REVIEW: Axe Whatever Messy Look Paste

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On the Axe Whatever Messy Look Paste’s container, which for some reason kind of reminds me of the Legion of Doom’s headquarters, the following is printed on its label: “Girls don’t like that crusty, crunchy hair you get from gels.”

If Axe’s canister copywriters are correct, I’ve been living in a style faux pas for the past several years, because I’ve been using a hair gel that makes my hair crustier than a hobo’s armpit and crunchier than a bag of Cheetos. But I love my hair gel because it makes something on my body remain stiff for more than four hours without the need to see a doctor and it gives my hair to ability to pop balloons so that I can make the children holding them cry.

The Whatever Messy Look Paste is part of Axe’s new hair product line, which is made up of shampoos, conditioners and hair styling products. It expands Axe’s Axis of Evil Aromas. For those of you who are regular Impulsive Buy readers, you know that I’m not a big fan of Axe products and have given them bad reviews because I think all their products smell alike and they have never gotten a guy tackled, kissed, groped or bitten, despite what their commercials show. Because of my feelings towards Axe products, I didn’t expect much from the Whatever Messy Look Paste, but I have to admit that I kind of liked it.

Axe has four hair products; each is used for a different type of styling: spiked, shaggy, clean and messy. The Axe Whatever Messy Look Paste, obviously, gives users a messy just-out-of-bed look, which is otherwise known as the It Looks Like I Don’t Give A Shit About My Hair, But I Really Do Because I Spent Five Minutes Looking At Myself In The Mirror Trying to Make My Hair This Messy look. I was able to make my hair messy with it, but I also made it fairly neat, as you can see above.

The hair paste was baby blue in color. If I remember correctly from my days as a drooling, diaper-pooping infant, that is a boyish color. Its scent was much more pleasant than any other Axe product I’ve tried, but it also smelled like a woman’s deodorant. And I should know what a women’s deodorant smells like because I’ve licked my fair share of female armpits for $50 on top of their usual hourly rate.

Applying the paste was simple; all I had to do was use a finger-tip amount, rub it vigorously between my hands, spread it thoroughly through my damp hair and style. Because the product was baby blue, it temporarily gave some of my hair a baby blue sheen, but it quickly faded as I styled it.

The product did a good job of maintaining its hold. Even after having it on the whole day, it pretty much looked the same as when I applied it. It didn’t make my hair stiff and it didn’t flake, but it was a little greasy, which would make it slightly unappealing for a woman to run her fingers through my hair while I lick her armpit for an extra fifty bucks.

Item: Axe Whatever Messy Look Paste
Price: $6.48
Size: 2.64 ounces
Purchased at: Wal-Mart
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: Does a good job maintaining hold. Doesn’t smell like other Axe products. Didn’t flake. Able to make my hair messy and neat with it. Licking a woman’s armpit.
Cons: Made my hair a little greasy. Smells like a woman’s deodorant. Baby blue color is kind of weird. Gives hair a temporary baby blue sheen. Having to pay $50 to lick a woman’s armpit (It should be included in the hourly rate).

REVIEW: Arby’s Bacon Cheddar Roastburger

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Arby’s is one of those places I continually forget still exists, like Radio Shack, The Disney Store, Hard Rock Cafe and Planet Hollywood.

Maybe it’s because Arby’s isn’t like other fast food places. They don’t inundate me with weird Burger King ads from advertising superpower Crispin Porter + Bogusky or McDonald’s commercials that make it seem cool to eat saturated fat and sodium. But every so often Arby’s comes up with a product that slaps me across the face and jogs my memory of them. Their new Bacon Cheddar Roastburger was the hand that bitchslapped some recollection into me.

The Bacon Cheddar Roastburger is made up of thinly sliced, oven roasted beef, pepper bacon, a slice of cheddar cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, and red onions in between a special roll. I’m not too sure what’s so special about the roll, but it might be that fact that it contains trans fat, as you can see in the image below.

Something else that’s disturbing about the Arby’s Bacon Cheddar Roastburger is the use of “chargrilled seasoning,” which you can see in the image above. I think it should get a chargrilled flavor from chargrilling, but apparently there’s an easier way to get it.

I enjoy Arby’s Beef ‘n Cheddar and the Bacon Cheddar Roastburger is basically a Beef ‘n Cheddar with vegetables, bacon, a higher price and, according to my computer’s spellcheck, a made up compound word. Unfortunately I don’t think it comes close to tasting as delicious as a Beef ‘n Cheddar. It was a decent size and had an ample amount of roasted beef, but it was bland and dry.

It didn’t come with a sauce, so I guess it depended on that chargrilled seasoning for flavor. Thank Buddha for Arby and Horsey Sauces, which made finishing the Arby’s Bacon Cheddar Roastburger much easier.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 burger – 442 calories, 18 grams of fat, 8 grams of saturated fat, 1 grams of trans fat, 57 milligrams of cholesterol, 1427 milligrams of sodium, 44 grams of carbs, 1 gram of dietary fiber, 6 grams of sugar and 23 grams of protein.)

Item: Arby’s Bacon Cheddar Roastburger
Price: $6.97 (combo meal)
Size: Regular meal
Purchased at: Arby’s
Rating: 5 out of 10
Pros: Decent sized burger. Lots of roasted beef. Contains vegetables. Arby Sauce and Horsey Sauce. Arby’s doesn’t have irritating commercials like other fast food joints.
Cons: Bland and dry. Disappointing. No sauce. High in sodium. Contains trans fat. Being bitchslapped by a burger.

REVIEW: Listerine Agent Cool Blue Glacier Mint

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Let’s be honest.

The Listerine Agent Cool Blue Glacier Mint tinting rinse is basically a bullshit detector for parents to use on their children to ensure they’re not lying about brushing their teeth. It’s made for minors at least 6 years of age, which is when I learned the wonderful technique of lying to get out of trouble and to get what I want. Not even the George Washington cherry tree story, which ironically is a lie, could convince me to always be truthful.

This bullshit detector works by tinting your rug rat’s teeth after they rinse with it for 30 seconds. The blue will attach to their plaque and give their teeth a very light blue tint, which is supposed to encourage your brats to brush their teeth better and to make brushing fun.

Of course, if you’re having trouble getting your offspring to brush, you’ll probably have the same level of trouble getting your nestlings to rinse with this product when they know brushing will follow, which ends up being double the hassle for you. So I’m not sure if this is an efficient way to get your lil’ hellions to brush their teeth.

I don’t have kids, but I’ve come up with a few ways to “convince” your little punks to have good oral hygiene. Which one you use depends on how much pain and/or embarrassment you feel they can handle.

Technique #1: Embarrassment – Are you decent at Photoshop? Know someone who’s good at Photoshop? Take one of your kid’s school pictures, scan it, open the file up in Photoshop and do some digital dental cosmetic surgery. Remove some or all of their teeth; draw squiggly lines or, if you’re a Photoshop expert, a green cloud of gas coming out of their mouth to signify bad breath; and add the words, “Stinky Breath” on the image. Then take the completed image, put it on a t-shirt and make your scamp wear it to school.

Technique #2: Paranoia – Set up a security video camera in the bathroom your lil’ rascals use. It can be real or fake, but it should have a working red light on it and occasionally make sounds like the camera is focusing. If possible, add an intercom system which you’ll use to announce that you’re watching them.

Technique #3: Fear – Show your lil’ wretches episodes of the HBO drama Oz, particularly the really graphic ones, and tell them that people who don’t brush their teeth end up in prison.

Technique #4: Pain – The next time your bundle of joy has a dentist appointment, slip the dentist an extra $50 to add a little more pain to their time in the dentist’s chair. Tell your dentist to scrape a little harder, poke at their gums a little more and threaten them with the drill a few times. If you hear crying or see a little blood, slip the dentist an extra $20.

But if you’re not willing to make these type of commitments, then the Listerine Agent Cool Blue Glacier Mint tinting rinse might be able to get your gene carriers to brush, although if they have any intelligence I’m pretty sure they can figure out that they can just rinse their mouth with water when you’re not looking to get rid of whatever blue tint there is, hence the Paranoia Technique above.

When I tried this product, I found the blue tint to be unnoticeable after I rinsed with it for 30 seconds. However, after rinsing with it for a minute, the blue tint was a little more prominent and it dyed my plaque and tongue a dark blue, but all of that easily disappeared after I brushed. It had a pleasant minty flavor and because it’s a rinse and not a mouthwash, it doesn’t sting like normal Listerine.

I still don’t know if the Listerine Agent Cool Blue Glacier Mint will truly encourage little shits to brush their teeth, because it’s not intimidating and Hannah Montana is not on the bottle. All I do know is with my parenting abilities, using pain and embarrassment, I would make an awesome parent, teacher, Scoutmaster or day care facility owner.

Item: Listerine Agent Cool Blue Glacier Mint
Price: $4.46
Size: 16.9 ounces
Purchased at: Wal-Mart
Rating: 5 out of 10
Pros: It has a minty flavor. It’s blue. Decent bullshit detector. For adults and children. My parenting techniques. Good oral hygiene.
Cons: I don’t think it’s very effective in encouraging children to brush. Took more than 30 seconds to see blue tint on my teeth. Does not make brushing fun. Name is lame. Bad oral hygiene.

REVIEW: Pringles Restaurant Cravers Onion Blossom

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Pringles Restaurant Cravers Onion Blossom

The Pringles Restaurant Cravers Onion Blossom potato crisps are based on the Outback Steakhouse appetizer known as the Bloomin’ Onion, which is not Australian in any way. For those of you who haven’t had the pleasure of being introduced to a Bloomin’ Onion and the unknown amounts of saturated fat and sodium it provides, it’s basically the worst thing one can do to get revenge on onions for giving us bad breath.

Imagine having more than a dozen deep slices around your body, then opening up those wounds more, coating those open gashes with a batter, then deep frying your entire body to a golden brown, and having your body picked apart and dipped into a spicy sauce. That’s what the onion has to experience for turning the gum and mint industry into a multi-billion dollar one and also for making us cry whenever we cut them.

Of course, I could make it much worse for onions, but I have yet to figure out a way to make them eat themselves and then blow heavily on themselves.

I imagined the Pringles Restaurant Cravers Onion Blossom would be like eating a potato and an onion making sweet, sweet love using a spicy dipping sauce as lubricant, but instead it mostly tasted like the spicy dipping sauce lubricant, which made sense because a Bloomin’ Onion without its sauce pretty much bloomin’ sucks. It’s lightly covered with an orange powder that give each potato crisp a mild horseradish flavor with a little bit of garlic and onion.

I’m not much of a horseradish kind of guy, but I have to say that I did enjoy the flavor of these Pringles. But they weren’t as appetizing as Outback Steakhouse’s Bloomin’ Onion because I think they lacked the three things that make a Bloomin’ Onion so special: high amounts of saturated fat, lot of sodium and being surrounded by a faux Australian ambience that makes Aborigines and Australians angry.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 ounce – 150 calories, 11 grams of fat, 3 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 230 milligrams of sodium, 14 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of dietary fiber, 1 gram of sugar, 1 gram of protein and 6% Vitamin C.)

Item: Pringles Restaurant Cravers Onion Blossom
Price: $2.49
Size: 6.38 ounces
Purchased at: Walgreens
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: Tasty. Tastes like the spicy sauce given with the Bloomin’ Onion. Nice horseradish flavor. Super Stack. No trans fat. Significantly healthier than a Bloomin’ Onion. Getting revenge on onions.
Cons: People who don’t like horseradish won’t like it. Slightly high in sodium. A Bloomin’ Onion without sauce. Having to chew gum after eating onions. Eating an entire Bloomin’ Onion by yourself. Eating an entire can on Pringles in one sitting.

REVIEW: Jimmy Dean Blueberry Pancakes & Sausage Minis

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Jimmy Dean Blueberry Pancakes & Sausage Minis 1

Its blueberry pancake batter covering makes the Jimmy Dean Blueberry Pancakes & Sausage Minis look like tiny, diseased Russet potatoes, but that’s not what’s most disturbing about this product. The color of the pancake’s interior, which is an infected purple shade that’s only seen by Bret Michaels’ urologist, is also not the most troubling attribute of this product.

What’s most disturbing about the Jimmy Dean Blueberry Pancakes & Sausage Minis is the demented mind it came from, which could be responsible for 98 percent of the monstrosities found on the blog This Is Why You’re Fat>. I would be afraid of meeting this unbalanced mind for fear of becoming just another ingredient that circles around its head like pink elephants around Dumbo’s. This mind has no shame, no conscience and no sense of what’s right and wrong, but that’s the kind of mindset one must have to come up with sausages dipped in blueberry pancake batter and then deep fried to a golden Russet potato brown.

Although I’m surprised they weren’t wrapped in bacon, folded into an omelette, covered with shredded cheese, wrapped in soft tortilla, deep fried again to a golden Russet potato brown and served in a pool of melted butter.

My colleague, Ace, didn’t care for the original version of this product, which he said, and I quote, “I was rewarded with a saccharine, crispy shell of batter surrounding a fine piece of ground rubber. As you could probably imagine, I quickly grew weary of this mysterious rubber sausage and went to the local Pep Boys to inquire about its recycled value.”

Jimmy Dean Blueberry Pancakes & Sausage Minis 2

My feelings about the blueberrified version were different. While warming them up, an artificial, yet pleasing, blueberry smell filled the room. When they were done, I enjoyed them without syrup. The sweetness of the blueberry pancakes definitely enhanced the flavor of the sausage, creating the popular sweet and salty dynamic that food and porn companies can’t get enough of. I also tried them with syrup, but didn’t enjoy them as much. Looking at the diseased purple pancake interior also made me not enjoy them as much, so I’d recommend not looking at it or wearing something over your eyes.

I did enjoy the Jimmy Dean Blueberry Pancakes & Sausage Minis, although I don’t know if I truly liked them or if the guilt of disliking every single Jimmy Dean product we’ve reviewed is getting to my taste buds or if I’m afraid of what the demented mind that spawned this product would do to me if I didn’t enjoy them.

(Nutrition Facts – 3 pieces – 260 calories, 18 grams of fat, 6 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 30 milligrams of cholesterol, 470 milligrams of sodium, 19 grams of carbohydrates, 0 grams of fiber, 8 grams of sugar, 5 grams of protein, 2% Calcium and 4% Iron.)

Item: Jimmy Dean Blueberry Pancakes & Sausage Minis
Price: $3.89 (on sale)
Size: 10 pack
Purchased at: Foodland
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: Nice combination of sweet and salty. Produced an artificial, yet pleasant, blueberry scent when being warmed up. Blueberry pancake coating enhanced the flavor of the sausage. No trans fat. Can be microwaved. It could’ve been much worse, but wasn’t.
Cons: Exterior looked like a diseased Russet potato. Interior’s color looked like the infected wang of a groupie-hungry rock star. High in saturated fat. The demented mind who came up with this product.

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