REVIEW: Froot Loops Cereal Straws

Froot Loops Cereal Straws

I must start by saying that I’ve never really liked Froot Loops. I was always more of a Trix guy growing up. I can’t say why, exactly. Maybe it was my sympathy for the Trix rabbit, or maybe it was because I never really understood the appeal of Toucan Sam. He was boring and dull, nothing like my buddy “Two-Can Sam” who earned his nickname through his method of drinking which led to alcohol poisoning. Perhaps I never really dug Froot Loops because my elementary school would feed me stale ones every morning.

It also could’ve even been the fact that my school district switched from milk cartons to milk bags in the mid nineties, forcing us to puncture the bags like savages. The milk went everywhere but in the bowl, causing me to dress the cereal with tears when the milk from the bag ran out. So maybe it was the horrible traumatization, but I can’t be sure. What I am sure of is that I no longer have to relive those memories, as Froot Loops now come in straw form.

“Straws…made of cereal? This is fucking AWESOME!”

What do you mean? That wasn’t what you were thinking? Okay, you’re probably right. On the list of “things nobody asked for, but we’re going to give you anyways,” cereal straws has to rank in the top five. On that basis alone, it was worthy of an impulsive buy. I need to drink more milk, anyways. I haven’t grown in years and the commercials say it helps prevent osteoporosis in women. I’m not sure if I need that second part, but you can never be too sure.

Upon perforating one of the two packages, the perfume of fake fruit and powdered milk permeated the air and tempted the taste buds (try to say that without sounding like Daffy Duck, I dare you). There’s something about unabashedly artificial flavoring that’s both charming and nostalgic…sexual, even. Alright, maybe not sexual, but something pleasant nonetheless. The straws were thinner than what the box indicated, looking more like real straws than giant-sized novelty pens. They are lined in the middle with that sickly sweet powdered milk that seems to be popping up in granola and cereal bars everywhere. Someone needs to tell these guys that it does NOT replace milk and that we can all tell it’s just sweetened coffee creamer. Fortunately, the flavor of that is masked by the Froot Loop shell.

The straws themselves are rather sturdy and hold up well to milk. They last a long time without getting soggy and do actually work as straws. They basically taste like Froot Loops, which is all you could realistically hope for. Sadly, the cereal straws live in a paradoxical existence; humans cannot eat and drink at the same time. Well…I guess soup makes us do that, but let’s ignore that for a second.

Once you take a single bite of the cereal straw, it becomes too short for drinking and the fun immediately dissipates. If you just sit there and drink the milk, you’ll just be wasting the straw as it imparts no flavor and is generally useless. Once you get to the bottom, you realize you have a half-soggy cereal straw with no milk to wash it down with.

God damn, it’s like a snake eating its own tail!

Alas, cereal straws are apparently too cool for the laws of this universe and exist only as fun, yet impractical novelties.

Item: Froot Loops Cereal Straws
Price: $2.00
Purchased at: Wal-Mart
Rating: 6 out of 10
Pros: Froot Loops flavor and fragrance. Snackable without milk. Actually works as a straw. My buddy “Two-Can Sam.”
Cons: Ridiculously pointless. Extremely artificial taste. Alcohol poisoning. Daffy Duck’s speech impediment. Can’t drink and eat at same time.

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.