Death by Misadventure

Over the course of many long nights, I've done the hard work of reviewing the landscape of java energy drinks for you, the reader. Some were delicious, some were revolting, but I finished a can of each in order to bring you these results. Wonder no more about your next 11pm gas station purchase, because everything you ever wanted to know about coffee-flavored taurine binges is just below!

Java Monster (Originale) – The first impression you get when you take a sip of this is mellow, sweet, and smooth. It's like a Dunkin' Donuts iced coffee, but a bit sweeter. It's more creamy than coffee-ey, but that's alright. The kick lasts for hours, and it tastes so good that I wish they made a non-energy version so that I could enjoy them before I go to bed. Undeniably addictive, even though it's rather sweet. bitterness 0 sweetness ++ energy ++ overall (7/10)

Java Monster (Mean Bean) – Refreshing. This guy has a pretty smooth coffee taste with quite a bit of vanilla cream in there. Not quite as sweet as the Originale. bitterness 0 sweetness + energy ++ overall (5/10)

Java Monster (Loca Moca) – A very level-headed mocha drink. Not too much cream, not too much coffee, not too much chocolate. It's pretty tame, taste-wise, but it's pretty damn good. Nothing wrong with going the mild route when it tastes as good as this. bitterness + sweetness + energy ++ overall (7/10)

Starbucks doubleshot (Coffee) – Melted coffee ice cream. Amazing. I'm going to be stocking up on these guys for sure. Smooth, creamy, and loaded with coffee flavor. Absolutely delicious to the last gulp. bitterness + sweetness + energy + overall (8/10)

Starbucks doubleshot (Mocha) – This one's all about the coffee and mocha flavor. It's a deep, rich chocolately java flavor that makes you crave that next sip. The slightly bitter flavor and reserved sweetness make for a more mature taste that has you savoring it longer than a Monster. bitterness ++ sweetness + energy + overall (9/10)

Starbucks doubleshot (Vanilla) – I don't know who they're trying to fool with this one. The can says Starbucks, but it tastes exactly like Baileys (minus the alcohol). It tastes alright at first, but the flavor starts to wear on you halfway through the can. If you love Baileys, go pour yourself a few fingers, and leave this one on the gas station shelf. bitterness + sweetness + energy + overall (2/10)

Rockstar (Roasted Latte) – This tastes like coffee ice cream that fell into a glass of milk. No punch, no bite, no soul, just lottttts of energy. This is about as lame of a coffee drink as you can find. Recommended if you hate flavor (and sleep). bitterness 0 sweetness ++ energy +++ overall (1/10)

Rockstar (Roasted Light Vanilla) – 50% less fat & 50% fewer calories. 50% less flavor & 50% less body. It has the consistency of water, barely any java, and leaves an aftertaste of saccharine. If you like thin diet drinks, the flavor on this isn't bad, just soft. bitterness 0 sweetness + energy +++ overall (4/10)

Rockstar (Roasted Mocha) – Imagine mixing Ovaltine and a bunch of diner half and half cups together. Now imagine that mix after it's been sitting in the sun for a day. I'm not sure which one I would rather drink. This one makes my nevereverevereveragain list with flying colors. bitterness 0 sweetness + energy +++ overall (1/10)

A few weeks ago, I witnessed my buddy Chad attempt to take on two “Triple Atomic Challenges,” back to back, at a Quaker Steak and Lube. These wings are so hot that you have to sign a waiver just to order them, and eating an entire order of 5 gets your name on the wall. We bet Chad $50 that he couldn’t eat 10, with nothing to drink but Bud Light.

For some background, these wings are made with ghost chilis and measure 500,000 Scoville units [wikipedia] of heat. For comparison, A jalapeño pepper measures 2,000-8,000 Scovilles. Triple Atomic wings are seriously hot.

Rather than spoil the whole thing, an edited video of his attempt can be seen here. Trust me, it’s well worth the 11 minutes to watch the whole thing.

There’s a fun little trick that you can do with beer bottles that will give your grandmother a veritable heart attack.

Take an empty beer bottle, and drop a penny into it. Grab it by the neck, covering the top with your thumb. Shake vigorously for 5 minutes (that’s what he said!) and Voila! You now have a breakable bottle. When you smash the bottle against something (your head, your friend’s head, your friend’s mom’s head) the bottle will disintegrate like safety glass due to micro-cracks that you put in the glass.

Enjoy, and post stories if you try it!

As usual, I am totally not responsible for anything that happens as a result of trying a “Misadventure of the week.”

Like most kids, I’m sure that you grew up wanting to conduct weddings. As the years passed, you hit maturity, and your religious faith went the way of Sonny Bono. That childhood dream took a permanent vacation with your Legos and teddybears.

With the advent of new-fangled internet technology, those dreams can be resurrected. The Universal Life Church Monastery has ordained over 20 million ministers to date. With just an internet connection and 5 minutes of your time, you too can become an ordained minister for life.

The best part is…
Your ordination is legally upstanding in every state in the USA! No level of government can make judgements regarding the “quality” of your ordination, provided that your church is legally recognized (the ULC is).You may have to register with your county clerk before you conduct the wedding, so check first. Finally, to make that special day even more memorable, the ULC even sells wedding guides and paraphernalia.

So, there you have it, now go conduct a wedding. Even if you don’t have any upcoming weddings that need your help, get ordained anyways. When your boat is sinking in the middle of the ocean, the young couple on starboard is sobbing about how they never got to see their wedding day, and somebody calls out “Is anybody here a minister?” you can boldly step up and officiate the most heart-gripping wedding the world has ever seen. How’s that for an “I hope I get into heaven” hail-mary?

Last week I ran across a link about a group of old school adventure bikers from the 50′s that put anything I’ve ever done on a motorcycle to shame. And they were doing it on old Harley hardtails.

Check out some of the absolutely wild pictures and stories over at http://www.advrider.com/forums/showthread.php?t=29723

Go down to your nearest laundromat with a friend. Put a fistful of coins in a dryer and turn it on. Stare intently at the dryer until people start giving you confused looks.

I am a shark.
If I stop moving, I can’t breathe. It’s like a bad case of the fidgets, but on a much grander scale.

It’s that feeling you get when you are told to stop tapping your toes. You try, and as long as you keep your mind on being still, it’s doable, but it’s also forced. It feels empty, and the longer you try to hold it, the more awkward it feels. Eventually you get so antsy that you just need to move. At that point, you want to tap your foot, but shifting around or moving your arms will do. Anything that lets you keep moving.

Instead of fidgeting my foot, my life fidgets. My life needs to keep moving forward, or I drown. It’s nothing chaotic, and I’m not running away from anything. In fact, I rather feel that I am running towards something. Something new, exciting, challenging, and untapped.

Stillness is stagnation. There is too much to take in, given just one lifetime. How can anybody be complacent experiencing the exact same thing every day? I actually know why: complacency is easy. To be complacent, all you have to do is to do nothing. If nothing is what you’re already doing, then you don’t have to change a thing. Human beings work on momentum. The longer you sit still, the harder it is to get moving again. That is, until the fidgets return.

My fidgets are wind in the sails of the S.S. Misadventure. My fidgets untie the anchor rope from the dock, letting the current beckon me down the river. My fidgets see a place on a map that I haven’t been and tell me that I NEED to go there, if only to assuage my curiosity. Wanderlust feels natural to me. Staying within my comfort zone is uncomfortable.

Wanderlust burns deep within me. It is a part of who I am, and I want to take you with me.

2 weeks ago, I fired a handgun for the first time. I went up north to Whitehall with my housemate Chris, where we found The Firing Line, an indoor shooting range.

The Firing line is a shooting range, directly attached to a gun shop. The nice thing about this place is that they rent guns by the hour, and have dozens of different handguns to borrow.

.22, 9mm, .45 ACP, .44 Magnum

I was upfront with this being my first time. After about 2 minutes of instruction from the shopkeeper, Chris and I headed into the range with a .22 pistol. It was really easy to fire, and keep groupings tight. It didn’t have a lot of kick, and was a really gentle gun to start with. Obviously this meant that an upgrade was needed.

Next we went to a 9mm Ruger. This one definitely had more kick, but more importantly, it had a huge problem with jamming. It was a little nerve-wracking the first few times that it happened. A live bullet cocked diagonal in the loading mechanism is certainly something to give a first-time shooter pause. We got it worked out, however, and promptly finished off the box of 9mm ammo, and returned the piece of shit Ruger to the shop.

Following the 9mm, we went up to a .45 ACP. That was a nice gun to fire. It shot much larger ammunition than the 9mm, but had comparable recoil. Chris and I were able to fire it pretty accurately, despite the large caliber.

As we were wrapping up, we decided that with time left for just one more gun, we might as well just go for broke. “Can we shoot this .44 magnum Smith and Wesson revolver in the bottom of the case?” as I point to the largest gun in the store. “Honestly, I can’t even fire that thing, but go for it!” the shopkeeper tells us. Words like that concern me, but not enough to turn down this opportunity.

We head into the firing range with a box of ammo and a gun that would put a smile on Dirty Harry’s face. It was mean, heavy, and downright intimidating. As excited as I was, I was also scared shitless. This thing was a Gun.

I loaded the cylinder, cocked the hammer, and aimed the Model 29 down the range. I aimed and slowly pulled the trigger…. BANG!!! Holy Christ!!! This thing is insane. Loud enough to almost make me mess my pants, the kickback was the stuff of legends. I suddenly feared and respected this gun twice as much as I had before (and that was already a lot.) Even after firing 20 rounds, the sound of it firing still made me jump every time.

The whole experience as a whole was fantastic. I’m glad I’m able to cross the .44 Magnum off my bucket list, but I honestly have very little desire to fire one again. That’s just too much gun for me.