REVIEW: Olay Body Hydrate Botanical Fusion Body Wash

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It is hard to believe that in two months it will be the 40th anniversary of that mud-covered, bong water-flavored, musical love-fest known as Woodstock. Even though I wasn’t actually there since I was born eighteen years after the harmonious event, I’m pretty sure I know what it was like to be in the crowd and which aromas would tickle my nostrils due the LSD induced hyper-sensory experience.

In the midst of animal and human fecal matter, ganja brownies and food cooked over flaming piles of hemp t-shirts, the fragrance of patchouli oil is able to stick out as one of the very few aromas that delights, but doesn’t give you the munchies so bad that you are willing to try the vegetarian goulash of a slightly hairy woman who was just born again as Starlight Moonshadow.

If you haven’t had the pleasure of smelling patchouli oil, I guess I can describe it as the scent from your sexually ambiguous art teacher who wore long flowing skirts and jewelry made by Incas sold at that random store in the mall that always opens up and mysteriously closes after two months. I guess there isn’t a desperate need for replica Urhobo masks.

The Olay Body Hydrate Botanical Fusion Body Wash has a slight scent of patchouli, which is perfect for me, because I don’t like body washes that are overpowering since I use lotion and perfume. However, it wouldn’t be strong enough to get a hippie clean. The body wash lathers up pretty well using a medium-sized bath pouf, but I did notice that I had to put a larger amount than other body washes that I frequently use from Bath and Body Works or even Irish Spring (who says it’s only for men?).

Maybe this is a plot made by Olay for women to purchase more of their products (doesn’t every beauty company do this?), but I don’t think it’s working since I did buy this on sale at CVS. Although, I believe it was on sale because of a bottle design change, which is a little upsetting to me because the bottle design is what caught my attention in the first place. Also, it’s probably not “new” anymore.

Olay did hold up their hydrate promise, because my skin did feel like buttah before I even moisturized; the soy oil probably helped this. The Olay Body Hydrate Botanical Fusion Body Wash is a good product, but it is pretty boring compared to the thousands of other body washes currently on the market.

Item: Olay Body Hydrate Botanical Fusion Body Wash
Price: $3.79 (on sale)
Size: 15.2 fl oz
Purchased at: CVS
Rating: 6 out of 10
Pros: Moisturizes the skin. Light scent of patchouli won’t make you smell like a hippie. Ganja brownies. Woodstock ’69. Purchased on sale. Skin like buttah.
Cons: Need to use more on bath pouf than other body washes. Scent might be too light for some. Hallucinating from ganja brownies. Woodstock ’99. Silky body wash could make you slip in the shower.

REVIEW: Dr Pepper Cherry Dessert Topper

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I have a lot of friends who study psychology (you know who you are) and one of our favorite pastimes is talking about different fetishes people have or what couples do to spice up bedroom and/or in the back of a 1970’s van activities (I’m a college student who has a lot of time on her hands in between coursework and drinking, do not judge me).

Of course there’s the good ol’ foot fetish or the “wrap me up in rubber and spank me with a fly swatter while you call me Mistress Naughty Pants” fetish. However, the awkward yet supposedly sensual activity of putting whipped cream and warm fudge on body parts that are scientifically known as “fun buttons,” “happy trails” or “bean bags” are always a conversational crowd pleaser.

I’m not thrifty, but chocolate body paint that is marketed as a “sensual feast for the mind and body” is not worth $40 plus shipping. For that price I rather buy a box of Godiva and have a piece whenever I feel like a bad little schoolgirl or just buy the new Dr Pepper Cherry Dessert Topper.

Yes, I will admit it sounds odd and maybe a tad bit disgusting, but Dr. McPeppy (my personal nickname for the sauce) delights the taste buds. I was scared at first; I didn’t want my love for Dr Pepper Cherry to be tarnished by the ooey gooey version, but Dr. McPeppy set me at ease and assured me he will taste just like the liquid form.

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and let that sticky sauce hit my tongue. My eyes slowly opened as I began to savor the dessert topping naked. I didn’t want my first time with Dr. McPeppy to be masked by ice cream. It had to be an organic experience, or as much as an organic experience can be with high fructose corn syrup.

In the buff, Dr. McPeppy holds up well, but after a few pea-sized samples of the sauce it gets to be too sweet — almost annoyingly sweet. Dr. McPeppy was about to whip out a boom box and start serenading me with The Ultimate Collection by Barry White, but I put a stop to that by trying a little on some Breyers coffee ice cream, which accompanied it quite well. I haven’t tried it with vanilla ice cream, because I do like to spice things up a bit, but I’m sure it would taste just as good or maybe even better.

The best thing about the Dr Pepper Cherry Dessert Topper is that it’s not specific on what types of desserts you can put it on, so pretty much let your imagination run wild, but don’t blame me if your partner gets freaked out by putting some on her fun buttons or his bean bags.

(Nutrition Facts – 2 tbsp – 130 calories, 0 grams of fat, 55 milligrams of sodium, 33 grams of carbohydrates and 15 grams of sugar.)

Item: Dr Pepper Cherry Dessert Topper
Price: FREE
Size: 14 ounces
Purchased at: My Wonderful Mother Purchased It For Me
Rating: 6 out of 10
Pros: Tastes just like the soda. Fat free. Having educated conversations about fetishes. The use of the word dessert to imply many things. Adds something different in your dessert topping arsenal.
Cons: Gets to be too sweet. $40 chocolate body paint. Has enough sugar to possibly go into a diabetic coma. Feeling sticky after a so-called “sensual feast for the mind and body.” Dubious ingredients that require a doctorate in chemistry to figure out what you are actually consuming.

REVIEW: Kellogg’s Jumbo Multi-Grain Krispies

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While frolicking through the cereal aisle, I like to think that each brand has its own personality. Corn Flakes is that friend you can always trust, but isn’t very exciting until she’s dressed up in something sassy. Raisin Bran is an elderly man at a nursing home who is always up for telling a story about when a glass bottle of Coca-Cola was a nickel and pinches his nurse’s ass after she takes his blood pressure. Fruit Loops…well…we won’t go there. Then there’s new Kellogg’s Jumbo Multi-Grain Krispies who has taken a page out of Barry Bonds’ handbook and every male enhancement advertisement that airs after 11 p.m.

When I first saw Jumbo Multi-Grain Krispies I was quite intimidated by its alleged performance enhanced physique; boasting that they are three times bigger than those little weakling Rice Krispies and can beat the shit out of any cereal that crosses them. Jumbo Multi-Grain Krispies will snap, crackle and pop your fucking head off.

However, Jumbo Multi-Grain Krispies denies any accusations of juicing, claiming that they are healthy since they are “multi-grain.” I decided to give them a chance. Maybe their powerful size can accompany my breakfast lineup, after all Frosted Flakes has been lagging in RBI’s lately. However, these jacked up bad boys are all talk and don’t deliver when they hit my bowl.

Jumbo Multi-Grain Krispies resemble maggots, which is quite disturbing, but I can pretend I’m on some overdone reality show where I stuff my trap with creepy crawlers (not the kickass toy from the 90’s) and compete against E-List celebrities like William Hung or Jesse Camp. The small, yet adequate, Rice Krispies are known for their rhythmic crackling and/or popping and/or snapping, but the bloated version seems to be as rhythmically challenged as an obese drunk uncle at a wedding reception who barks the lyrics to “Play That Funky Music” and puts emphasis on the line “white boy.”

Jumbo Multi-Grain Krispies have a touch (more like trickle) of honey, which adds some sweetness, but it doesn’t do much for flavoring the puffed rice. Their only plus side is that they stay hard in milk, which proves they have stamina, but that doesn’t mean a thing when they bore you to the point of falling asleep with a spoonful in your mouth.

Jumbo Multi-Grain Krispies are higher in fiber than their older, yet smaller brother, but if you’re looking for a cereal high in fiber there are plenty of more flavorful options, including that perverted old man Raisin Bran.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 Cup – 90 calories, 0 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 170 milligrams of sodium, 30 milligrams of potassium, 24 grams of carbohydrates, 3 grams of dietary fiber, 8 grams of sugar, 1 gram of protein and a bunch of vitamins and minerals.)

Item: Kellogg’s Jumbo Multi-Grain Krispies
Price: $2.19
Size: 11.2 ounces
Purchased at: Wal-Mart
Rating: 4 out of 10
Pros: Multi-grain stays hard in milk. Old people getting away with not so appropriate behavior. Making fun of male enhancement commercials.
Cons: Honey adds some sweetness, but doesn’t do much for its flavor. Steroids in baseball. Resembles maggots. Falling asleep with milk dripping out of your mouth. Getting your ass kicked by an emotionally unstable breakfast cereal. Embarrassing relatives.

REVIEW: Wawa Soft Pretzel

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When I was just a mere reader of this intellectual review site, I would always scream, jump up and down and hit my computer like a wild spider monkey at the zoo that children flick pieces of popcorn at. I bet you’re wondering why on Earth I would do this. Well, it’s because I would see food reviews for delicious, mouth-watering and other trite adjectives used to describe fast food items that will leave a tattoo on your arteries from places such as Jack in the Box and Carl’s Jr. Those of us who were represented by The Notorious BIG in the East Coast/West Coast Rap Wars of 1995 are not able to experience a Carl’s Jr. Charbroiled Steak Sandwich or Del Taco Jalapeno Rings. Well, now it’s the Left Coast’s turn to cry tears of pain when they read reviews for items that only us near the Atlantic have the opportunity to devour.

Wawa is a chain of convenience stores that are located in the Mid-Atlantic. To compare it to a 7-Eleven is blasphemy. Here’s an example of a conversation between a Philadelphian and a tourist that has no clue what a Wawa is:

Tourist: “I’ve seen signs for a store called Wawa. Some have gas stations, and some don’t.”

Philly Guy: “Oh yeah, I go to Wawa every morning before work.”

Tourist: “So it’s like a 7-Eleven?”

Philly Guy: “Fuck You.”

How can you compare sandwiches made to order to oddly colored tubes of mystery meat heated by a sun lamp that slowly rotate while a loitering stoner stares for hours thinking that one of the hot dogs looks like a member of Phish? I’m not saying that 7-Eleven is awful; I do love the occasional Slurpee, but compared to Wawa, 7-Eleven is merely that chick from high school that’s popular, because she has a reputation for giving handjobs behind the bleachers.

The iconic Wawa Pretzel comes two to a package, connected in the middle. It’s much softer than a pretzel that you would get at a ballpark or from a street vendor. The doughy and slightly sticky texture makes it easier to eat without needing to have a chaser of water (or in Marvo’s case, a Throwback Pepsi) and the amount of salt on it is just about right. Although, like snowflakes, no Wawa Pretzel is alike. Some may have less salt, others more may have more salt, some could be harder than others (that’s what she said) and some could be softer than a 90-year-old man while watching Dancing With the Stars.

I’m sorry if I put a visual in your head.

Clocking in at 1040 milligrams of sodium for one pretzel doesn’t make this exactly health food, and 58 grams of carbs would probably make Robert Atkins roll in his grave. The pretzel is very heavy; in fact I could barely finish one before I could feel it expand in my stomach. It’s not something I could consume everyday, but for a carb craving it certainly does the trick.

(Nutrition Facts: Serving Size 1 pretzel-310 calories, 5 grams of fat, 2 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 1040 milligrams of sodium, 58 grams of carbohydrates, 4 grams of fiber, 1 gram of sugar, 9 grams of protein. 2% calcium and 20% iron.)

Item: Wawa Soft Pretzel
Price: $1.38 plus tax
Size: 7.8 oz
Purchased at: Wawa Food Markets
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: Not dry like most soft pretzels. Fills your belly up. Experiencing the wonder known as Wawa. The colorful vernacular of Philadelphians. Laughing at stoners trying to have a vision while they look at the rotating hot dogs at 7-Eleven.
Cons: More sodium than a healthy human should consume. The East Coast/West Coast Rap Wars of 1995. The image of a 90-year-old man’s problems.

ANNOUNCEMENT: New Writer Ends The Sausagefest at The Impulsive Buy

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The glass ceiling has been broken, and I was the one who whipped out her .357 Magnum Lara Croft-style and shattered that sucker into a million pieces. Actually, it’s not that badass, but I will be the first writer sans schlong here at The Impulsive Buy.

And yes, I used the words sans and schlong in the same sentence.

Even though I am of the female persuasion, TIB will not be bombarded with reviews about tampons or other feminine products located in the aisle that has pregnancy tests and condoms.

Now that I’ve cleared that up…

I’m Kayla, a native of New Hampshire (a.k.a. Vermont’s spooning partner) who has been living in Philadelphia for almost three years. I’m pursuing my B.S. in Communications with concentrations in advertising and screenwriting. One day I’d like to be running my own advertising agency, making mad dough and coming up with commercial ideas that involve farting monkeys or other things that parent advocacy groups would deem inappropriate.

I’ve been consuming massive amounts of media since the age of two, which turned me into a pop culture snob of sorts, but not one of those snobs that needs to use Grey Poupon on everything. However, I do have a taste for the finer things in life like strippers, PBR and Warrant’s 1990 magnum opus “Cherry Pie.” Most of the time I’m enjoying these things all at once while wearing a strand of pearls and an adorable argyle sweater. I would like to think of myself as classy on the outside and sleazy on the inside.

I’ve been an avid reader of The Impulsive Buy since 2005, but never posted any comments on reviews since I really didn’t get into the blogging scene until recently when I started my own that focuses on advertising. You can check that out at bourgeoisconsumer.blogspot.com. I’m really excited to be on board here at TIB and I’m even more excited to start buying impulsively and working on my innuendo for reviews.

-Kayla

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