REVIEW: Furuta Sequoia Strawberry Chocolate

There’s a saying: If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

I usually thought of it as a bullshit saying because where’s the fun in that? Evil geniuses like me couldn’t fail to take over the world if we lived by those stupid sayings. Batman wouldn’t have had the rubber nipples suit and my neighbor in college wouldn’t have come up with novel ways to flash his hairy balls at me. Okay, I don’t exactly have a infallible worldwide domination plot, but I have my evil laugh down, so I’m halfway there! It’s essentially a bastardized version of Dr. Evil’s laugh, but it’s MY bastardized version.

I’ve always loved the original Kit Kat bars, and they were my favorite candy as a kid, so when I saw this at the checkout counter, I admit I was a bit eager to see a Japanese company’s take on this classic. I soon learned that I had made a horrible mistake.

It looks like a stick of strawberry gum, complete with white specks and streaks. Definitely not appealing despite its strawberry yogurt smell, which was actually kind of nice. My first thought after biting into this was, “Sweet Evil Jesus!” Seriously, where’s the strawberry? And my god, what is up with this artificial chemical taste that just bursts out with the first bite? I could barely taste the strawberry over the very artificial vanilla cream, “strawberry” coating and the stale wafer inside. It actually almost tastes like how paint smells.

I guess the target audience is for people with children…people who want to mindfuck with their children. This would actually make a decent punishment, sort of like when I was expecting a Super Nintendo on a Christmas morning and I got my hopes up so high that I cried when I tore the wrapping to find out it was just a lousy 3D Empire State Building puzzle. But the worst part? It was missing 3 pieces.

I’d like to say that one of the good things about it is that it comes in a pack of five, but unfortunately, it means there are five pieces. The only redeeming thing about this candy is the hexagonal box it comes in. If I hold it just right, I can cover up the name of the candy and tell others that it’s a smaller version of a Toblerone. Well, that, and it makes a dandy place to hide my blueprints for an underground cave lair complete with a cage for my evil guinea pig, Fuck Nut.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 and a quarter sticks – 158 calories, 8.7 grams of fat, 1 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 50 milligrams of sodium, 19 grams of carbohydrates, 0 grams of dietary fiber, 9 grams of sugar, 1.6 grams of protein, and the tears of children.)

Item: Furuta Sequoia Strawberry Chocolate

Price: $2.69

Size: 30 grams

Purchased at: China Mart

Rating: 1 out of 10 

Pros: Hairy balls. Strawberry yogurt smell. Mindfucking children. Container makes a dandy hiding place. Evil guinea pig named Fuck Nut.

Cons: Bubblegum appearance. Artificial and chemical tastes. Paint smell taste. Overpowering vanilla crème. Stale Wafer. Lousy 3D puzzle. 5 pieces.

Cherry Cassis Kombucha Wonder Drink

I believe I have found something worse than coal that Santa can give out to the naughty kids for Christmas this year.

If jolly St. Nick wants to be pissed off St. Dick and punish all the little shits around the world, he should stick the Cherry Cassis Kombucha Wonder Drink in their stockings because it is probably one of the most vile beverages I have ever put between my lips and down my gullet.

It’s like they took the essence of the 2 Girls 1 Cup video, strained it into liquid form, added a little carbonation, and sealed it in an aluminum can, because much like the 2 Girls 1 Cup video, this beverage made me cry, grimace, and shout out loud, “DAMN, THAT’S FUCKING NASTY!”

(Editor’s Note: If you don’t know what 2 Girls 1 Cup is, it is VERY NSFW (Insert Fark bill here). It is so horribly disgusting that I am not even going to provide a link for it. It is one of the most repulsive things I have ever seen…a couple dozen times.)

The best way I can describe the taste of the Cherry Cassis Kombucha Wonder Drink is to say that its tart chemical flavor was like drinking a photo darkroom. Its ingredients consisted of water, organic kombucha concentrate, organic green tea, organic cane juice, black currant (cassis) juice concentrate, cherry juice concentrate, and carbonation. The cherry and the cassis give it a tartness, the green tea gives it antioxidants, while the kombucha gives it a shitiness.

In the context of the ingredients list, kombucha seems like it is a fruit with a funny name, like a jaboticaba, but it is actually a symbiosis of bacteria and yeast. Doesn’t that just roll down your tongue, then down your throat, and then back up your throat? Yummy!

According to the can, kombucha is supposed to detoxify, energize, help strengthen the immune system, aid digestion, and regulate appetite. The only effect I could notice was my lack of appetite, thanks to it making me a little nauseous. Even reading the Wikipedia page about kombucha made me slightly queasy.

With its unusual name and natural origins, it is something I expect hippies and Madonna to be into, but I could not get into it, despite forcing myself to drink half of the can. “I’m sure it is an acquire taste,” I said to myself, but every sip I took felt like what I imagine it is like being Lucifer’s urinal.

Sure, the Cherry Cassis Kombucha Wonder Drink contains all-natural ingredients and is good for you, but I’m pretty certain that someone who drinks their own urine would find this particular Wonder Drink disgusting.

If the Cherry Cassis Kombucha Wonder Drink can make me cry and wince, imagine all the pain and suffering it could cause with all the rotten children out there, perhaps setting them straight. It could help decrease teen pregnancy, lower drug use, increase test scores, and open their eyes to how lame Heelys are.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 can – 80 calories, 0 grams of fat, 0 milligrams of sodium, 18 grams of carbohydrates, 17 grams of sugar, 0 grams of protein, and 100 grams of holy-shit-what-the-fuck-is-this!)

Item: Cherry Cassis Kombucha Wonder Drink
Price: $1.99 (12 ounces)
Purchased at: Uwajimaya
Rating: 1 out of 5
Pros: 100% natural. Partially organic. Contains green tea and antioxidants. Kombucha is a funny word to say. Those on the nice list.
Cons: Being Lucifer’s urinal. 2 Girls 1 Cup. Not a source of vitamins and minerals. 2 Girls 1 Cup. It tastes like a photo darkroom. 2 Girls 1 Cup. I am not man enough to drink an entire can. 2 Girls 1 Cup. Heelys. 2 Girls 1 Cup. Those on the naughty list.

Chicken of the Sea Mandarin Orange Salmon Cups

I take back everything bad I said about other things I reviewed, this is proof that the devil lives among us. And apparently the devil takes on the form of a blonde mermaid who hocks packaged fish products. Nice try, you sleazy merchant of lies. You don’t even really exist in nature, your origin came about when drunk and horny pirates mistakenly identified a seal. Maybe next time wear a clamshell bra like Ariel from The Little Mermaid if you want to win my trust and make me have a disturbing, sexually confusing crush on you.

How I came about stumbling upon this box of evil seemed innocent enough. I was minding my own business, shopping at the gigantic corporate mega mart that simultaneously fuels and ruins our country, when I had a sudden craving for tuna. I skimmed the aisles until I found the cheapest can I could and then noticed something beside it. Like a siren, it called to me. I picked it up and threw it in my cart. Little did I know I was in possession of a product that was more akin to Pandora’s Box than a can of tuna.

I related to the small sealed cup because like myself, it had a massive identity crisis. The label is a true orgy of bullshit that I had to wade through just to figure out what the damn thing was. First of all, it was from Chicken of the Sea, which I’ve been conditioned to believe sells tuna.

However, it is addressed as a salmon cup, which is neither chicken nor tuna. To make matters more complicated, the words “Mandarin Orange” are included in a big box as if to indicate that this was indeed a fruit cup and that everything else was included for the sole purpose of pissing me off.

After my head exploded and the minimum wage worker lazily wiped the remains off the floor, I checked out. I mentioned to the cashier, “You do realize that this is fucking ridiculous, right?” but only received a puzzled look in response. I took the cup home and decided to give it a shot.

This is by far the most vile thing I’ve ever attempted to consume. The scent is somewhere between orange scratch-n-sniff and demon breath. I am convinced that if Syracuse University’s orange mascot died in a football celebration gone terribly awry, this is what he’d smell like after two weeks. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this thing came straight out of an H.P. Lovecraft novel.

By this point I had confirmed that it was indeed salmon in some type of mandarin orange sauce. My first taste was one of bewilderment and disgust. “I don’t recall salmon tasting like syrup, orange liquor, and charcoal,” I thought to myself.

Needless to say, I quickly spit it out and burned the plastic bag just in case it decided to return and make me eat it in my sleep. I ran into the garage seeking sandpaper to lick so I could get rid of the taste.

They say that which does not kill you makes you stronger, but those people apparently never tasted mandarin orange salmon cups. The sadist in me wants you to try it with your family and share in the pain that I’ve felt, but the Jesus complex in me wants to save you from this horrible wreck.

It’s your call, but don’t come back crying when your spouse leaves you and your oldest daughter becomes a broken emo girl that I may or may not try to sleep with at a party.

Item: Chicken of the Sea Mandarin Orange Salmon Cups
Price: 85 cents
Purchased at: Wal-Mart
Rating: 1 out of 5
Pros: Hot animated mermaids. Hermetically sealed packaging.
Cons: Dead orange mascots. Smell from said dead orange mascot. Abominable taste. the shame of shopping at Wal-Mart. Confusing labels. Salmon officially losing all of its dignity.

REVIEW: Bath & Body Works Temptations Iced Tea Twist

Bath & Body Works Temptations Iced Tea Twist

Right now, I want you to close your eyes and imagine me washing my body with the Bath & Body Works Temptations Iced Tea Twist. Do you like what you’re picturing in your mind?

If you’re having a hard time thinking of what my lathered up bod looks like, let me help you out.

My chest is like Kate Moss’, except I have slightly bigger boobs than she does and a lot more hair. Growl! Like wooden chopsticks at a sushi bar, my arms are skinny, pale, and can only lift things by using both of them at the same time, unless I stab stuff with one arm. My gut could be a six-pack if I sucked it in hard enough, but I don’t, so instead it looks like a mini-keg. If you’ve seen rap video hoochies, you know what my booty looks like, except extremely pale. My legs are like a fine thoroughbred racing horse’s, only in furriness, not in shape or muscle definition. Finally, at certain angles my head kind of looks like John Cho’s from Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle.

Now wrap all of that together, and put some soap suds over it, and you can imagine me cleaning my wet naked body with the Bath & Body Works Temptations Iced Tea Twist. Can you visualize it? Can you see my glistening physique? Oooh, do you like what you see? Do you like what you smell?

Well I don’t like what I smell, because the Bath & Body Works Temptations Iced Tea Twist makes me smell like lemon Pledge wood spray.

The only times I should smell like lemon Pledge is if I’m getting it on with a hot cleaning maid who speaks very little English on a freshly-cleaned dining table or being sprayed in the face with lemon Pledge by a hot cleaning maid after using the pick up line, “I’ve got something else that’s hard and wooden that needs some cleaning…and lovin’.”

Bath & Body Works Temptations Iced Tea Twist Label

I don’t know if the Iced Tea Twist combined with my au naturel body odor causes some kind of chemical reaction to make it smell like lemon Pledge, but it disappoints me because in the bottle the Iced Tea Twist actually smells like the iced tea I make with the sweetened Nestea iced tea powder mix. It smells good enough that if I wanted to put a Jackass-type of video up on YouTube and the bottle didn’t specifically say, “CAUTION: FOR ADULT EXTERNAL USE ONLY,” I would totally mix it with some chilled filtered water, drink it, then call the National Capital Poison Center at 1-800-222-1222 and hope I don’t die.

The lemon Pledge smell is definitely a turn off, but the metallic brown color of the Bath & Body Works Temptations Iced Tea Twist is pretty and I would probably use it if I decide to pimp my 2003 Toyota Corolla and turn it into a rice racer. Finally, Iced Tea Twist is like RuPaul, because they are both 3-in-1. While the Iced Tea Twist is a body wash, bubble bath and shampoo, RuPaul is a woman, a man and FABULOUS.

So if you enjoy smelling like lemon Pledge, and I’m pretty sure one percent of you do, the Bath & Body Works Temptations Iced Tea Twist is the next best thing behind using lemon Pledge as an eau de toilette. For the other 99 percent of you, I would recommend avoiding it, because it’s not appealing at all, just like imagining me lathering up my naked body.

Item: Bath & Body Works Temptations Iced Tea Twist
Price: $6.00 (on sale)
Purchased at: Bath & Body Works
Rating: 1 out of 10
Pros: Smells like sweetened Nestea iced tea in the bottle. Cool metallic brown color. Body wash, bubble bath and shampoo. Hot cleaning maids.
Cons: Smells like lemon Pledge on my body. For external use only. Visualizing me washing my naked body with the Bath & Body Works Temptations Iced Tea Twist. Having bigger boobs than Kate Moss.

Libby’s Zesty Barbecue Vienna Sausage

I’ve always been told that one of the most important things one can do in life is make a good first impression. Unfortunately, I tend to ignore people I deem stupid so most advice goes way over my head. I once took a girl out on a first date and audibly complained that getting another slice of cheese on my burger costs an extra 30 cents. Later on, I mused about “really thinking about buying war bonds” and “striking it rich with Pog collecting.” After I finished explaining that “I’m not a stalker,” she seemed visibly disgusted.

Oh, the witty thought bubbles Blind Date would’ve put over our heads!

Alas, it was not meant to be.

But something I’ve learned from television is that no matter how badly you screw up, you can always dye your hair and move to a different state. This is why back in the 90’s I looked like an Asian Dennis Rodman. Not exactly a pretty sight, but that’s the sacrifice I had to make. All of that’s in the past and now I’m here with all you fine folks reviewing everything America has to offer: the good, the bad, and the Libby’s Zesty Barbecue Vienna Sausages.

Vienna sausages never made a good first impression with me. They were limp, soft, and devoid of any flavor except for perhaps urine and pig intestines. Looking like flaccid hot dogs didn’t help their case either. The fact that they even call it a Vienna sausage is obscene. It’s like inventing a “Luxembourg Sandwich” and making it with bologna and chicken gravy. Granted, that sounds absolutely delicious, but it doesn’t make it accurate.

Vienna is supposed to be a city rich with culture, history, and from what I gathered from the movie Hostel, hot and easy Euro chicks. These sausages have none of that.

Actually, I might be shortchanging them a bit — they might contain Euro chicks, since they’re already made with chicken, beef, and pork. Throw in some tuna and they could make a formidable basketball team down at the local YMCA.

Vienna sausages are life’s “fuck you” waiting in the cabinet when you’re hung over and depressed; heart welling with anguish after a long night of binge drinking because you’re wondering why Gordon Ramsey has to be so darn mean on Hell’s Kitchen. All you have left after that are these crimes against nature, which are mysteriously cheaper than cat food and come in disturbingly similar packaging. I’m not one to turn down a good can of Fancy Feast, but it’s not exactly something I’m proud of. There is a saving light, however! The sausages now come with a zesty barbecue sauce.

The makers of the sausage would like to believe that the addition of an awful sauce would make their product suitable for human consumption. My rebuttal would be a Lex Luthor-style WROOOONG!!!

Damn, where do I start?

The sausages have a distinct metallic aftertaste. I’m not sure if this is because they’ve been in a can since the first world war, but it is not exactly pleasing to the palette. The barbecue sauce is just regular Vienna sausage sauce mixed with some ketchup and brown sugar. It makes for a viscous disaster of a condiment. I tried them on a hot dog bun and barely got through two bites. I wouldn’t even feed it to my worst enemy, for I fear that upon consumption he would be stricken with so much rage that I would be immediately eviscerated.

Maybe it was stupidity or maybe it was morbid curiosity, but I was drawn to these things. For that, I am ashamed. I hope Libby’s enjoy their 48 cents, because it is safe to say that I will not be making this purchase again unless I am attempting suicide and need some extra incentive.

Item: Libby’s Zesty Barbecue Vienna Sausage
Price: 48 cents
Purchased at: Wal-Mart
Rating: 1 out of 5
Pros: Knowing that the production of this stuff at least gives people jobs.
Cons: Barbecue sauce on a god damn vienna sausage. Distinct metallic aftertaste. Complaining about the price of cheese on dates. Look like flaccid hot dogs. An Asian Dennis Rodman. Gordon Ramsey’s temper.

Hood Carb Countdown Strawberry-Banana Lowfat Yogurt Smoothie

Hood Smoothie

The Impulsive Buy has reviewed a couple of yogurt smoothies over the past couple of months: The Yoplait Nouriche and the Dannon Frusion. Both of them were good, but if you read the nutritional information, you will notice each product has enough carbs and sugar to cause the late Dr. Atkins to un-cremate his body and scold your carb-craving fat ass.

If that whole coming back to life by un-cremation were possible, the zombie Dr. Atkins would probably recommend the Hood Carb Countdown Strawberry-Banana Lowfat Yogurt Smoothie. He would also try to eat your brains, because he’s a zombie and it’s protein.

While chewing on your cerebellum, he would probably tell you that the Hood Carb Countdown Strawberry-Banana Lowfat Yogurt Smoothie is low in carbs, low in sugar, low in fat, low in calories, and has more protein than the Yoplait Nouriche, Dannon Frusion, and your brain stem. Also, he might brag about the fact his name in prominently on the bottle a couple of times.

Unfortunately, the zombie Dr. Atkins probably wouldn’t mention the fact that the Hood Carb Countdown Strawberry-Banana Lowfat Yogurt Smoothie tastes much worse than the Nouriche and Frusion, but slightly better than the frontal lobe he’s chewing on.

The texture of it was kind of chalky, and yes I did remember to shake well. I guess I should’ve expected this, after all it is “lowfat.”

Now boys and girls, to avoid selecting crappy products while you’re shopping, it’s very important to remember this fun and simple equation:


LCarb + LS + LF + LCal = CRAP
(Low Carbs + Low Sugar + Low Fat + Low Calories = Cruddy Repulsive Attempt at a Product)

If you’re trying to reduce your carbohydrates intake, this is a great product with only 4 grams of carbs, but that’s all it’s got going for it.


Item: Hood Carb Countdown Strawberry-Banana Lowfat Yogurt Smoothie
Purchase Price: $2.39 (on sale)
Rating: 1 out of 5
Pros: Low carbs. Low sugar. Low fat. Low calories.
Cons: Low carbs. Low sugar. Low fat. Low calories. Low taste. Low desire to buy another.