Del Monte Bloom Energy Drink

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The new Del Monte Bloom Energy Drink maybe formulated for women, but that won’t stop me from drinking it because I’m not afraid to use women’s products. To be honest, I’ve used a number of them over the years. For example, tampons are great for small spills when a paper towel is way more than you need, douche bags make cheap water guns, and issues of Playgirl Magazine make awesome cockroach killers.

Sure, by drinking Bloom Energy I risk the chance of having the side effects I occasionally have when using women’s products, like the time when I tried to see if Secret deodorant really was strong enough for a man, which it was, and while I had it on, I broke out into my own Vagina Monologue and talked about my vagina and how it empowers me for about thirty minutes.

Other side effects I’ve had included, wanting to be in the audience for a taping of Oprah, watching Brad Pitt in Fight Club over and over again, and dry mouth, which now that I think about it, wasn’t really a side effect, but instead a 50-cent dare in college to suck on a tampon for one minute.

Bloom Energy comes in three flavors: Wild Berry, Cran Raspberry and Mango Passionfruit. Each flavor was very good, which was probably due to the fact that each was made from 50% juice. The Wild Berry was slightly tart, but sweet; the Cran Raspberry tasted like fizzy cranberry juice; and the Mango Passionfruit was more passionfruit than mango. I also had some of my female co-workers try Bloom Energy and they all said that each flavor would go well with alcohol.

They apparently are all lushes.

Not only does Bloom Energy taste good, it’s also kind of good for you. Each can has 100 calories (which most servings of energy drinks have), a full serving of fruit, 100% daily value of Vitamin C and five B vitamins, calcium and Vitamin D to support bone strength, other essential vitamins and nutrients, and antioxidants.

The only thing I don’t like too much about Bloom Energy is its caffeine content, which comes from white tea extract and guarana. The 74 milligrams of sweet, sweet caffeine in each can maybe enough for the instant coffee crowd, but it’s definitely not sufficient for hardcore caffeine junkies who like an energy drink that puts the “rage” in beverage.

So did drinking Bloom Energy cause any side effects for me? Fortunately, while drinking each flavor, I didn’t have any — unless you count me painting my toenails in the shade Deep Passion Red as a side effect.

The Del Monte Bloom Energy Drink maybe not be made for a guy like me, but I like it a lot. So I’m hoping that me being called a “pussy” often might not make it seems so strange to have one in my hand.

(Editor’s Note: Tanya at Iateapie.net also reviewed the Bloom Energy Drink. She liked the taste and the nutritional value of it, but didn’t like the price. Also, thanks for the folks at Colburn for sending me some samples to review.)

Item: Del Monte Bloom Energy Drink
Price: FREE (MSRP $1.99 – 10.5 ounces)
Purchased at: Received from nice people at Coburn
Rating: 4 out of 5
Pros: Very tasty. 50 percent juice. Easy to drink. No HFCS. No artificial colors or flavors. Provides one serving of fruit. Vitamins and minerals. Antioxidants. Fat free. May go well with alcohol. Energy drinks that put the “rage” in beverage. Playgirl Magazine makes a great cockroach killer.
Cons: Not enough caffeine for hardcore caffeine junkies. The occasional side effects I have from using women’s products. Sticking a tampon in your mouth. I am a pussy.

Coca-Cola Vanilla Zero

/ / Reviews / 16 Comments

Hi. Coca-Cola Vanilla Zero here, but you can call me Coke Vanilla Zero for short.

Ever since my cousin Coke Vanilla came back to store shelves, he’s been partying it up and acting like he’s the greatest thing since Diet Coke. But to be honest he’s more like New Coke. Anyway, when he came back, he brought me along with him, and I’m glad he did, but ever since, he’s dragged me to all the parties and nightclubs just to be his wingman

I hate being his wingman and I tell him that. I’d rather just stay at home, watch some HGTV, maybe a little Discovery Channel, while eating some popcorn and sipping on a Diet Pepsi. But somehow he guilts me into going by saying something like, “Our cousin, Coke with Lemon loved to be my wingman, and would be, if he were still alive.”

I loved Coke with Lemon and may he rest in peace in Discontinued Product Heaven, but he would do anything you told him to, because he was a fucking spineless moron. Maybe he fell one too many times at the bottling plant, I don’t know, but his bottle was half-empty, if you know what I mean. For example, just because he had lemon in him, he thought he was a frickin’ Sprite.

Anyway, back to my other moron cousin, Coke Vanilla.

Being his wingman is tough because he will usually choose the beautiful woman with either a friend that kind of looks like a 300-pound Lorena Bobbitt, a friend that has the personality of anything inanimate, or a scary looking friend who should have the words “cock block” tattooed on her forehead. I think he chooses these particular women with the crazy friends just to spite me.

I don’t even think I’m a good wingman. First off, I have nothing good to say about my cousin Coke Vanilla to make him seem appealing to women, unless I like my pants on fire, like a liar. Secondly, I have “Zero” in my name. Who’d want to talk to a guy with a last name like that, because it’s like having “Penis” as a last name. Sure, I have a decent body because I have no calories, no fat and no carbs, but that doesn’t matter because I don’t even taste very good and I get all nervous around women. There’s supposed to be vanilla in me, but I don’t even taste it. It’s like the line between vanilla flavor and the artificial sweetener taste is blurred with me.

Maybe my cousin Coke Vanilla is the better soda and maybe that’s the reason why he ends up with three Fantanas and I end up with the least attractive fourth Fantana, who also turned out to be crazy, needy, and for someone who dances a lot in the Fanta commercials, she sure doesn’t move much in bed. It’s like I’m doing it with a mannequin.

You know which one of the Fantanas I’m talking about.

Item: Coca-Cola Vanilla Zero
Price: 99 cents (20 ounces)
Purchased at: 7-Eleven
Rating: 2 out of 5
Pros: Zero calories. Zero fat. Zero carbs. Decent body. Getting three Fantanas.
Cons: Can’t taste the vanilla. Not very good tasting. Horrible wingman. Having “Penis” as a last name. Getting the crazy, least attractive Fantana. Cock blockers.

Libby’s Zesty Barbecue Vienna Sausage

/ / Reviews / 29 Comments

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.

Jalapeño SPAM

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“You’re going to eat me, aren’t you?” Marvo heard in an tiny accented voice as he grabbed the can of Jalapeño SPAM from the cupboard.

Marvo thought to himself, “Did this can just talk?”

He examined the small can in his hands, which his friend from Seattle picked up while on vacation in Mexico and gave to him when he visited her for Thanksgiving. He shook the can hoping to make it say something, but didn’t get a response. Thinking it was probably just his imagination, he reached for the pull tab on the top of the can, using his fingernail to help get under it.

Just as he was about to pull the tab, he heard a voice scream, “NOOOOO!”

The scream startled Marvo, causing him to drop the can of Jalapeño SPAM onto the floor making a low thud. He didn’t immediately pick it up, instead he nudged it several times with his foot, hoping to get some kind of feedback from it, like an “ow” or “Damn, you need to wash your feet!” Throwing the can away crossed Marvo’s mind, but he couldn’t let a perfectly good can of meat be wasted like that, so he picked it up, placed it on his kitchen counter, and decided to save it for another day.

As he turned around, he heard something say, “Thank you for not eating me.”

Marvo froze in his tracks, then turned back towards the can of Jalapeño SPAM and gathered what little sanity he had left and asked the can, “Are you talking to me, little can?”

It was silent for a moment and then it said, “I know being eaten will eventually be my fate, but will you grant me one wish before you eat me?”

The can didn’t have a mouth, but somehow it was communicating with him. Marvo pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Then he splashed cold water on his face. Then he pulled out a locked box from a kitchen drawer, punched in the lock’s combination code 1134, opened it and took out a paparazzi photo of pre-surgery Star Jones in a string bikini. Marvo was definitely awake.

“You know, I’m not a genie or the Make-A-Wish Foundation, so I don’t think can grant you anything great, like a million dollars, a beautiful trophy wife or the opportunity to sit shotgun in a NASCAR car during a race,” said Marvo. “Probably the best thing I could get you is a lap dance.”

“No, my wish is simple,” said the can of SPAM. “I have lived a lucky life as a can of SPAM, my journey has taken me from the store shelves of Mexico to the Starbucks saturated streets of Seattle, and now I find myself in the islands of Hawaii. All I ask is that you show me around your beautiful territory.”

“Um, you know Hawaii isn’t a territory and it’s the 50th state of the United States, right?” Marvo asked.

“Oh, I didn’t know that,” the Jalapeño SPAM replied. “I thought Hawaii was a U.S. territory, like Guam or the Virgin Islands. Well I shall keep that little nugget in my head the next time I play Trivial Pursuit or if I end up on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. Anyhoo, will you grant me my wish?”

Marvo took a deep breath, closed his eyes and thought about how lame it would be to be a tour guide for a small can of SPAM, but decided to meet the canned meat’s request. “Tomorrow, I’ll take you around the island and show you the sights, but when we come back I’m going to fry you in a skillet,” said Marvo.

“Very well,” the SPAM replied.

The next day Marvo and his new companion set out on their sightseeing trip around the island of Oahu.

“You sure do speak English well for someone who was born and raised in Mexico,” said Marvo.

“I learned by watching television,” said the Jalapeño SPAM. “Lots of the Discovery Channel, ESPN, Food Network, and American Idol. I also learned a lot from reading the issues of Playboy under your mattress. There are some great articles in every issue.”

“That’s what I keep telling everyone,” said Marvo. “I don’t buy it for the beautiful airbrushed photos of nude women, I buy them for the well written articles.”

The first place Marvo took the can of Jalapeño SPAM was to Oahu’s famous North Shore. There he showed the can of SPAM all the great surfing spots, watching surfers from shore and scoring bad wipeouts. Then he treated the SPAM to Matsumoto’s Shave Ice and gave it brain freeze.

“I heard that SPAM is a delicacy here,” said the Jalapeño SPAM in between bites of its strawberry/vanilla/banana shave ice. “I heard that people from other states would rather use cans of SPAM as paper weights or door stops than eat it.”

“Well I wouldn’t call it a ‘delicacy,’ but we probably do consume more of it than any other state,” said Marvo.

After they were done with their shave ice, the two of them drove around the island with Marvo pointing out where The Real World: Hawaii house was, where to go if you wanted to dump a dead body, the best place to buy “the good stuff,” the street to visit to get a prostitute in the middle of the day, the store that sells porn at any time of the day, and all 50-something Starbucks locations on the island.

When the evening came about, Marvo took the can of Jalapeño SPAM to the world-famous Waikiki. Marvo told his companion that it should count the number of ABC Stores they pass by. The can of SPAM shined with delight as it watched the street performers, looked at all the cheesy crap available at The International Market Place and played a game with Marvo called, “Guess Which Hooker is Really a Dude?”

“Well I guess we should be heading back,” an exhausted Marvo said. “It’s pretty late and I have to fry you up and then eat you. I don’t like to eat too late because I usually have nightmares when I do.”

“Yes, I must meet my fate,” said the SPAM. “I would like to thank you for granting me my one wish. Is there any way I can repay you for your hospitality?”

“Well, I’m going to eat you, so I’m pretty sure that will make us even,” Marvo replied.

When they got home, Marvo pulled out a skillet from the a closet and placed it on the electric stove, turning its knob to medium heat. “Can I have one more small wish, Marvo?” asked the Jalapeño SPAM. “Once you open my pull top lid, I will forget everything I have experienced and pass on. So please let me enjoy those memories for just a bit more.”

Marvo nodded and went to grab a plate and fork. When he returned to the can of SPAM, he gently place his fingers on top of it and the SPAM said, “I am ready, my friend.”

The words “my friend” rang through Marvo’s ears and caused his hands to shake as he reached for the can’s pull top tab with his fingers. He took a deep breath and then pull the tab towards him. A crack and the release of pressured air filled the room.

Marvo stood there almost motionless, except for his trembling hands. Then after taking another deep breath, he pulled the top off of the can. He looked down into the small can of Jalapeño SPAM, the light smell of jalapeno emitted from it. It didn’t look like the dense pink SPAM that he was used to that could easily be cut into strips and chunks. Instead it was like deviled ham spread or wet cat food with small bits of jalapeno in it. Marvo took the can and plopped its contents onto the skillet, causing a sizzling sound. He placed the empty can on the kitchen counter.

He fried it for several minutes and then placed the heated meat product on a plate. After letting it cool a bit, he picked some up with a fork and put it in his mouth. Marvo slowly began chewing and it tasted all right. He noticed that it didn’t taste like the SPAM he was used to, although that could’ve been because of the mild jalapeno flavor.

Marvo decided to turn on the television and after watching a Proactiv commercial, the Friends theme song began to play. While the line, “So no one told you life was going to be this way” was being sung, tears began streaming down Marvo’s face. He was chewing on his friend and felt horrible about it.

When the chorus of the song came on, he sang and danced along with his plate of Jalapeño SPAM, “I’ll be there for you, when the rain starts to pour. I’ll be there for you, like I’ve been there before. I’ll be there for you, ’cause you’re there for me too.”

He ate half of the plate before he threw the rest down the sink out of remorse and the fact that the Jalapeño SPAM was frickin’ salty. Marvo ran into his bedroom and cried himself to sleep.

The next morning Marvo woke up with Jalapeño SPAM breath and scolded himself for eating right before bedtime, since it usually caused him to have weird dreams. He wondered whether all of that time spent with the can of Jalapeño SPAM was just a weird dream.

When Marvo walked into his kitchen, he noticed a note on the counter next to the empty can of Jalapeño SPAM he left there overnight. It read, “I counted 36 ABC Stores in Waikiki. I thought Starbucks was bad.”

Item: Jalapeño SPAM
Price: FREE (3 ounces)
Purchased at: Received from friend
Rating: 2 out of 5
Pros: Mild jalapeno flavor. 11.5 grams of protein. Playing “Guess Which Hooker Is Really a Dude?”
Cons: Not dense like the SPAM I’m used to. Doesn’t taste like the SPAM I’m used to. Frickin’ salty (840 milligrams per can). Very small can. Looks like wet cat food. Number of ABC Stores in Waikiki. Eating before going to sleep. Only available in Mexico. Eating a friend.

REVIEW: Wrigley’s 5 Gum

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The new Wrigley’s 5 gum is being marketed to teens, young adults and anyone else who looks like they belong in the audience for MTV’s TRL.

I’m sure Wrigley’s is hoping that this new sugar-free gum becomes a trend among this valuable age demographic, but I don’t think their public relations people, who sent me three boxes of Wrigley’s 5 gum to review, realized that sending me those samples will probably kill any chance of it becoming popular, because I’m the Grim Reaper when it comes to trends. When I use or do something that’s considered trendy, popular or cool, I unintentionally kill it with my scythe of uncoolness.

It’s like when William Hung sings a song, he ruins it forever. I can’t dance to the Ricky Martin song “She Bangs” anymore because of him.

Speaking of dancing, I have stopped the popularity of so many dance moves that I am not allowed to be on or around a dance floor. I killed the Macarena, The Bangles “Walk Like An Egyptian” dance, Riverdancing, the Electric Slide and whatever that dance Flavor Flav does in Public Enemy music videos.

There was supposed to be a third Breakin’ breakdancing movie called Breakin’ 3: Pop and Lock With Me, but that was cancelled thanks to me and my attempts to do the Worm.

Sure, trends aren’t meant to last forever, but I have the ability to give them an earlier death than the trend hoped for, which helps ensure them a place in a future VH1 retrospective special. You’d think someone out there would thank me for this curse, especially those who used to wear fanny packs or clothing that came in neon fluorescent colors and those who drank Zima, but I haven’t gotten a thank you card or an A&E Biography about me.

So by chewing the Wrigley’s 5 gum I’ve already made it uncool, much like how I killed the phrase, “Fo’ shizzle, ma nizzle” and ruined the Rachel hairstyle made popular by Jennifer Aniston during her Friends days. I probably even ruined the product’s marketing slogan, “5 is the new black,” even though I’m not quite sure what it means. To be honest, its name sounds like something very random that was either pulled out of a hat or pointed to on a refrigerator with a magnetic poetry kit by someone who was blindfolded or an extremely inebriated Britney Spears.

Each pack of Wrigley’s 5 gum has 15 sticks and there are only three flavors: Cobalt, Rain and Flare, which is “cool speak” for peppermint, spearmint and cinnamon, and is now no longer cool because I mentioned it. Its slim, black packaging looks trendy and fits well in the front pocket of my jeans, but because I think it’s trendy, it’s no longer trendy.

If you’ve had any spearmint, peppermint or cinnamon gum from Wrigley’s, you probably won’t notice much of a difference with the Wrigley’s 5. It’s like listening to the Nickelback songs “How You Remind Me” and “Someday.” The intensity of each flavor isn’t as strong as their regular Wrigley’s counterparts, but each stick lasted surprisingly long, like a piece of Extra gum.

Overall, Wrigley’s 5 gum is good, but doesn’t seem like it’s anything innovative.

Although, all of that doesn’t really matter since I already killed any chance of it being popular by chewing it. It’s much like how I stopped the spread of Converse Chuck Taylor All-Star shoes, Starter jackets, the 7-Up “Up Yours” green t-shirts, Slap bracelets, acid washed jeans, Where’s Waldo? books, Members Only jackets, and Techno music.

Item: Wrigley’s 5 Gum
Price: FREE
Purchased at: Received from nice people at a PR firm
Rating: 3 out of 5
Pros: If you like other peppermint, spearmint or cinnamon gum from Wrigley’s, you’ll probably like these. 15 sticks of gum. Nice packaging and its slim shape makes it easier to slip in my jeans front pocket. Long lasting flavor. Stopping the popularity of fanny packs, bright florescent clothes and Zima.
Cons: Not anything innovative. Product name seems kind of random. My ability to kill trends. No A&E Biography about me. Acid washed jeans. An extremely inebriated Britney Spears, because you might end up married to her.