Showing posts with label weird products. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weird products. Show all posts
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Of Course I Had to Discover This the Day AFTER Christmas
Now, you're gonna have to wait a full year for the perfect gift.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Questionable Products #578 - 579
I don't normally go to Sports Chalet, but a few coworkers and I were killing time there at the mall before going back to work after an offsite lunch. In any case, based on these questionable products I found on display, I'm not sure what exactly qualifies as a "sport" at that chalet. Also, it's not really a chalet.
For the hooker on the go
Because the name, "Jackhammering Dong Sarong," was already taken
And this concludes today's immature posts aimed at entertaining 12-year-olds. Our next posts will resume our usual highbrow comedy, bitches.
For the hooker on the go
Because the name, "Jackhammering Dong Sarong," was already takenAnd this concludes today's immature posts aimed at entertaining 12-year-olds. Our next posts will resume our usual highbrow comedy, bitches.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Drug Story
It's a relatively well-known fact that I love shopping in drug stores, like, a LOT. My favorite is probably the Drug Mart chain in Ohio, and don't get me started about the Boots chain in England--but I love them all at least a little. I like the makeup aisles, I like the general mix of crap, and I love the shoddy gifts and novelties you can get pretty much only at drug stores. I can spend hours at Drug Mart, but I can put in some good time even at a shitty Rite Aid.
Today I went to CVS by myself. As I'm walking to the store, and this old man kind of looks past me, starts laughing, looks at me, laughs some more, and then goes on his merry way.
And in my head I'm like, "Fuck you you old man, what the fuck is your problem, laughing at me? What's so goddamn funny?" Because you can't really converse with old people, even when you want to say something polite, you just can't. They won't understand you. Try it sometime with a non-relative, I think you'll see I'm right.
I continue to curse the old man as I start shopping. And then I sort of forget him because I'm looking at the makeup aisles and reading the circulars and whatever. And I get to the gifts aisle and I see this little number:
And I'm like well, Merry Christmas Jason! I like that it marries the rough, leathery elegance of the old West with good, old-fashioned Christian classiness--and it will remind you of getting a whoopin', you know, from a gay cowboy. (The only way to get a whoopin', in my opinion.)
There were several picture frames and I think maybe a clock in the same faux leather and silver motif, most but not all with crosses. Some had guns and bullets, which, you know, same diff.
Then I go down one of the grocery aisles and I see this:
And after I swallowed back down the remnants of my breakfast that tried to escape, I snapped another picture. Because we're in Cali, there are all sorts of kookles products in these types of stores aimed solely at Hispanicals who hate their children and have heard of good nutrition but want nothing to do with it.
This one just particularly grossed me out because why would you want to drink corn starch with strawberry flavors and supposed vitamins? And why does it look like you'll be drinking the brain of this happy glassful of corn starch drink? I don't know the answers. But they aren't trying to hide the corn, they want you to know the corn is in there. Ew. I guess it would be a sort of thickish drink so you could pretend your kids were drinking milk. I don't know. Is there a white people version of this I've been missing? I want to say no but I am no expert at shitty foods.
Anydoodles, I get back to my filthy car and that's when I see it...the message I'd written in the dirt of the back window the week before, and promptly forgotten all about:
So that's why the old man was laughing. I was able to release some of my anger at him, and I even thought to myself, "Oh, so he was appreciating my humor, so that's good."
But, you know, fuck him anyway. Old people think they're all that and a bag of colostomy.
Today I went to CVS by myself. As I'm walking to the store, and this old man kind of looks past me, starts laughing, looks at me, laughs some more, and then goes on his merry way.
And in my head I'm like, "Fuck you you old man, what the fuck is your problem, laughing at me? What's so goddamn funny?" Because you can't really converse with old people, even when you want to say something polite, you just can't. They won't understand you. Try it sometime with a non-relative, I think you'll see I'm right.
I continue to curse the old man as I start shopping. And then I sort of forget him because I'm looking at the makeup aisles and reading the circulars and whatever. And I get to the gifts aisle and I see this little number:
And I'm like well, Merry Christmas Jason! I like that it marries the rough, leathery elegance of the old West with good, old-fashioned Christian classiness--and it will remind you of getting a whoopin', you know, from a gay cowboy. (The only way to get a whoopin', in my opinion.)
There were several picture frames and I think maybe a clock in the same faux leather and silver motif, most but not all with crosses. Some had guns and bullets, which, you know, same diff.
Then I go down one of the grocery aisles and I see this:
And after I swallowed back down the remnants of my breakfast that tried to escape, I snapped another picture. Because we're in Cali, there are all sorts of kookles products in these types of stores aimed solely at Hispanicals who hate their children and have heard of good nutrition but want nothing to do with it.
This one just particularly grossed me out because why would you want to drink corn starch with strawberry flavors and supposed vitamins? And why does it look like you'll be drinking the brain of this happy glassful of corn starch drink? I don't know the answers. But they aren't trying to hide the corn, they want you to know the corn is in there. Ew. I guess it would be a sort of thickish drink so you could pretend your kids were drinking milk. I don't know. Is there a white people version of this I've been missing? I want to say no but I am no expert at shitty foods.
Anydoodles, I get back to my filthy car and that's when I see it...the message I'd written in the dirt of the back window the week before, and promptly forgotten all about:
So that's why the old man was laughing. I was able to release some of my anger at him, and I even thought to myself, "Oh, so he was appreciating my humor, so that's good."
But, you know, fuck him anyway. Old people think they're all that and a bag of colostomy.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
King Me!
It’s good to be The King. Not just any king mind you, I am referring to the one and only monarch who still has relevancy in these modern, democratic times. I’m talking, of course, about the Burger King and, while you surely know him for his delicious flame-broiled burgers and the answer to my prayers, Chicken Fries, you should also know that he has taken the first bold steps into a new frontier. Right now, with any combo meal purchase at Burger King, you can secure for the low, low price of an additional $3.99, one of three hot, new XBOX and XBOX 360 games featuring The King himself in all of his plastic-faced, creepy glory.
Two of the three games seem pretty dull. Big Bumpin’ seems to be nothing more than a bumper car simulator which basically fits the definition of a game nobody asked for. There’s just no way to virtually simulate the thrill of slamming maniacally into a retarded kid over and over again and the look of helplessness mingled with terror and rage on his red, puffy, Down Syndrome face as he cries and runs screaming from the midway. Yeah, like I’m the only one who does that. The other game is Pocketbike Racer which, despite having a name rife with masturbatory overtones, is little more than a racing game featuring The King on a miniature motorbike.
The real Special Sauce on this sandwich is the game Sneak King. In this stealthy adventure, The King must use his wits and guile to quietly stalk hungry citizens and then pop out and surprise them with his juicy Whopper. Imagine getting into your car on your way to some appointment or Ye Olde Porn Shoppe (still not just me), with a growling stomach, only to find that permanently frozen, regal face staring coldly at you from the rear view mirror, a piping hot burger in hand. Sure, at first you’d be freaked out, but then you’d realize what was going on and be delighted for the snack. If only The King were permitted to perform this service to society for reals. Stupid breaking and entering laws.
Hopefully this whole thing is a tremendous success and Burger King has the opportunity to expand to other platforms. For example, the Nintendo Wii and its new control scheme would open up a whole new realm of possibilities. They could make Royal Burger Chef for instance, in which the player must use the Wii Remote’s motion sensing technology to flip burgers, mop the restaurant and perform other typical fast food employee chores under the watchful, judgmental gaze of The King. That fits right in line with Nintendo’s recent string of “Touch Generation” games like Brain Age which endeavors to make math fun. And Royal Burger Chef would be vocational training that’s desperately needed by today’s youth. Let’s face it, not all of them are going to grow up to be superstar internet sensations like us here at Hands in the Air.
Photo flame-broiled by Jason
Have it your way. Fast food and video games:
Burger King gives you two ways to get a fat ass!
Burger King gives you two ways to get a fat ass!
Two of the three games seem pretty dull. Big Bumpin’ seems to be nothing more than a bumper car simulator which basically fits the definition of a game nobody asked for. There’s just no way to virtually simulate the thrill of slamming maniacally into a retarded kid over and over again and the look of helplessness mingled with terror and rage on his red, puffy, Down Syndrome face as he cries and runs screaming from the midway. Yeah, like I’m the only one who does that. The other game is Pocketbike Racer which, despite having a name rife with masturbatory overtones, is little more than a racing game featuring The King on a miniature motorbike.
The real Special Sauce on this sandwich is the game Sneak King. In this stealthy adventure, The King must use his wits and guile to quietly stalk hungry citizens and then pop out and surprise them with his juicy Whopper. Imagine getting into your car on your way to some appointment or Ye Olde Porn Shoppe (still not just me), with a growling stomach, only to find that permanently frozen, regal face staring coldly at you from the rear view mirror, a piping hot burger in hand. Sure, at first you’d be freaked out, but then you’d realize what was going on and be delighted for the snack. If only The King were permitted to perform this service to society for reals. Stupid breaking and entering laws.
Hopefully this whole thing is a tremendous success and Burger King has the opportunity to expand to other platforms. For example, the Nintendo Wii and its new control scheme would open up a whole new realm of possibilities. They could make Royal Burger Chef for instance, in which the player must use the Wii Remote’s motion sensing technology to flip burgers, mop the restaurant and perform other typical fast food employee chores under the watchful, judgmental gaze of The King. That fits right in line with Nintendo’s recent string of “Touch Generation” games like Brain Age which endeavors to make math fun. And Royal Burger Chef would be vocational training that’s desperately needed by today’s youth. Let’s face it, not all of them are going to grow up to be superstar internet sensations like us here at Hands in the Air.
Photo flame-broiled by Jason
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Food for Naught
The usual gang of Hands in the Air idiots has been holding on to some questionable snacks for a goodly amount of time. With the uh, football season starting and all, it seemed like the perfect time to taste and rate 'em.
Steve: These things taste like crap, no matter how many Hooters girls bring them to you.
Jason: Tastes like Chex coated with powdered Satan farts.**
Jenni: The idea is very funny but the execution is just eh, whatever. I was disappointed that these weren't aggressively bad but instead were just kinda crappy but like, I could eat them if I really had to. They sat on our coffee table and stunk up the place, though.
Limited edition KitKat in MilkShake brings no boys to the yard.
Jenni: If you hadn't told me it was different I might not have noticed. Smells a little like malt, which would make it KitKat in Malt, not MilkShake but whatever. The chocolate is a l'il milkier than your usual KitKat. I hate it that I am actually kind of talking about the snacks and the boys are just making jokes. It's not fair.
Jason: Gimmie a break, gimmie a break, break me off a gun and shoot me--that's the last time I spend 80 bucks on a candy bar on eBay. Doopduhduhleekduhdoopduhduh.
Steve: I like the idea of limited-edition perishable items, but this candy is bullshit. It doesn't taste like milkshake, it just tastes like an imitation KitKat.
*That's the order that had all the Jedi executed, for those of you who aren't Star Wars dorks.
**"Satan farts" adapted from an "Angel farts" joke made by Jenni the other day, which we're totally writing an inspirational book about.
Dagoba organic chocolate bar in hazelnut. Yo-duh.
Jason: Do midichlorians taste like wax? 'Cause that's all I taste.
Steve: Forget the Jedi, this candy bar is what deserves Order 66.* The Dagobah dragonsnake would spit this chocolate out, just like it spit out Artoo.
Jenni: Organic chocolate is for chumps. This tastes like if the snake from the Yoda action figure went all organic chocolatier on us and used swamp shit to make chocolate that didn't taste too great. With hazelnuts that really didn't taste good at all. And barely noticeable rice crisps.
Even more pointless than you'd imagine: Sports Bar Snacks in Hot Wings & Blue Cheese.
Steve: These things taste like crap, no matter how many Hooters girls bring them to you.
Jason: Tastes like Chex coated with powdered Satan farts.**
Jenni: The idea is very funny but the execution is just eh, whatever. I was disappointed that these weren't aggressively bad but instead were just kinda crappy but like, I could eat them if I really had to. They sat on our coffee table and stunk up the place, though.
Limited edition KitKat in MilkShake brings no boys to the yard.
Jenni: If you hadn't told me it was different I might not have noticed. Smells a little like malt, which would make it KitKat in Malt, not MilkShake but whatever. The chocolate is a l'il milkier than your usual KitKat. I hate it that I am actually kind of talking about the snacks and the boys are just making jokes. It's not fair.
Jason: Gimmie a break, gimmie a break, break me off a gun and shoot me--that's the last time I spend 80 bucks on a candy bar on eBay. Doopduhduhleekduhdoopduhduh.
Steve: I like the idea of limited-edition perishable items, but this candy is bullshit. It doesn't taste like milkshake, it just tastes like an imitation KitKat.
*That's the order that had all the Jedi executed, for those of you who aren't Star Wars dorks.
**"Satan farts" adapted from an "Angel farts" joke made by Jenni the other day, which we're totally writing an inspirational book about.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
How Did The Dinosaurs Ever Die Out?
While we were on vacation in beautiful Ohio, Jason spotted this puppet (?) in a toy store. Horrified, but strangely attracted to it, I knew in my heart it would be mine.
What's wrong with the people making dino-related crap for kids? There's a whole lotta fuzzy dino dong going on these days. This one is even flesh-colored. Not, as far as I know, dino-flesh-colored, but human flesh-colored for sure. Oh, well--at least he has his hands in the air.
Here he is hanging out with his new friends in the dinosaur locker room, comparing notes.
We have a winner! A long, strong, semi-fuzzy, flesh-colored winner. Until the next time we go to the store...
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Tyrannosaurus Sex
Target has a $1 section between the checkout lanes and the store entrance that is filled with amusing impulse buy stuff, like hamburger-shaped dog toys and "I heart Ashton" necklaces. Last time I was at Target, I spotted some fun dinosaur pens in one of the bins, meant to come back to them, almost forgot, remembered at the last minute and hightailed it over to grab one while Jason and Steve stayed in line. There were only two blue ones and the blue ones were the cutest so I picked the one with the nicest face and rushed back to the checkout lane.
As I proudly displayed my $1 treasure, Jason and Steve were laughing their asses off. Now, the little blue dinosaur pen made me smile, but laughing seemed a little extreme.
When we got home, we asked a panel of experts what they thought of my blue dino pen. They immediately made him their king, and carried him away on their shoulders.
As I proudly displayed my $1 treasure, Jason and Steve were laughing their asses off. Now, the little blue dinosaur pen made me smile, but laughing seemed a little extreme.
I asked them what was so funny and they both acted like I knew what was so funny and was pretending I didn't. "Are you kidding? YOU don't see it?"
Ummm...
Oh.
OH!
Yeah, that is pretty funny.
When we got home, we asked a panel of experts what they thought of my blue dino pen. They immediately made him their king, and carried him away on their shoulders.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
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