REVIEW: Ideaworks Comfort Wipe

Marvo 31 Comments

Interviewer: Today, I’m speaking with the one and only Comfort Wipe. Thank you for coming.

Comfort Wipe: Thanks for having me. Do you need me to wipe your crack?

Interviewer: No, I’m fine.

Comfort Wipe: Well if you need to, just let me know.

Interviewer: Thanks. I appreciate that. So how did you get started with helping people wipe their asses?

Comfort Wipe: I guess it was just something I was born to do. Personally, I think in a previous life, I must’ve done some horrible things and as punishment I was reincarnated into a Comfort Wipe. I guess some folks get reincarnated into cockroaches and others become tools specifically made to wipe asses.

Interviewer: Help me imagine the type of person who would need you. Who are your clients?

Comfort Wipe: I deal mostly with those who are unable to reach down there, like disabled people who have limited dexterity. When it comes to helping them, I feel like I’m doing some good in the world and building up karma so that if I get reincarnated again I’ll end up being a beautiful butterfly or something that doesn’t involve being in between butt cheeks. Although I think that won’t be happening for a long time since I’m made out of a plastic that will take forever to decompose.

Interviewer: But what about those who aren’t disabled? What are your thought about you being marketed to those who don’t seem to need it?

Comfort Wipe: I don’t understand it. Are there people out there so prudish that they’re afraid to wipe their own asses? Sure, occasionally, the toilet paper can rip and your finger can accidently end up in your butt hole, and cleaning up after a bad case of diarrhea can get messy, but those instances are so rare, unless you have crappy toilet paper or eat Taco Bell every single day.

Interviewer: So how do you work?

Comfort Wipe: Well, take about three sheets of toilet paper and fold it in half. Take one end of the folded toilet paper and put it into my mouth. Then take the other end, wrap it around my head and also place that end into my mouth. My mouth will keep it in place. Then take my head in between your legs, with my mouth facing down, place it near your anal area and then wipe. Thankfully, because my mouth is facing in the opposite direction, I can’t toss your salad, even though I spend just as much time in between butt cheeks as someone’s bitch in prison.

Interviewer: Once we’re done wiping, how do we get rid of the toilet paper stuck to you?

Comfort Wipe: Just press the button on the top of the handle and my mouth will let go of both ends of the toilet paper. You may have to shake me a little since my head is made from a rubber-like material that has some tackiness to it.

Interviewer: How effective are you at cleaning down there?

Comfort Wipe: If you were to use your hands, you’d get a more thorough cleaning. I’m not saying this because I don’t like being jammed in between a person’s buttocks. But I’ve got court-side seats to what goes on down there so I know how effective I am and, to be honest, I don’t get you 100 percent clean. If you’re anal retentive, pun intended, you definitely won’t be satisfied. Also, if you’re using me to clean down there, you’ll probably end up using more toilet paper than if you were doing things by hand.

Interviewer: So you’re kind of a pain in the ass? Pun intended.

Comfort Wipe: It seems so. Another thing I should point out is that it’s suggested that I be cleaned after each use, but I can’t be immersed in water. Instead I should be cleaned with a moist wipe or a soft disposable cloth and mild soap, and then dried off with a soft disposable towel.

Interviewer: Wow. That seems extremely wasteful.

Comfort Wipe: Yes, it is.

Interviewer: One final questions. Is there anything you would like to say?

Comfort Wipe: All I want to say is, I’m sorry for whatever I did in my past life to become reincarnated as a Comfort Wipe.

(Note: If you’d like to see a video of this interview, it’s embedded below.)

Item: Ideaworks Comfort Wipe
Price: $9.99
Size: 15.75 inches
Purchased at: Amazon
Rating: 7 out of 10 (for those with limited dexterity)
Rating: 5 out of 10 (for almost everyone else)
Pros: Good for those people with limited dexterity. Toilet paper securely stays on. Unique release button to dispose of toilet paper. Tacky grip helps prevent it from slipping in your hands.
Cons: Won’t make you 100 percent clean. Being reincarnated as a Comfort Wipe. A pain in the ass to clean. You may end up using more toilet paper than usual. Unable to toss salad. Eating Taco Bell every single day.

REVIEW: Romano’s Macaroni Grill Chicken Marsala with Linguine Dinner Kit

Marvo 27 Comments

If you’re expecting this Romano’s Macaroni Grill Chicken Marsala with Linguine dinner kit to taste like the stuff you can order in one of the many Macaroni Grill Italian restaurants across the United States, known for their poorly-lit dining areas, long waits to get a table and servers who have the unnatural ability to write upside down, you might be disappointed and use bread dipped in olive oil and pepper to drown your sorrow. However, it’s significantly better than pouring Ragu sauce over some noodles and chicken.

The dinner kit includes dried linguine pasta, Marsala sauce seasoning, seasoned flour, and Marsala cooking wine. All you need to provide to make this meal complete is boneless skinless chicken breasts, vegetable oil, hot water, butter, your appetite and the ability to turn on your stove.

Preparing the meal is quite simple. All you have to do is cut the chicken into pieces, dip it into the seasoned flour (which smells like powdered alcohol), brown the chicken in the pan, pour in the cooking wine (which smells less alcoholic than the seasoned flour), stir in the seasoning, let it simmer and then enjoy.

Light dimming optional.

Despite all of the alcohol-ish ingredients, it doesn’t have an alcohol taste, which probably burned away during the cooking process, so you won’t get ripped. And I know this because I’m a pussy when it come to alcohol and I was fine after eating it, if you consider singing Journey songs in my boxers “fine.” But, to be honest, I pretty much belt out Steve Perry tunes every night after dinner. It helps with digestion, especially the long notes in “Don’t Stop Believin’.”

Strangers waiting/Up and down the boulevard/Their shadows searching in the night/Streetlight people/Living just to find emotion/Hiding somewhere in the niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight

Although the packaging says is makes five 1 cup servings per container, this kit provides about three normal servings of food (or two normal Macaroni Grill restaurant-sized portions). I felt there wasn’t enough sauce to slather the noodles provided, which makes eating the noodles not so exciting. Thankfully the chicken in the sauce soaked up a lot of it, providing most of the flavor, which was quite good.

Like I said at the beginning, it doesn’t taste like the dish you can get in the restaurant, but it’s quite flavorful for something made from a box. However, for the price I paid for it and the preparation I had to go through to make it, I think I’d prefer a complete frozen version that includes all the ingredients in a bag that I can stick in the microwave or conventional oven and then be like SPLIDOW!!!

(Nutrition Facts – 1 cup (prepared) – 330 calories, 13 grams of fat, 3.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 5 grams of polyunsaturated fat, 3.5 grams of monounsaturated fat, 60 milligrams of cholesterol, 450 milligrams of sodium, 23 grams of protein, 10% iron, 20% thiamin, 10% riboflavin, 50% niacin and 15% folic acid.)

Item: Romano’s Macaroni Grill Chicken Marsala with Linguine Dinner Kit
Price: $4.99
Size: 10.1 ounces
Purchased at: Target
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: Quite good. Flavorful. Awesome source of niacin! Use of the term “splidow” in a review. Singing Journey songs to aid with digestion. Provides monounsaturated and polyunsaturated fats. Being able to write upside down.
Cons: Its preparation. Having to provide half of the ingredients. Not enough sauce. Nutritional content in normal servings. Not microwaveable. The poorly-lit dining areas and long waits at Macaroni Grill. Me in my boxers singing Journey songs.

REVIEW: Jamba Juice Blackberry Bliss

Marvo 19 Comments

If you’re a botanist, or studying to become one, I would like to ask a simple favor from you. How about some muthafuckin’ seedless blackberries so that I can actually enjoy the Jamba Juice Blackberry Bliss without having to endure the scratchy feel of blackberry seeds going down my throat?

If farmers can breed seedless watermelons and grapes, then why can’t they do the same with blackberries.

Seriously. Whose stamen do I have to suck to make this happen?

I know blackberry seeds are high in nutrients, like omega-3 fats, protein and fiber, but do you know what else they’re high in? Annoyance.

They can get stuck in between teeth, become lodged in other nooks and crannies in my mouth or cause pain if expelled though my nose because I was sucking on a Blackberry Bliss while reading something really funny, which I’m pretty sure won’t be anything in the Sunday funnies or on the Hallmark Movie Channel. Although I believe it’s possible to shoot seeds out of my nose by crying hard, so perhaps I should stay away from the tear-jerking Hallmark Movie Channel.

The Jamba Juice Blackberry Bliss is made up of an apple-strawberry juice blend, frozen blueberries, frozen strawberries, plain sorbet, ice, frozen blackberries and raspberry sherbet, like the kind u find in a grocery store.

If it weren’t for the seeds, I think the Blackberry Bliss would give me some pleasure since it’s a cold smoothie and the temperature inside Impulsive Buy’s headquarters (i.e. my apartment) is about 89 degrees. It has a decent berry flavor, but the blackberry doesn’t stand out. However its color does, which gives the smoothie its dark purple hue that goths will love. It’s not as tart as I thought it was going to be since it contains blueberries and blackberries, but it’s also not as sweet as some of Jamba Juice’s other blended concoctions.

The Jamba Juice Blackberry Bliss lands nowhere on my list of favorite flavors and I don’t see myself buying another unless I really want to count the number of seeds in an original size serving or, thanks to my stamen sucking, someone comes up with seedless blackberries.

(Nutrition Facts – 24 ounces – 380 calories, 1.5 grams of fat, 0 grams of saturated fat, 35 milligrams of sodium, 600 milligrams of potassium, 91 grams of carbohydrates, 6 grams of fiber, 80 grams of sugar, 2 grams of protein, 50% vitamin C, 10% calcium and 10% iron.)

Item: Jamba Juice Blackberry Bliss
Price: $4.59
Size: 24-ounces
Purchased at: Jamba Juice
Rating: 5 out of 10
Pros: Decent berry flavor. Botany jokes. Not as tart as I thought it was going to be. Lame Prince references. Pretty dark purple color. Cold smoothies + hot weather = refreshing.
Cons: Lots of muthafuckin’ SEEDS!!! Blackberries don’t stand out. Not as sweet as other Jamba Juice smoothies. Shooting seeds out of my nose. Having to suck on stamens to get someone to create seedless blackberries.

REVIEW: Long Trail Blackbeary Wheat

Kayla 22 Comments

Beer and college go together like peanut butter and jelly, spaghetti and meatballs, Bret Michaels and anti-fungal medication, Botox and the cast of The Real Housewives of New Jersey, RuPaul and surgical tape…

Okay, I think you get the idea. But, how about beer and fruit?

“Beer and fruit you say? I don’t want no fruity stuff in my brewski. I don’t even want that little pansy orange when I get a Blue Moon. Fruit and beer!?! Knock it off with your crazy talk, stop blocking the TV and go make me a turkey pot pie, woman.”

Well, Mr. Stereotypical Domestic Beer Drinker, I guess you wouldn’t be willing to try Long Trail’s Blackbeary (yes, Beary) Wheat.

Just like you, Mr. Stereotypical Domestic Beer Drinker, I too am a consumer of beers typically found in packs of 30 due to the crickets that have found a place in my wallet and chirp on cue when I open it just to piss me off and make fun of the fact that I am a poor college student. Those bastards. However sometimes when I want to splurge (especially when I’m in New Hampshire where beer is much cheaper than the Keystone State.) I pick up something that’s local and what I assume has better quality than a 30-pack of The Beast.

Long Trail is a brewery that hails from Vermont and…

“Vermont you say!?! You’re telling me they make beer in the state that got those Birkenstock-wearin’ liberal hippies, ice cream with names that are always a play on words and maple syrup!?! I told ya to knock it off with your crazy talk. And where the hell is my turkey pot pie?”

Well, yes, Mr. Stereotypical Domestic Beer Drinker, Long Trail is from Vermont and, actually, Vermont has more breweries per capita than any other state. Throughout the year, Long Trail likes to put out specialty brews that fit the season, and usually they have cute names and adorable labels with bears skiing or lounging out by trees or, in the case of the Blackbeary Wheat, an angry wife holding a rolling pin about to smack her husband who is attempting to take a piece of pie.

“Cute and adorable you say!?! Beer ain’t supposed to be cute or adorable. I need a beer that uses hot babes with their jugs bouncing up and down in their commercials, not some damn cartoon bear. Speaking about pie, where the hell is mine!?!”

Oh, Mr. Stereotypical Domestic Beer Drinker, you are so right. Beer shouldn’t be about how cute the label is; it’s all about the taste. The right amount of hops, how much alcohol it has, how quickly you can pound it during a game of beer pong, or with Long Trail Blackbeary Wheat, the perfect fruit to grain ratio.

“Ratio!?! What the hell are you talkin’ about, ratio? When I’m drinkin’ a nice cold one I don’t wanna think about some damn mathematical equation!”

Nor do I, Mr. Stereotypical Domestic Beer drinker, but when I do drink a fruit type beer like Sam Adams Cherry Wheat, I keep in mind the unification of fruit and grain. However, I couldn’t find any unification whatsoever while drinking the Blackbeary Wheat. In fact, I had to do a double take at the label to make sure I was drinking a fruit infused brew. The fruit flavor was nonexistent, like Spencer Pratt’s brain, which left my mouth wanting something with more substance even after I downed two of them.

“See, I told ya. Don’t buy those fancy, pansy-ass beers with cute names, stick to brews that got one syllable names like Bud or Miller.”

Um, Mr. Stereotypical Domestic Beer Drinker, Miller has two syllables…

“One. Two. Same difference. Now what did I say? Stop blockin’ the TV and go make me a turkey pot pie, woman.”

Item: Long Trail Blackbeary Wheat
Price: $11.99 (on sale)
Size: 12 oz – 12 pack
Purchased at: Shaw’s
Rating: 3 out of 10
Pros: It’s beer. Funny/adorable label. Beer commercials. Playing beer pong. Only 6 grams of carbs. Being able to purchase beer at a grocery store. Poking fun at misogynistic stereotypes.
Cons: Literally no trace of blackberry. Literally no buzz. The crickets in my wallet rubbing it in that I purchased this instead of a 30-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon.

REVIEW: Green Tea Coke Plus With Catechin

Marvo 17 Comments

It’s hard to imagine why it’s taken so long for the Japanese makers of Coke to come up with the Green Tea Coke Plus with Catechin. After all, the Japanese love green tea. They love it HARD. I think they love it just as much as smoking, manga, short schoolgirl skirts, posing for pictures and physically abusive game shows.

I’m also surprised the American makers of Coke didn’t come up with it sooner because, as they’ve proven time and time again, they’ll shoehorn almost anything into their cola. They’ll shoehorn it HARD. Some ingredients they’ve added to Coke or Diet Coke include: coffee, vanilla, black cherry, lime, lemon, Splenda, cherry and zeros.

Although it doesn’t specifically say on its label, the Green Tea Coke Plus with Catechin is really less like regular Coke and more like either Diet Coke or Coke Zero since it contains artificial sweeteners and no calories. Despite its name, it doesn’t contain vitamins like the U.S. version of Diet Coke Plus. The “plus” in this soda’s name is either for the catechins the green tea provides or it’s being marketed to sumo wrestlers.

Catechins are antioxidants and are mostly found in teas, but also in some chocolates. Studies have shown that catechins prevent plaque from building up on artery walls, some forms of cancer and aging. In my personal studies with catechins and green tea, it seems to turn me into a pompous ass by making me extend my pinky outward when drinking tea.

The Green Tea Coke Plus’ smell and initial flavor reminds me of the American version of Coke Zero, but not as prominent, which doesn’t surprise me because Coke from Japan tends to have a slightly muted flavor compared with their American counterparts. The green tea flavor doesn’t kick in until a few moments later, but when it does, it’s subtle and without any of the bitterness that green tea is known for.

Being someone who enjoys Coke Zero, I enjoyed the flavor of the Green Tea Coke Plus with Catechin, although I wish it had a little bit more green tea flavor. As for the catechins, I think you’d be better off drinking cups of regular green tea because there’s probably not a significant amount of catechins in each bottle of Green Tea Coke Plus, unlike green tea itself.

But overall, I like it HARD.

(Note: Orchid64, who purchased and sent the Green Tea Coke Plus for me, also reviewed it, along with Mike’s Blender. Also, below is a stupid experiment I did with the second bottle of Green Tea Coke Plus I had. It’s stupid because I totally wasted a good bottle of soda that’s hard for me to obtain. Enjoy my wastefulness.)

Item: Green Tea Coke Plus With Catechin
Price: 147 yen
Size: 500 ml
Purchased at: Received from Orchid64
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: I like it HARD. Tastes like Coke Zero. No calories. Easy to drink. I guess some catechins are better than no catechins. Green tea. Short schoolgirl skirts on women 18 years old or older. Japanese game shows.
Cons: Only available in Japan. Not enough green tea flavor for me. Not sure how much catechins it provides, but it’s probably not much. Wasting a perfectly good bottle of soda with a stupid dated Mentos experiment.