Quiznos Makes Jared Cry By Having As Many Meatball Subs As Subway

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.

Vanilla Cream Slurpee May Cause Me To Cream

One of my all-time favorite Slurpee flavors is blue vanilla, but unfortunately I haven’t seen it at my neighborhood 7-Eleven for a very, very, WTF long time. I believe I haven’t seen because the Slurpee gods are punishing me for my regular routine of filling my Slurpee cup, then walking around the 7-Eleven, taking swings of it every so often while I check out the candy, soda, and the vast array of shitty magazines, and then going back to the Slurpee machine to fill it to the top again. But oh thank heaven for 7-Eleven, because they are introducing the Vanilla Cream Slurpee this month and I hope it tastes similar to my beloved Blue Vanilla Slurpee. If it does, my high fructose corn syrup intake will increase dramatically this month.

REVIEW: JT Super Haioku

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.

REVIEW: Kellogg’s High School Musical Cereal

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.

Cheetos Now Has A Flavor That Doesn’t Look Radioactive

Is it just me or is Chester Cheetah too much into cheese? Look at him on the packaging of the new limited edition Cheetos Crunchy Mozzarella, which I took a picture of in Wal-Mart when the folks in blue vests weren’t looking. Now I don’t mean a connoisseur of cheese, I’m talking a full blown cheese whore who would do ANYTHING for a little taste of the curds and whey. If that’s not the face of a cheese whore, I don’t know what it. It’s like he’s ready to snort a few lines of white mozzarella cheese, or otherwise known on the street as Italian Gold. Also, I’m not too sure what’s more disturbing; the albino white mozzarella on these Cheetos or the radioactive orange stuff on regular Cheetos?

Carl’s Jr. Big Country Breakfast Burrito is Big Enough to Shut Anyone’s Piehole

Metaphorically, I always seem to put my foot in my mouth, but I’ve never been able to do it literally because I lack the flexibility of a Chinese acrobat and my feet smell like stinky cheese and ballsack sweat. However, thanks to the Carl’s Jr. Big Country Breakfast Burrito I can now experience what it feels like to have something that is roughly the mass of someone’s foot and stick it in my mouth. I would’ve listed all of the ingredients, but I figured by the time you got half way through, you might have chest pains from just reading it. With 770 calories and 47 grams of fat, it’s a gluttonous way to start your morning. It’s available now at your nearest Carl’s Jr. for $2.69.