Dear assfaces at Rockstar, Inc.;,

You suck.

As of a couple of years ago, I swore energy drinks would kill us all and I refused to start drinking them. The one time I had consumed a Red Bull it scared the fuck out of me. I'd gone to a karaoke bar with some friends, and about halfway through the night I was hit with an intense caffeine withdrawal headache because I hadn't had coffee all day (and I'm a long time coffee addict). The bar's coffee machine was broken, so I let myself be talked into a Red Bull. Soon I was bouncing in my seat and singing Britney Spears songs in public. I couldn't fall asleep that night, and spent several hours convinced my heart was going to explode in my chest.

It wasn't until I got a second job working overnights that I got desperate enough to try energy drinks again. You know you're really tired when you're falling asleep while working a cash register. So one morning I headed back to the cooler and picked out an energy drink that looked appealing. The one think I knew for sure is that Red Bull tastes like a mixture of Mountain Dew and what I can only assume goat piss must taste like, and I wanted none of that.

Then I spotted the pretty purple can.

Guava sounded nice and fruity and tropical and yummy. The can boasted a 50% juice content, which gave me hope that whatever was inside that can would taste pleasant and sweet. I only drank about half of it because I didn't want to induce heart palpitations again, but I easily could have kept drinking because it tasted that amazing. Nectar of the gods, that was.

Maybe I'm a hypocrite. Maybe I was right all along and energy drinks contain some kind of super dangerous addictive substance that will eventually send us all to an early grave. But damn if I didn't get horribly, horribly hooked on the contents of that lovely purple and gold can.

I tried other flavors. I tried the other Juiced varieties when our store was out of Guava, but wasn't impressed. Pomegranate is okay, but... meh. Orange is too sour. Punched is too tart. The new lemonade one tastes okay, but contains too much artificial sweetener. The coffee flavored varieties taste pretty good, but don't give me the energy boost. In the absence of my precious guava I've strayed to other brands, but none can compare.

When I gave up high-fructose corn syrup, I was delighted to find that I could still drink my Guava Rockstar. When I started watching my calorie intake, I was delighted to find that a can of Guava Rockstar only had 180 calories in it and I didn't have to drastically curb my consumption. It was perfect.

Last night I purchased two cans of the new formulation. I noticed immediately that the can looked different, but I ignored the warning signs and popped it open, expecting the familiar sweet liquid I love so, so much.

You've fucking ruined it, douchebags. You took the most wonderful beverage in your whole lineup and turned it into crap juice. Yes, crap juice. If I wanted my energy drink to taste more like tropical punch, I'd just buy some fucking tropical punch. Now it's got more calories, less juice, and it tastes awful. Don't think for a minute that I'll grow to like it. No, I'm going to buy up every can of the old stuff I can find, and when that stash runs out it's bye bye Rockstar. You're dead to me.

Go fuck yourselves.

I have heard that Nad's makes a tasty snack spread on some wheat toast.

As tempted as I sometimes am to purchase things from the likes of Vince -- whose nuts I'm sure I would love -- I always wait until the items show up on the shelves of Walgreens before taking the plunge. I've certainly spent enough wee hours of the morning enduring endless infomercials simply because there was nothing else on TV at the time. To be honest, those Magic Bullets look amazing.

My guess is that they fall apart after two omelets.

But I digress.

I did once invest in some Nad's. I saw it at Walgreen's and thought, "Hey, not having to deal with leg hair more than once a month would be awesome!" So I bought some. Sure, it works. The only problem is that I forgot something about myself as I was lost in my "as seen on TV" euphoria. (Brace yourself for some TMI...) I don't bare my legs. They're white as the driven snow, and do not respond positively to sunlight. Thus, I already don't worry about my leg hair more than once a month. Total waste of money.

I never tested the theory, but I have heard that Nad's makes a tasty snack spread on some wheat toast.

I also own a Spin Spa. Given that I usually only have five or ten minutes for my entire shower routine, I haven't often taken the time to prepare the pumice attachment and exfoliate my feet, or put soap in the scrubbie attachment to exfoliate elsewhere. But I knock it off it's little hook almost every day. I guess that's how it reminds me that it's there.

Remember those storage bags you could put your clothes in, zip shut, and squeeze the air out of to compress and vacuum-seal your belongings? Yep, got those, too. I saw that at some point they made a variety that you actually hooked your vacuum up to, and I hope they worked better that way, because to matter how hard I tried to emulate the simple "press and roll" method of getting the air out of the enormous ziploc baggie, it never quite got things squished down to nothing the way they did in the commercials. Smaller, sure. Not microscopically thin. And if you can't make a wool sweater flatten to a thickness less than 1/4", what's the point?

Those suction hooks where you just flip the hinged hook part down and they're magically stuck in place? Got 'em.

And those magic closet organizers that hold a metric crap ton of hangers on little hinged plastic arms? Got those, too.

The hooks work great. The closet thingies less so.

However, despite the lackluster track record of infomercial products, I'd still be absolutely willing to shell out however much it costs to get one of those Tassimo coffee machines. Those look like heaven.