Please Eat a Dick

I recently boughtThe Godfather collection on the Blu-ray Hi Definition HDDVD.com 2.0 what that also vacuums my living room floor while I’m passed out on the couch. I was so excited to buy it. Firstly, because it’s expensive and it only works on other expensive consumer electronics, and that sends a message to people I don’t know. That message is, “Hey, look at me. I like to buy expensive things. Love me.” Secondly, it’s a great film and I stress the word film. I love great films. I appreciate only great films. Why, I spend most my days at home enjoying fine cinema and showing how smart I am in appreciating them on various message boards on the internet. Fine films such as 300, The Dark Knight, and The Matrix all share a treasured place in my heart and in my film library, neatly tucked away with care and love on my vast shelves of only the finest cinema.

That’s why I was shocked at what I found when I finally got away to opening The Godfather collection, I dunno, like a week or two after I bought it. So here’s the thing. I bought a stupid $80 trilogy (of which, I really only want to watch only 2/3 of the movies*) on some over-hyped format with a stupid name and they can’t even get the internal disc holding doo-dad right. It’s four discs and, instead of maybe going that extra mile and doing a nice packaging job, they put the four disks on two ugly-ass blue trays that are connected at the spine through some type of cheap Chinese plastic voodoo. They work like two very thick plastic pages in a book. So the two plugs at one end of the spine — yeah, those broke off.

See that little blue thing on the spine? The thing holding the discs is supposed to have a pluggy thing that goes into it, but not so much.

So you open the package and what happens? First, the two trays flap around like some drunk hobo’s flaccid member when he’s exposing himself to you and your family. Then, the trays fall out. That doesn’t matter so much, because the center plugs that hold the discs don’t hold the discs so well, so when you open the package, two of the discs automatically fall out anyways. Why aren’t the discs each individually packaged in slimline cases like some TV shows on DVD? Because Sony and the publisher are cheap cocksuckers, that’s why.

And another thing, why is the packaging so cheap to begin with? So you spend all this money remastering with all these gigahoowsizts and pixels and whatnot what most snobby douchebags consider is the best movie ever made when they’re not talking about some dumb hipster movie that came out this year or the year before or is going to come out next year but will totally be the best movie ever made, but you can’t shell out a couple of bucks to design packaging that is clever or fitting with the tone and history of the films? Could it at least have been tasteful? It’s The Godfather but it’s packaged in some gaudy translucent blue pillbox looking piece of shit. I swear, Marlon Brando is probably in celebrity heaven recruiting a team of workers to use a forklift to spin him in his grave. His son is also probably spinning in his Styrofoam coffin about all the residual checks he won’t be getting.

So what’s a boy to do? I take that shit straight back to the hell hole I bought it at — Best Buy. The chick at the returns desk was really helpful. At least I think she was helpful. She had gum in her mouth and was like 16 years old and she talked like maybe this was her first job or she didn’t have good social skills or she was all hopped up on something. Either way, I got to exchange it. So I get back home and guess what? The new set has the same exact motherfucking problem. I was hopelessly disappointed and decided “Fuck it.” I tried to kill myself, but I ended up only having enough pills to make me loopy and fall asleep at 3 PM, so when I woke up in the middle of the night I decided again “Fuck it,” and rather than returning this set again to Best Buy — which is like going in to the dentist to get a cavity filled — I will keep it on my shelf. I’ll point out that I own it to all my visitors but I won’t let them touch it, under the cover that it’s very expensive and it’s condition is very dear to me and I don’t want their grubby hands leaving grease marks all over it. In reality, I won’t let them touch it because I’m afraid of being shamed.

*Actually I quite like Godfather III and not just because it’s popular to hate on it and most snobs really loathe it. Well, actually, that’s a big reason why I like it. But, also I think it’s pretty ok and Francis “Jack” Ford Coppola’s untalented alleged director of a daughter isn’t in it enough to completely ruin it.  Also, I think that’s the only real argument you could have against that movie. I’d still do her though.

Surprisingly, it smells kind of like peppermint sprayed with Old Spice®. Also, it only costs $8.99 on sale. Plus you can get boxer briefs for $12.50 each (when you buy 4 or more).

A.) They are like candy, and everyone likes candy. I know I do.

B.) They’re not as gross as half-chewed gum that you let sit in between your gums and your cheek like some soggy wad of Wrigley’s with nicotine.

C.) They’re not as bizarrely unwholesome as some clear patch you stick on your arm or back. I don’t get patches. They divorce your from the amazing compulsive oral fixation that cigarettes provide.

So what usually happens is I get insanely trashed one night (shock), smoke 3 packs of cigarettes, and wake up the next afternoon loathing all things tobacco. Instead of regretting the boozing, which might make me question my lifestyle choices, I rally myself against those damn cigarettes. So I give myself a day or two of no smoking. Then the nicotine cravings kick in and I rush out and buy some of these lozenges to calm my shakes, which, I must stress, are from nicotine withdrawals.

I usually opt for the cherry flavor since they’re the type that tastes most like sweet sweet candy. They don’t really taste too much like candy though because they don’t put sugar in them. Actually, they say that they can’t put sugar in them because they are medicine. My ass. They’re medicine the same way Dimetapp is medicine — yeah it’ll conk you out for 14 hours so you can power through your cold, but that’s not why you drink it. You grip ‘n sip it because it tastes like sweet grape Kool-aid, and it totally gets you wicked buzzed.

So anyways, I pick up my box of Cherry and, wouldn’t you know it, those clever ad wizards strike again. They totally give you a free extra container of the new cappuccino flavor. And they are nowhere near as gross as I thought they would be. In fact, they’re exactly the opposite. They taste like coffee flavored candy with the same amount of nicotine as 4 cigarettes. Now, I know what you’re thinking, “These can’t be that good. After all, where’s the caffeine?” Well, I’ll tell you something Mr. Smarty-pants. When you’re rolling with 4 milligrams of nicotine per dose, caffeine don’t mean dick-all. It’s like upgrading from no-dose to uncut cocaine.

So, let’s break these wonderful lil’ sumbitches down shall we:

1. Packaging: The boxes for these candies leave a lot to be desired. They’re too uptight and clinical looking. And, come on, this shit should write itself. “You know what this over-the-counter nicotine replacement therapy lozenge reminds me of? mmmm….Rome. You know what Rome reminds me of? mmmmm…Giovanni. You know what Giovanni reminds me of? The first time I got the clap (Badump Bump Chhhh).
2. Appearance:What are those specs? Are they recycled drywall? Sandpaper? Bits of filthy bacon fat remnants from a rendering plant? Close, but you’re way off. Those little specs are sweet coffee flavorings. The remaining white on the lozenge is delicious delicious nicotine. And binding agent. Something like 96% of these lozenges is binding agent. If it was just the nicotine and cappuccino specs, the lozenge would be the size of a tic-tac. GlaxoSmithKline (that’s the name of the company that makes it — just rolls off the tongue doesn’t it?) can’t make them that small because some of the less extreme power-users (read: pussies) would get all sick and write a bunch of letters complaining. I tell you, those international pharmaceutical conglomerates don’t get no respect. If they were that small I would end up freebasing them in my hamper and never leave my apartment.
3. Flavor: Flavor is where these lozenges really got it going on. They pretty much taste like a generic coffee flavored candy. It’s rich, robust, and everywhere you want to be. The flavor, like the sticky film these lozenges leave in your mouth after you suck on them for like an hour, never goes away.
   
   

   I guess if you don’t like the taste of coffee, you should stay away from these things. I never used to like coffee. Now, I can’t get enough of it. I’m practically addicted, you guys! Life’s funny like that. One day you’re all about ruby red grapefruit juice or ice water with a lemon in it, and the next your performing oral favors on total strangers for a double-shot FrappaMappaMochaChino with whip, cinnamon, half a cream, one half and half, and 3 packets of equal. I will say that these have not replaced my all-time favorite: Cherry. They’re so pungent that I can pretty only much have 2 of them a day. I found that the flavor stayed with me long after I was done with them, which, at first was pretty ok, but, after two hours, was getting pretty annoying. You know how everyone thinks that kissing a smoker is like kissing an ashtray? Imagine kissing someone who’s had a chemically engineered cappuccino flavor festering in their mouth for a couple of hours. It ain’t pretty. I’m just foolies. No one would kiss me.

4. In Conclusion: You know, it was always drilled in my head in high school that you shouldn’t close an essay with “In conclusion,” Apparently, it’s clichéd to use it, and nobody wants to be clichéd. Well if being clichéd is lame, then I guess I’m a big lame-o. A big, stupid, boring lame-o. In conclusion, I found the Nicorette Cappuccino Commit Lozenges® to be a refreshing addition to my menagerie of addiction aversion. They can’t replace cherry, because cherry is the bomb and has a special place in that spot on me where a normal person has a heart. Basically, I’m going to treat these little modern medical marvels like desert nicotine lozenges. The best thing about these is, when I fall of the wagon, I can augment my nicotine intake during the day by taking these when I don’t feel like getting off my lazy ass to go smoke. And for that kind of convenience, the value of these lozenges cannot be overstated. Here’s a hawt tip for all you newbies out there: Floss your gums crazy hard before you take them. I’m guessing you probably don’t floss, because you’re really lazy. When the lozenge dissolves in your mouth, the nicotine will enter your bloodstream faster through your cut-up gums, and then you’ll really be flying, baby. Also, you should buy the 4mg version. They cost exactly the same as the 2mg version, but literally give you twice the amount of nicotine. You can even break them in half if you’re a less extreme power-user (pussy).

So does GlaxoSmithKline, but they'd really prefer it if it takes you 3 or 4 or 15 tries to finally quit. Hey, they got families to feed to, you know. Also, you should floss, because taking care of your teeth is very important.

All in all, I give  Nicorette Cappuccino Commit Lozenges® 17.5 stars and 4 thumbs up.