Posts with tagged with "mouth-on"

I am so full, I have no room for anything left in my bulging stomach. We made some spinach fettuccine, it is so good. I eat and eat it until there is only space in me for liquid. And yet, for some reason or another, I feel myself drawn to the cabinet, to that place where I keep my pouches of slug vomit and preserved dicks. I am bored, I still don't have a Wii U, what the hell am I going to do, get stickers in Paper Mario?

In Japan, companies have to pay a certain amount of money, a small tax, to sell toys. For some reason, if their toy includes a kind of candy item, the item is classified as a candy instead of a toy, and the tax is either reduced or negated. It is for Precisely This Reason that the shelves of many Japanese grocery stores and supermarkets, despite lacking exotic items like "

Boss' new Drive Shot canned coffee isn't brown or yellow but somewhere in-between, the color of what you'd get if a Hershey bar could take a piss. As I pop the lid I notice it smells about the same, watered down, sweet, a hint of milk, the memory of coffee beans. I imagine some old man down at the local rotary club sucking it down like a babe at the teat out of a paper cup with the fold-out handles, and start to gag, even as I pour the thin swig down my gullet, dampening my cavernous gorge.

What's more fun than a plastic packet full of cardboard? A plastic packet full of cardboard with Mario pictures printed on it! Yes, New Super Mario Bros. Wii Stage Set Gum is simultaneously the worst and most awesome candy-related product I have ever savagely grabbed from the shelf with my teeth and spat into the shopping cart with a walrus-like emission of sound. This thing hearkens back to a time when we had to use our imaginations for entertainment, when we had to have fun with spartan paper products.

The more often I'm compelled to buy crappy drinks in order to obtain video game-related trinkets, the more often I wonder whether what I'm doing really involves my mouth. With the release of Dragon Quest X imminent (no seriously, it comes out tomorrow), Square Enix has partnered up with Pepsi and their atrocious low-calorie Pepsi Nex soft drink to promote the game in its native land of Japan. With certain drinks it's easy to tell who's getting the bum deal, like when the drink is way better than the toy that's attached, like maybe Boss Coffee sticks a shitty F1 racecar onto it.

I know the box says "nameplate" in huge letters printed overtop of what itself is a sort of nameplate. It even has some kinda holes in the corners to make it look more platey. I get it, this product is about the nameplate! But do you see up there in the upper right corner of the box, how it says "candy," which you can read because you are an expert at Japanese culture and language, and candy is a big part of it?

When I carelessly tossed the package of Super Mario 3D Land Gummy into my life-partner's shopping basket the other day, I didn't even realize what it was. I saw Mario on the package, and like a mindless child I just grabbed it off the shelf and hucked it in there without thinking about anything except the fact that I saw Mario, and he is red, and he is my friend, and I like him.

Only a fool would sink their teeth directly into a Kid Icarus Uprising Choco Snack, packages of which now adorn the shelves of various grocery marts peppering the cities of Japan. Yes, to recklessly crunch right into one of the blackened Medusa droppings is not unlike biting into a gigantic piece of Cocoa Puffs cereal, which I have not eaten in years because Japan does not believe in cereal. You see, a true connoisseur of these gastrointestinal reset bombs foregoes the immediate pleasures of instant gratification, instead opting to let the discolored balls simmer in their mouth as though dropped into their own personal Fiend's Cauldron.

I don't know about you, but when I find myself here in Japan where I have somehow been for the last three years, and I am desperately scanning the shelves for a drink, oh god anything will do. That's why I naturally gravitate toward the bottles of stinkwater that have free toys latched onto the tops. This method has ensured the adorning of my various man bags, murses, European carry-alls, bropouches, and fanny packs with a variety of mind-numbing baubles running the gamut from tiny rubber sushi to a bear dressed like a chef to the plastic likeness of a brown-suited salaryman literally on his hands and knees begging for forgiveness.