REVIEW: Post Dino S’mores Pebbles

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I think the Post Dino S’mores Pebbles cereal was created by Fred Flintstone so that there’s a Pebbles cereal Barney could steal from Fred that wouldn’t get him upset and yell, “Barney, my Pebbles.” I believe my theory is correct because this cereal is extremely bland and is something Fred wouldn’t care about if it got stolen. It’s like Post took everything that was great about Cocoa Pebbles and instead of sticking it into this cereal, they shoved it down a snaggle-toothed pig garbage disposal. I don’t know why Dino would want his name associated with this product because it’s something that he would either bury in the backyard and forget about or squeeze out as a steaming pile of poop.

I was hoping the marshmallowy boulders, graham bone shapes, and crunchy chocolatey nuggets would create a s’mores flavor that would take me back to my Boy Scout camp days when we would take showers as one big naked group, wear shorts with an inseam that would make Daisy Duke wearers blush, spray enough mosquito repellant on our bodies to ensure future sterilization, and sit around the campfire building the perfect s’more that was made up of one-third of a Hershey’s bar, with one well-done giant marshmallow, and in between two Honey Maid graham crackers. Unfortunately, the three parts of the Dino S’mores Pebbles cereal couldn’t bring back those memories because those three combined did not taste anything resembling s’mores. If I was at a camp that had s’mores that tasted like this cereal, I would cry like a baby, call for my mommy, and pee in my pants to ensure I would be sent home.

The chocolatey nuggets were not even close to being as chocolatey as Cocoa Pebbles or Cocoa Krispies. The marshmallow boulders and graham bone shapes weren’t very plentiful in the cereal. If you were a microorganism, the marshmallow boulders would actually seem like a large rocks that have the capacity to flatten you, but the small freeze-dried marshmallows that come in hot chocolate packets made the marshmallows in this cereal seem like specks of dirt.

S’mores are supposed to be delicious and messy. Sure, during Boy Scout camp I later regretting eating a dozen of them in one sitting while pooping into a hole in the ground, but while I was eating them, that sugar bomb tasted like a warm hug in my mouth. The Dino S’mores Pebbles cereal is more like a towel whip to the ass in the group shower.

(Nutrition Facts – 3/4 cups – 100 calories, 1.5 grams of fat, 1 gram of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 60 milligrams of sodium, 80 milligrams of potassium, 24 grams of carbohydrates, 4 grams of dietary fiber, 11 grams of sugar, 9 grams of other carbohydrates, 1 gram of protein, and a bunch of vitamins and minerals.)

Item: Post Dino S’mores Pebbles
Price: $4.99
Size: 11.5 ounces
Purchased at: Star Market
Rating: 2 out of 10
Pros: Vitamins and minerals. Actual s’mores.
Cons: Boring, bland. Tastes nothing like s’mores. Not chocolatey. Marshmallow boulders are small. Marshmallow boulders and graham bone shapes aren’t very plentiful. Group showers. Old Boy Scout uniforms. Pooping into a hole in the ground. A towel whip to the ass in the group shower.

REVIEW: Carl’s Jr. Big Country Breakfast Burrito

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The Carl’s Jr. Big Country Breakfast Burrito is meant for the daring. It’s made for women who are willing to dance with the guy in the corner wearing sunglasses at night, with two popped collars, and clubgoers always form a large circle around him, not because he needs space to break out his dance moves, but because he has poor personal hygiene. It’s made for men who have the huge brass cojones to write a heart-warming sonnet that uses the Shakespearean rhyme scheme ABAB CDCD EFEF GG to proclaim their love for combing the manes of their My Little Ponies. It’s made for the small dogs who go up to significantly bigger dogs and bark the words, “You are my bitch.”

This breakfast burrito is only meant for the audacious diner because its ingredients list makes the KFC Famous Bowl seem a little less famous, like going from Alec Baldwin to Daniel Baldwin, and its nutritional values would make a doctor’s heart skip a beat. The cavalcade of ingredients not only consists of the trifecta of pig products — sausage, ham, and bacon — it also has scrambled eggs, hash brown nuggets, shredded jack cheese, shredded cheddar cheese, and white sausage gravy in a flour tortilla. It’s like they took George Orwell’s Animal Farm, wrapped it in tortilla, and scraped out the equines and communism.

With all of those ingredients, I was thinking some would overwhelm others, like normal people being stuffed in a room with Robin Williams clones, and it turns out that I was correct. All I could taste was the egg, tortilla, ham, and sausage gravy, although the white gravy was a little weak, making biscuits everywhere cry a little. I was hoping there would be a strong sausage and bacon flavor, but I guess ham is the Highlander and there can only be one in this breakfast burrito. The hash browns were soggy to the point where its texture was as soft as the eggs, so it didn’t add any crunch to it. Perhaps if I ate it in the restaurant instead of eating it ten minutes later in the comfort of my love shack, the hash brown would’ve still been crunchy. Despite not being able to taste all of the ingredients, it was decent as a ham and egg burrito, plus it had a nice heft to it, but I probably wouldn’t order it again.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 burrito – 770 calories, 47 grams of fat, 13 grams of saturated fat, 495 milligrams of cholesterol, 1530 milligrams of sodium, 57 grams of carbohydrates, 4 grams of sugar, 6 grams of dietary fiber, and 31 grams of protein.)

Item: Carl’s Jr. Big Country Breakfast Burrito
Price: FREE (with coupon from PR peeps)
Size: 308 grams
Purchased at: Carls’ Jr.
Rating: 5 out of 10
Pros: Meant for the daring eater. Decent tasting as a ham and egg burrito, since that most of what I could taste.. High in protein. Six grams of dietary fiber. George Orwell’s Animal Farm.
Cons: Couldn’t taste sausage and bacon. Sausage gravy was a little weak. Hash brown were soggy. High in sodium and saturated fat. Being in a room filled with Robin Williams clones.

REVIEW: Cheese Omelet with Vegetables Power Performance MRE (Meals Ready to Eat)

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Don’t get me wrong. I may be a passive pacifist, but I’m not one of those beatniks who believe that everything can be solved without violence. Somebody has to be the bully or the badass with the poo on the stick once in awhile, but Jack Bauer’s chewing Doublemint gum right now, so he’s a bit too busy to kick ass, and Chuck Norris is retired from Delta Force…which is why we have military forces to take their place, armed with state-of-the-art weapons and MREs (Meals Ready to Eat).

Cheese Omelet with Vegetables Power Performance MRE is fairly low in calories and quite nutritious for something its size, but that comes with a caveat. It’s got the longest list of ingredients for an omelet I’ve ever seen. Here’s a quick rundown of what it contains (which is only a wee fraction of the entire list): liquid eggs, cottage cheese, green chilies, mozzarella, water, cream, modified starch, and about seven or eight preservatives. It’s just like dear old grandma’s secret recipe for a prize-winning omelet (incidentally, I’m still waiting for her to pass on her coveted buck cake recipe)! It’s supposedly designed to last for at least 14 years, which explains the caveat, I guess. It’s also packed so full of cholesterol that the plaque-y goodness must aid the preservation process.

I tore open this bag to find myself utterly devoid of patriotism. I knew that MREs had a bad reputation, but this was completely uncalled for. It belongs on a stick…a very long stick. It tastes like crap and quite frankly it reminds me of really terrible and rancid coffee, which dominates the palate, both on and off the tongue. The texture is basically what you’d expect; extra congealed and crumbly, with the dryness of extra hard boiled egg yolks despite an eerie moistness, which is the only thing remotely egg-y about this thing. The veggies were a lost cause as well, since their flavors were completely dominated and their texture was soggier than wet toilet paper. It smelled like really bad tin can food.

I tried to play with it and build little mounds of crap for my green soldiers to march over, but my wee plastic commandos mutinied and started an underground bordello for G.I. Joes and Mr. Potato Heads. This thing is completely irredeemable and worthless like Switzerland’s military might. It’s a giant fuck you to our soldiers, who deserve better like laser ray guns that go pew pew or robot butlers/maids.

At least it comes with a sah-weet brown spoon. Let me tell you, this spoon is truly badass compared to all the other wimpy plastic spoons out there. It’s frickin’ Schwarzenegger from Commando or Terminator 2. This spoon is bigger, stronger, thicker, and heavier than your average plastic spoon. It’s brown so you can eat this crap without breaking your camouflage cover, if the smell didn’t give you away first. It’s also strong enough that it can be used as a weapon of minor destruction if one finds themselves without anything else after killing too many sissy minions. Now that’s American justice: death by plastic spoon. Too bad it’s not a spork.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 mysterious package – 300 calories, 16 grams of fat, 4.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 530 milligrams of cholesterol, 680 milligrams of sodium, 14 grams of carbohydrates, 1 grams of dietary fiber, 6 grams of sugar, and 23 grams of protein.)

Item: MRE – Cheese Omelet with Vegetables

Price: $4.45
Size: 8 ounces
Purchased at: eBay
Rating: 0 out of 10 (8/10 for the badass spoon)
Pros: Nutritious. Shelf-stable. Badass brown spoon. Grandma’s buck cake recipe. Bordellos. A badass with poo on a stick. Death by spoon.
Cons: Rancid coffee-taste. Terrible tin can food smell. Crumbly texture. Long list of ingredients. A number of preservatives. Jack Bauer chewing gum. Plaque-y goodness of cholesterol. No badass spork.

REVIEW: Strawberry FruitaBü Organic Smoooshed Fruit Rolls

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The idea of fruit rolls-ups seems like something that was the result of a pleasant accident, like the Slinky, Post-It Notes, and possibly your youngest sibling, unless you’re the youngest child, in which case, you were planned. Someone apparently came up with a way to smash fruit better than a Sledge-O-Matic that also doesn’t get the first few rows of a theater covered with the carnage of fruit. If fruit roll-ups were an accident conceived in a laboratory, kitchen, or back seat of a Pontiac Firebird, I’m glad it happened because it led to the Strawberry FruitaBü Organic Smoooshed Fruit Rolls.

Although targeted towards children and people who love umlauts, I could see myself eating these in order to get the one serving of fruit they provide because according to nutritionists I don’t consume the daily recommended amount of fruit, unless a bag of Skittles or a 24-ounce Strawberry Slurpee counts as a serving. The FruitaBü is certified USDA Organic, which I would explain, but I would probably bore you with jargon like, “compliance,” “regulations,” “exceptions,” and “booteeshockee.” Basically, the Strawberry FruitaBü Organic Smoooshed Fruit Rolls is an organic and significantly much shorter version of General Mills’ Fruit by the Foot. While Fruit by the Foot provides “3 feet of fun,” the FruitaBü Fruit Rolls only offers “19.5 inches of interestingness.”

However, the ingredients in those “19.5 inches of interestingness” includes mostly of an inventory of organic apple, white grape, and strawberry concentrates and purees that provides all the sugar in each roll, while the “3 feet of fun” includes extra sweeteners, like sugar and corn syrup. Despite not having any extra added sugar, the FruitaBü was sweet, like sending a card to your grandma-sweet, but not overly sweet, like sending a strippergram to your grandma-sweet. Overall, I thought the Strawberry FruitaBü Organic Smoooshed Fruit Rolls were really good, although because of the orgy of different organic fruits, I thought the strawberry didn’t really stand out and if I were given one without any labeling I probably wouldn’t be able to tell what flavor it was. However, if your child, fruit deficient adult friend, or diacritic fanboy wants a fun way to get a serving of fruit, I would recommend the FruitaBü.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 roll – 80 calories, 1.5 grams of fat, 0.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 40 milligrams of sodium, 100 milligrams of potassium, 16 grams of carbs, less than 1 gram of fiber, 13 grams of sugar, 0 grams of protein, 0% Vitamin A, 10% Vitamin C, 0% Calcium, 0% Iron, and 1 poem on the box.)

Item: Strawberry FruitaBü Organic Smoooshed Fruit Rolls
Price: FREE (retails for $3.69)
Size: 6 pack
Purchased at: Given by nice PR people
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: Tastes really good. Made from real fruit. One serving of fruit per roll. USDA Organic. No added sugar. Cute monkeys on the box that looks like were done in Adobe Illustrator.
Cons: Strawberry flavor doesn’t really stand out. Roll is not very long, only 19.5 inches of interestingness. Paper it is rolled up with is not edible. Might be difficult to find. Being conceived in the back of a Pontiac Firebird. Booteeshockee.

REVIEW: JT Super Haioku

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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.

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