Mocha BK JOE Iced Coffee

I’m frickin’ tired of The King sneaking up on me.

Doesn’t he have anything better to do? He’s a king. Shouldn’t he be running a kingdom, causing oppression somewhere, or at least being a powerless figurehead? If I had a nickel for every time The King snuck up on me and offered something from the Burger King menu, I would be rich enough to buy a Big Mac.

It was really creepy at first having him randomly appear, but then it was nice having food delivered me and not having to worry about buying groceries. For breakfast, lunch, and dinner he’d just sneak up on me and present me with some form of BK sustenance. The King also knows when to show up for those times other than meals. For example, when I’m at work, I’ll walk out of my office intending to get something from the snack machine, but he’ll just pop out from around the corner and offer me something small like onion rings or a Whopper Jr.

There was this time when I was yawning at my desk and needed some caffeine. Then out of nowhere The King appeared with a Mocha BK JOE Iced Coffee. It’s basically coffee with chocolate syrup squirted in and poured over ice. The slightly creamy drink initially had a strong chocolate taste and then was followed by a weak coffee aftertaste that was probably weak because of the overpowering chocolate. With all that chocolate, it was good, but also a little too sweet for me.

But did it give me a boost of energy? Well, anything with 63 grams of sugar in it probably would.

There have also been times when he brought me food at inappropriate moments, like a Tendercrisp Chicken Sandwich while reading about Bird Flu in Taiwan and a Burger King Kids Meal while watching Dateline NBC’s To Catch A Predator.

After a few weeks, I got tired of eating Burger King and I gained ten pounds, but The King kept sneaking up on me. I asked him if he could bring me something a lot more healthier, but all he did was bring me a Whopper without mayonnaise. Eventually, I went grocery shopping so I could make my own healthy meals instead of eating Burger King food. Then whenever The King appeared and offered food, I’d tell him I already have something to eat. He would then drop his head in disappointment and walk away, but he’d still be smiling.

After several days of rejecting food from The King, things got really creepy.

One time when I woke up, he was frickin’ naked and standing over me. Let me tell you, it wasn’t fun looking at his little prince and two royal guards. That’s not the very first thing I want to see in the morning. Also, I just want to let you know that not only is his face plastic looking, so is everything else.

This other time, I woke up and caught him looking through my clothes hamper and sniffing my boxers. When he saw me awake, he tried to distract me by shoving a Croissan’wich in my face, while sticking a few worn boxers in his pocket. I don’t think that’s a smile of happiness he has on permanently, it’s a smile of guilt.

And I’m not even going to go into detail about the time he introduced me to what I thought was the new BK hot dog.

I’m not too sure what I’m going to do about The King, but he still sneaks up on me and attempts to serve me Burger King food. Maybe it’s about time I serve him a restraining order.

(Nutritional Facts: 380 calories, 10 grams of fat, 6 grams of saturated fat, 40 milligrams of cholesterol, 290 milligrams of sodium, 66 grams of carbs, 63 grams of sugar, 1 gram dietary fiber, and 6 grams of protein.)

Item: Mocha BK JOE Iced Coffee
Price: $2.09 (22 ounces)
Purchased at: Burger King (or BK for you cool folks)
Rating: 3 out of 5
Pros: Good. Chocolate syrup. Cold. Refreshing. The 63 grams of sugar it contains gave me a quick energy boost.
Cons: Not too much of a coffee flavor. A little too sweet. Having The King sneak up on you. Having The King wake up next to you naked. Having The King sniff your used underwear. Basically, The King is a total perv. The King’s permanent smile.

NEWS: You Can Now Suck On Mother’s Cans…As An Adult

When I think of Mother Nature, I imagine a little old lady walking on a grassy plain with cheerful birds, bunnies, and butterflies circling around her on a bright sunny day and with a few white lazy clouds here and there.

The setting would be much like the default wallpaper for Windows XP.

With an image like that it’s hard for me to put Mother Nature and energy drink in the same sentence, even though I just did, but believe me it was frickin’ difficult. Energy drinks are for young whippersnappers, not little old ladies who need a cane to walk and need to wear a medical alert bracelet just in case they’ve fallen and can’t get up.

But Coke has brought the two together to make an Acai berry flavored energy drink from natural sources with their new Full Throttle Mother Energy Drink, which has probably the least aggro, extreme, and intense name for an energy drink EVER.

Sure, the name is also kind of oedipus complex-ish and for something that claims to be natural, it doesn’t seem to be organic, but despite all of that, I really look forward to trying it.

[Via:] Energy Fiend

IceBreakers Ice Cubes

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.

REVIEW: Pepsi Ice Cucumber

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.

Item: Pepsi Ice Cucumber
Price: $24.99 (Three 500 ml bottles)
Purchased at: eBay
Rating: 4 out of 10
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.

Rico’s Salsa De Queso Nacho Cheese Sauce

I’ll admit that my eating habits are less than stellar. Deplorable, if you will. But I am a man who enjoys blaming all of his shortcomings on everyone but myself, so I will proceed to do so. I have had a distorted view of food since I was a small child. My parents taught me that all-you-can-eat buffets were a competition where the only way to win was to eat until you struggled to breathe. That’s how you get the edge over society and get your slice of American pie…or something along those lines, I can’t really remember the logistics of the situation.

This desensitization to crappy fried foods and imitation cheeses led to my current state of junk food codependence. I say “co-” because I feel like I have a lasting relationship with it, though I’m not sure if it’s based on eHarmony’s 29 dimensions of compatibility. High school further dragged me along this path, as the lunches provided were insufficient for rabid dogs, let alone burgeoning minds. I was left with two choices: the salad bar or nachos.

The salad bar might as well have been renamed “Hidden Valley” because everything was just a vessel for ranch dressing. Small amounts of wilted lettuce were laid out like bed sheets for macaroni and potato salads. Jugs of ranch were handed out so kids could mask any nutrients left inside. Of course, bread sticks were handed out for dipping. Ranch was fucking everywhere. Kids became addicted to it. I am convinced that I would’ve been laid if I had the foresight to pour ranch on myself.

I traveled the much healthier road and ended up falling in love with nacho cheese instead. Cheese has calcium in it, right? After rationalizing my addiction, I embraced the smooth, velvety texture of the cheese. It was laced with a hint of spiciness and the glow of neon orange. All of it came together to make a splendid sauce for the stale nachos that went down my gullet at $1.50 a tray. Throw in some pickled jalapeno slices and you’re set for any fiesta, or in my case, a night alone with the Gilmore Girls.

I had missed it in the couple of years since then, but found something appealing as I strolled through the aisles of the cursed entity known as Wal-Mart. It was Rico’s Salsa De Queso Nacho Cheese Sauce. The redundant and convoluted name didn’t strike my fancy, but the promise of molten hot nacho cheese piqued my interest.

I wasn’t expecting much, but I was pleasantly surprised that it indeed came out hot and smooth from the microwave. It was good, too! It still maintained a decent amount of texture and adhered perfectly to the chips. The nacho cheese is actually made with real jalapenos, which is noticeable as you feel a tingle of heat on your tongue upon consumption. It helped me put away a giant bag of organic tortilla chips over a one week period.

The best thing about this product is that I no longer need to rationalize the nutrition value of nacho cheese. Rico’s has done already done that for me, as their stamp boasts “0% cholesterol” and “Good source of calcium.” I’ve already begun adding it to my orange juice and breakfast cereal.

But not everything is muy bueno with Rico’s Salsa De Queso Nacho Cheese Sauce. I really wish I could say something positive about Rico’s lazily-made mascot. Seriously, a fucking drop of nacho cheese? That’s the best they could come up with? At least put a sombrero on him or some maracas.

Everyone knows racial stereotypes make the best mascots.

Item: Rico’s Salsa De Queso Nacho Cheese Sauce
Price: $1.99
Purchased at: Wal-Mart
Rating: 4 out of 5
Pros: Comes out hot and creamy in microwave. Tasty and cheap as all good junk food should be. Nacho cheese may or may not get me sexually aroused.
Cons: Not all that spicy. Lacks real cheese. Lazily designed mascot without fun Mexican stereotypes. Stretching the truth about nutritional information. All-you-can-eat buffets and their damage to the psyche.