not having any extra added sugar, the FruitaBü was sweet, like sending a card to your grandma-sweet, but not overly sweet, like sending a strippergram to your grandma-sweet. Overall, I thought the Strawberry FruitaBü Organic Smoooshed Fruit Rolls were really good, although because of the orgy of different organic fruits, I thought the strawberry didn’t really stand out and if I were given one without any labeling I probably wouldn’t be able to tell what flavor it was. However, if your child, fruit deficient adult friend, or diacritic fanboy wants a fun way to get a serving of fruit, I would recommend the FruitaBü.

(Nutrition Facts - 1 roll - 80 calories, 1.5 grams of fat, 0.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 40 milligrams of sodium, 100 milligrams of potassium, 16 grams of carbs, less than 1 gram of fiber, 13 grams of sugar, 0 grams of protein, 0% Vitamin A, 10% Vitamin C, 0% Calcium, 0% Iron, and 1 poem on the box.)

Item: Strawberry FruitaBü Organic Smoooshed Fruit Rolls
Price: FREE (retails for $3.69)
Size: 6 pack
Purchased at: Given by nice PR people
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: Tastes really good. Made from real fruit. One serving of fruit per roll. USDA Organic. No added sugar. Cute monkeys on the box that looks like were done in Adobe Illustrator.
Cons: Strawberry flavor doesn’t really stand out. Roll is not very long, only 19.5 inches of interestingness. Paper it is rolled up with is not edible. Might be difficult to find. Being conceived in the back of a Pontiac Firebird. Booteeshockee.

I guess what they say about Asians is true — most Asian dishes look alike. I swear the Panda Express Thai Cashew Chicken looks like their Kung Pao Chicken, String Bean Chicken, and Mushroom Chicken. Maybe that’s the reason why when I was picking up dinner this past weekend at Panda Express I wasn’t surprised by its sudden appearance because I thought it was something else. The Thai Cashew Chicken consists of cashews, white meat chicken, red bell peppers, some green vegetable, and cilantro. A 5.5-ounce serving has 240 calories, 2.5 grams of saturated fat, 640 milligrams of sodium, 18 grams of protein, and 0 grams of surprises. According to the Panda Express website, it will be around until December 30th, but when it does disappear, I don’t think anyone will notice.

I was disappointed to find out that the Taco Rack was not what I hoped it to be — a delicious way to position the balls for a game of pool. Ha! You probably thought I was going to make a boobies joke. Instead I’ll let you folks do that in the comments. (via Phoood)

The director of the classic Deep Throat passes away and we honor his work with an energy drink? Well I guess it does make sense since we do swallow the energy drink. (via Possessed by Caffeine)

Yay! Egg nog! I’m pretty sure the reason for my yearly weight gain during the holiday season is caused by the gallons of egg nog I drink and not the turkey. Since it’s only around for a couple of months, I need to drink as much of it as I can. (via Gigi Reviews)

I guess my theory that Mello Yello and Mountain Dew are the same thing because I never see them at the same place and at the same time is wrong. Unless, the photo has been Photoshopped to trick me. (via Second Rate Snacks)

I find it to be weird eating a candy bar that looks like it needs a condom wrapped around it to prevent whatever those bumps are from spreading. (via Candy Blog)

Another reason why I decided to include news stories is because I wanted to provide another cool way for you guys and gals to participate. Some of you post comments, some of you recommend products, and some of you let me know about new products, which I am very thankful for, but I want to encourage something a little more. It’s hard for me to learn about all the new products that are being introduced because there are just so many of them. I have my ways of finding out about products, but many of them slip by me, so that’s where I hope you folks are able to step in. If you’re grocery shopping and you see a new product on the shelf, let me know about it. If you see a television commercial promoting a new product, let me know about it. If your local McDonald’s is offering a new regional product, let me know about it. Just send me an email at theimpulsivebuyATgmailDOTcom. Also, if you happen to have a camera on you or your cell phone has a camera, take a photo of the new product and email it to me at theimpulsivebuyATgmailDOTcom. I won’t make you rich, but I’ll make you internet famous for 10 seconds.

So that’s the reason why there are these short little posts that aren’t reviews and I hope you’re enjoying them.

Marvo
Editor
The Impulsive Buy

The Primo Meatball sub from Quiznos may consist of seasoned meatballs, zesty marinara sauce, and mozzarella cheese, but the one thing it probably doesn’t have is the ability to make Italian mothers everywhere cry. With 1000 calories, 45 grams of fat, and 2,950 milligrams of sodium in the large version of this sandwich, the only thing it can make Italian mothers do is feel extremely sluggish after eating it and have the desire to take a nap. Fortunately, Quiznos offers smaller versions of the sandwich, like they do with all of their sandwiches. I’m personally not much of a meatball sandwich kind of guy, because I’ve ruined in way too many white shirts while eating spaghetti and meatballs. But if you’re not afraid to ruin a shirt and want to eat something hearty, this Primo Meatball sub might be for you.

High-octane fuels are meant for high-performance car engines, so it would seem that the JT Super Haioku (haioku is high-octane in Japanese) is probably meant for super high-performance bodies. What kind of body would be considered “super high-performance?”

I’m pretty sure it’s not yours or mine or those out-of-shape douchebags who seem to think running without a shirt in public is a good idea. A super high-performance body probably has the ability to do things physically that I can only dream of doing, like running a marathon, walking on my hands, touching my toes, making my ears wiggle, or doing those push-ups with the clapping of hands in between each one.

Because my body isn’t a super high-performance one, I didn’t think the JT Super Haioku would make a difference, like filling my Toyota Corolla with premium gasoline or using extra strength No-Doze at a reading of existential poetry from the late 19th century by Ben Stein in a cold room after a turkey dinner. Actually, to be honest, I’m not sure what kind of improved performance I’m supposed to get by drinking the JT Super Haioku. Physical? Mental? Sexual? Financial? Commonsensical? Alphabetical? Phantasmagorical? (Insert word ending in -al here with a question mark at the end.) It probably says something on the bottle about what it helps, but my Japanese reading abilities are as poor as my toe touching abilities.

It does contain Vitamin B1 and taurine, so I assume it’s supposed to provide some kind of energy. However, after drinking an entire bottle, I have to report that it did nothing to improve my performance in anything. No buzz. No increased stamina. No looking both ways before crossing the street. No four-hour erections. No messed up technicolor dreams involving French mimes in a field of tulips.

The JT Super Haioku’s taste was very similar to the Vitalon P Drink I reviewed earlier this year, which tasted like slightly carbonated pure sugar water. Since they both had the same boring taste, I expected it to have about the same amount of sugar, but according to the English nutrition label that’s affixed to the bottle, it contains no sugar. However, the ingredients list, also in English, started off with the sugars fructose and glucose. Another odd item I noticed on the nutritional label was that it said it had no Vitamin C, but the ingredients list contained Vitamin C. With all those inconsistencies, it made me suspicious of the JT Super Haioku.

Maybe it’s not high-octane after all, it’s just regular octane. Or perhaps haioku doesn’t mean “high-octane” and instead means “Yes, you are a sucker and bought a beverage that does nothing for you, but puts money in our pockets. You silly American. Ha. Ha. Ha.”

But my Japanese translation is probably wrong, since my Asian language translation abilities suck just as much as my push-up capabilities.

(Nutrition Facts - 8 ounces - 110 calories, 0 grams of fat, 0 grams of saturated fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 30 milligrams of sodium, 27 grams of carbohydrates, 0 grams of fiber, 0 grams of sugar, 0 grams of protein, 0% Vitamin A, 0% Vitamin C, 0% Calcium, and 0% Iron.)

Item: JT Super Haioku
Price: $1.99
Size: 16 ounces
Purchased at: Nijiya Market
Rating: 4 out of 10
Pros: Sweet. Slightly carbonated. It’s Japanese. No high fructose corn syrup.
Cons: Boring. Tastes like pure sugar water. Not high-octane. Inconsistent English nutrition label. My skills in anything. Doesn’t improve performance in anything. Out-of-shape douchebags who seem to think running without a shirt in public is a good idea. Being at a reading of existential poetry from the late 19th century.

If you have children, whatever you do, DO NOT buy them the High School Musical Cereal. Some of you might be thinking I don’t like this packaged Kellogg’s and Disney collaboration because it promotes the third movie in the High School Musical trilogy, which by the way makes me cringe more than Star Wars prequel trilogy, but people should avoid this cereal because it just isn’t any good. If this cereal actually jiggled my jollies, I’d be breaking out into an unnecessary song and dance number while eating it. Fortunately for my overworked jazz hands, the cereal just flat out sucks, which boggles my mind since the recipe for a good sugary cereal is simple: pick shapes, pick colors, and add a fucking lot of sugar (marshmallow are optional). It’s like the person who developed this bland cereal forgot the very important step of putting a shitload of sugar in it, which is the equivalent of taking a piss without doing the necessary step of pulling down your pants or lifting up your skirt. The orangy and red star-shaped cereal pieces even have white specks all over them, which I thought was sugar, but didn’t make it sugary, so I’ll just assume the cereal has dry scalp and a bad case of dandruff. Shouldn’t the cereal that promotes a sugary sweet Disney movie be just as annoyingly sweet? Maybe I’m asking for too much, but I did ask for a nude picture of Vanessa Hudgens to end up on the internet and eventually one was posted, so why can’t I get a cereal with enough sugar to help me keep up with retiree mall walkers in the morning?

Buying this cereal is not only a bad idea because eating it feels like there’s a boring discussion of 18th century European economics going on in your mouth, it’s also a possible gateway item for much worse things your kid would want you to purchase. If you give into this, then they’ll next be asking for the High School Musical 3 soundtrack; then a DVD of the movie when it comes out four months later; and then they’ll be asking you to record the previous High School Musical movies playing on the Disney Channel on your TiVo, forcing you to delete the episodes of Heroes you haven’t gotten to yet because you’re too busy accommodating every whim from your demanding Disney-loving child, who ironically was conceived in a room at a Disney World Resort during some kinky Mickey and Minnie Mouse role playing. Before you know it, your kid is screaming at you because you ruined their sweet sixteen party that you allowed to be recorded for a reality show, because you bought them a Mercedes-Benz instead of a teal flying unicorn that does their homework and poops ancient Aztec gold, making you look like the worst parent in the world.

Although you could buy this for your child, they say “thank you,” and follow that up with a warm hug that melts your heart and makes you feel like the greatest parent in the world.

If you do decide to buy the cereal, let me know how that game of Russian Roulette goes.

(Nutrition Facts - 1 cup - 110 calories, 1 gram of fat, 0 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 170 milligrams of sodium, 35 milligrams of potassium, 24 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of dietary fiber, 9 grams of sugar, 13 grams of carbohydrates, 2 grams of protein, a whole lot of vitamins and minerals, 2 future shitty pop singers, and 1 future College Musical trilogy.)

(Editor’s Note: I’m not the only one who thinks this cereal sucks. Also, here’s a movie review of High School Musical 3: Senior Year. Just in case you’re forced to see it.)

Item: Kellogg’s High School Musical Cereal
Price: $2.49
Size: 9 ounces
Purchased at: Star Market
Rating: 3 out of 10
Pros: Crunchy. No singing coming out from the box. Vitamins and minerals. Asking for a nude photo of Vanessa Hudgens to end up on the internet and getting it. Being the greatest parent in the world.
Cons: Bland. Box is kind of small compared with other sugary cereals. Not as sugary sweet as a High School Musical movie. White specks don’t seem to add anything to cereal. My overworked jazz hands. Being the worst parent in the world. Having to erase stuff on your TiVo you haven’t gotten around to watching yet.