Big Action!

Fixing what ain't broke

A few weeks ago I got a curious package in the mail. It was addressed to me as an employee of Zap2it, it was kind of heavy and it came from a return address I didn't recognize.

Intrigued, I opened the box. Inside were three cans of Mountain Dew -- or I guess I should say "Mountain Dew." They're three new flavors, which go by the names of Voltage, Supernova and Revolution, and I'm supposed to vote on which one is my favorite, so it can take up permanent residence in the soda aisle.

Except I'm not.

My needs are small

We're thinking about moving, and have been looking at a few apartments. Lyn has a wish list -- boring stuff like two bathrooms, bigger closets. Whatever. Me, I want an omelette station.

Guy comes in every morning, sets out little bowls of green pepper, cheese, ham, olives, etc., stands at the ready to make me an omelette. Some mornings I'll be, "Gary, you know what? No omelette today. Go on home to the family."

Cheeseburger in a Can

The name says it all.

Well, not all. The Onion AV Club adds:

A few days later, we all eagerly gathered around the hot plate in the A.V. Club labs to see whether cheeseburger-in-a-can could possibly be any good.

Answer: no. Oh dear sweet shrieking Lord, no.

Thank Ya Very Much

Sometimes I'm in the grocery store or CVS, and I come across something that's just baffling. I mean, seriously, it stops me cold. Someone paid millions of dollars to put this thing in my line of sight, and they never stopped to ask the obvious questions.

The boys in marketing were clearly working overtime when they came up with this:

The Elvis Limited Edition Reese's Peanut Butter & Banana Creme Cup.

That's right, Hershey is honoring the King's memory by issuing this candy on the 30th anniversary of his death.

Now granted, the target audience for this new taste sensation -- the kids these days -- have only the vaguest idea who Elvis is ("Wasn't he that guy that choked on his own vomit?" "No man, that was Janis Hendrix." "Oh. Right.").

But it amazes me that nobody in the brainstorming sessions remembered that Elvis died while on the toilet. And the way Hershey decides to commemorate that event? With a little snack-packet of emulsifiers and sugar, headed straight for your colon.

Note also the slogan, "Live Like The King" -- which I just have to point out, again, is celebrating the 30th anniversary of a man suffering a massive coronary while straining to empty his bowels.

Leaving aside all that, there's a real question whether banana creme -- the spelling of creme, by the way, means that legally, dairy products don't have to be in the same room while this stuff is made -- even belongs in a candy bar. If you want to know how they tasted -- well, you have to go to someone braver than me. It's probably quite tasty. I just couldn't get past the weirdness to try it.

Mmmmm... This coffee tastes like crap!

Civet crap, to be precise. And it costs $600 per pound.

To drink the coffee. That's been through the intestinal tract. Of a small, weasel-like animal.

Do you think Starbucks will have this in whipped mocha flavor any time soon?

"Hershey’s tastes like ear wax"

Sometimes cliches get to be cliches because they're true. Take, for instance, the one about British food. On my first-ever trip to England, I thought, it can't be that bad.

As it turns out, it can. Stale, cold bread is passed off as toast. I ordered pork loin in one of the hippest restaurants in town, and got a pressed ham roll. Even the bacon had no flavor. (Bacon!) It's as if they're angry at food over there -- like it ran over their dog when they were little -- and now, they're getting their revenge.

But, as this NYT story says, there is one area where the Brits have it all over us: candy. Maybe that's the only way they can get through what passes for the main course. They have to bribe themselves with the world's best chocolate bars.

For the L.A. contingent, you don't have to take my word for it. Go down to Mel & Rose and pick up some of the imports. You'll be quite happy you did.

Who Needs The Kwik-E-Mart? I Do.

In perhaps the greatest marketing move ever, 7-Eleven has turned several of its stores into Kwik-E-Marts as part of the massive push for the upcoming Simpsons movie.

Here is the closest one to most of us. I will be there to use the rest room, flip through the magazines, rearrange the carefully shelved items, and handle the food products in an unsanitary manner.

Oh, and I might get me some donuts. And possibly some Buzz Cola.

Cafeteria shmafeteria

So, rice pudding. Before last week, I mostly thought of it mostly as something served in school cafeterias, and as I have few positive memories of the food served in school cafeterias -- aside from the awesome cookies my friend whose family owned a deli (sadly, it's no more) used to bring in and trade away for the finest contents of others' lunchboxes -- it was not something I cared to eat too much.

Because I remember the school version, and it was a lumpy, glutinous mass that tasted, if it tasted like anything, like sugar.

Then I went to New York last week, and I had an epiphany.

Or, actually, I had a Cinnamon Sling with graham cracker topping. It was a beautiful thing, and I am now a rice pudding convert. Thanks, Rice to Riches. If you find yourself on the Lower East Side anytime soon, stop in and get you some. They ship too. It'll make you forget your school lunch forever.

Mmmm... Beard Puffs.

Our neighbor Shigeko -- nominee for the nicest lady in the world -- brought us cream puffs from a place called Beard Papa's. It's perhaps the only time I've ever been glad Jean is lactose-intolerant, because I got to be greedy and gobble them all myself. Seriously, they make Krispy Kremes seem like something you'd feed to pigeons. If you've never had them, MY GOD, GO RIGHT NOW. And if you have, then why have you been keeping this magical taste treat to yourself? You greedy pigs.

There's even a little fairy tale explaining how Beard Papa's fabulous cream puffs came to be. They're made with love by a man with a fluffy white beard. (Of course.) I suspect the secret of Zen Inner Peace might be hidden inside.

Your Daily Box O' Awesome: Spidey-Snacks!

In honor of Spider-Man 3 earning roughly a kajillion dollars this weekend (Say, anybody remember when super-hero movies went straight to video? Those were primitive times) and Mother's Day next weekend, I thought I'd pull this out of the pantry. A gift from my mom. When I was little, she bought me all the cool Spider-Man stuff. And she's still doing it:

I have no idea how they taste. I'm never opening that box, for fear of tearing one of those amazing Steve Ditko illustrations. (OK, sure, maybe I'm missing out on the spider-powers contained in every cookie, but frankly, they've brought Peter Parker nothing but trouble.)

God only knows where she found it, but it's proof, once again, I have the best mom ever.