Tag: General Mills

Fiber One Raisin Bran Clusters

Marvo 22 Comments

Eating the new Fiber One Raisin Bran Clusters cereal makes me feel a little more mature, since it doesn’t have either chocolate, marshmallows, or commercials on Nickolodeon. When I eat it in the morning, I close my eyes and imagine myself enjoying it at the dining table while reading the editorial page of my local newspaper, rolling my eyes at the crazy people who take the time to jump on their soapbox and write a Letter to the Editor to voice their opinion about how a pothole in front of their driveway proves that the local government is ineffective. Then I respond by asking why the writer of the letter doesn’t call the fucking pothole hotline, which was set up by the local government.

Then I imagine apologizing to my two imaginary elementary-aged children for saying the word “fucking” out loud in front of them, tell them that they shouldn’t use that word in school, and then plead with them to not tell their mommy I said the word “fucking.” Since my children are as cunning as me and my imaginary wife are, they will probably ask for certain toys in return for being silent about the profanity. I tell them that they were both accidents, but I agree to their demands if they also let me cut them out of my will.

I ask them if either of them knows what a will is and they both shake their heads, but they agree to the deal.

The Fiber One Raisin Bran Clusters is only part of my imaginary complete balanced mature breakfast. I’m also enjoying half a grapefruit with a little Splenda sprinkled on top, two pieces of whole wheat toast with Smart Balance spread, and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. My children are each enjoying half a papaya and slightly burnt waffles with sloppily-poured syrup that I prepared in my “Mr. Mom” apron. They fight over the syrup and then complain to me about it. I explain to them that sharing is important and that mommy and daddy share things all the time, like shampoo, soap, and the leather strap swing in our bedroom. I also tell them if they don’t share, they’re going to have to eat dry waffles next time and I’m going to force them to watch CBS sitcoms.

They scream “NO” and decide to share.

Despite being in milk for a few minutes, the dense, lightly sweetened wheat and bran flakes in the Fiber One Raisin Bran Clusters are decently still crunchy. The clusters add a lot more crunch to the cereal and the plump raisins add extra sweetness. It smells like Golden Grahams, but it’s not an overly sweet tasting cereal. It’s also not CBS-sitcom dry and boring. I’m surprised about how good it tastes, since usually most things that have a lot of fiber in them taste very “earthy,” or in other words, like dirt, twigs, and tie-dye-wearing hippies who live in a forest.

A serving of Fiber One Raisin Bran Clusters cereal provides me with over 40 percent of the 25 grams of fiber I should consume each day, which is good because when I’m fifty years old and a camera gets shoved up my ass during my colonoscopy, all the fiber I consumed will hopefully make everything up there okay. I’m also hoping that if I eat enough fiber, I can make paper out of my poop, like they do with elephant and panda droppings.

My wife enters the kitchen and she’s looking hot in her business suit. She grabs a piece of toast from my plate, takes a bite out of it, puts it back on the plate, kisses me on the cheek, leaving crumbs stuck to it, and then thanks me for letting her sit in the leather strap swing last night. Then she grabs my glass of orange juice, takes a swig, leaves a lipstick mark on the lip of the glass, and then out loud wishes that she didn’t brush her teeth before drinking orange juice. The children laugh, but I want to jump her bones so badly because there’s something about her in a suit that really makes me horny.

When one of my children asks me, “Daddy, what does ‘horny’ mean? Are you a unicorn?” I wish I had an internal monologue in my daydreams. I tell my children that “Horny” is a unicorn and it’s the reason why they’re both here today. I also promise to give them more toys if they don’t mention that to mommy and I don’t have to pay for their college educations.

They agree because my daughter says she’s going to be the next Paris Hilton and not have to do any work or have any skills, while my son says he’s going to be Anakin Skywalker, turn goth, and wear black everywhere he goes.

Sure, the Fiber One Raisin Bran Clusters cereal totally looks like a clusterfuck of Raisin Bran, Honey Bunches of Oats, and All-Bran cereals, but it’s a sweet, delicious clusterfuck.

“Daddy, what’s a clusterfuck?”

(Nutritional Facts Per Serving: 170 calories, 10 calories from fat, 1 gram of fat, no cholesterol, 260 milligrams of sodium, 330 milligrams of potassium, 45 grams of carbs, 11 grams of fiber, 13 grams of sugar, 4 grams of protein, 21 grams of other carbohydrates, and a variety of vitamins and minerals.)

Item: Fiber One Raisin Bran Clusters
Price: FREE
Purchased at: Received from PR firm
Rating: 4 out of 5
Pros: Really good. Smells like Golden Grahams. Over 40% daily value of fiber. Sweet, but not too sweet. Crunchy. Paper made out of poop. How hot my imaginary wife looks in a business suit. Having a leather strap swing in the bedroom.
Cons: Accidently broadening my imaginary children’s vocabulary. Not having internal dialogue in my daydreams. Clusters can sometimes get stuck in between teeth. Sitcoms on CBS. It’s all a daydream. Crazy people who write Letters to the Editor because they have nothing better to do. Dry waffles. My Mr. Mom apron.

REVIEW: Fruity Cheerios

Marvo 29 Comments

Cheerios are enjoyed by so many people and I think the reason why Cheerios are beloved is because there are so many varieties. Just like 24-hour news networks, reality shows, and crazy publicly drunk celebrities to hate, there’s a type of Cheerios for everyone.

The varieties include, Honey Nut Cheerios, Apple Cinnamon Cheerios, Multi-Grain Cheerios, Frosted Cheerios, Berry Burst Cheerios, and Yogurt Burst Cheerios.

Because of all these varieties, Cheerios are adored by children, parents, firefighters, police officers, clowns, stoners, account executives, pimps, college students, financial planners, dog trainers, Oprah audience members, Buddhists, professional lacrosse players, telemarketers, the people who rip your ticket when you enter the movie theater, World of Warcraft players, Bittorrent seeders, fluffers, flight attendants, Hookah bar patrons, bums, street performers, towel boys, and shopping cart retrievers.

The love of Cheerios spreads out to Disneyland employees who wear costumes, backseat drivers, sanitation workers, volunteer art class nude models, NASCAR pit crew window cleaners, daytime strippers, spa treatment hair removal waxers, mechanical engineers, indie band drummers, MAC Cosmetics salespeople, Dungeon Masters, coupon clippers, starving people, Felix the Cat, AOL members, porta-pottie cleaners, big rig drivers, Olympic synchronized swimmer alternates, old folks who greet you at the Wal-Mart entrance, internet porn downloaders, 40-something year old pizza delivery guys, quasi-product review blog editors, crossword puzzle creators, dysfunctional former child stars, Colombian drug traffickers, astronauts, reality show contestant losers, loan defaulters, hip-hop artist entourage members, National Spelling Bee incorrect spellers, old school Reebok Pump wearers, and professional nose hair trimmers.

Despite the numerous groups of people who like Cheerios, there has been a small minority group that has been ignored by Cheerios…zombies. That’s right, the living dead hasn’t liked any of the previous incarnations of Cheerios, but thanks to the new Fruity Cheerios it appears there’s a Cheerios out there that appeals to zombies.

No wonder zombies went around killing people and eating their brains and raw flesh. They didn’t have a Cheerios to call their own.

If you don’t believe that zombies like Fruity Cheerios, check out the back of the Fruity Cheerios box, zombie hater. On the back of the box is one happy zombie, with its yellow skin and white pupils. Believe me, I’ve played enough Resident Evil to know what zombies look like, and that my friends is a zombie on the back of the box.

Who knew that Fruity Cheerios would have the power to turn a bloodthirsty zombie into a happy, smiling zombie? But then again, after trying Fruity Cheerios, I can kind of understand why zombies are happy. It’s not as sweet as Fruity Pebbles or Froot Loops, but Fruity Cheerios is pretty good, thanks to the fact that it’s flavored with real fruit juice.

The colors of Fruity Cheerios were pleasant and bright, and powerful enough to turn the cold, empty heart of a zombie into a heart filled with love, compassion, and twelve essential vitamins and minerals.

I hope they don’t get rid of Fruity Cheerios, because I’m not going to be the one to explain it to the zombies.

(Editor’s Note: Thanks to Tony, Meredith, and all the people who suggested I try Fruity Cheerios. Now I’m going to go kill some zombies with fire so they don’t eat all the Fruity Cheerios.)

Item: Fruity Cheerios
Price: $4.00 (on sale)
Purchased at: Safeway
Rating: 8 out of 10
Pros: Loved by zombies, which prevents them from eating human flesh. Good fruity taste. Nice color. Flavored with real fruit juice. Less sugar than leading fruity cereal. 12 essential vitamins and minerals.
Cons: Not as sweet as Fruity Pebbles or Froot Loops. Pissing off zombies if Fruity Cheerios are discontinued.

Winter Lucky Charms

Marvo 42 Comments

Green clovers? Blue moons? Purple horseshoes? Red balloons? Brown mushrooms?

I don’t know what Lucky the Leprechaun has been smoking, but I do know that I don’t want any of it.

Now that I think about it, maybe the kids chasing him aren’t after his Lucky Charms, they’re after his stash of whatever he’s been smoking. Or maybe the kids chasing Lucky the Leprechaun are just drug-induced hallucinations.

Anyway, the reason why I question Lucky the Leprechaun’s “extra-curricular” activities is because of the marshmallows in Winter Lucky Charms.

With regular Lucky Charms there are red balloons, blue moons, purple horseshoes, rainbows, pink hearts, etc, and they all look like what they’re supposed to represent.

However, with the marshmallows in Winter Lucky Charms, they look like Lucky the Leprechaun was either on an acid trip, in a dervish mood, or had something else on his mind, like a hot date, wondering whether his pot of gold was safe, or he needed to take a massive dump, but hates to use public restrooms.

Whatever it was, the marshmallows in Winter Lucky Charms don’t look so winter-ish. But they do look like other things (see chart below as reference – click pic for larger view).

The “pine tree” marshmallows don’t even come close to looking like an actual pine tree. Car fresheners shaped like pine trees come much closer than these. However, if you turn the “pine tree” marshmallow on its side, it totally looks like a glob of minty fresh toothpaste.

The “stocking” marshmallow is probably the worst of them all. First off, maybe I didn’t get the memo on this, but when did yellow become a “holiday” color. Also, I don’t know of anyone who has yellow stockings, except Big Bird. However, his entire wardrobe is yellow. To me, the yellow “stocking” looks more like an upside down rubber duckie.

The “candy cane” marshmallow maybe shaped like a candy cane, but it looks likes the red lines were painted by some psycho serial killer with nervous system problems, who likes to paint with the blood of their victims. Personally, I think the “candy cane” marshmallow looks like uncooked bacon.

As for the “snowman” marshmallow, where’s the corncob pipe, button nose, two eyes made out of coal, and tighty whitey underwear? Whitney Houston and I both believe that the “snowman” marshmallows look like pieces of crack cocaine, and Whitney would like to know how much they are?

The “ornament” marshmallows don’t really look like anything, but the closest thing I think they look like are bloody cotton swabs that someone might’ve gotten from sticking them a little to far into an orifice.

If the “wreath” marshmallow had a hole in the center of it, it might’ve looked like a wreath, but instead it looks like Oscar the Grouch’s girlfriend, Grungetta Grunge.

Finally, the “present” marshmallow doesn’t really come close to looking like a present. However, it does come really close to looking like a Gay Pikachu.

Despite the marshmallows not looking like what they’re supposed to, Winter Lucky Charms tastes just like regular Lucky Charms. However, I think there should’ve been a Scrooge-shaped marshmallow in the box, because the 11.75-ounce box of Winter Lucky Charms is smaller than the smallest regular Lucky Charms box, which is 14-ounces.

So not only is Lucky the Leprechaun a dope head, he’s also a cheap bastard.

(Editor’s Note: Bah! Lord Jezo has beaten me again. Go read his review of Winter Lucky Charms here.

Item: Winter Lucky Charms
Purchase Price: $3.00 (on sale)
Rating: 3.5 out of 5
Pros: Marshmallows. Tastes just like regular Lucky Charms. Marshmallows.
Cons: Slightly smaller box than regular Lucky Charms. Marshmallow don’t look like what they’re supposed to. A high Lucky the Leprechaun. A high Whitney Houston.

Peanut Butter Cookie Crisp

Marvo 28 Comments

Peanut Butter Cookie Crisp

I’m a very skeptical person.

I think I’ve been very skeptical ever since one of my third grade classmates told me that putting on four pairs of Underoos would protect me from a kick to the balls. Of course, I later learned that this was not true and putting on four pairs of Underoos made me look like I was wearing a diaper.

Recently, Impulsive Buy readers Kaitlin and Joseph each emailed me to tell me about the new cereal, Peanut Butter Cookie Crisp. I was exciting about to learn about it, because Cookie Crisp is one of my favorite cereals. However, my skepticism kicked in and I couldn’t totally believe that it existed.

Kaitlin even directed to the General Mills website that had information and a picture of Peanut Butter Cookie Crisp. However, in my eyes, the website was like the famous Surgeon’s photo of the Loch Ness Monster or the grainy video footage of Bigfoot. It was something that could be easily explained.

The Loch Ness Monster photo is actually a photo of Motley Crue drummer Tommy Lee floating nude on his back in a lake and the Bigfoot footage is just a video someone took of Robin Willams going on a hike.

As for the Peanut Butter Cookie Crisp, I thought it was something someone created in Adobe Photoshop. I think someone with mad Photoshop skills created the box and a hacker posted it on the General Mills website.

How easy is it to create a fake box? Well, I have crappy Photoshop skills and I created a box of Marvios (see picture below)

For me to believe Kaitlin and Joseph, I needed tangible proof, and I got it while walking through the cereal aisle at the national grocery store chain I usually shop at.

Marvios

When I first saw the box of Peanut Butter Cookie Crisp on the shelf, I did the things that most people do when they don’t believe what their seeing. For those of you who have seen mirages, boobs bigger than human heads, people with three nipples, or have seen how buff Carrot Top is, you know what I’m talking about.

First, I made bug eyes, which is when you open your eyelids as wide as you can. Then I rubbed my eyes to make sure my they were clean and looked again. Then I squinted at the box to make sure I was seeing it correctly.

Well it turned out that Kaitlin and Joseph were right and I was wrong. Just like I was wrong about my prediction that the members of *NSYNC, the Backstreet Boys, and 98 Degrees would form a pop supergroup called White Bread, modeling it after rock supergroups Velvet Revolver and Audioslave.

I picked up a box of Peanut Butter Cookie Crisp and when I got home I tried a bowl of it. After the first spoonful, I thought that it was pretty good. It was definitely better tasting than the Peanut Butter Toast Crunch cereal the Impulsive Buy reviewed last year.

Peanut Butter Cookie Crisp had a poor authentic peanut butter flavor, but it did have a great fake peanut butter flavor. After trying it, I would have to say that it is probably the best fake peanut butter flavored cereal I’ve ever had.

The cereal stayed crunchy in milk for a decent amount of time. In my mouth, the cereal was crunchy at first, but after that it seemed like it melted in my mouth, which made me think either General Mills intended the cereal to do that or my saliva is like molten lava.

Item: Peanut Butter Cookie Crisp
Purchase Price: $4.99
Rating: 4 out of 5
Pros: Great fake peanut butter flavor. Made with whole grain. Vitamins and minerals. Stays crunchy in milk for a decent amount of time. No pop supergroup called White Bread.
Cons: Poor authentic peanut butter flavor. Hard puzzles on the back of the box. My skepticism. My crappy Photoshop skills.

REVIEW: Chocolate Lucky Charms

Marvo 14 Comments

Chocolate Lucky Charms

Over the years, I’ve probably eaten my body weight in Lucky Charms. Also, I’m probably at my current body weight because of Lucky Charms.

Nevertheless, it’s probably one of my favorite cereals of all time, not only because of its marshmallow goodness, but also because I believe there’s a slim chance that Lucky Charms will someday bring me good luck.

With all the Lucky Charms I’ve eaten, I’m expecting enough luck to last me for the rest of my life. Oh how great it would be to have that much luck.

I imagine a life where I would find twenty dollar bills on the ground every day, hit a jackpot on each slot machine lever I pull, marry a supermodel/doctor, and sleep on the finest leopard-print Chinese silk sheets around.

Now I have to admit, I wanted that luck to come to me soon, because I didn’t know how long I could keep eating Lucky Charms. When you’ve eaten your body weight’s worth of it, you tend to get tired of them, including all the green clovers, purple horseshoes, blue moons, rainbows, and whatever other marshmallows they have.

However, this boredom with Lucky Charms stopped, while shopping at the national grocery store chain I usually shop at. There I saw the most titillating thing I’ve ever seen. It was so heavenly that you should’ve seen my eyes light up, like a teenage boy flipping through an issue of Playboy that he stole from his father’s “secret” stash, when my eyes gazed upon the boxes of Chocolate Lucky Charms on the shelf.

I picked up the box and stared at it, like I had found the Holy Grail of Cereals. Then I turned the box over and read in big, bold letters, “The Secret is Out!”

Then I thought, “Secret? Out? Holy crap! Lucky the Leprechaun is GAY!”

Chocolate Lucky Charms

Well I read the rest of it and it turns out that he’s not, but my gaydar says he is. Come on, rainbow marshmallows?

So what’s Chocolate Lucky Charms?

Imagine combining the marshmallows from Lucky Charms with the cereal part from Count Chocula. That delicious combination gives us Chocolate Lucky Charms, or what I’m now calling, “Heaven in a Bowl.”

It’s so good, I can’t contain myself.

Oh my goodness, the marshmallows!

Oh my goodness, the chocolatey milk!

Oh my goodness, why didn’t they come up with it sooner?

Oh my goodness, I ate a whole frickin’ box in two days!

Oh, those geniuses at General Mills. I would kiss them all on the lips, if they were all in my room, if I weren’t munching on a mouthful of Chocolate Lucky Charms, and if they were all women.

But for that to happen, I’d have to be lucky.

Item: Chocolate Lucky Charms
Purchase Price: $2.50 (on sale)
Rating: 10 out of 10
Pros: DAMN good. Made with whole grain. Chocolatey milk. Marshmallows.
Cons: No luck, despite the pounds of Lucky Charms I’ve eaten. Why didn’t they come up with this idea sooner? Lucky the Leprechaun is still in the closet.