Energy Drink Review: Chocolate Sport Shake

Get ready to SHAKE up your world!

Guys, I think we all know I'm no big fan of "shake" beverages that purport to give you energy. Sport Shake claims to be "THE ORIGINAL ENERGY MILK SHAKE." (Back up, posers.) It is obviously for exercise people and/or people on a diet who just drink chocolate crap instead of eating food. I suspect that it will be gross, but crappy chocolate shake in a can is probably not the worst flavor I can think of. And apparently this company shows up at random Texas Christian University baseball games and such.

FLAVOR: You know, not too bad, all things considered. It tastes like there may actually be milk in here somewhere. It is an okay chocolate milky drink thing!

EFFECTIVENESS: I am feeling perkier, but it may be because I had to call twelve different people to track down somebody who's missing a meeting right now. DOING STUFF = MORE ENERGY. But I'm sure the "balance of natural protein and carbs" helped. It took about three gulps to drink and I do not expect it to last long.

OVERALL: I don't feel like running or doing a weird tree pose or whatever the person in the "O" of "Sport" is doing on the can, but it was not gross and vaguely refreshing. This seems like some shit I would've liked to drink for breakfast in junior high instead of the chalky Carnation Instant Breakfast my mom bought me when she found out I was just drinking chocolate milk on the way to the bus stop instead of eating. #TrueStory #7thGrade #Memories #ImSorryICan'tStopThis

Energy Drink Review: Monster Ultra Blue

Full disclosure, guys, I've had this, but only with booze inside, and not for daytime work energizing purposes. So I'll pretend I haven't tried it yet. This blue drink (it really is, like, sky blue!) is apparently in honor of mountain towns where Monster bros go snowboarding and whatnot. ULTRA BLUE, Y'ALL. It's got zero sugar and zero calories; therefore, it doesn't exist. I should have told that to my dentist when he told me to try to cut back on the soda. Well, mister, or rather DOCTOR, I'm going to pay you $300 I don't really have to fill a bunch of cavities next week (this is even with part of it being covered by my shitty student insurance), not to tell me what to drink. GEEZ. Anyway, show, road, etc.:

Isn't it pretty?

FLAVOR: It's kind of a blue raspberry-y taste. I think it's quite delicious.

EFFECTIVENESS: About halfway through, and I'd say it's got about the same amount of kick as your average Monster drink. Which is to say, a pretty good level of caffeination.* I nearly feel like hittin' the slopes, you guys! HAHA JUST KIDDING, I never want to hit the slopes. I went skiing once in junior high and I was terrible. I slid (slowly) into a tree and at one point lost one of my mom's sweet '70s skis down the mountain on a course that was a little too steep for me to be attempting. Also, it was hard. I think I'm just not cut out for winter sports. I've been ice skating twice and I suck. You'd think all those skills I built up over the years of pretending to be a figure skater on rollerblades in my parents' driveway would have directly transferred to the ice. Not so.

Actually, I'm nearly done with it now, and I don't feel particularly peppy. Is it my existential angst, which my mom thinks I should try to cure with Tylenol**? Is it because I've been drinking energy drinks around the house with vodka more often, so my tolerance is rising again? It is hard to say. Maybe I should have chugged all 16 ounces in less than this whole last hour.

Whatever, it's still good. RECOMMENDED with the caveat that it will not cure mood disorders. SORRY, GUYS.

*This does not look like a word. It's a word, isn't it?
**From that link: could Tylenol really cure the pain of watching a David Lynch movie? Maybe anything but Eraserhead. God, I hate that movie.

Energy Drink Review: Limelite Fusion Energy Drink

It's been SO LONG since I reviewed an energy drink. HAHA NO, but seriously you guys this is the only kind of updating I can get myself to do, so let's just be happy about that and move on. Isaac spotted this latest adventure on the bottom shelf at the Rainbow Foods: Limelite Fusion. It's got kind of an Ed Hardy vibe about the can decor, which is A REALLY GOOD SIGN. Obvs. It claims to be "citrus berry," "sugar free," and also "the healthy alternative." It is from Wisconsin, like many of my favorite things, and can be purchased at Milwaukee Brewers baseball matches. Also, lots of athlete bros have been poorly photographed drinking it, but I have to admit, Limelite Fusion, you had me at Reggie Miller. That guy is DREAMY and also apparently plays some intense table tennis.

This is some baseball guy.

It lists lots of vitamins and shit listed on top of the can, so I was worried it would try to actually give me energy "naturally" with things that are good for me (like 800% of my daily vitamin B12 requirement--am I going to OD?), but there is caffeine and taurine, etc. in it too. PHEW. I like the sound of "citrus berry," so let's give this drink a shot! Maybe it will actually promote a "healthy lifestyle" for me! HAHA obviously not, but nice try, Milwaukee Brewers energy drink or whatever.

FLAVOR: Oh my gosh, you guys, it's really good. Both citrus AND berry! Who knew? (I mean, the company knew and technically anyone who can read knew, but still, it actually tastes like those things.) The longer you drink it, the more it kind of just tastes citrus-y like your typical energy drink, but I think it's still got a nice berryish edge to it.

EFFECTIVENESS: I think it's working guys. I'm drinking it pretty fast since it tastes kind of like magic. I'm still catching up on Twitter from the past 20 hours, so the fact that there are 83 new Tweets since I started scrolling through is making me a little nervous, but my brain is working a bit faster with Limelite's helps, so that is good. **WOMEN'S HEALTH ALERT: Go read Irin Carmon on Gosnell, because that is what all the peoples (feminists) are talking about today, apparently because pro-lifers just discovered the case.** Okay, I can really tell I'm getting hyped up because when I got a message in Outlook for a meeting room reservation, I clicked on "Accept" and "Send confirmation now" or whatever and in my head I was like, "I'll accept you. I'll accept the fuck out of you!"

Guys, look at all the douchebro and lady douchebro clothes from the Affliction line associated with this drink! I will be ordering this lovely dress next-day delivery so I can wear it to my job interview Monday:

It is $210, so I'm guessing the fabric is made of diamonds or something. Totes worth it for the clear versatility of this garment.

Anyway, enough of that fun. This brand is ridiculous, obvs. But the drink OVERALL: Recommended. Tasty and effective.

Special Super Bowl Caffeinated Jelly Beans Review

Jelly Bell sponsors its own cycling team!

A while back, Isaac picked me up some random Jelly Belly Extreme Sports Beans that are supposed to energize me with their caffeine, carbs, electrolytes, and vitamins B AND C. In support of the Packers tonight (I'm like, totally invested in this game), I chose the green kind over the red. They are watermelon flavor. I plan on doing a live review here on their efficacy.

First impressions: they are not real tasty. Also, there is only one flavor, so I think I'm going to get pretty sick of "watermelon." Also, Christina Aguilera will be performing the National Anthem on the Super Bowl. I think I'm going to just give up and live-blog this shit.

That "Glee" chick is singing about purple mountain majesties. She's really feeling it. Ew, GWB. Military/gospel choir backup? I approve.

In which I substitute my own Facebook updates for an actual post

How could you resist a trailer like that?

Over the weekend I was awoke to find that Isaac was watching a film from the stellar Patrick Swayze Collection he bought for $5 at Wal-Mart when we were really supposed to be buying wedding soda in massive quantities but were drawn in by the cheap movies also. I was grateful it was not "Red Dawn" (because it is so boring and terrible). Instead, it was a glorious 1986 sports classic that actually stars a young Rob Lowe (not that he ever ages anyway) with Swayze as the older brother-type mentor on a competitive junior hockey team or something. I think the moral of the story is that real men know how to fight bearded dudes on the ice, even if you think you shouldn't have to throw punches to win at hockey or at life. Or something. Anyway, partway through I started posting ridiculous things about the movie that my friends seemed to enjoy so I'm copying and pasting that shit here:

The pinnacle of masculinity is perfectly portrayed in a 1980s Patrick Swayze/Rob Lowe hockey movie.

"Just hit it, pillowhands." Now Rob Lowe's brother is teaching him to fight so he can avenge Swayze's head injury!

In the barn. Barn training montage!

Okay, now his dad is making him fight him on the ice.

[Matty: Oh my god. Please keep going.]

Though is apparently a junior league of some kind, Rob Lowe's arch rival appears to be at least 29 years old with a full beard.

Coach's pep talk: "All right, one period left. One period away from winning it all or losing to these miserable hackers with their shit-eating grins and their Saturday night wrestling tactics."

Rob Lowe scores again to tie it up, even while missing a tooth!

Beardy goes to the penalty box and Rob Lowe takes the penalty shot. Also, the rival goalie with the skeleton mask just did the splits to intimidate Rob!

Rob's got to prove to the coach that he can stay on and get the beardo in the last 3 seconds. "Watch your stick," the coach says.

Rob: "Let's go, pretty boy." They are jousting with their hockey sticks!

Dad, brother, coach, and team are so proud of Rob Lowe for punching the other guy out after the game was over.

Now he's kissing the girl despite all his facial injuries. I miss the beginning when he was being hazed through tequila shots and forcible balls-shaving.

BTW, I am so downloading this amazing soundtrack.

Also, Keanu Reeves made a cameo as the goalie and may or may not have been sporting a Russian accent. This shit is '80s sports movie gold.

I'm just going to copy and paste this to my blog and pretend I wrote a post.

Manly Man Man Commercials During Football but WHAT ABOUT THE (GIRL) CHILDREN?!

Covered all over the interwebz are discussions of the particularly pathetic and desperately misogynist commercials shown during this year's Super Bowl. Via Jezebel, I quite enjoyed this flow chart to analyze the masculinizing effects of television commercials. As Amanda Marcotte from Pandagon, puts it, these commercials would have us believe that modern masculinity is barely surviving a vagified assault. Heehee. VAGIFIED. That Dodge Ram Charger (ladybrains have trouble keeping track of all those different types of cars!) commercial ("Man's last stand") was so sad, I didn't even want to punch anyone. 'Cause I mean, SRSLY? Dear sirs: No one can MAKE you eat fruit or not act like an asshole in front of your girlfriend's parents, but they are generally advisable actions. Also, why is Dove marketing man-soap? But I digress. But anyway: the problem with the Super Bowl's "I'm a MAN" commercials is not so much that they are insulting to women (though they are) or even that they are insulting to men (which they most definitely are also), it's that a huge (inter)national media event like the Super Bowl reaches its icky, capitalist-fueled gendered message tentacles into the homes of millions: millions of CHILDREN. Though I do a kind of disgusting amount of research on the gendering of boys and the devastating effects of hegemonic masculine ideals enforced by peers, parents, and fucking football commercials on young men, I want to talk about the lady children. Yes: GIRLS. Though I am now a dirty, hairy-legged feminist academic elitist man-hater who is able to view cultural productions like advertising and pick apart the gendered messages therein and sometimes make oversimplified jokes to my gentleman consort like, "Get it? 'Cause [insert consumer good here] is totally like a PENIS!" I was once a young girl. Ahhh, those were the days.* (The following discussion is incredibly heteronormative, so sorry lovely gay readers, I am not quite so familiar with how gendered media messages fuck with your relationships too--or not! Feel free to lay some knowledge on me in the comments.) Growing up in my pre-ex-Mormon days as a kind of proto-feminist girl, the messages I received from role models, peers, and the media made me kind of terrified of men. And I don't mean in a child molester kind of way, though getting leered at by teens and adults while still in elementary school and reading too many of my mother's Woman's Day and Better Homes and Gardens magazines certainly made me aware of my inherent vulnerability to assault or abuse because of my gender. No no, I mean in a "I really like boys and I want to get married one day and hopefully have a boyfriend as soon as I'm allowed to date when I'm 16 and whatnot, but from what I understand, male people are assholes who are stupid, lazy, mean, and just want to fuck me." Though this sentiment probably manifested more as a kind of nebulous, anxious discomfort and with less swearing in my head. See, I have older brothers, and though they are far more masculinely gendered than really seems necessary, they are, after all, PEOPLE with all the complexity that that entails and I experienced the good and the bad the way you do with regular, three-dimensional humans growing up with them. My dad is also happens to be an awesome guy who clearly has feelings, cares about people, is very smart and competent, and appears to be the best kind of partner to my mother. So when my (kind of proto-feminist herself) mom would say things like, "[Mormon] men have to have the Priesthood because it forces them to help people." I thought, "WTF? Like dudes are incapable of caring about people or something? That doesn't jive with the masculine-identified human beings I am acquainted with." Something really rang false when responding to some friends and me talking about a teenage boy we knew being creepy to a younger girl, she said, "All boys care about is sex. If they didn't, they wouldn't ever want to get married and have kids." As much as I cringe at thought of my own our anyone else's parents' sexuality, I (internally) called bullshit even then. I'm pretty sure my dad WANTED to marry my mom and WANTED to have kids for other reasons besides being able to get it on. Gross. And though in elementary school the occasional asshole boy in my class would try and tell me girls were bad at such-and-such task, it always sounded particularly stupid since I was inevitably smarter than whoever was saying it and probably most if not all of the other kids in my class too and I assumed it was mostly motivated by jealousy. Don't worry, my self-esteem took the culturally-sanctioned nosedive at puberty. So while the sexist messages that got blatantly expressed didn't seem to gibe with reality, they caused me a good bit of anxiety (shock, shock). I knew plenty of stupid dudes, immature dudes, creepy dudes, etc., but I figured that any place before college wasn't really the place to find the semi-gender-nonconforming man of my dreams. I think being friends with/having crushes on/being like by so many cool dudes who ended up eventually coming out as gay helped me keep hope alive for men who did not adhere to the arrogant, violent, insensitive dude stereotypes I had been taught were the inevitable elements of masculinity. And though I've never gone for the manly-man type and they're not likely to go for me either, it did take me a few relationships to figure out that just because someone doesn't overtly present as super-masculine doesn't mean they don't buy into certain stereotypes of acceptable male behavior. Casual misogyny in the guise of intellectual arrogance, "irony," or complete inability to comprehend the emotional life of others does not a feminist man make. And while I realize everybody has their flaws and it is difficult to just shrug off our life-long gender training, it becomes clear, at least in retrospect that shit I put up with from men was due to (at least) these three factors:

1. Insensitivity, cluelessness, or even cruelty become self-fulfilling prophecies for men who grow up in a society in which these attributes are if not exactly encouraged, then at least tolerated as unalterable parts of the male psyche. Being a terrible and immature partner is CUTE and ENDEARING, see? Just ask Judd Apatow!
2. Male privilege insulates young men and boys from being called on certain behaviors that are unhealthy and I would say unacceptable in interpersonal relationships. Because jackassery has been tacitly or overtly condoned by parents, teachers, previous partners, and probably mostly male peers, many men think that being a jerk is the appropriate masculine performance for heterosexual relationships. Heaven forbid you become "pussy-whipped" and learn empathy! But can I just point something out? Acting like an asshole doesn't make you more of a man, it makes you more of AN ASSHOLE.
3. Perhaps most troubling, us ladies grow up if not exactly believing in these stereotypes in full, at least having been beaten over the head with them so often as to be complacent when they may be enacted in our real-life relationships. I put up with unacceptable treatment from male partners who were supposedly pro-feminist or at the very least "progressive" because I expected such behavior to a certain extent, and figured that at least they were liberal dudes who didn't REALLY hate women and I couldn't really do better anyway.

Do you see how these things are fucked up? Not only do we (the culture at large AKA advertising executives I HATE YOU ALL) stunt men emotionally and then encourage them to act out like whiny babies who are supposedly victimized and emasculated by the lady-run world that is tragically not just like an episode of Sports Center on loop, but we tell women that this is what men are "just like," that we should accept this, roll our eyes, and clean the toilet our own goddamn selves. NOBODY WINS IN A PATRIARCHY. Duh. And since changing the definitions of masculinit(ies) is a slow and difficult process, the least we could do is find a way to reach out to those young girls and women who are watching the Super Bowl (They exist! Shocking!) and teach them to critically read the media. Most importantly they need to know that they deserve better than what society wants to offer them in the form of romantic relationships. Because as man-hating as these commercials are, women are the ones who inevitably have to clean up the messes (emotional, household, etc.) caused by dudes who have soaked up the cultural stereotypes that allow them to be lazy and reckless because, hey, they can't help it. CARS PENIS STEREO HOT CHICKS FOOTBALL PORN ELECTRONIC GADGETRY BACON SEXBOTS EXPLOSIONS FAST CARS HAMBURGERS CONTROLLING WOMEN'S BODIES BEER CHIPS BEER CHIPS BEER CHIPS. *At 26, I still think of myself and most of my female friends as "girls" as opposed to "women" most of the time, but I would be pissed if someone who had power over me and/or I didn't like called me one. I think that's part of the reason I've latched onto "ladies"--it is kind of silly but still sounds more mature than "girls" without having to claim the full adulthood that "women" entails. I THINK ABOUT THESE THINGS, PEOPLE.

Live-Bloggin' Action and Manly Football Exploits

IM IN UR PATRIOTIC SYMBOLZ, RUINING ALL THE FUN

Recipe from the 1300s, bitchez! God I love trying to parse Middle English. But I'm kind of a special nerd like that.


In lieu of a presidential or other blatantly "historical" post, I thought I would take the opportunity this Thursday to talk about some of those things we Americans hold dear as "quintessentially" ours. Shit we like to cite when we're burning crosses or bombing the schools of small Muslim children. And I'm going to be a bitch about it. Because you know what? Even though we love this shit, some of it sucks, and we didn't even make them up. So, here's the info (including review questions!):


APPLE PIE

Pop quiz!
Anyone who doesn't love apple pie ________________.
a) is a communist
b) is a terrorist
c) was adopted from a foreign communist and/or terrorist country and doesn't know any better
d) is lacking the requisite number of "Patriotic Taste Buds" due to a tragic genetic defect
OR
e) has never had MY apple pie

Answer: any and all of those, my friends. Any and all. Let's get this out of the way, kids: apple pie is delicious. Homemade fucking apple pie. I make it. And it is good. And it is full of butter and sugar and cinnamon and brown sugar and, you know, apples, and America, and MAGIC. But according to my vast Wikipedian research, apple pies have been around for centuries. Like, more than the couple of centuries America has been around for. 'Cause, like, apples aren't even native to North America. They come from fucking Turkey or something. But the colonists were like, "We can't live without our apple pie fermented cider, so let's introduce non-native plants to our new home!" So they did. And wasn't even until, like WWII, when all that bullshit about "Mom and apple pie" started popping up as patriotic. But as we've just learned, "being as American as apple pie," is not really being that American at all. Unless you just mean that we've taken plants and cooking methods from other countries, dumped a bunch of sugar on top of it, and claimed it as our own, then okay. That's pretty fucking American. See above: pocket pies.

If I still have a crush on this kid from when I was nine, does that make me a creep?

BASEBALL

Pop quiz!
Baseball is_______________.
a) boring
b) only good in inspirational sports films*
c) full of overpaid, over-drugged douchebags with good hand-eye coordination
d) supposedly more entertaining if you're drunk, but I have never been THAT drunk
e) inexplicably beloved by many Americans

Answer: Yeah, all of them again! I have attempted to remain coolly objective, but you may have picked up on the fact that I think baseball is stupid. No, I don't think people are stupid for liking it, but it's really not my cup of tea. I mean, it's REALLY not, because I don't even like tea! But anyway, Canadians, Japanese people, amazingly talented refugees from the Dominican Republic, and even GIRLS seem to like baseball. But I tend to like having very few things to care about, and caring about these long, drawn-out sporting events that are sponsored by billion-dollar corporations falls somewhere below my "try not to get scurvy" and "take at least one day a week and DON'T drink" priorities. But anyway, ball/bat games have been around forever and ever, and baseball is totally based on the English rounders. So Americans didn't really make that one up either. Just changed the names and rules a bit and poured a bunch of money on top.


HOT DOGS

Hot dogs are ________________.
a) objectively gross
b) very cheap
c) bewilderingly popular
d) frequently related to baseball
e) made of gross things

Answer: Duh. You guys should know how to play this game by now. I scanned the Wikipedia article to see about its origins and here's what you need to know: the Germans are to blame. Because let me tell you what is also gross: sausage in general. Yuck. I rarely eat things with sausage in them, do not touch bratwurst (barf), and have sworn off hot dogs for life.** Because they are gross. This is one of those things, like beer, that people like, and utilize at baseball games, but I just don't get the appeal. Also gross: mustard, pickles, pretty much anything you might associate with topping a hot dog. Anyway, the main thing about hot dogs and America is that I bet you fifteen energy drinks that we have the most synthetic of the world's hot dogs for sale within our borders. Which, of course, is even grosser than what they actually taste like, which is pretty gross to begin with. Yea, America!


Anyway, what I think we've learned from this little exercise in the exploration of Americana is that I only like things made of 43% sugar or more, and that I am pretty much a fake American. Also, Americans have never invented shit. Except Post-Its. But "American as a a piece of yellow paper with a strip of reusable adhesive on the back" just doesn't quite have the right ring to it.



*See: The Sandlot, A League of Their Own, Angels in the Outfield, etc.

**No hot dogs consumed for five years.

...Lost: This energy drink will enable me to "surf, skate, and snowboard in the same day"

...Or just, like, type some shit for the rest of the afternoon and maybe go for a run before an evening of drunkenness. Apparently this shit was made up by Monster for Lost Enterprises. (Indie skater boyz love half-naked ladiez too!) This makes me officially the wrong demographic for this drink. But they sell it at the SA, and I hadn't had this kind before. Apparently after all that surfing, etc., this will give me "some energy to go out and party afterwards." Good, good. The can also claims good mixability. Hmmm. I imagine this actually would be good with a little Moskovskaya,* perhaps. To the review!


...LOST ENERGY DRINK

TASTE: ****/5 This may seem like another generous rating for taste, but I mean it this time. I started out thinking 2.5, 3 asterisks maybe, but the fruity punch taste grows on you. It's like deliciously caffeinated cough syrup. Good balance of gross/tasty.

EFFECTS: **** Still have no interest in any X-Games sports, but I have perked up significantly from before I started drinking it. I've got over an hour left of work, though, and we'll have to see if it gets me through to the afternoon run I desperately need to take.

GATEWAY TO METH: 3.5 asterisks Not bad. There's some extra shaking going on (I'm a big fidgeter anyway), a definite mood lift, and I'm feeling very alert and even somewhat motivated. Not to like, do my actual job or anything, but you know, to type this.

OVERALL: 3.83/5 asterisks

Go for it, I say.


*The best upper-middle shelf vodka, especially for its price. If you can find it, don't ever touch Smirnoff again.

Junior High Crushes Revisited: John Stockton

Reminds me of how my favorite use for the internet in the late '90s was for finding pictures of my favorite hot guys and making collages of them on Print Shop Deluxe. I was really cool.

You may say, Lauren, John Stockton could not have possibly attended your junior high school. And I would say, you are correct. But it would be really lame to actually talk about the boys I liked that I went to school with. My only excuse would be "I was in junior high, OKAY?!" It's not like I ever dated any of them, and 79% of the boys who liked me before college turned out to be gay. Can I retroactively refer to myself as a fag hag? I still love you guys! Thanks for not actually going out with me and then coming out. No, besides Prince William, JS was my big celebrity obsession circa ages 13-14. Decidedly not gay. And decidedly AWESOME.

I thought of John Stockton today in honor of the fact that I am going to my first NBA game since said obsession, back when the Jazzy Jazz were good and my dad took my brother and me to see them play the Blazers circa 1997. I think I was the only Jazz fan there and they lost.* But I could see my Johnny S from way up high in the cheap seats at the Rose Garden, and he looked just as short in person as he did on TV. This of course, was a never-ending source of amusement to me, considering that in real life--AKA not standing next to other freakishly tall professional basketball players--he would be considered quite tall (6'1"). Perhaps this was the beginning of my long-standing obsession with men who I deem adorable by how "pocket-sized" they are.

Anyway, I just wanted to take the time to reminisce with myself and the intertubes about how awesome John Stockton was (all-time assists leader!) and what a shame it is that he never won a championship. God I hate the Bulls. It seems that in his retirement, he's moved back to his hometown of Spokane (ew), WA, where he lives with his 87618976 Catholic children. I imagine he continues to be adorable and badass.

*Note: the Jazz being from Utah and me being Mormon was purely incidental, and I resent it highly when anyone says otherwise.