Miracle Bubbles

Marvo 24 Comments

I’ve gone through an entire bottle of Miracle Bubbles, blowing more bubbles than a bus load of bored bubble gum chewers, and I have found nothing miraculous about it. There’s as much “miracle” in it as there is in a jar of Miracle Whip.

Oh wait, I’m sorry. There is one thing miraculous about Miracle Whip and it’s that people still eat it.

I don’t know what I liked about blowing bubbles when growing up. I would blow bubbles into the air and then try to swat at them, like they were mosquitos, bees or if I just sniffed some rubber cement, the floating heads of the band KISS.

Keep that tongue away from me Gene Simmons!

Oh sorry, flashback.

(Editor’s Note: Now children, sniffing rubber cement is bad, m’kay.)

I’d also try to catch some of the bubbles in my mouth and attempt to make huge bubbles, which always ended up with the bubble bursting and the bubble solution landing in my eye, causing it to burn and me go crying to my mommy, like the little pussy I was back then in 2004.

Much like a vibrator with low batteries, I don’t think anyone could get much fun out of a bottle of Miracle Bubbles. Although, I think several minutes of fun can be had if you decided to blow some Miracle Bubbles in the direction of a baby, cat, dog, or crazy hobo. Consider it liquid entertainment for a baby, a liquid ball of yarn for a cat, a liquid chew toy for a dog, or liquid voices in the head of a crazy hobo.

The bottle of Miracle Bubbles would be even less fun without the included Chinese-made Miracle Wand, much like how some wands are less fun without Viagra. Without it, it would be hard to make bubbles with the Mexican-made bubble solution. I think playing with Miracle Bubbles is as fun as making the actual Miracle Bubbles in a Mexican factory.

A bottle of Miracle Bubbles could become fun if it actually could perform miracles, like float in the air and ignore the laws of gravity, part the Red Sea, turn water into wine, get Aaron and Nick Carter their own reality show, give Larry the Cable Guy a career, or get a woman to talk to me.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love bubbles.

I love it with soap.

I love it with shampoo.

I love it with toothpaste.

I even love Bubbles from the Powerpuff Girls.

But despite going through a whole bottle of Miracle Bubbles, it just didn’t excite me. Although, it might’ve been different if I had a cat, dog, or crazy hobo around.

Item: Miracle Bubbles
Price: 50 cents
Purchased at: A store with a bunch of cheap junk
Rating: 2 out of 5
Pros: Fun with cats, dogs, and crazy hobos. Non-toxic, but also non-edible. Miracle wand included! Brings together cheap labor from China AND Mexico.
Cons: Seconds of fun, unless you have a cat, dog, or crazy hobo. Kinda messy with dripping bubble solution. Not for children under the age of 3. Nothing really miraculous about the bubbles. Miracle Whip. A vibrator with low batteries.

The Shopping Cart #3

Marvo 24 Comments

The Shopping Cart takes a look at things that I’ve bought, but am too lazy to write a full review for.

What I’m Wearing That Shows My Inability To Properly Use Long Hard Things

Yes, I don’t know how to use chopsticks, especially those damn long plastic Chinese chopsticks.

My Japanese ancestors are probably rolling in their graves…Oh wait, they were cremated. Let me rephrase the previous sentence. My Japanese ancestors are probably kicking up ashes in their urns, because I have the chopstick proficiency of a one-year-old in Japan or a nervous, old horny man experiencing nyotaimori (Possible NSFW) for the very first time.

Over the years, I’ve gotten better at eating with chopsticks. As long as I can stab what I’m eating, I won’t starve. But when it comes to eating noodles or rice with chopsticks, I instantly jump on the Atkins low-carb diet.

I’m ashamed of my chopstick ineptness and have been wearing this recently purchased Threadless t-shirt called “Sticks of Shame” like a scarlet letter. The design says something in Japanese, but I can’t read it at all, which in turn is making my Japanese ancestors kick up ashes in their urns again.

Fortunately, the English translation is printed in small type on the right side. It says, “I can’t use chopsticks. Because of this, MY FACE BURNS WITH SHAME!!!…can I please have fork.”

I would also settle for a spork.

Whut’s Bumpin’ In My Totally Un-Pimped Out Japanese Compact Car

Aw yeah! Now dats whut I’m talkin’ ’bout, y’all!

My man, Weird Al is dropping some crazy shit on y’all wit his new joint, “White & Nerdy” from his brand new album, “Straight Outta Lynwood.” Lynwood! Represent!

It’s a parody of smooth southern rapper Chamillionaire’s joint “Ridin’.” Yo, I gots to say dat dis gots to be one of da illest parodies dat, my boy, Weird Al has done. Ya heard!

Yo, some of y’all might not think dis polka boy gots da skillz to be droppin’ mad rhymes, but yo, check da lyrics, y’all. Check da lyrics.

I’ve been browsin’, inspectin’
X-Men comics, you know I collect ’em
The pens in my pocket, I must protect ’em
My ergonomic keyboard never leaves me bored
Shopping online for deals on some writable media
I edit Wikipedia
I memorized Holy Grail really well
I can recite it right now and have you ROTFLOL

Dang! Dat white boy can drop rhymes, y’all. So if y’all wants to be shakin’ your asses at your next LAN party, Dungeons & Dragons gathering, or at da comic book store, go buy dis phat track.

Da video fo’ “White & Nerdy,” is on YouTube, so go check it out.

REVIEW: Jazz Diet Pepsi Black Cherry French Vanilla

Marvo 44 Comments

I think The Impulsive Buy’s number one hater is right, I need to jazz up my life. Here’s what he/she/it wrote to me:

(Editor’s Note: Yes, the hater is real and so is the letter.)

Dearest Marvo,

I just wanted to tell how much I hate you you 30 year old sits in your pajamas all day fat crusty does nothing but jackoff and eat loser please be so kind and spare the plant another shitty review and go kill yourself now before we do it for you respond to this if you have the balls

I know. I know. It’s hard to read the email he/she/it sent to me, so for those of you who don’t understand the language of retarded, let me translate it.

Dearest Marvo,

I just wanted to tell you how much I hate you. You’re a 30-year-old who sits in your pajamas all day. You’re fat, crusty, and do nothing but jackoff and eat. Loser, please be so kind and spare the planet another shitty review and go kill yourself now before we do it for you. Respond to this if you have the balls.

Despite how harsh this douche bag’s letter is, I think he/she/it makes a couple things very clear. (1) Inbreeding is bad. (2) My life is very boring and mundane and I need to “jazz” it up.

So I’ve been thinking about ways to improve my life by doing things beyond the masturbation and eating, which according to he/she/it is all I do. Actually, if I got paid to masturbate and eat all day, I would totally do it, as long as I got free Kleenex.

Anyway, the first thing I would do to possibly jazz up my life is take salsa dancing lessons, because I enjoy shaking my ass…in the mirror…by myself…to Kylie Minogue’s “Locomotion.” I would also like to take salsa dancing lessons because the instructor would have to partner me up with a woman and when the instructor does, it will be the closest I’ve been with a woman in several years.

The next thing I would do to try and jazz up my boring life is to attempt to get my name into the Guinness Book of World Records. According to my number one hater, I may already have the world record for sitting in my pajamas all day, but unfortunately there was no one here to validate that.

Instead, I think I may try to break the Guinness World Records for the number of pints of Guinness stout consumed within 10 minutes. Wouldn’t it be cool to have the Guinness World Record for Guinness consumption and then gain about 20 pounds?

If I’m feeling really lazy, fat, and crusty, I could always just drink some Jazz Diet Pepsi Black Cherry French Vanilla to jazz up my life. After all, it’s got the word “jazz” in its name. Much like alcohol provides me with “liquid courage,” Red Bull gives me “liquid energy,” and Astroglide allows me to have “liquid love,” I thought Jazz Diet Pepsi Black Cherry French Vanilla would provide me with “liquid jazz,” but instead all I got was a good tasting diet soda and lots of gas, since I drank about a liter of it pretty quickly.

It maybe good, but it’s not as good as the Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper. The cherry and vanilla flavors in the Jazz Diet Pepsi were kind of syrupy, making it a little too sweet, but they definitely covered up the usual artificial sweetener taste in most diet sodas.

Well I guess to jazz up my life all I need to do is get out more, but so does some jerkoff who takes the time to write hate emails in a retarded language to some quasi-product review blog editor.

Item: Jazz Diet Pepsi Black Cherry French Vanilla
Price: $1.59 (2-liters)
Purchased at: Safeway
Rating: 6 out of 10
Pros: Good for a diet soda. Zero calories, fat, carbs, and sugar. Getting into the Guinness Book of World Records. Free Kleenex. Getting out of the apartment. Astroglide.
Cons: A little too sweet and syrupy. TIB’s number one hater. My boring, mundane life. Writing hate mails in a retarded language. Drinking the Guinness World Record for Guinness consumption. Inbreeding.

REVIEW: IBC Root Beer (32-ounces)

Marvo 25 Comments

IBC Root Beer

Sometimes I like to be an old-fashioned kind of guy.

Not in the sense of opening doors for women, saying please or thank you, or offering my seat to an elderly person on the bus. In all those instances, I’m an asshole.

The old-fashioned I’m talking about is occasionally putting on my acid-washed jean shorts, Hypercolor t-shirt, a pair of British Knights shoes, and listening to C+C Music Factory on my Sony Walkman cassette player with auto-reverse, while playing Sonic the Hedgehog on a Sega Genesis.

(Editor’s Note: For the convenience of TIB’s younger readers, who weren’t born when many of these things came out, I have added Wikipedia links to explain them, except acid-washed jean shorts because there’s no Wikipedia entry for them and I’m ashamed that I actually wear acid-washed jean shorts.)

When I’m bored and lonely in my apartment, I like to get really old-fashioned and put on a pair of polyester bell bottoms, a tie-dye t-shirt, a pair of platform shoes, and an afro wig, while listening to disco music on an 8-track player.

(Editor’s Note: To TIB’s middle-aged readers: I’m not saying you’re really old in any way, shape, or form, even though I did say “really old-fashioned.” When I said “really” I really meant it in terms of prestige and not in terms of time.)

I’m just as old-fashioned as this 32-ounce bottle of IBC Root Beer in its amber-colored glass bottle, but not as dark, curvy, or satisfying. It’s old-fashioned because it’s been around since 1919 and was introduced during Prohibition.

(Editor’s Note: To TIB’s younger readers: If you’re too lazy to click the Wikipedia link above, Prohibition was a time from 1920 to 1933 when it was illegal to produce, sell, or transport alcohol in the United States, but drinking it wasn’t illegal. If any of your great, great, great grandparents are still alive, you should ask them about it.)

Anyway, I’ve been drinking so many of these 32-ounce bottles of IBC Root Beer recently that if they were actually bottles of alcoholic beer I would probably be doing some crazy, possibly illegal stuff like tipping cows, sucking on a cow’s udder, sticking my arm into a cow to help it give birth to a calf, or paying $150 for small slab of Kobe beef.

Personally, IBC Root Beer is better tasting than the highly-distributed Barq’s and A&W root beer, but I’ve also tasted better root beers than the IBC one. It’s got a nice spiciness to it, it made a great root beer float, and it comes in a big 32-ounce bottle. Of course, the big bottle means I can pour one for myself and then pour some out for my dead homies, because I’m old-fashioned like that.

Item: IBC Root Beer
Price: $1.49 (32-ounces)
Purchased at: Safeway
Rating: 8 out of 10
Pros: Tastes great. Big 32-ounce glass bottle. Cheap. Great for root beer floats. Darker, more curvy, and more satisfying than I am. Being an old-fashioned guy.
Cons: Not less filling. No caffeine. Drinking the entire bottle in one sitting is bad due to high sugar content. I’m as asshole. Prohibition.

Webstar & Young B – Chicken Noodle Soup

Marvo 30 Comments

Today, I’m going to explain the anatomy of an annoyingly catchy song.

There are various things that musicians and album producers do to turn a horrible song into something that becomes mentally tattooed on our brains. It’s sort of like how aerosol potpourri sprays cover up that massive dump you just took in the bathroom after eating a hearty steak dinner.

The potpourri spray smells good at first, but if you hang around the bathroom too long, the crappy smell returns. In the case of the annoyingly catchy song, it sounds good at first, making you want to shake your ass, but after you’ve listened to it for a while, you realize how crappy it truly is and you regret spending the 99 cents for it at the iTunes Store. It’s so crappy that you wouldn’t even bother downloading the torrent for it.

After listening to several annoyingly catchy songs, including the subject of today’s review, “Chicken Noodle Soup” by Webstar & Young B, I think I’ve pinpointed what makes an annoyingly catchy song so memorable.

1. Repetition of lyrics. Repetition of lyrics. Repetition of lyrics.

If there’s one thing that makes an annoyingly catchy song memorable, it’s repetition of lyrics. Just like learning the multiplication table, the periodic table, mixed drinks, and putting the toilet seat down for the ladies, repetition has always made it easier to remember things, like song lyrics, even if you don’t want to.

The Chicken Noodle Soup song lasts for only 203 seconds, but the lines “Let it rain. Clear it out” is said 26 times, “Let’s get it” is sung 21 times, and the title of the song, “Chicken noodle soup” is sung 18 times. So if my math is correct, there’s a “Let it rain. Clear it out” for every eight seconds of the song.

Of course, these are no where close to the 55 times the phrase “peanut butter jelly” is said in the Buckwheat Boyz song Peanut Butter and Jelly. But hearing the words “chicken noodle soup” 18 times in one song is enough to make the song pop up in my head whenever I walk through the soup aisle at my grocery store and sing under my breath, “Chicken noodle soup. Chicken noodle soup. Chicken noodle soup with a soda on the side.”

2. Make it ass-shakeable.

For some adults, listening or watching The Wiggles or Barney the purple dinosaur causes quick channel changing, violent shaking of televisions, uncontrollable crying, and impromptu games of Russian Roulette. It also makes some parents wonder if having to tolerate The Wiggles or Barney was worth having children.

However, with young children they are very successful because those crazy colorful Australians and that frickin’ big ass purple dinosaur make children want to dance. Annoying catchy songs do the exact same thing in the clubs or in your car. But then again, there’s lots of alcohol at any club, and if alcohol has the power to make me look good to women at a club, it also has the power to make a song ass-shakeable, no matter how stupid the lyrics are.

What also helps make a song ass-shakeable is the use a sound effect repeatedly in the beat. A lot of hip-hop producers weave police sirens into their beats, which on several occasion have caused me to look in my rear view mirror to see if I’m being pulled over or if I need to make way for an ambulance. In the Chicken Noodle Soup song, there’s an air raid siren which just doesn’t want to stop in my head, even when the song is over.

3. Have lyrics and a title that make no sense at all, and if possible, relate it to food.

“Peanut butter jelly with a baseball bat?”

“My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard?”

“Chicken noodle soup with a soda on the side?”

Monkeys with typewriters could probably come up with better lyrics than these annoyingly catchy songs, if monkeys had the ability to form words, sentences, paragraphs, and knew how to work a QWERTY keyboard.

But history has shown that crazy lyrics that are repeated over and over again, have references to food, and have an ass-shakeable beat with them equals annoyingly catchy goodness and eventually a reference on Family Guy.

Item: Webstar & Young B – Chicken Noodle Soup
Price: 99 cents
Purchased at: iTunes Store
Rating: 2 out of 10
Pros: Annoyingly catchy. Makes me want to shake my ass when there’s alcohol in my system. Possible future Family Guy reference.
Cons: Excessive use of air raid sirens. Repetitive lyrics. Me shaking my ass. Lyrics make no sense. The Wiggles and Barney.