McDonald’s Chipotle BBQ Snack Wrap

/ / Reviews / 22 Comments

The McDonald’s Snack Wraps are just like actors who’ve played James Bond — one of them defined it (Sean Connery, Ranch Snack Wrap), one of them not so much (Timothy Dalton, Honey Mustard Snack Wrap), one of them you’ve probably never heard of (George Lazenby, Salsa Roja Snack Wrap), and one of them was not bad (Roger Moore, the new Chipotle BBQ Snack Wrap).

But unlike the James Bond movies, which are somewhat limited by the number of novels written by Ian Fleming and other authors, the expansion of the McDonald’s Snack Wrap is almost endless. Stuffed with either crispy or grilled all-white chicken breast meat, shredded lettuce and cheese, and a spicy sweet sauce, the McDonald’s Chipotle BBQ Snack Wrap continues the evolution of this affordable burrito wannabe.

You could say about the Snack Wrap that McDonald’s is not only just lovin’ it, they’re also just milkin’ it. Slowly but surely, as they keep adding new sauces, Snack Wraps will reach a rare level of diversity that only Beanie Babies and Pokemon have accomplished, but unlike those two, Snack Wraps have horrible resale value on eBay.

But for now there are only three McDonald’s Snack Wrap flavors available nationwide, and if you’ve tried all three, congratulations, you’ve completed the Snack Wrap Gastrointestinal Triple Crown. Your prize? A possible slight raise in high blood pressure and making the lovable purple blob Grimace smile.

If you haven’t had the McDonald’s Chipotle BBQ Snack Wrap, I’d suggest you try it, because it’s good. Although, I personally think the ranch dressing version of it is the best flavor. The sauce itself tasted like any barbecue sauce with a little spice and it meshed well with the crispy version, but not so much with the grilled one.

As someone who prefers to get my tongue kicked by spices so hard that I cry like a Miss USA contestant after she’s announced as the winner or sweat like someone trapped in a Geo Metro with Spongebob Squarepants and Urkel from Family Matters, I was hoping that the chipotle sauce would’ve been hotter. But if you’re a lightweight when it comes to spices, I’d suggest passing on this particular Snack Wrap because there is a little burn.

(Nutritional Values: The crispy version of the McDonald’s Chipotle BBQ Snack Wrap has 320 calories, 14 grams of fat, 4.5 grams of saturated fat, 1 gram of trans fat, 25 milligrams of cholesterol, 780 milligrams of sodium, 35 grams of carbohydrates, 2 grams of dietary fiber, and 14 grams of protein. The grilled version has 260 calories, 8 grams of fat, 3.5 grams of saturated fat, zero grams of trans fat, 45 milligrams of cholesterol, 820 milligrams of sodium, 28 grams of carbohydrates, 1 grams of dietary fiber, and 18 grams of protein.)

Item: McDonald’s Chipotle BBQ Snack Wrap
Price: $1.49 each
Purchased at: McDonald’s
Rating: 3 out of 5
Pros: Good. Crispy tastes better. Sean Connery as James Bond. Making Grimace smile.
Cons: Kind of small. Sauce not spicy enough for me. Grilled is not as good as crispy. Nutritional values are snack-like. Timothy Dalton as James Bond. Being trapped in a Geo Metro with Spongebob and Urkel.

Chicken of the Sea Mandarin Orange Salmon Cups

/ / Reviews / 38 Comments

I take back everything bad I said about other things I reviewed, this is proof that the devil lives among us. And apparently the devil takes on the form of a blonde mermaid who hocks packaged fish products. Nice try, you sleazy merchant of lies. You don’t even really exist in nature, your origin came about when drunk and horny pirates mistakenly identified a seal. Maybe next time wear a clamshell bra like Ariel from The Little Mermaid if you want to win my trust and make me have a disturbing, sexually confusing crush on you.

How I came about stumbling upon this box of evil seemed innocent enough. I was minding my own business, shopping at the gigantic corporate mega mart that simultaneously fuels and ruins our country, when I had a sudden craving for tuna. I skimmed the aisles until I found the cheapest can I could and then noticed something beside it. Like a siren, it called to me. I picked it up and threw it in my cart. Little did I know I was in possession of a product that was more akin to Pandora’s Box than a can of tuna.

I related to the small sealed cup because like myself, it had a massive identity crisis. The label is a true orgy of bullshit that I had to wade through just to figure out what the damn thing was. First of all, it was from Chicken of the Sea, which I’ve been conditioned to believe sells tuna.

However, it is addressed as a salmon cup, which is neither chicken nor tuna. To make matters more complicated, the words “Mandarin Orange” are included in a big box as if to indicate that this was indeed a fruit cup and that everything else was included for the sole purpose of pissing me off.

After my head exploded and the minimum wage worker lazily wiped the remains off the floor, I checked out. I mentioned to the cashier, “You do realize that this is fucking ridiculous, right?” but only received a puzzled look in response. I took the cup home and decided to give it a shot.

This is by far the most vile thing I’ve ever attempted to consume. The scent is somewhere between orange scratch-n-sniff and demon breath. I am convinced that if Syracuse University’s orange mascot died in a football celebration gone terribly awry, this is what he’d smell like after two weeks. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this thing came straight out of an H.P. Lovecraft novel.

By this point I had confirmed that it was indeed salmon in some type of mandarin orange sauce. My first taste was one of bewilderment and disgust. “I don’t recall salmon tasting like syrup, orange liquor, and charcoal,” I thought to myself.

Needless to say, I quickly spit it out and burned the plastic bag just in case it decided to return and make me eat it in my sleep. I ran into the garage seeking sandpaper to lick so I could get rid of the taste.

They say that which does not kill you makes you stronger, but those people apparently never tasted mandarin orange salmon cups. The sadist in me wants you to try it with your family and share in the pain that I’ve felt, but the Jesus complex in me wants to save you from this horrible wreck.

It’s your call, but don’t come back crying when your spouse leaves you and your oldest daughter becomes a broken emo girl that I may or may not try to sleep with at a party.

Item: Chicken of the Sea Mandarin Orange Salmon Cups
Price: 85 cents
Purchased at: Wal-Mart
Rating: 1 out of 5
Pros: Hot animated mermaids. Hermetically sealed packaging.
Cons: Dead orange mascots. Smell from said dead orange mascot. Abominable taste. the shame of shopping at Wal-Mart. Confusing labels. Salmon officially losing all of its dignity.

REVIEW: Wendy’s Baconator

/ / Reviews / 22 Comments

Wendy's Baconator

The Wendy’s Baconator has a name usually reserved for those college students who fully take advantage of the all-you-can-eat breakfast bar in the dormitory cafeteria or the wingmen who takes home the fat chicks.

It’s a simple burger that doesn’t have any secret sauces, fancy breads, exotic cheeses, special meats, or vegetables. It’s just two lightly salted quarter pound patties of ground beef, six strips of bacon, two slices of cheese, ketchup, and mayonnaise in between a bun.

In this day and age of Ciabatta bread and chipotle peppers, the Baconator’s simplicity is comforting, like freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and milk or nestling my head in between the voluptuous bosom of a woman.

Of course, what’s not comforting about the Baconator is its nutritional values, which makes the Big Mac’s seem small, like a penis after being dunked in the cold water.

While the Baconator has 830 calories, 51 grams of fat, 22 grams of saturated fat, 2.5 grams of trans fat, 170 milligrams of cholesterol, and 1,920 milligrams of sodium, the Big Mac has the less artery-clogging values of 540 calories, 29 grams of fat, 10 grams of saturated fat, 1.5 grams of trans fat, 75 milligrams of cholesterol. and 1,040 milligrams of sodium.

With all that meat and its nutritional values, the Baconator is not a burger that you would want to eat often or during your recovery from triple bypass surgery or in the middle of a Weight Watchers meeting or in the lion’s den at a zoo or at a PETA protest. But if you can eat several of these in one sitting, you should be given the nickname, “Baconator-tor.”

Despite its unhealthiness and fugliness in the picture above, the Baconator a pretty good burger. It was smaller than I thought it would be, but it’s a pretty dense burger. As a matter of fact, when I was carrying the paper Wendy’s bag it came in, it kind of felt like it was going to fall through the bottom.

As for its taste, the smokiness from the bacon complimented well with the juicy ground beef patties and the two slices of cheese. The ketchup and mayonnaise added a nice creamy tomato flavor to it. All together, it created a simple, classic taste, like something I would’ve gotten from a drive-in restaurant from the 1950s.

But all is not perfect with this burger. Wendy’s claims the Baconator has six strips of bacon, and it technically does, but those strips were awfully short. I know bacon shrinks significantly when cooked, but it would probably take two or three strips from the Baconator to equal one strip of bacon from a package I bought from the store and fried on my own.

Overall, it’s a really good burger. Although, after eating one, I feel like my lifespan has shortened a little bit. Again, it’s simple with a classic taste, which I really like.

I wish I could say the same for the type of women I like, which is high-maintenance, high heels, and with a high tolerance of me.

Item: Wendy’s Baconator
Price: $6.49 (Small Combo)
Purchased at: Wendy’s
Rating: 8 out of 10
Pros: Simple burger with a classic taste. Heavy burger. Half pound of beef. Freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and milk. Resting my head in between the voluptuous bosom of a woman.
Cons: Six strips of bacon were small. Bad nutritional values that make the Big Mac’s look healthy. 2.5 grams of trans fat. Eating meat at a PETA protest. Eating a Baconator at a Weight Watchers meeting.

Mocha BK JOE Iced Coffee

/ / Reviews / 21 Comments

I’m frickin’ tired of The King sneaking up on me.

Doesn’t he have anything better to do? He’s a king. Shouldn’t he be running a kingdom, causing oppression somewhere, or at least being a powerless figurehead? If I had a nickel for every time The King snuck up on me and offered something from the Burger King menu, I would be rich enough to buy a Big Mac.

It was really creepy at first having him randomly appear, but then it was nice having food delivered me and not having to worry about buying groceries. For breakfast, lunch, and dinner he’d just sneak up on me and present me with some form of BK sustenance. The King also knows when to show up for those times other than meals. For example, when I’m at work, I’ll walk out of my office intending to get something from the snack machine, but he’ll just pop out from around the corner and offer me something small like onion rings or a Whopper Jr.

There was this time when I was yawning at my desk and needed some caffeine. Then out of nowhere The King appeared with a Mocha BK JOE Iced Coffee. It’s basically coffee with chocolate syrup squirted in and poured over ice. The slightly creamy drink initially had a strong chocolate taste and then was followed by a weak coffee aftertaste that was probably weak because of the overpowering chocolate. With all that chocolate, it was good, but also a little too sweet for me.

But did it give me a boost of energy? Well, anything with 63 grams of sugar in it probably would.

There have also been times when he brought me food at inappropriate moments, like a Tendercrisp Chicken Sandwich while reading about Bird Flu in Taiwan and a Burger King Kids Meal while watching Dateline NBC’s To Catch A Predator.

After a few weeks, I got tired of eating Burger King and I gained ten pounds, but The King kept sneaking up on me. I asked him if he could bring me something a lot more healthier, but all he did was bring me a Whopper without mayonnaise. Eventually, I went grocery shopping so I could make my own healthy meals instead of eating Burger King food. Then whenever The King appeared and offered food, I’d tell him I already have something to eat. He would then drop his head in disappointment and walk away, but he’d still be smiling.

After several days of rejecting food from The King, things got really creepy.

One time when I woke up, he was frickin’ naked and standing over me. Let me tell you, it wasn’t fun looking at his little prince and two royal guards. That’s not the very first thing I want to see in the morning. Also, I just want to let you know that not only is his face plastic looking, so is everything else.

This other time, I woke up and caught him looking through my clothes hamper and sniffing my boxers. When he saw me awake, he tried to distract me by shoving a Croissan’wich in my face, while sticking a few worn boxers in his pocket. I don’t think that’s a smile of happiness he has on permanently, it’s a smile of guilt.

And I’m not even going to go into detail about the time he introduced me to what I thought was the new BK hot dog.

I’m not too sure what I’m going to do about The King, but he still sneaks up on me and attempts to serve me Burger King food. Maybe it’s about time I serve him a restraining order.

(Nutritional Facts: 380 calories, 10 grams of fat, 6 grams of saturated fat, 40 milligrams of cholesterol, 290 milligrams of sodium, 66 grams of carbs, 63 grams of sugar, 1 gram dietary fiber, and 6 grams of protein.)

Item: Mocha BK JOE Iced Coffee
Price: $2.09 (22 ounces)
Purchased at: Burger King (or BK for you cool folks)
Rating: 3 out of 5
Pros: Good. Chocolate syrup. Cold. Refreshing. The 63 grams of sugar it contains gave me a quick energy boost.
Cons: Not too much of a coffee flavor. A little too sweet. Having The King sneak up on you. Having The King wake up next to you naked. Having The King sniff your used underwear. Basically, The King is a total perv. The King’s permanent smile.

REVIEW: IceBreakers Ice Cubes

/ / Reviews / 21 Comments

I am a bit wary of buying things that I haven’t seen any advertising for. I tend to feel that the product has something to hide. I don’t know if it’s a nasty side effect, a lack of extreme attitude, or a criminal record, but I am always a bit hesitant. Generally, I never know if I should buy something unless a kid is skateboarding with it or a hot chick is deepthroating it in an ad. These are the things that I think about as I go shopping.

I made an exception with the IceBreakers Ice Cubes because of its novelty factor. This isn’t IceBreakers’s first foray into the world of gimmicky products, so they should know what they’re doing. Anyone remember Liquid Ice and how stupid those commercials with the Duff sisters made you feel? Now that they’re out of the equation, no longer will you question whether it’s liquid, it’s ice, or if anyone gives a damn about your inane queries. It’s all been settled, and ice has apparently won the battle.

IceBreakers Ice Cubes also appealed to me because breaking the ice in a social situation has never really been my cup of tea. This is a big problem in all of the facets of my life. Take philosophy class for example: “According to the rules of Fight Club, isn’t this sentence paradoxical?”

Or pickup basketball games: “Dude, can’t you toss it in? Your balls keep dangling around the rim!”

And especially first dates: “I’ll be honest, one of my guilty pleasures is getting naked in front of a mirror and loudly singing the Pokemon theme song as I gyrate and let ’em bounce around.”

So I was hoping that these particular IceBreakers would break the streak of bad ones. As I opened the small box, I was immediately hit with the headache-inducing fragrance of fake mint and xylitol. It was not a promising start.

Xylitol is apparently an alternative to sugar that’s supposed to have a natural cooling effect on your tongue. It can also cause nausea and act as a laxative in high enough doses, but the same could be said about almost anything I eat. I’m not going to hold that against it. However, I can’t excuse the fact that it’s a pretty horrible sugar substitute.

Like all of my other icebreakers, these particular cubes failed rather miserably in providing any type of freshness. Not only are they sickeningly sweet, but they have a grainy and unpleasant texture to start. Any cooling effect you’re supposed to get is completely masked. Worst of all, I didn’t even win the damn Singtone contest that I had banked my future on. How will I survive college if people can’t hear my rendition of Pat Benatar’s “Love is a Battlefield” every time my phone rings?

Overall, the only thing these cubes have going for them is their convenient shape. Now I can see why there are not seen suggestively licked on billboards. If you are the type of person who enjoys munching on sugar cubes and would like to replicate the experience in gum form, then this is the treat for you. For everyone else, the money spent purchasing these supposed “ice cubes” would be better served going towards some real ice cubes and crushed mint.

Admittedly, that would only lead you to heavy drinking after you figure out that you’re halfway towards a mojito, but I can hardly be blamed for your alcoholism.

Item: Icebreakers Ice Cubes
Price: 79 cents
Purchased at: Circle K
Rating: 2 out of 5
Pros: Extremely convenient shape and packaging. Decent enough after initial grainy stage of chew. Possibility of winning a Singtone. The original Pokemon theme song.
Cons: My icebreakers. Way too sweet and grainy. High possibility of not winning a Singtone and the ensuing disappointment. Letting creation of your own mint ice cubes lead you down path of alcoholism.