To clarify from yesterday’s rhetoric: I am on a diet. It does not include cookies. After a grueling gym set to offset my crapital gains, I switched one red velvet for another and tried the well-timed package from Cellucor, featuring samples from their whey protein line and Royal Sport brand, available exclusively from GNC. Cellucor, as far as I can tell, is the only decent supplement company on the market making a red velvet whey protein isolate, which is awesome. I’ve lauded Cellucor before- clean protein, gluten and sugar free in most cases, and excellent blendability. This new flavor is no less awesome and accurately mimics red velvet cake, cream cheese and all. They sent over a four-serving sample bag and after my first glass, I ordered a 2lb. jug out of sheer addiction. This might be better than COR-Fetti, I’m telling you that.I mix my supplements with milk rather than water- I think the nutrients are important and am willing to have the extra calories and fat over having an unappetizing shake. Without a doubt, this is the best milk-based shake I’ve made. I’m afraid to try it with my go-to, vanilla almond milk, just because of how great it is with whole milk. The creaminess in the whey really enhances the cake batter flavors, and gives a sweet, frosting edge to it. I even went as far as to blend half whole milk and half fat-free kefir with this to achieve the cream cheese frosting flavor. Go hard, Foodette, go hard. Continue reading
Was I on a diet? Did it not include cookies? Believe me, I’ve been trying to resist the allure of processed foods, snacks, and generally comforting complex sugars, but in this case, SCREW THAT. Beast-flavored supplements have nothing on cookies. I have been wanting these for years. This is my Oreo Make-A-Wish except I didn’t have to have a terminal disease to get this in my belly. People, behold. One of the first non-Buzzfeed reviews of the Red Velvet Oreos, debuting in February for your Valentine binge. Continue reading
What’s for breakfast? PERMASWOOOOLLLLEEEE.
What’s for lunch? PEEEEEEEEEEEERMASWOOOLLLLEEE.
What’s for dinner? Please, please don’t hit me. It’s Permaswole, okay? It’s a supplement from Chaos & Pain that tastes like Pixy Stix and makes you feel like the Hulk. Guaranteed to annoy girlfriends and distress mothers everywhere when you proclaim that you are the masc with the vasc. C&P sent over Green Apple Hulk, so before we get to the meat of the review, let’s go over the ingredients. To give you perspective, I do a light PHAT/HIIT style workout with a trainer with an intensive, hour-long focus on core and strength exercises. Surprisingly, there aren’t many reviews of this and what reviews are out there basically equate this to crack cocaine for your muscles. It’s awesome, but crack cocaine is going too far. That’s a better descriptor for Ferox, which we’ll get to in a week or so. Quite simply, though, Permaswole is diligent as both a battle cry and an amino acid boost for the family guns. Continue reading
Get that virtual baby shower ready, because this girl is preggo. Pregnant with abs.
I felt them a few weeks ago, emerging from the deep as I was admiring myself shirtless in the mirror to Sade, as you all shamelessly do in the privacy of your own homes, I’m sure. They kicked a little, or maybe they involuntarily flexed at the climax point of ‘Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover’ when I switched to the veritable Ms. Hawkins. I’m going to name them Kevin! Continue reading
I booked the tickets in July on one of the hottest days in Arkansas. I figured it would be cold in November, I figured we could use a break from New England then, get away from the chill and immerse ourselves in the place we could have converged. In some universe, our dual selves are thriving in Austin. Maybe they even met. She planned on moving there after graduating college, I was waitlisted at UT Law. Maybe we would have locked eyes at Houndstooth Coffee, or walking down Guadalupe as the cactus flowers bloomed, but we stayed in New England and flew down last month. It rained the whole time. Continue reading
I bring you two classic Christmas foibles, mental health and louche punk-indie albums. I’m tossing the manners out with the bathwater. I’ve found the consummate Christmas album. It’s been a doozie of a year. I’d say that from one thing to another, I sunk deeper and deeper into garden variety, soul-crushingly shitty depression full of mild disappointment. Irony is kind and cruel when the situation begs for it. My cholesterol has gone up as my weight has gone down. I might have to face my problems on my own turf instead of leaving the country again. I got a cat, I lost friends. Three people I know got engaged in the last hour.
Hell of a year. Continue reading
I did not like hibachi until I went to Hana Tokyo. Yes, cool story, bro, but listen to me and listen carefully. This tiny, strip-mall, waterside restaurant in the middle of Fairfield contains some of the most delicious hibachi and most entertaining shrimp tosses in Connecticut. Also, sushi boats forever. Thanks to the awesome gang at MaxExposure, The Bedfellow and I had a sushi bacchanal and I tried to enjoy seltzer water while everyone did sake bombs. Boooo, personal training is a luxury that I subject myself to!
Hello? Is anyone there? I’m sorry that I can’t tweet and post and drum the requirements for scienter in my head all at once. Really. That isn’t some pithy e-card apology, it’s the truth, I miss you guys and I miss my weird eating habits. So, if anyone is there, understand that I almost couldn’t resist posting this before Thanksgiving because it’s so damned weird, so damned pretentious, and so damned delicious that it was a very difficult endeavor. Actually, I was up to my ears in analyzing corporate personhood, so, there’s that. Sorry. A million sorries. Enough sorries that your brain bleeds and starts to see the word sorry in a weird way and doesn’t associate it for what it is anymore. Neurology, amirite? Continue reading
If I review one pumpkin product in any given year, it will be the best damned one I can find, and at the moment, I have a sample size population of one, because I refuse to bow to the wills of the god of pumpkin spice, Femcanis Basicious. This is Pumpkin Noosa, and it is not for breakfast. Have you ever wanted to lick pumpkin pie batter out of the mixing bowl? Of course you haven’t, you sick freak. God made cakes for that and cakes alone. Well, thanks to Noosa, you can fulfill that perversity in the quiet of your own home and the silent organization of Target’s buying lists. This yogurt is so uncannily resemblant of pie filling in a dessert that it ought to be legally labeled as such, instead of a breakfast food. Field trip to the FDA? Field trip to the FDA? No takers? Man, you guys suck. Continue reading
This shop has been compensated by Collective Bias, Inc. and its advertiser. All opinions are mine alone. Let it be known that this will buy an undisclosed amount of imaginary cupcakes, because my personal trainer would prefer those over the real ones. Where has Foodette been? Is she an international mess of mystery? Has law school eaten her up and spat her out, briefs and all? Questions that nobody has asked thus far! Never fear, I’m relatively back- I’m cooking up recipes, crying into the 1934 Securities Act, and traveling out and about. A brief weekend in Austin yielded apartment flooding, a dead car battery, and a very angry Siamese cat upon return. Oh, and five Thanksgiving invitations to plan for. What’s an anonymous writer spitting words on the internet to do? Maybe cry. But better yet, maybe make a pizza. And whether you’re one of those adorable, charming hosts or hostesses with perfect Christmas parties on a Samsung commercial or an absolute wreck like me, this is a party appetizer that will certainly please you and your guests.