not//since

The Holidays Strike Back: Part IX and X (a.k.a. Dork Squad Rock Part Two, OR This is The End)

2007-01-02T00:03:00.000-08:00

Alas, my friends, we have reached the end of this year's rope. Thanks for coming along on our colorful, gut-wrenching journey. It's almost done.

Okay, you might notice that though we're still going to ten here tonight, there will be here a distinct lack of Cherry Pie and Apple Pie. It was starting to get pretty late over at Chez Julie, and Sean was supposed to be heading back to Arizona that night. Realizing this, we had to prioritize. See, last time I went to Target I saw that they had these new CHRISTMAS 2006 packs. Why do you do this to me, Jones Soda?! Why do you make me have to choose, when you know I'll choose to buy more every time? Thankfully for my pocketbook, they were already sold out of Sugarplum by the time I got to them, but unfortunately for my palate they had Eggnog and Candy Cane to spare.

So I had these two leftover sodas from the Holiday Dessert Pack in flavors that couldn't be that bad anyway (I mean come on, I've had cherry soda before), and then I had two four-packs of peculiar Christmas Delicacies. Four of each, and there were four of us. The choice was clear.

STAGE NINE: EGGNOG

Eggnog isn't the sort of thing I drink for the taste. In fact, I'll come right out and say that if it doesn't have a healthy dose of rum in it, I'd be hard pressed to drink eggnog at all. Come Christmas, I'll be the one over here pouring Irish Cream into my hot chocolate and using my eggs for something more worthwhile, like French Toast. Actually, you know what? I know very few people who really enjoy eggnog. Why is it even a tradition?! Seriously, eggnog can go to hell.

I digress.

We each grabbed a bottle from the eggnog carrier case and marvelled at the miasmic yellow color. It actually bore a strong resemblence to the Buttered Dinner Roll soda, which terrified me. It also smelled like being drunk around small sticky children, which (while not entirely unlike Christmas itself) is probably not a particularly good sign...

I love the simultaneous wave of malaise there. It's so right.

The worst thing about real eggnog is the taste after you swallow it. There's always this split second right after I sip a cup of eggnog, where I think to myself, "Hey, maybe today is the day. Maybe this is the year I'll finally graduate from childish hot chocolate and learn to love the nog." Then that weird bite hits, egg and nutmeg and cinnamon not cut by sugar, and it kind of catches in the back of my throat and I think "Goddamnit! This is not the year."

This soda captures that aftertaste perfectly, without any of the fuss of that moment of futile hope. I think that lack of hope lands it squarely in the realm of despair, don't you?

DESPAIR:

One more.

STAGE TEN: CANDY CANE

Unlike eggnog, who doesn't like candy canes? Festive colors, myriad flavors, and you can hook them behind your ear for safe-keeping. Anyone wants to hate on candy canes, you can turn one sideways and drag them off like it was Amateur Hour on Showtime at the Apollo.

The classic taste of candy cane is, of course, peppermint, and the logical train of thought is that peppermint is a hard taste to screw up. Gum companies have been getting the taste down pat for decades, along with ice creams and hard candies and soft candies and tea and toothpaste and mouthwash. Mint is a no-brainer. It seems like we should have had it easy in for the home stretch.

It just doesn't make sense. Couldn't they have asked someone? How hard could it have been to not make a mint that tastes like the gel orthodontists use to make jaw molds? Julie hadn't ever had braces before, so she couldn't quite understand the distinctive horror like Leslie and I did. We know what it's like, and it isn't good. Personally, I like to equate candy canes to fond childhood memories of Christmas mornings and new rollerblades and bikes and whatever. When I say "fond childhood memories," I do NOT mean to refer to long hours in the motorized chair, staring at the ceiling with drool trickling out the corner of my mouth as I tried not to choke on the garishly pink and somewhat-mintiful plastic dental mold setting that was taking stock of the exact position and severity of an overbite so big I could stick my thumb up in the gap between my top and bottom teeth, dooming me to a middle school career full of rubber bands and headgear and embarassing lisps and absolutely no carbonated beverages whatsoever!

But. Um. I digress. Again.

DESPAIR:

So as I said, it was getting late and we had to be leaving. We bid dear Julie adieu, piled back into the car, hung another couple terrifying death-defying u-turns, and made it back to Sean's house alive. Then we hit the freeway east, and freeway south, and freeway south, and freeway south one more time to get back to the San Diego we call our home. (Well, technically. 'Cause Leslie is back in Oregon by now, and I'm more from LA than anything despite the current living situation. You know how it is.)

But before we go, I'll leave you with this. Terrifying chemistry-set-worthy stunts, dangerous double-fisting, and a SHOCKING confession from the illustrious Sean-o-Tronic.

And there you have it. Once again, thank you all for reading! (And an extra-special thanks to any of you who contributed to my ZOMG Help Me Pay For All This Soda Fund!) It all means the world to me.

Happy Trails to you on the Holiday Pack front until next year!

Same time, same station.

The Holidays Strike Back: Part VI, VII, and VIII (a.k.a. Dork Squad Rock Part One)

2006-12-31T22:18:00.000-08:00

When the waiter at El Cholo Mexican restaurant set down on the table before me a stack of enchiladas with a fried fucking egg on top, I knew December 27th was going to be one hell of a day.

Well, I should back up a bit. Earlier that day, I picked up one dear friend Miss Leslie a block away from my house, in order to man the mighty shotgun seat of Brunhilde Cherry Bomb. From there we sped up from freeway to freeway, through Lake Elsinore, all up in San Dimas, past the Miller Draft packaging plant and finally into Pasadena to pick up Señor Sean. After milling around his house a while and scaring his dog, we went to El Cholo to consume nachos and margaritas and argue over the merits of sour cream. Miss Julie called as we were splitting the check, so I took down her address and we careened on down the 101 into Hollywood, and after getting all turned around and a couple of harrowing left turns across traffic, I pseudo-parallel-swung into a space on the street and parked with satisfaction. At last, our intrepid team was assembled.

I believe it's time to get down to business: the business of getting down. Beyonce, can you handle this? 'Cause I don't know if you can handle this. Whoo!

STAGE SIX: SWEET POTATOES

I won't lie: we stalled a little. By stalling, I mean we went to the gelato shop for double scoops of strawberry-chocolate deliciousness, and the comic book store to gawk at the newest offering from the Hernandez Brothers. Then we cracked open our beer and compared Skelator to Dethklok. Sooner or later, however, there was no getting around it, so we began.

Julie was the first to open the bottle. She smelled it so innocently, and immediately recoiled in horror. It was on, and with a vengeance.

When one says that a drink tastes like "summer ass," what one means in this case is that it leaves an aftertaste like dripping sticky sweat. It's almost-sweet like lazy melted sugar candy on the couch, and thick like mashed potatoes with the sickly disgust that sluggishness preceeds. On a scale of one to ten, I give this one a seven. Just because something is sweet, we learned, doesn't mean it's good.

DESPAIR:

Every time you drink a sweet potato soda, a Julie cries.

Please, won't somebody think of the Julies? :(

One down, too many to go. We decided to take her advice and space the horrors out a bit with something that might stand a chance of good.

STAGE SEVEN: KEY LIME PIE

I love pie. Everyone who knows me knows that I consider pie one of the pinnacles of sweetie dessert foods. Chocolate satin, French apple, cherry sour cream: all are delicious and delectable and smooth. Key lime, on the other hand -- a step below lemon meringue (which I like only for the meringue), I hardly consider it a pie at all.

Naturally, in the bizarro food world Sean lives in, key lime is the one pie he actually doesn't abhor. With that in mind, he was welcome to jump in first.

The general consensus seemed to be that of "Meh." Not terrible. but not our favorite Haribo gummy snack either. I guess it could have been worse, as far as pie sodas were concerned, but it certainly could have been better. It's pretty much neutral. I position it as squarely as possible between despair and delight as I can for a pie. I guess it has to tip in one or the other's favor, if even slightly.

DELIGHT:

What does Sean have to say about key lime pie soda?

Absolutely nothing whatsoever.

However, for some reason we found him suddenly emboldened, and in a glorious moment of bravado he went where no one has gone before. Oh man, I can't even describe it to you. It's just too wonderful. Watch.

The amazing Sean, ladies and gentlemen!!! Give 'im a hand!

...and if that magnificent parlor trick isn't an excellent segue into our next battle, I don't know what is.

STAGE EIGHT: ANTACID

Weeks ago, when Julie first asked if I'd come visit with the sodas, she said she was willing to try anything but the antacid flavor. ANYTHING but the antacid. Yet, here we were, all of us, faced with it nonetheless. It was agreed, however, that no one needed antacid more than Sean. Poor boy, I think he ended up trying almost everything first.

A most unexpected turn of events, to be sure! I still think it tasted horrible, though admittedly not as bad as... well, practically anything else on the Jones dinner menu. That said, I wouldn't drink the whole bottle. Not even close. I'm not down with the taste of chalk, and that goes for everything from Pepto-Bismol to Tums to Necco Wafer Conversation Hearts.

DESPAIR:

Julie, on the other hand, practically wants to marry the stuff.

So be it! She can have it. They seem to be very happy together; I'll let you know when she sets a date. <3

Is there more? Of course there's more. But for that, you will have to wait until tomorrow night. There's just too much rock, and anyway, it's December Thirty-first. You should be out getting drunk or making out or something instead of reading this tonight! (At least that's what my co-worker Mary Ellen told me anyway, when I said I'd be spending tonight writing in my web log and watching Chronicles of Narnia.) So have a splendid New Year's Eve, and I'll join you all tomorrow for this edition's THRILLING CONCLUSION.

Good night!

Monday Mixtapes II: Decembers in Detroit, Santa Fe, or San Diego

2006-12-25T15:08:00.000-08:00

(Editor's Note: I don't mean to keep you in suspense about the Jones Soda! It's just that I promised a friend I'd take some up to Los Angeles to try, and I won't have had a chance until tomorrow or so. I should have the thrilling conclusion just in time for the New Year.)

This particular Monday is December 25th, and personally I'm listening to nothing but A Christmas Gift for You From Phil Spector. However, recently I dug out this tape that my friend Ami made for me a couple years ago for an online mixtape trade thing. She actually made me a two-volume set, her interpretation of Summer and Winter in Michigan. It's the latter I've been really into lately, because even though I'm halfway across the country I don't think my winter's been very different.

The songs on the mix are soft and cold, and feel like falling in snow. (Or quiet rain, I guess, for purposes of California winters.) The longing and a slight isolated sadness run constant, no matter whether you live next to the ocean or a lake. Seriously, I'm a little jealous of my friends' mixtape-making skills. This one's pretty brilliant.

Winter in Michigan: Even Detroit Has a Skyline

1. Death Cab For Cutie ~ Title Track
2. Blonde Redhead ~ Elephant Woman
3. Modest Mouse ~ Out of Gas
4. Longwave ~ Tidal Wave
5. Pixies ~ Where is my Mind
6. Sufjan Stevens ~ For the Widows in Paradise; For the Fatherless in Ypsilanti
7. Beulah ~ I'll Be Your Lampshade
8. Nico ~ These Days
9. Jawbreaker ~ Ache
10. Tracy + The Plastics ~ Spine Eater
11. Le Tigre ~ Eau d'Bedroom Dancing
12. The Postal Service ~ Against All Odds
13. Jets to Brazil ~ Sea Anemone
14. The Unicorns ~ 52 Favorite Things
15. Lucero ~ Kiss the Bottle
16. Hayden ~ Bad as They Seem
17. Superchunk ~ Detroit Has a Skyline
18. Two Lone Swordsmen ~ It's Not the Worst I've Looked, Just The Most I've Ever Cared

Some of the songs I knew well, and some I heard from the first time on the tape, but they all fit together so seamlessly that it almost made me feel bad for not having heard of everyone already. Even some songs I thought I'd hate–I'm not a big every day Le Tigre fan, for instance–are strikingly perfect in context.

If books could have soundtracks, in the future I'd want this to be on one of mine. I haven't talked to Ami in a while, and I feel now like I really should. Internet friends are a tough thing to keep, even when they have impeccable enough taste to send you Rap Snacks. Even if they come completely crushed and busted in the mail parcel post, it still doesn't get much more brilliant.

The Holidays Strike Back: Part IV and V (a.k.a. Everything Small and Round)

2006-12-13T22:51:00.000-08:00

Hey, would you believe that I had so much fun last night that I forgot to take pictures? What an unorganized dork I am.

ANYWAY.

So after I got out of my internship yesterday, I rushed down to Kearny Mesa at top speed to meet Carrie and Richard. They were waiting for me at the coffee shop, and I burst comically through the door with a bottle of Pea soda in one hand and a bottle of Blueberry Pie in the other. (Okay, no I didn't, but I wish I had. That would have been awesome.)

We were planning on eating ramen at Mitsuwa, but tragically they are a cash only establishment and Carrie and Richard lacked the skrilla so we traipsed across the street to Tajima. The Power Couple aren't big drinkers, but I ordered some Calpico soju in the name of fortification...

Now, because of my ridiculous lack of photographic evidence, and the mass of actual conversation on tape, I'm just going to give you seven golden minutes of beautiful bean footage. Though Tajima was egregiously poorly lit, the dialogue isn't bad. Carrie and Richard get really into it, bless their hearts, and Richard brings on the bad future-math-teacher puns like woah. (Just one reason among many why I love them so.) I'm mostly just mad about the lighting. I have a portable adjustable-timer strobe light (bought with leftover meal points during my dormatory year: it makes everywhere a party!), and if I'd known we were going to go somewhere with "atmosphere," I'd have brought it along. We probably would have been kicked out, but isn't it worth it? At any rate, it gets better. Seven minutes of information! That's practically a full-length movie!!!

I'm rating the Pea Soda on a scale of Delirium, because I can't for the life of me figure it out. It wasn't half bad, but it wasn't half good. It wasn't peas, but it wasn't [i]not[/i] peas. It's the gastronomic equivalent of a gigantic animated question mark above your head. All you can do is blink and sit slack-jawed while you try to figure out what the heck just happened.

Delirium:

The Blueberry Pie falls squarely into Delight. Who doesn't love Nerds candy? Even if you hate pie, you MUST love Nerds candy. It's like Welch's Grape Soda for grown-ups, and I felt like that scrunchy-faced blonde girl from the commercials when I drank it. Yum!

Delight:

The 16th?!

Monday Mixtapes I: My Boss Hearts Screeching Weasel

2006-12-11T07:52:00.000-08:00

Finding someone to drink horrible soda with me every three days is proving more difficult than expected, and yesterday fell through leaving me scramblingly late again. I'm just going to leave it for now though, and let the 13th be a double-feature.

So today, I'm going to launch the Mixtape ship. I love music as much as I love ridiculous food, if not more. I ought to start writing about that again for a change.

Today's mixtape isn't one that I made, but rather one that my boss Steven over at Writers House made for me. He was confounded that my favorite band is The Mr. T Experience, but I'd never heard Screeching Weasel or The Riverdales. He's a huge fan and has one of their albums framed in the office. I said they just never really moved across my radar when I was in high school. He reacted to the effect that it would be a crime against humanity if it wasn't accidental. He also made me a mixtape of his favorite Screeching Weasel songs, which stayed in my car stereo for a week straight. I realize now, how wrong I was in ignoring this band all these years. They're amazing. Straightforward and fun, total California teenage suburbia. This tape could be the soundtrack to our lives.

Steve's Best-Of: Screeching Weasel

1. Totally
2. The Girl Next Door
3. Guest List
4. Crybaby
5. Leather Jacket
6. Peter Brady
7. Cool Kids
8. Cindy's On Methadone
9. Science Of Myth
10. What We Hate
11. I Wanna Be A Homosexual
12. Gotta Girlfriend
13. Suzanne Is Getting Married
14. My Friends Are Getting Famous
15. The First Day Of Summer
16. You'll Be In My Dreams Today
17. The First Day Of Autumn
18. Speed Of Mutation
19. Dummy Up
20. Video
21. Every Night
22. Hey Suburbia
23. Claire Monet
24. Acknowledge
25. Thrift Store Girl
26. Don't Turn Out The Lights
27. The First Day Of Winter
28. Message In A Beer Bottle
29. My Own World
30. Tightrope
31. My Brian Hurts

So far my favorite songs are "Totally" and "The First Day of Winter." Someday I'll have enough money to host the songs for you to make a tape. For now though, I guess you'll just have to find the albums. At least I can say that you won't regret it. (I hope.)

The Holidays Strike Back: Part III (a.k.a. Parental Guidance Suggested)

2006-12-08T21:45:00.000-08:00

I'm late! I'm sorry!

Okay, anyway.

So I'm looking at the bottle of Peas soda, right? And I says to myself, I says:

"Fuck that noise. Let's have some pie. WHO'S WITH ME?"

STAGE THREE: BANANA CREAM PIE SODA

Shockingly, my little sister heeded the call. Her name is Jackie, but I like to call her Mikey. (Or Monkeyface, or whatever. You know.) Her palate is limited to Top Ramen, whatever cheese comes out of the Kraft factory, Wonder bread, and Life cereal. Yet, I asked her if she wanted to drink some weird soda with me and she was pretty enthusiastic about it.

How about that food coloring, eh?

Ingredients: Carbonated water, high fructose corn syrup, natural and artificial flavors, gum acacia, sodium benzoate, citric acid, yellow 5, modified food starch, ester gum, potassium sorbate, medium chain triglyceride.

Sweeteners, and no salt? Hey, this might not be bad! I asked The Kid if she was sure about this, and she assured me that she was, so we cracked open the bottle and were immediately greeted by a whiff of something lovely.

Hey, that's a pretty good sign? Marshmallows are pretty high on Jackie's approved list of dessert items, and banana is honestly the only fruit in the universe that she will voluntarily eat, so she grabbed the bottle with gusto and went for it, with me following suit.

EXCELSIOR!

Well, it's an Official First for the year, my friends: a delicious soda! So delicious, in fact, that Jackie ended up sneaking into my room and drinking about half of it (hey Mikey, she likes it!) before my mother chased her out, concerned about heavy sugar levels before bedtime. The kid stayed up bouncing off the walls til about 11. (On a school night!) That's what high fructose corn syrup will do to ya. It was cute, nonetheless. She's a good egg, and I love her dearly.

So I can't really measure pies on a scale of despair, because honestly, who hates pies? (Ahem.) So on a scale of delight, I give this a four. It's pretty good, but I'm still a little weirded out by the divergent texture.

DELIGHT:

And now: random weird eye tricks, a baby valley girl's first brush with non-root-beer soda, and helpful comments from the peanut gallery (provided by our mother)!

Sorry about the delay tonight. Work kept me busy. Tune in on the 10th for the next exciting episode!!!

The Holidays Strike Back: Part II (a.k.a. How Jaded We've Become This Year)

2006-12-04T23:03:00.000-08:00

Last year, I did it first, and it was horrific. But how will it hold up, now that it's been a year? Moreover, it hadn't yet been Thanksgiving when I sampled it the first time. I was working with an idealized memory of how things should taste. Now, with the flavor of kosher turkey still lingering in the near reaches of my mind, would the soda version truly live up to the horror I remembered?

We were about to find out.

STAGE TWO: TURKEY AND GRAVY SODA (REDUX)

I couldn't face it alone again, so I called up Andrew and it only took about a week of cajoling to get him over to my house. Why on earth would he wait so long when he should be jumping at the chance to try potentially-horrible soda with me? I don't know either, it's crazy!

We examined the ingredients, and found them to be pretty much exactly the same as the Dinner Roll soda, only in a mixed-up order. Salt: no longer the second ingredient! Only the third, and the fact that the soda somehow still makes up 12% of our daily sodium intake was unsettling.

Ingredients: Carbonated water, natural and artificial flavors, salt, caramel color, acacia gum, glucono delta lactone (acidulant), saib, medium chain triglyceride, sodium benzoate and potassium sorbate (as preservatives), sucralose (a nonnutritive sweetener).

Andrew copped to being sick as an excuse not to smell it. He's the only kid I know with sinuses wonkier than mine (proportional to the size of our magnificent Spanish noses, I should think), so it was a valid enough claim. It was all up to me.

Delicious. I held my breath.

Ugh. But just like last year, you don't really get the full effect until you swallow. (Incidentally, that's exactly what Andrew's mom said last night!)

Last year I probably would have given this a full score of ten on the scale of despair, but after my encounter with the Brussels Sprouts flavor I just can't. It's horrible, no doubt, but there is worse out there. I'm going to have to rate it at around an eight.

DESPAIR:

Today's bottlecap moral was nice as well. I feel like Jones Soda is trying to help me take control of my life. I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and god damn it, people like me! (Sometimes!) (I hope!) (right?)

And now, in stereophonic surround sound with terrible lighting, Valley Girl vocal tics (How many times do I say "kind of..."? It's ridiculous. I'm embarrassed.) and Andrew laughing in a manner not unlike The Penguin.

All right, kids. More excitement to come, December 7th! Same time, same station.

The Holidays Strike Back: Part I (a.k.a. Sometimes Co-Workers Come Back For More)

2006-12-01T17:06:00.000-08:00

Why, hello again, friendly internets!

Agh, "stay tuned" indeed. I've neglected this blog: yes, it's true. All on account of I lost my notes for the rest of the Japanese food. It's kind of tragic, really. I swear that it will never happen again.

Moving on!

I thought I'd learned my lesson after last year... and yet, I found myself at Target for minor supplies and there they were, just sitting there on the shelves. One left of dinner, one left of dessert. They beckoned. You need us, they whispered to me, and we need you. I nodded, as if in a trance induced by ester gums and food colorings, and before I knew what was what, each box was resting comfortably in my shopping cart. What can I say: I'm a sucker for holiday punishment.

We're back, baby.

STAGE ONE: DINNER ROLL SODA

My co-worker power couple Carrie and Richard participated in my beverage carnage last year. Apparently both suffer from some kind of mental disorder, because they asked if they could get in on it again now, the next time we had a shift together.

Technically the old stand-by Turkey and Gravy should have been first on the menu, but I didn't have the heart to subject anyone to Turkey soda at 9:00 on a Sunday morning. That's cruel and unusual, and we ran the risk of being too sick to work, so instead we jumped right in with the Buttered dinner roll flavor. Richard wasn't technically "working" so much as "loitering around the store after giving Carrie a ride to work," so we sent him for ice from the sandwich shop next door while we waited for Sol, our framer who pushes the boundaries of "fashionably late."

There was no recommended wine list this time, unfortunately, so we armed ourselves with coffee and read the label to get some idea of what to expect.

INGREDIENTS: Carbonated water, salt, artificial flavors, glucono delta lactone (acidulant), sodium benzoate and potassium sorbate (as preservatives), sucralose (a nonnutrative sweetener), caramel color, citric acid, modified food starch, ester gum, medium chain triglyceride, yellow 5.

Main ingredients: carbonated water and salt. It should also be noted that one bottle of this soda provides 12% of your daily sodium intake. Well, all right then...

I don't mean fruit in a good, tasty, appetizing way though; more like fruit that's starting to turn, not sweet so much as sickly. Of course, we wouldn't know until we actually tried it.

Then it hit. BLAM.

How bad was it really? It's kind of a toss-up. On the one hand, it wasn't an abject abomination of the senses; on the other hand, I can safely cross Dinner Roll soda off the menu at my next sophisticated ladies' luncheon social. On a misery scale of one to ten, I'd put this squarely at five. In fact...

DESPAIR:

Right as I prepared to throw out the bottle, I checked for any fortune cookie wisdom. I smiled as I read the inside of the lid, for it warmed my heart.

But hey, why should you believe what I write? Especially when you can experience it first hand in mind-blowing high-fidelity stereo and dazzlingly low-resolution camera-quality video? Oh yes, this thread is kicking it up a notch, YouTube style. Impressed much? I know I am!

OH, SNAP! Technology!!! I do so less-than-three the technology.

So I'm doing one every three days, all month long. Stay tuned on the 4th. Who knows which crazy flavor we'll break into next?! Not even me!!! IT'S A MYSTERY!!!

Snacks from the Land of Woes: Part VI (Sloth)

2006-02-26T23:37:00.000-08:00

We're going into Lightning Round! Let's take this to the next level! GO!

There is another side to the River Styx. Where the wrathful writhe above its surface, the slothful lay submerged below. These were the lazy, the complacent. Those who could not be bothered to make the necessary provisions for survival. Now, too late, they know the horrors of their deeds as they lie helplessly beneath the chunky slop. Alukh and I learned the secrets of this riverbed of sorrows as we approached...

FIFTH CIRCLE OF HELL, PART TWO: HONG VAN'S GRASS JELLY DRINK

It seemed so calm and placid!

We read the ingredients. We thought it was enough. Why shouldn't it be? And beside the ominous "grass jelly" compound, it all sounded fairly kosher. Thus, Alukh bravely drank.

After the horrors of the white gourd drink, "not exactly awful" sounded like a dream. I reached for it and drank. And drank. And drank again.

But oh, if only we had read the fine print that said "shake before opening." There was something sinister lurking beneath the surface of this drink that we would not find until we poured it out. By that time, of course, we had drank half the can, having used it to calm our nerves between bouts with more trying items. If only we had known. IF ONLY WE HAD KNOWN.

Those weren't ice cubes in that label picture, those were despicable chunks of brown jelly blood-clot filth from beyond the grave! And yet, it serves us right for not reading the instructions. Laziness gets you nowhere but exactly that.

Once having crossed the Styx, we were now at the lower levels of Hell. The levels of active violence. Treachery, heresy, and murder. And companion olives. Stay tuned.

Snacks from the Land of Woes: Part V (Wrath)

2006-02-26T23:05:00.000-08:00

In Hell, there is a thick, swamp-like river called Styx. The wrathful, driven mad by its black stench and their own hatred, fight each other in in the sludge. I can only imagine that our next gastronomical endeavour would have had similar effects.

FIFTH CIRCLE OF HELL: YEO'S WHITE GOURD DRINK

We're over the rainbow now, folks. This is not good. Only horrors lie in this inauspicious little aluminum can.

Like all aluminum can drinks, it was hermetically sealed for our protection. Unlike most aluminum can drinks, "hermetically sealed for our protection" meant "to try to keep you from drinking it, you nitwits."

But sweet is good, right? Since when has sweet ever been bad?

We stand corrected! That is, we would, if the White Gourd Drink hadn't crippled us and frozen our faces into grotesque parodies of our former selves, to serve as a warning to others not to do as we have done.

The White Gourd Drink could not have been poured down the drain fast enough. It stung our noses and demanded the consuming of more Lobster Crisps to cleanse the palate. Still, cleansing was what we needed, because there was still more wading to do in this river. The water would grow sludgier, and the horrors would grow more tangible, as we entered the realm of GRASS JELLY DRINK.

Snacks from the Land of Woes: Part IV (Avarice and Waste)

2006-02-26T00:27:00.000-08:00

Sometimes when you dislike something, you want to save it all for the garbage bin; some other times when you dislike something, you just want to give it all away as fast as possible.

Alukh and I experienced this study in opposites firsthand as we fell deeper still in our intrepid snack food journey. This time, our encounter would be into the darkness of the...

FOURTH CIRCLE OF HELL: SEA CRUNCH SALT N' VINEGAR PRAWN SNACKS

A lot of snack food around the world seems to involve the word "puffs." The difference is all in how it's prefaced. We Americans tend to suffix "puffs" onto words like "cheese" or "corn" or even "sugar." In Japan, however, the word is just as likely to be following some sort of crustacean. We were no strangers to the ubiquitous Shrimp Puff, but now we found ourselves face to face with its larger meaner brother: Prawn Puff.

But, unlike most of the subsequent delicacies, the way they looked was nothing, NOTHING, compared to the other sensory triggers it had to offer.

Shrimp really isn't such a salty food, so this was an interesting and unexpected sensation all right. I guess they needed something to separate it from the Shrimp Puffs. Alukh dove into the Salt Lake.

She insisted that I would hate it, but I think she was just trying to keep them all for herself. I was not about to be fooled.... or was I?

To Hell with that noise. I decided to be generous: the cats could have it. Alukh's cats are very nice little things, by the way. They still refused, however, to eat the Prawn Snacks. I can't imagine why. Perhaps we should have gone out to the hill and tried to find deer to feed them too. I hear deer eat salt like crazy.

Done with the fourth round, we were taking a beating and it was just beginning to show. Still, we held onto our hats and pressed onward. Next, we would stumble into the sludgy banks of the River Styx, and the sullen wrath that goes by the name: WHITE GOURD DRINK.

Snacks From the Land of Woes: Part III (Gluttony)

2006-01-13T22:28:00.000-08:00

When we last left you, things were still going relatively well. There was a chilly wind in the pit of our stomachs, warning us not to go on into the jaws of Cerberus that certainly awaited us. But, being intrepid explorers in search of gastronomic redemption, we pressed on, and before we knew it we found ourselves plummeting into the...

THIRD CIRCLE OF HELL: PRESERVED MANGOES WITH CHILI

We should have stopped while we were ahead.

The box was so sweet and tender, all glassy and heart-shaped, all full of ponies and rainbows and fruits and shit. We should have known better. Evil works in treacherous ways to lure us into a horrible fate. In Dante's Inferno, the Third Circle is landmarked by a steady torrential rain of slimy vomit, a substance which bears more than a passing resemblance to the colour of the red chili-flecked mangoes. I guess we should have picked up on that.

But it wasn't until Alukh withdrew her fingers from her lips that we understood the full extent of the horror.

But wheresoever she goes in this journey, so must I. God damn it.

Our third round left us tingling, numb, and a little choked up. But though we were bloodied, we were not yet unbowed. The worst was still a ways off. At our next level of descent, we would come to an impasse of dissenting opinions, when we encountered the wicked and wily ways of the SEA CRUNCH SALT-AND-VINEGAR PRAWN SNACKS.

Snacks From the Land of Woes: Part II (Lust)

2006-01-13T22:25:00.000-08:00

SECOND CIRCLE OF HELL: LOBSTER CRACKERS

After having conquered the jackfruit chips, we were quickly out of meatless or predictable delights and it was time to move on to the fish-like substances. The lobster crackers seemed as good a place to start as any, so we dimmed the lights and burned some incense and got down to the business of seeing if classic aphrodisiac food still works in flavoured-cracker-snack form.

I suppose if that whole middle-school myth about green M&Ms holds any truth, there might be something to the aspect of the green lobster, but no matter how you slice it, what we found in the bag next totally killed our mood.

What the hell?

That's always what you want to find in your food, isn't it? A bag of poison moisture-repellant mothballs that says "do not eat"? Oh don't be silly, of course it is!

Not that it was going to deter us or anything. Poison doesn't make it taste bad, does it? Whatever doesn't kill us makes us stronger.

They say graham crackers were invented to stave off lust through the power of repetitive chewing motion and mild blandness. Perhaps lobster crackers are the anti-Lobster Tail? I guess in that case, at least if we died from the mothballs, we wouldn't go to hell...

Hot damn, not bad! I mean, certainly not eyebrow-raising, but not horendous either. But... again? Twice in a row? How could we possibly be so lucky?! It was a relative cake walk, this whole taste-testing thing. Under these circumstances, we rushed ravenously at the third item of our list. If only we'd known that we were rushing into the Preserved Mangoes with Chili..... of DOOM.

Snacks from the Land of Woes: Part I (Limbo)

2006-01-13T22:20:00.000-08:00

Welcome back, my friends, to a Hell that never ends. It's one you may remember from, well, the last post down, in which I sampled the despairs and delights of the Jones Soda 2005 Holiday Pack. In the last installment, I offered a sip of soda #5 (Pumpkin Pie) to my co-worker Chi, who in return offered the comment that this soda was nothing special and that the Asian markets his family shops at carry weirder things than my sodas the whole year 'round. He may as well have thrown down a red carpet to the front entrance of Lucky Seafood the second he said that, because I immediately knew what had to be done. However, it couldn't be done without my intrepid home-for-the-holidays co-pilot: the fabulous Alukh Suicide. (Whom you may or may not know from Suicide Girls.) On December 29th, I worked an eight-hour day; Ally, in the meantime, went shopping.

She was going back to Oregon soon, which meant that we didn't have a lot of time to spend on this. No, this had to be done in a single crazy whirlwind night. Armed with nothing but our stalwart spirits and a bottle of Kirin Ichiban, we gritted our teeth and prepared for battle with snack food straight from the most sadistic tentacles of the Far East. We shall refer to each endeavour in a manner not unlike that Dante's Inferno. Let's start with purgatory, shall we?

FIRST CIRCLE OF SNACK FOOD HELL: NIKI CRISPY CRUNCHY JACKFRUIT CHIPS

Yeah okay, I'll admit we started out easy. Chips are chips. Even if you have no idea what the hell kind of chips they are.

Decaying onions but with all the taste of a light banana smoothie! Appetizing, eh? EH?

Alukh went first. It was only fair. She didn't drink the turkey soda.

They were bland, yeah, but as the night wore on we came to look back on the jackfruit chips as a fond memory of benign and benevolent mercy.

All right! The first tick on the scoreboard reads -- Team Vomit: 0, Team DictionaryGirl: 1! We were off to a relatively excellent start. Join us next time, as we descend into the Second Circle of Snack Food Hell: Lobster Crackers. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

Conquering the Holidays: Part V (Rent and the Final Frontier)

2005-12-05T21:52:00.000-08:00

Last week a few of us were planning a night out to see Rent after work. While hanging out in the framing room at the back of the store, diligently doing my job of avoiding actual work, when Carrie said to me "So did you bring another Jones Soda?!"

I said "You're crazy, Carrie! I've already made you suffer through two of them! My last one's chillin' in the fridge at home."
She said "For god's sake, woman, we're on a mission! Go home and get it on your lunch break!"

She sort of outranks me, as a key-holder.
So what else could I do? So drove home like the wind, and returned in record time.

STAGE FIVE: PUMPKIN PIE A LA CREMA FRESCA

Our oafish key-holder who doesn't want his good name spoiled by being mentioned on the internet (SPOILER: see panel below) was closing up shop with me that night, and was irritated that I let Carrie, Richard, and Janine in after doors were shut. I knew I had to do something to appease him, so I offered him some soda and told him he could be famous for daring and intrepid feats of glory. I likened it to Final Fantasy a little, and he ran to the bathroom to primp his hair and freshen up. I think it did a world of good, honest.

Weirder stuff at the Asian market? You don't say! Smells like a sequel to me!

Chi thanked me for the soda, then booted the lot of us out of the store to wait for my boyfriend to get there with ten minutes before the movie was about to start. Alone, cold, braving the elements, could we withstand the soda as well? Dun-dun-DUN!!!

"Eh, what the hell," we said. So we poured, and we drank. Well, they poured. I drank straight from the bottle on account of I'm classy like that.

[Editor's Note: Is that gold sequin belt not totally boss?!?]

But seriously, what the-- another decent soda?! (Albeit, in a weird creamy soupy sort of way.) I couldn't be alone in thinking it tasted like a different kind of gourd however, so I consulted my panel of experts.

But still, as always, we knew that nothing is truly known until we feel it burning in the backs of our throats like the aftermath of sick. Would this one be different? We didn't know, but we were going for the gold.

Well, we were all done with our experiment, but then Andrew showed up.Now, I absolutely adore the kid, and there's no way to show your love quite like offering a boy something weird to eat. He'd deftly sidestepped all the other flavours, but this time there was no escape. MUAHAHAHA-- I mean, je t'aime!!!

And with that we went to the movies, and I chucked the bottle by the wayside, and we rode off into the sunset on wild golden stallions, and thus ended an era. The era... of Jones Soda. Thank you all for reading, and good night!

El Fin.

...or is it?!

Conquering the Holidays: Part IV (Return of the Co-Workers)

2005-11-28T22:00:00.000-08:00

Okay kids, we've seen the worst, and it's all downhill from here on out. The fine art of soda-making has long dedicated itself to sweetness and fruity flavours. How could we possibly go wrong with the sweet sauce and dessert? Yeah, I didn't know either.

Have I mentioned lately how much I love my co-worker, Miss Lead Cashier Carrie? Well, I do. She is a shining, shining star. She is for many different reasons of course, but the one I point out today is her absolute dedication to a cause, Even if that cause is the consummation of a Holiday Pack of Jones Soda. After putting her through the hell of Wild Herb Stuffing, I decided to make it up to her by bringing in the first item on the dessert menu.

STAGE FOUR: Cranberry Sauce with Orange Zest

Wow, it looks a little like Jonestown's magic Flavor-aid when you pose it like that, doesn't it? What happy coincidence! But we weren't thinking about the possibility of cyanide when we cracked open the bottle. The most we were concerned with was whether or not we'd even be able to get it far enough past our throats to do any damage.

Now, we were just about to close up shop when who should show up at the door but the Blaster to Carrie's Master, boyfriend Richard! How could we not pull him into our liquified post-apocalyptic tasty treats? Lucky him!

Things were going well. Very well. Better than we'd expected, and that's considering that we didn't think it possible for anyone to screw up cranberry juice. We couldn't stall much longer to find out if that theory was correct. It was time to go for the gusto, and enter the flavour Thunderdome.

Success? Was it possible?! Or was the soda massacre merely time-delayed? There was only one way to find out, as we gulped it down and breathed. What did the others have to say?

And as for me?

Well, I liked it! I liked it! I'd even go so far as to say I LIKED it! (Hey now, love is a strong word when it comes to caffeine-free non-cola soda.) I liked it so much that I sealed it back up, took it home, made myself a sandwich, and finished the whole damn bottle. A week ago it seemed impossible, but believe it or not we found a soda in the bunch that has made the whole ordeal worthwhile. I don't know if it's quite as good as Vanilla Cola, but if Jones sold this on its own, I'd probably buy it. Just so long as it isn't laced with any cyanide. That's a deal breaker.

Join me tomorrow, when I bring you the exciting conclusion: Dessert at the End of the Universe!

Conquering the Holidays: Part III (The Student Becomes the Teacher)

2005-11-19T23:08:00.000-08:00

Come and sit beside the fire, child, and let me tell you a story.

Once upon a time, there was a little girl who used to stay with her grandparents. "Here, drink this!" her grandfather would say."It's delicious!" So she would tip the glass back with both hands, and splutter as the juice from the bottom of a Vlasic dill pickle jar spilled down her throat. "What?" her grandfather would say as she peered, squinting and bewildered, into the bottom of the glass. "It's good! It puts hair on your chest!"

Before the child had a chance to explain that she didn't think she really wanted any hair on her chest, her grandmother would smack the old man away, chiding "Don't do that to the poor thing, viejito! Now come on, both of you, it's time for dinner! I've made nopales!" and the child's eyes would fill with bleak desperation.

But all was not as hopeless as it seemed. Some two decades later, she'd have the chance to pay it back.

(Jesus, look at that paleness! I need to get out more.)

Originally I was going to go easy on them. Cranberry sauce, perhaps. Much to my surprise, everyone in the house shouted "Don't be boring! Bring out the brussels sprouts!!!" Who was I to argue?

STAGE THREE: Brussels Sprouts with Prosciutto

The wine list recommended a sweet and spicy chardonnay to go with the brussels sprouts flavor. My dad suggested (not completely joking) we substitute a stiff shot of whiskey. I'd just removed the scotch from the cabinet when my grandpa waved it off and insisted that he didn't need a chaser. I refilled his full cup of coffee, just in case.

I've got to admit, this wasn't one of the more promising starts. I almost abandoned ship immediately and retreated to the cranberry soda. I really like cranberries, you know. Good for the digestive system and all that.

But sometimes you just have to stick with it, and you know what? You never know. It just might turn out better than you'd expected.

I learned two very important things tonight. First, I learned that my grandfather wasn't kidding when he said he liked the taste of pickle vinegar straight-up. Second, I learned that he's quite possibly insane. This is backed by the fact that he also honestly likes brussels sprouts, although he mitigated that the soda didn't actually taste anything like them. The good thing is that I can write to Jones Soda Inc. and tell them that I've found the one person on earth who actually enjoys their Sprout soda.

Of course, once he gave it the green light, my grandma wanted to get in on the action, if only to prove him wrong.

Now that I had two conflicting opinions, I was ready to try it out for myself. (Even though just the smell wafting through the living room made me feel faint.) Little did I know how truly terrifying it would be.

It really didn't get much better. I didn't actually hurl, but let's just say it was a viable option.

It's the prosciutto that really sticks. As I sit here, hours later--awash in water, milk, soda, Haribo sour gummy snacks, and cool mint Listerine--it's the taste of the salted ham that stays behind. I have a feeling it will be there in the morning too, like an old and loyal mortal enemy.* The ghost of every chunk of cactus I ever stored in my cheek and spat into my napkin has reared its ugly spectral head tonight and smote me across the tongue.

But you know what? I think it was still better than the turkey and gravy flavour.

Dear god, I can't wait for the dessert menu.

*-- 9AM, the next day: It's true. Oh god, it's true.

Conquering the Holidays: Part II (Making Work Interesting)

2005-11-18T23:19:00.000-08:00

I'm a "sales associate" (read: cashier doormat) at an art-slash-home decor store. We've been down in sales lately, and work is slow-slow-slow. Luckily for me, I always come prepared to fight the boredom.

Prepared with #2 on my list of holiday sodas, that is! At least yesterday I was. As soon as the doors were closed and locked last night, I brought it forth from the break room refrigerator in all its glory.

STAGE TWO: Wild Herb Stuffing

The wine list recommended a sparkling zinfandel to accompany the stuffing, but it's work and I'm not about to lose my job for Holiay Soda, so I improvised by pairing it with a Bacon Turkey Bravo sandwich (to remind the stuffing of its roots) and a Sierra Mist/Mountain Dew fountain blend from Panera. I think that did the job just fine.

The good thing about doing this at work is that I can recruit volunteers. Carrie was already accomplice to the time I decided to concoct Pan-Galactic Gargle Blasters out of gin and Japanese sports drink, so she was game.

We were somewhat reassured. It looked normal. Until we opened the bottle, that is.

Hmm. But still, vile masochistic candy is better than turkey, right guys? Right? RIGHT!?

Hmmmmmm.... still tolerable though, in the sense that raw celery is tolerable. Now swallow.

Ack!!!! At least we didn't need hard alcohol to wash the taste away. That fact alone ranks this flavour above that of the turkey. Still, that's not saying much. Not saying much at all.

Carrie is such a good sport! I love her to death.

Tonight I closed shop with her again, and I thought about bringing the cranberry-sauce-flavored soda to make amends, but then I remembered something potentially even more wonderful: relatives might be coming to visit tomorrow. I hope my grandmother's feeling intrepid! STAY TUNED!

Conquering the Holidays: Part I (a.k.a. Hello, internets!)

2005-11-18T23:06:00.000-08:00

Hellooooooooooooooo internet!

It's about time I started a real blog, without the words "live" or "dead" or "journal" or "myspace" attached to them. Not that this is going to be another diary, per se. This will be the 'zine I never had. Or, should I say, am about to have. Hence, the name, taken from my one-issue-run 'zine from high school. Comics, stories, and general dorkiness, all here, and all in one convenient package. It's a little rough around the edges right now -- I apologize. I'm still trying to figure this out.

BUT FIRST! I'm on a mission from the god of masochism and I'm taking you all with me, on a wild adventure through the mysterious gastronomical delights of novelty soda. Yes, I've read the reviews. I've been forewarned. But they were calling to me, calling with their fancy packaging and their fizzy pretty colors and their proceeds going to charity. So in the interest of science and ten dollars, I had no choice but to buy my very own Limited Edition 2005 Jones Soda Holiday Pack box.

OH, SNAP!

Now, once you own one of these kinds of things, there's really nothing left to do except consume it on the internet and post about it at your own expense, so today I busted out the box and my continuous-shot camera and got down to business. I thought about what the first thing I tear into is when I sit down for Thanksgiving dinner, and the obvious answer was: the turkey. Therefore, this is what I've started with.

STAGE ONE: TURKEY AND GRAVY SODA

The fascinating thing is that they supply you with a wine list. Jones Soda Inc. recommended a rich pinot noir to compliment the lighter meat flavor of their Turkey and Gravy soda. Who was I to argue?

That, folks, is the Dinner of Champions. I threw that sucker in the freezer for fifteen minutes, just to get it nice and properly chilled. I know that you eat regular turkey hot, but something about the thought of hot turkey soda just made my stomach churn right then and there -- I have no idea why -- so I decided to go with the more familiar frosty cold soda.

It didn't explode when I opened it, nor did my face melt off á la Raiders of the Lost Ark. So, I pressed on.

Promising! A new favorite, perhaps?

Okay, okay, but as long as you hold it in your mouth, swish it around for appreciation, and then spit it out, it's tolerable. So I did that a couple times. But to really really really get the flavor of something, you have to swallow.

Dear God, what have I done? And this is only just the beginning. I still have four more flavors to get through, and I'm going to be a good sport and do them all. Stay tuned for next time, when I go head-to-head with Wild Herb Stuffing!