Once discontinued, Quisp has been resurrected as an internet cereal with an extremely limited and sporadic physical release in stores. Fortunately, this mythic ambrosia isn’t that hard to get your hands on anymore even if the price tag makes it feel like it’s imported from the Quisp homeworld.
I had to know what all the fuss was about, so I snapped my fingers and John De Lancie’d myself a box from Walmart.com. Was it the greatest thing since Drew Scanlon set the memeosphere ablaze?
Quisp is a great cereal. In fact, Quisp’s taste would make it one of my favorite cereals. The problem is, it’s a cereal I’ve eaten and loved before…
As you’re reading a review for a cult breakfast cereal from a guy that is so painfully unfunny it’s actually kinda funny (not really), I’ll spare you rambling detail because:
1. You’re familiar if not also a fan of Cap’n Crunch and
C. I feel sorry for you that you’re here doing this instead of doing something more productive like sweeping sunshine… on the interior of a Dyson Sphere.
Basically, buttery coconut oil flavored oat and corn treasure chests are swapped for buttery coconut oil flavored oat and corn saucers. They seem to be a bit less rough on the roof, but frankly, that’s never been a problem for me to begin with. Maybe I’m just channeling my inner Wario and fighting through the pain to get at the gold.
Again, I’m not complaining about the taste of this cereal. It’s just not so boldly going where the good Cap’n has most certainly gone before, met a glib omnipotent alien, and adopted an orphan tribble… and named it Polly. That said, Quisp might have the greatest back of the box comic strip I’ve ever seen. It doesn’t include any nightmare fuel vistas of a snowman charnel house like Cinnamon Vanilla Lucky Charms, but it does have enough bad puns to make me blush.
Breakfast cereal formula anal probe abductions aside, not much more need be said.
This is good.
This is expensive.
This is Cap’n Crunch in a different form factor.
Taste: 8.5 intergalatic pirates out of 10… but basically just Cap’n Crunch and not worth Trump’s efforts to prop up domestically produced pirate booty via initiating a trade war by imposing Planet Q cereal tariffs. The box, however, is worth every… punny.
Box art: Punniest thing I’ve seen this side of Punnsylvania. “Dino Sore” is worth the price of admission alone.(more…)
Hopefully you got my last message. If not, try looking here. Time’s short, so let’s get on with this. Access to the village is restricted to rail as far as I can tell. Security aboard the sole train is limited to an operative posing as a feline vagrant calling himself “Rover.”
He seems to ply travelers for personal details that he presumably passes along for tracking of potential troublemakers or perhaps new recruits. Initially, I thought the cat costume was a way to disarm people via its absurdity. I’m not so sure now.
The first signs of physical security are evident on arrival when you are greeted by “Porter.” Who ever hands out code names has the creativity and sense of humor of my grandmother. Maybe go with something a little cleverer and call your bitchy garbage man Oscar or your pimply burger flipper Mr. Rhombus Pants at the local Jackalope in the Box. Come to think of it, a talking sea sponge wouldn’t be the craziest thing in this binned Twilight Zone episode.
Porter does not have any visible armaments, but he is clearly muscle. If they are trying to hide his weapons, they must either want to lure travelers in or keep up pretenses with the villagers. Tell someone a lie enough times and they will begin to believe it I suppose. This is when I went from thinking train car Jar Jar was a ploy, to not being sure what the hell is going on.
I tried to play off my shock at this guard monkey with a quick joke. In hindsight, “Is that a banana in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” may not have been the best icebreaker. His dead eyed stare was unnerving, but he didn’t let on if he knew what I was about. Fortunately, everyone here seems to speak English like every crappy scifi show— unless communication issues are a plot point of course.
Regardless, I made it past the entrance without raising any suspicions as far as I could tell and was directed to the town hall.
Alright, I’ve got to cut this off. I hope someone is reading this…
If you’re finding this for the first time, try looking here for the full report. The fate of the world depends on it. No pressure.
The Mushroom Kingdom is a magical place… minus the constant peril of kidnapping, being swallowed whole by ravenous dinosaurs, or literally being chased and vaporized by the sun— Idyllic.
That is until we threw a grad party for my sister as a showcase for the spinoff I’m pitching to the Food Network—Yan Sure as F*ck Can’t Cook. All this is to say, I know I suck. Case in my point, this Question Block cake.
My creations taste good, usually, but look at that thing! I’ve seen better looking orange chicken after a month in back-of-fridge purgatory. (As if orange chicken survives for longer than 5 minutes when I’m around; that shit is Ketracel-white deep-fried in Kasa oil.)
I share though because when I go looking for tasty or clever ideas, I have to wade through such captivating tales as little Billy’s potty training oopsy or William Shakespaw’s spa day at Shampoodles. Wouldn’t you rather see the result of a Food Network Challenge meets Darwin Award chock full of awful puns and dated pop culture references than read about toilet paper cozies?
I do this so for you, dear reader, so you can feel good about your product no matter how disastrous the finished good. Yeah, I do it on purpose, let’s go with that…
On to the menu:
Hot Yoshicoa: White chocolate melted and mixed into half and half with mint extract
Question Block Cake: A boxed yellow cake and tub frosting we adapted from Nerdy Nummies
Yoshi Egg Brownie Pop: A giant Oreo truffle-esque cream cheese brownie coated in almond bark and made to look like a Yoshi egg… if you are legally blind.
The party started with a round of Mario Kart: Shaun White edition… if you swap the karts for dollar store sleds clipped with hand decorated Super Mario character cards and Shaun White for a bunch of idiots incapable of staying on said sleds for more than a few seconds. So, basically, nothing at all like either of those things.
Stage appropriately set, let’s talk cake. Now, you have to use your imagination a bit as I have the artistic ability and attention to detail of a kindergartener after five bowls of Chocolate-Frosted Sugar Bombs bathed in Four Loko. But that’s all part of the hand crafted rustic charm! At least, that’s what I tell myself so I can continue being able to look in the mirror long enough to shave without having to shower cry afterward.
Despite the photographic evidence to the contrary, the focus was on the decoration and not the flavor. As this was for my sister who’s taste for lemon is inversely proportional to her love for Yoshi, we cheated with a boxed Betty Crocker Yellow Cake and yellow tub frosting and a pack of white fondant. Six 6×6 pans from 2 boxes and 2 tubs of frosting later, we had our base to work from. We free handed the cutting with a knife as is abundantly clear by the Block of Deleano Pilaza (wow that was awful, I’m leaving it). Anyone who has been appropriately horrified by my pumpkin carving would have predicted this result.
Coring and frosting the cakes was actually pretty simple despite my proclivity for screwing things up, and it did not take more than 15 minutes to assemble the cake. We cut question marks and blocks from fondant with the aid of a printed 8×11 stencil, if you don’t treat your hand like an angry thwomp to Mario’s fondant face by pressing down as hard as you can, the paper won’t stick.
As for the coins in the original recipe, a Wario cake this is not. When a lady loves dinosaurs and brownies, you give her a f*cking pan of brownies injected with gobs of cream cheese all encased in white candy coating and bits of green candy melts for the finishing touch. You will not have a lot of room to work with if you decide to go with my Yoshi Egg surprise, so if you don’t plan ahead by dropping your food on the floor like me, you probably only need about half the pan. The rest should be promptly shoveled into your face like you’re auditioning for the lead role in a Fat Princess sequel. Brownie me please!
Protip: Save time cutting the bottom off of your brownies by not dropping them onto the floor!
Like A Bowser Protip: But if you do, you will quickly discover why dogs are man’s best friend because they will love you forever.
A word of warning, if I had to do it over again, I would not add the green candy melt chocolate after the bark hardened. As a couple of the dots fell off, I would add the green melts as I applied the bark coating. After the egg was finished, I propped it up and pooled bark at the base to create a stand. This proved to be the one intelligent thing I did in this process as it made standing the egg inside of the cake much easier. Quick insertion (that’s what she said) and a bit of a dome from the egg that was just a litttttlllleeeee too big (that’s what he said) and Bobomb’s your uncle, it was done.
One should not expect to cut the brownie with the cake, we gingerly removed it and sliced them separately. None of this was pretty, but it was as tasty as Luigi is lame— phenomenally.
If you attempt anything similar let me know, I’d love to hear how you didn’t screw it up!
I leave you with a video of the events that occured on the rainbow road of snowy hills…
So 2 fortnights later (is that a castlenight?) and with a fat little winged kid cosplaying a magical Katniss upon us, how does the Tulo mattress fare? I’m pleased to report that I’m a happy… not a camper? Maybe an indoor, sleep on a bedder? Let’s go with that and move along shall we.
Point is, I have no complaints. I can’t comment on longevity at this point of course, but my experience thus far is nothing but Tulific. The mattress itself seemingly has a little more “give” where I sleep, and it is firm without placing pressure on any one point. That is key, because my Planet Coaster suited complaint with my old mattress was the pain in my back and shoulders oft experienced in the morning.
After only a dull ache the first couple of nights on the Tulo mattress (my body slowly recovering from the torture I was inflicting on it) I have noticed no discomfort or pain, and I am sleeping better than Mario after force feeding Wart a salad. On the occasions where I have awoken at night, I am able to quickly rejoin my heavenly slumber of Kripsy Kreme foliage lining roads paved with Kit Kat bricks (don’t judge me, it’s my dream, and I’ll be as fat as I want too).
That said, while the softest mattress was the right choice for me—ymmv. Along with the obnoxious, bone chilling cold that comes with a low body fat, I also don’t need much support from my mattress. Take my opinion with a Death Star trash compactor full of salt. If you are normal person who doesn’t track their macros with the same obsession that Mr. Krabbs’ reviews his 401K, you may have a different experience with “sink-in-toage.”
While I don’t have much to draw from for comparisons sake, I’m pleased with my purchase— especially considering the low price point. I can’t compare it to other memory foam products, but the Tulo is doing the trick for me without a hefty price tag. If you a curious about their layers, cover and a few other things have a lookat Tulo bed overview here. Now if you’ll excuse me, those Original Glazed daisies won’t eat themselves.
When I envisioned this site, I did not expect to ever write a Tulo mattress review (for which I was not paid or compensated in any way). But in the end, I’m really just here to make very punny (wink, wink) jokes.
Stupid first is my motto! Wait…
Soooo, back to the topic at teeth (or would it be chain? Candivorous Rex doesn’t have hands after all), there is not a lot of information on the relatively new Tulo mattress, but what is available is intriguing — An affordable bed in a box with firmness options that one can physically try in stores.
I hesitated to grab a bed in the box in the past despite the appealing alliteration because I couldn’t put one through its paces before committing. Despite being reluctant to set Kuribo’s Shoe in a mattress store, the little Sith and I made some extra time before her third viewing of The Last Jedi to check it out.
So, I was off to Mattress Firm to see if I liked it when counting make believe Mario’s– or maybe just those adorable sombrero sporting sheep in Odyssey. The salesman who was also the manager did his best Peanut’s adult impersonation with his spiel, but overall, he was helpful and not annoying. I considered grabbing the bed from the store, but it was not in stock and they wanted to charge for delivery. Combined with a coupon code for a free frame from Tulo which Mattress Firm did not offer– online ordering was the way to go. A comfy cloud loving lakitu at heart, I warp whistled my way to a soft full-size mattress that I received yesterday.
The free Tulo Mattress Base that I was promised was back ordered, but they made good with a frame and box spring so it was all marvelous in the Mushroom Kingdom. Communication with regards to delivery was excellent and they kept me abreast of updates along with a two-hour window for delivery– including notification it would arrive a little ahead of schedule.
Often the general public likes to feign ignorance at how awestruck they are by my mere presence, but that has apparently changed my friends. Everyone reading this already knows of course, but…
You see, the delivery people literally rolled out a red carpet for me at my own home. The world is finally ready for me to claim the Plastic Throne. The seat of power for my benevolent dictatorship, forged from molten light gun zappers that slew a thousand digital ducks and N64 analog sticks that flayed flesh and blood palms (seriously, the palm of my hand still looks like I need a skin graft twenty years later– thanks Mario Party!).
Either that, or the whole carpet thing is a marketing gimmick to get people to Twit about it on Instabook, but I’m going to apply Occam’s razor and go with the former.
A simple matter of removing it from the box, cutting a bit of plastic and unrolling, setup was quicker than the Kessel Run, taking about 10 minutes. The Tulo mattress immediately began to inflate, and I was pleased no off gassing that would put Wario’s odiferousness to shame was present– even for my wife’s Super Sniffer.
There were no directions for how long to wait before using the mattress, but I left it alone for about 7 hours before bed. I was prompted to look into a mattress in the first place due to back and shoulder pain in the mornings along with general unrest at night, all of which had been occurring more and more frequently. It may take some time for the foam to form to my fit form, but anecdotally, I feel like I slept better despite waking a few times. The Tulo isn’t expected to be a cure all for my sleep issues, but my first night was better than what came before at least.
As Tulo indicates a break-in period may be necessary, I have 120 days to have them collect the mattress and receive a full refund. I intend to update this post as time goes by to share what I think, so if you are in the market or just want to see some more of my special brand of stupid, stay tuned.
Oh, and regardless of what I think in the end, the best Mario character ever seems to enjoy the new mattress…
Do you wash your morning cup of Joe down with an espresso chaser? Then you’ll want to check out November’s flavor of the Month as the coffee flavor exercises as much subtlety as Trump’s Twitter account. How do the rest of the Tiramisu elements work, and what the hell do either have to do with Bikini Bottom and plumbers that wield possessed hats? Not much really aside from a couple of lame jokes, but read my review over at The Impulsive Buy if you’re short on your eye roll quota for the day.