Totally Gross Soda

THANKS TO FOODJUNK.COM FOR THE SHOT GLASS IDEA!

It’s a slippery slope when you have a blog with no real direction or flow and end up reviewing private label soda. I am not sure where I am sliding to but I’ll let you know when I hit bottom.

The good people at Avery’s Beverage out of New Britain, Connecticut have been pumping soda since 1904. Back then birch beer was what kids craved the most but they also dug baked apples and black licorice so who knows? Lucky for us, tastes have evolved and now Avery Beverages offers over forty five different flavors. That’s swell but I am only reviewing five specialty sodas. The Totally Gross Soda (IT’ SODAsgusting). And why, you may ask? I’m not going to answer that.

Blue Raspberry/Orange Toxic Slime! I am always on the fence about blue soda. Well, blue anything. It never seems to completely translate as an actual fruit but rather a bunch of mixed chemicals and sugar. The color is alluring, I can give it that but when it comes to a flavor I compare it to what I imagine a puree-ed TV remote with sugar. Completely alien and the absolute definition of artificial.

The glimmer of hope I saw in Toxic Slime, besides the amazing beaker with an eyeball and femur bone floating in it, was the fact there is orange flavoring to cut the plastic aftertaste. And it kinda did! But in a way that I was not expecting. Instead of an over-sweetened plastic taste it was an over-sweetend plastic cream. Weird, no?

Strawberry/Blue Raspberry Monster Mucus! Ah shit, the two flavors science can not figure out how to duplicate. Ignore the fact blue raspberry is Rubus Leucodermis and for what ever reason it has become a mainstream flavoring that, as seen as above, has no discernible fruit taste. Strawberry suffers the same fate.

Monster Mucus confuses the palate and sends it into a chicken or egg dilemma because when you take a swig, you are waiting to see what flavor will hit first but neither does. In an unexpected twist, they both cancel each other out and you are left with the sugar water in those wax candy bottles.

Also, you may notice a soda stain on Gary Busey’s face. I had a catastrophic accident and some of this awful juice spilled on him resulting in me making a noise similar to the time I slipped and fell in a grocery store. “NNGGNOOOOO!”

Kiwi/Pineapple Bug Barf! I had high hopes for this one because it had neither blue raspberry or strawberry. I walked into this soda review completely blind because, if memory serves me right, I have never tried kiwi or pineapple soda. Makes you wonder why two delicious fruits aren’t represented more in sodas. For some reason I feel Fanta fans might think I am from the planet Bleeptos. Tomatoes are also a fruit.

My high hopes were dashed onto the rocks of reality. Every time I think, “this has to be amazing” I remind myself not to get too excited and refer to the Pepsi Clear incident of 1988. I was hoping for a tropical tart blend of an exotic island but it was overpowered by all-purpose cleaner.

I’m tired of trying to fight these pictures. Sorry for the weird spacing.

Strawberry/orange Zombie Brain Juice! Here we go again. I already know what the recipe is and brother, I ain’t going to like it. I do, however, dig the brilliant red. Also, the cute zombie strolling around with his cap peeled back waiving hi to us and does not leave anything to be desired. Speaking of which, I haven’t really paid that much homage to the amazing artwork on these bottles. After all, why do you think I spent $16.95 for five of these?

Yeah, I spent damn near $4 a piece on these.

As to be expected, the Zombie Brain Juice is a mix of pixi stix and regret. The wild mix of unlike flavors doesn’t do much justice to the gross themed soda. I have no idea why I thought these would be anything more than over-sweetened artificially colored carbonated beverages but for the price, maybe I held out for something better tasting.

Pineapple/Orange Kitty Piddle! Okay folks, this is the one I have been saving for the last review! And for good reason. First, to name a soda after cat piss is pretty hilarious. Especially for all you cat owners out there who know the best “fuck you” from a cat to its owner is through cat piss. I know this.

Along time ago in what feels like another lifetime, I was in the military. When I wasn’t off in another country or having to sleep in a mud pit for weeks of training, I had a little abode to call my own. And somehow this abode came with a cat named Snooter. As a new resident to his domain, he pissed on all of my uniforms and I went to work not noticing but throughout the day the smell became stronger and stronger. At one point we were all on the floor trying to locate the source of this oder and before lunch, I figured out that it was my pant leg.

I came home immediately to change but soon discovered that furry asshole pissed on all my uniforms in some sort of cat territorial thing. I airborne qualified Snooter.

Kitty Piddle. While it is the best of the five, I will say it is 100% Sweet Tart juice. I don’t mean that in a bad way but I also don’t suggest that anyone should consume it. Maybe if you ran a toddle fight club this would be a good “pre-fight” drink but other than that, I really advise you to just leave cat piss for the little box.

So, in conclusion I must say the concept of “Totally Gross Soda” is just aces. The artwork is cute and original, the colors fantastic and originality of the flavor mixing was great in concept. The only problem I had was the fact I am almost 36 years old and reviewing kids soda in the hope they would some how taste good. What can I expect from nuclear blue drinks now that my taste buds have evolved to not hate sardines? I can be harsh on individual flavors but never forget that deep down, I get it. It’s for an eleven-year old who thinks farts are funny.

I give Avery’s Beverages an A++++ for creativity and beyond that for still having the gusto to put out slim margined target markets for kids. I love that and I love this pure American company.

One last thing, I have finally found the finale to the dreaded champagne review my buddy Ben and I did. For some reason I could not upload this damn part which, in my opinion, is the best of the three. Partly because it was around 3am and all sense and sensibility waved bye-bye about two hours before. Watch and learn about Cupcake Champagne and I swear, I’ll never bring it up again.

January 26, 2014 1

The Christmas of ’87: Part 3

It was a busy Christmas back in 1987. I battled CCD bullies and was humbled by a ceramic log fireplace but each of those unpleasantries were mere flesh wounds because it was approaching the end of December and Christmas Eve had finally arrived. I have always loved this day although as I get older, the thrill has diminished quite a bit thanks to all the adult procrastination leading to mall trips, late night wrapping sessions and annoying family members who suck to shop for.

As a little kid, however, Christmas Eve was the day full of excitement. I actually enjoyed that day over Christmas because anticipation mixed with tradition is…well it’s just tits. I know when you blog about your ten-year old self, “tits” is inappropriate but I have never been able to use that phrase before.

Speaking of tradition, Dad and I started one that year. It’s our annual “run around the mall the day before Christmas and look for a joint present for Mom” tradition. You may think this is a lame one but actually it’s one of my favorites. We get up early and head to over to Hardee’s to get sausage biscuits and cinnamon raison biscuits which came in styrofoam boxes. God I loved those little tandem biscuits in boxes. I would absolutely drive a grass-covered hybrid Smart Car fueled by duck spit if it would balance out the carbon footprint of the Hardee’s cinnamon biscuit boxes and bring them back.

Also, 1987 was the year Hardee’s and the California Raisins teamed up together and every kid had at least four Raisin claymation characters in their pockets at any given time. I didn’t really think about that until I committed to this post. AND A Claymation Christmas featuring the said Raisins also debuted that same year too. Food for thought!

After we ate and Dad finished reading part of the newspaper, we would head out to brave the mall. As a kid, crowded malls during Christmas Eve were as much fun as any amusement venue. Perhaps it was the anticipation of the next morning as we cruised by KB Toys but I think I just really loved this time with Dad. I would always ask him how people build houses and in his engineering way he would tell me the steps salting with laying a foundation. It was my own little weird way of having multiple lines of entertainment. Probably why I have the TV on while blogging and catching up on Twitter all at the same time. But in 1987 I had to rely on mall scenes and Dad’s very detailed step-by-step description on how to build a house and why planes fly.

After a successful mall trip where I am sure we bought Mom earrings and sweaters, we would head home and get ready to go to the Keller’s for Christmas Eve dinner. The Keller’s were family friends who had a dozen kids ranging from 19 to 28. They were all way too old to share anything in common with but I remember all of them treating me really nice. Or like a pet. Actually, now that I think about it, I was more like a puppy to them.

When you are the only child at a dinner party during Christmas Eve, a lot of the attention is on you. I never liked that. Especially when you are a shy kid who HATES when people watch you eat. I have always been weird about that and even today on business trips, I have a real hard time eating alone in a restaurant and usually opt to get food to-go and eat on a strange bed. It was doubly hard that most of the Keller’s kids were pretty college girls.

Mr. Keller was a 747 pilot for United Airlines and a very boisterous fellow, to say the least. He and my Dad (who is a little more reserve) would joke and laugh out loud in audible volumes which made the dog under the table retreat upstairs. I didn’t care for Mr. Keller too much because he was the total opposite of my Dad in every way. I am sure he meant well but his larger than life character didn’t translate to a kid who was the master of the “quiet game”. One time mom forgot to tell me the game was over on a Friday afternoon and I had to write “is it over?” on a piece of paper the next evening. Guess who got a toy for that guilt session?

Where was I? Oh yeah, so Mr. Keller didn’t exactly strike me as “father of the year” but then he asked me a question which changed every negative feeling I had towards him.

“Billy, are you ready for Santa to come? NORAD spotted him somewhere over the Pacific ocean earlier.”

I was at the age when Santa was a possibility but not a probability. I had my sever doubts especially when his letter from last year had the undeniable likeness to my father’s handwriting. But when a 747 pilot says “NORAD”, that puts a different spin on it. And then Mr. Keller really shined it on by telling me back before I was born he was in the Air Force and he had to reroute his squadron because Santa was in the same airspace.

This was like drinking out of a firehouse for an excited ten-year old. I had to know more so I asked him, “What’s NORAD?”

“That’s our line of defense incase the goddamn Russians pull some shit.”

Mrs. Keller didn’t miss a beat when she interjected with “WHO WANTS PIE?”.

Mr. Keller’s well-intentioned thought getting a kid excited about Santa kind of backfired because I most likely asked him 500 times for an updated NORAD report. It must have been a bit ironic for a retired Major to have to give situation status reports to a kid in the twilight of the Cold War but we are talking about Santa. The hope for me finally getting a helicopter was still yet alive!

The evening grew late and soon the thirty minute process of gathering coats, Mrs. Keller forcing us to take leftovers and drawn out tipsy hugs came to an end. And for me, who was ripped on orange soda and chocolate with renewed faith in Santa, I was ready. I was ready because we still had one more Christmas Eve tradition left; the first present!

Last year, you might recall, I got Top Gun on VHS which led to a root beer incident. That was a wound still fresh in the family of three so my parents wisely chose to delay the first gift until late at night.

We came home, plugged in the tree, turned on the new stereo to the Mannheim Steamroller’s Christmas album and I got to choose one of the ten gifts that tortured me for the past month under the tree. It took me approximately 0.0078 seconds to grab the one I absolutely knew what it was. Well, I knew what it was but not which one it was. You’ll see in a second.

Like my buddy, Matt, who runs Dinosaur Dracula states, “Even before I started tearing away the wrapping paper, I knew it was going to be a Nintendo game. Those boxes had a distinct weight, shape and feel.”.

It was absolutely a Nintendo game and when I ripped away the paper it revealed the talk of the playground and the game every kid wanted, Metroid. This Christmas of ’87 was truly one of the best. I begged to play this before promising to be in bed before Santa arrived and with a hesitant yes, I was able to kill that Mannheim Stream roller shit and crank up the Nintendo.

This is the sound that is forever linked to Christmas 1987. It is the sound of heavenly bliss and childhood nostalgia.

As quickly as it began it was over because the folks were getting tired and their work was just beginning. I was rushed up to bed, still on a sugar high and Metroid craze but I had to sleep. Santa was well in our airspace and if I wasn’t in bed, who knows the consequences? I wasn’t about to risk my ridiculous wish list which I wrote to him last summer on a night of insomnia.

I was going to make this a three-part series but in order to avoid a 3890 word post I have decided to add one more part. Stay tuned for the Christmas that put its shadow on the wall and no other Christmas could possibly live up to.

December 17, 2013 3

The Christmas of ’87: Part 2

The worst was over for that year. I was back in my own little world, safe from asshats like Mrs. Conners, Bobby and his friend, what’s-his-face. Not only did I not have to see them again, I didn’t have to attend CCD for the rest of the year. But all that was like a distant dream to me because it was happiest time of the year for a ten-year old and I had business to attend to.

Is it just me or did Christmas break seem like it was month-long back in the 1980’s? I suppose time moves a little slower when you countdown to a day rather than hurrying like a madman before it arrives. Regardless whether it was perception or an actual month break, it seemed long enough to forget math. But no matter, the weeks leading up to Christmas day was filled with fun like my favorite activity, searching for hidden presents!

I was a kid who could be left home alone for certain periods of time during the afternoon. Once Christmas break hit, Mom would run errands like the grocery store or lunch with friends and she felt a few hours unsupervised wouldn’t be so bad. After all, I proved what I could do to someone with a bible and we own around fifty of them.

These little spans of time alone were perfect for me to get snooping. And also the perfect time for me to play around with the new gas powered fireplace Dad had just installed. It amazed me. With the turn of a key and press of a button, I could have a roaring fire by the tree. It was also the perfect opportunity for a ten-year old boy to do something insanely stupid like, for example, toss in a couple of M-80 firecrackers I had been saving under the bed since the previous 4th or July. I can not explain why this was something I had to do but I had to do it.

Mom wasn’t even out of the subdivision before I had that fire turned on high. Without giving a second thought, I tossed both M-80s into the fireplace and stood back, cupping my ears. Within seconds I saw a the distinctive spark of the fuse from the first firecracker and with an incredible blast, it blew exploded flaming paper out from the stone fireplace and onto the carpet. That sent a ten-year old into a panic and I stomped out the little flames and turned off the fire in one swift motion.

Then there was the issue of the second M-80. It didn’t go off. I was caught in a situation of unexploded ordnance and a possible life grounding event. I had to retrieve the M-80 somehow without blowing my fingers off and even more so, not get in trouble with only a week left before Christmas. As I collected the bits of the exploded firecracker, Mom came home early because she forgot something.

BUSTED!

Boy, there was a lot of yelling. I remember this pretty clearly because for the next…well…ever, I was not allowed to even look at the fireplace. I was marched up to my room but there was a silver lining. She had no idea about the M-80. That is a secret I have kept until now.

The one plus about the pre-cellphone and cordless era was I could count on Mom never being more than ten feet from the kitchen thanks to a lan line. That meant I was free to slip out of the room and look around the closets for any gifts that might be hidden. As long as Mom kept yapping, I knew I was free to roam around. And the second I heard the phone hangup, I knew I had 0.05 seconds to get from a closet and down the hall to my room. But such risks brought such sweet rewards.

Behold what I found under a pile of coats, still in the old Toys R Us bag. The GI Joe Cobra Night Raven! I was overjoyed. I didn’t even know this was apart of the Cobra inventory. I sat there looking at the box of awesome when I heard Mom begin her famous long goodbye. You know the one moms do, “Okay…alright…you too…bye now”.

I placed the coats back over the box and with ninja speed and stealth, I raced back to the bedroom. I had to brief the Joes about the new ride they will have in seven short days.

I remember that magical feeling of finding such a big gift and knowing I would be the envy of the neighborhood. I daydreamed about the fantastic battles ahead and sending Shipwreck and Snake Eyes past the speed of sound. There were plenty of doodles with a big black plane strafing jeeps, I am sure.

That Christmas was also the one when I found the famous Tomahawk helicopter too. But I already wrote about that. You won’t have to revisit my gushing over a toy unless you want to. Okay, here is a link.

Later that evening, after dinner, we settled in for a night of Christmas specials. We didn’t have cable then so the primary channels were ABC, CBS, NBC and the dreaded PBS. I had the VCR primed to record every special from How the Grinch Stole Christmas to Merry Christmas Charlie Brown. It was a pure magic and I was at the right age to love the Hell out of them.

We sat there with the lights turned off, the tree aglow, basking in the warm fire as The Muppets Family Christmas aired. These are some of my best memories as a kid. Laughing with my Dad as we watched Animal scream, “PRESENTS! PRESENTS! PRESENTS!” we ate chocolate covered pretzel sticks and I dreamed of my big black jet that was soon to grace the skies of my imagination. Mom sat in her chair, cross stitching something to give to someone. It was a perfect pre-Christmas night full of everything that makes the holid-BABOOM!!!!

Great Jesus’s Ghost, I fucking forgot about the other M-80 firecracker that never went off! It was such a tranquil night until a great explosion that sent all of us to the ceiling. Dad went to great lengths to not use profanity around me but after that shocker, I remember quite a string of obscenities.

Upon investigation, somehow it was ruled the cracking of one of the ceramic logs which sounded like a firecracker was the cause of the blast. The bits of the M-80 must have burned up in the back of the fireplace because the rest was never found. I kept that secret until just this second. You are the only one to know.

We sat back down, a little shaken but otherwise fine. I don’t think my heart slowed down until my bedtime at 9:30. It was the second close call for a grounding over the same stupidity and I can’t believe I got away with it especially since just hours before I was sent to my room over the damn fireplace. Santa might see me when I was sleeping but I knew I what I was getting and it wasn’t punishment. It was a Night Raven.

That concludes part 2 of the greatest Christmas ever. I might drag this all the way to a part 4 but for now, I will leave you with the entire Muppet Family Christmas special. It’s glorious and wonderful and a few years ago I did full review of it. Here’s the link to that too.

Goodnight, you amazing person you.

December 11, 2013 4

Ruprecht: The Christmas Reindouche

Meet Ruprecht

Ruprecht is a Reindeer that is sired from Samhain’s loins and born from ill-gotten stock. His means are of the ne’er-do-well purpose and will always plot your demise no matter how bad you want to scratch his cat-like chin. He is a demon who makes Pazuzu look like Odie. He hates you.

I am not sure what the reasoning is but Ruprecht has a special assignment with Veggiemacabre this Christmas and I am pretty sure it’s from a drunken Ouija board night when I asked for Powerball numbers. My lotto picks usually have three sixes in them. Too many Satanic movies have a money driven subplot for me to ignore.

*sigh* He’s a real dick, that Ruprecht, but we are stuck together through the holiday season and it’s our mission to write and make videos of everything Christmas. If I refuse, he just might kill me.

Seriously, did you ever see the movie Tales From the Darkside when the cat jumped down David Johansen’s throat? Yeah, that shit can happen if I look at him wrong. Also, if I forget to remove Mikes from his Mike and Ikes, change the channel in the middle of Judge Judy or fail to include Tyler Perry’s name before any of his movie titles.

So, long story short, Ruprecht and I will be guiding you through this crazy holiday and if your soul is in limbo, he just might collect it. But don’t be scared, I could probably talk you free from a hellish limo with a friendly wager of Go Fish. He sucks at 50/50 wagers.

Beware! You will be visited by a post at the stroke of something-sometime tomorrow. Keep your shit wired tight and remember, keep repeating, this is only a blog…this is only a blog…this is only a blog.

Tis the Season.

December 2, 2013 2

Top Gun and the X-mas Pepsi Disaster

I am back. No more traveling for this working stiff. Well, at least not for another month so let the Christmas countdown begin!

Today I am going to share a story I seldom tell because it shows what a naive and questionably intelligent kid I was at age seven. It’s not that many had a good grasp on basic physics in their younger years but gee whiz, at least they didn’t do this.

Every Christmas Eve it is a family tradition to open one present. That present is carefully selected from the few that were under the tree which taunted me for a month before the big fella brought the rest later in the night. That particular Christmas, Top Gun was the previous summer hit and after having had a theater experience like that, I knew I was destined to be a F-14 Naval Aviator but (spoiler alert) we all know I did not. I eyed the gifts and with a recently purchased VCR begging to be fed, I eyed what could only be a VHS tape. To my delight, I received my favorite movie, Top Gun.

Not wasting anytime, I begged the parents to let me watch at least the beginning scene. You know the one, when all the planes take off and Kenny Loggins belts a killer “Danger Zone”? Yeah, you know the part. My nagging worked and I found myself up in their bedroom, unwrapping the cellophane, sliding the tape from the box and inserting the tape in the VCR. The anxiety of Christmas presents took a backseat to the movie which changed my life, or at least changed my idol from Arnold Schwarzenegger to Tom Cruise. Patiently, I waited through the FBI warning for piracy and just when I thought the Paramount mountain was next, it was a commercial.

It was not just a commercial but it was a Top Gun parody commercial by Diet Pepsi. Had it been one of the damn Coca Cola bear or that stupid pigtail-ed girl, I would have FFWD that shit out of it but this was different. This had two Navy Fighter jets! And a “Refreshment System”!

This pleased me.

Okay, so we have two fighters that just came off of maneuvers and in celebration they are treated to a Diet Pepsi but something went wrong. Apparently Mustang’s DPRS (Diet Pepsi Refreshment System) malfunctioned and would not release his drink. Taunted by his fellow crew in the opposing jet, he fibs and claims no problems on board while trying to jimmy his Diet Pepsi free. Then, pulling out a bottle opener, he has an idea.

Thinking fast, this cocky jet jockey pops the top of the Diet Pepsi that is lodged in its “Refreshment System” and held a cup to the edge of the bottle. Instead of tipping the bottle over the cup, Mustang turns his A-4 Skyhawk upside-down, simultaneously pouring his drink into his cup using gravity and the agility of his aircraft.

The two assholes in the F-5 look around in puzzlement, wondering where he went. To their surprise, Mustang pulls an inverted maneuver and looking up, they are canopy to canopy, forced to acknowledge there really was no problem with his ability to be refreshed.

We finish with Mustang rolling his jet over, his cup of Diet Pepsi keeping inline with the angle of attack. The two jets roar over head and disappear into the blue as the iconic voice of Pepsi states the tagline, “Diet Pepsi: The choose of a new generation”.

Whoa! I was fascinated. I wanted, nay, had to try to invert-pour a soft drink into a cup. Nevermind the movie beginning, nevermind Kenny Loggins was starting to sing about the “Danger Zone” and nevermind Santa, this was what I need to try. But how? I didn’t have an A-4 withe a refreshment system or even a bottle of Diet Pepsi.

I went downstairs and found the closest soda to a Diet Pepsi (a can of A&W) and a coffee mug. Also a bike helmet. I went back upstairs with the items in hand as the adults were still at the dinning room table talking about dull things which were apparently hilarious. I never understood the conversations from the adult table that elicited such laughs and wheezes.

There I was, sitting on the edge of the bed with my pretend fighter helmet on and holding a can of soda in my left and a mug in my right. How the hell am I going to do this? I tilted my left arm up as my right arm dipped but it wasn’t quite right. I needed to somehow roll myself upside down as well. Shit, this was hard.

I GOT IT!

What if I was to lay on my bed and role in a 360 degree righthand turn? That would surely work and not only would I feel like Mustang but it would be the only way I would drink soda from then on. I would be a trendsetter!

There were a couple of flaws with this plan which I am sure you can spot already. You see, the soda and my body need to remain static while the cup would be the only rotating item of the three. Or no, maybe the A&W rotate and the cup is static? Obviously I did not put much thought into the plan and laying on my stomach holding the can of A&W root beer in my left hand and the cup in my right, I began to roll over and poured the soda. Oddly the soda did not pour in the cup as planned but in a shocking and cold surprise, all over my face and the bedspread. I gurgled and spit and sat straight up, blinking the root beer from my eyes and when I came to, there was mom looking as shocked as I was.

She turned from the doorway and yelled downstairs to my dad, “BILL? BILL! YOUR SON IS IN HIS BIKE HELMET AND POURED ROOT BEER ALL OVER HIMSELF AND OUR BED!!!”. I am sure it must have been a pretty confusing sight to see and just as confusing to my dad and guests to hear. If there was ever explaining to do, this was it.

I won’t get into the yelling or the multiple towels and forced bath but I will say, they got over it. And every Christmas Eve I am reminded of the time I tried to pour a root beer upside-down…on their new bed…in a bike helmet.

Have any funny stories you are reminded of by loved ones during the Christmas season? Spill ’em! (see what I did there?)

November 26, 2013 2

Category: funny

Like me on Facebook!

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Like me on Facebook!