For some of us, the answer is a $6 bottle of 200 Prolab Caffeine tablets. Pop one with your morning vitamin or ECA stack and BOOM, before you know it, you’re rambling about Obama’s latest bungle, the last Steeler loss and how you just know your friend’s cousin was cheating at Words with Friends when they made AZOTISE for 118 points. AZOTISE? Seriously?

But for the rest of us who want a little more excitement than popping a pill, I’ve discovered the HOLY GRAIL of energy drinks, and SURPRISE, it comes to us from a brand that has consistently delivered the #1 carbonated soda of all-time: MOUNTAIN DEW.

Their latest offering is called KICKSTART and is offers 92mg of caffeine per serving. That’s nearly double the 54mg offered up by regular Mountain Dew, and rest assured, you will notice the difference.

On a recent early morning trip into downtown Los Angeles, I guzzled the can faster than an unemployed terminally ill patient would give up on the Obamacare website and my mouth was running faster than a Ferrari on the 405 at 3am. I wasn’t really counting, but I swear that my girlfriend told me to STFU no less than seven times, which for most married men is about average, but considering this was the morning after our first date, seemed a bit much.

It’s not easy finding an ‘energy drink’ that doesn’t taste like someone squeezed out last nights jizz-rag into a can, but if you can get your hands on a Mountain Dew Kickstart in Fruit Punch flavor, you’re guaranteed to not only be up and running for the first half of the day but you won’t have to worry about that girl you woke up with ever calling you again after the drive home.

Yep. I was 100% dominated and controlled by our favorite hormone. Testosterone. What a beautiful hormone it is. It is the hormone that truly makes the world go round.

I read once that a man’s natural testosterone productions decreases by 1% every year after age 30. That being said I am always looking for ways to keep myself equal to that toady 20-something year old who had no problem jumping in the shower at 1:44am on a Saturday night/Sunday morning after that “hey r you up? i want to see u” text message and driving 20 minutes to get to the other side of the city.

The last couple years when I get those 2am booty call TEXTS I give it some thought and ask myself how comfortable in bed I am and how much gas is in my car and usually I put my phone on silent and curl up with my body pillow.  It seems like these days if it isn’t right in front of me or I don’t trip over my shoe laces on my Reebok Zigs and right into it then I am not going to go out of my way. Oh, hell. I’m getting older.

Enter: Z-TEST by NDSNutrition.

I’ve used “the real thing” in the past. I messed with the andro products of the late 90’s yesteryear. I know about these OTC products. Placebos if anything. Right? Maybe…

A quick stop at a local GNC in Northbrook, IL to say Hello to a buddy of mine who works there on the way home a few weeks ago is what caused me to find Z-Test. Sample packets of the product was on the counter prompting my buddy to give me a handful telling me to give it a shot since he’s been hearing good things about it. Pffft. Salesmen. Suuuuure. Riiiight.  I’m never one to turn down free sample packs and not give a supplement a crack, though.

I took 3 of those oily blackish-green capsules that night and for the next 5 days and this is what I noticed…

1. Vivid dreams: More than likely from the ZMA (Vitamin b6, Magnesium and Zinc). I’ve been saying this since 1998 that ZMA gives me weird colorful dreams.

2. Restful sleep: I usually wake up in the middle of the night right around Witching Hour to empty my bladder but these days I’ve been sleeping through the stabbing pain of my ureters holding in the flow. I am guessing it was the natural full body sedatives and sleep inducers such as melatonin, GABA and the L-Dopa (Also a mood enhancing agent).

3. Woodrow Wilson: Yes. By the 3rd morning I woke up with something I haven’t woken up to in about a year. A Woodrow! Someone was awake before I was.  My guess it was from the nice dose of tribulus, iNdole-3 Carbinol, the DIM (diinolymethane) and the chrysin which is touted to be an estrogen inhibitor that stood the test of time.

After the 6th day I was out of the Z-TEST. I called up my GNC guy and asked him what a full bottle ran. I decided…. Why not?  I picked up my bottle and used it every night. It made me look forward to bedtime and look forward to waking up to see if ol’ Woodrow would be Up & At em’ before me. That and then some. I got back on my normal routine of “twice a day” morning & night.

On top of it all I can always gauge my testosterone levels by how oil my skin gets and if I get a breakout of acne on the back of my neck. Well? I find myself running a paper towel over my head and seeing my hand print in the sheet of Brawny and running some Stridex on the back of my neck and shoulders. The last time I had acne on my shoulders was when I was shooting real testosterone.

All of those symptons are a good thing. SMALL price to pay to have the T in your tank on “FULL”.

I have to say I like ZTEST. NDS/PMD Nutrition produced a fine product here. I think it’s a little over priced, though but for a guy in my position it’s a good investment, not a purchase. It’s an investment.

I haven’t gotten stronger in the gym as I think that has more to do with energy levels and calories than anything else but I will say that I had a fun weekend and found myself in the shower at 2am manscaping and scrubbing thinking about the fastest way to get to travel and how I am going to cover my tracks the next day.

I’ve been training at the Mecca of Bodybuilding — Gold’s Gym Venice — for the past two years and during that time, my allotment of free samples from neighboring supplement stores — GNC, Vitamin Shoppe, Power Nutrition, MaxMuscle and all my other neighbors here in LA — has allowed me to taste more protein bars than any human being should ever be forced to endure.

Certain moments in my protein bar tasting history stand out for me: The first time I ever choked down a disgusting, original sawdust MetRx bar; my first bite of a delicious Cookies n Cream Promax bar that had me inspecting the ingredient list for the word ‘protein’; my brief but torrid love affair with the original Labrada Nutrition PBJ bar (later cancelled); and more recently, my positive experience with Oh Yeah!

But those protein highlights are darkened by a myriad of nameless, faceless one-night stands with protein bars neither memorable or exotic enough to inspire a second date. And despite my addiction to ProMax’s amazingly tasty protein bars, I could never shake the feeling that I was eating CANDY and not FOOD.

So imagine my excitement last week when I saw an attractive young woman standing outside Gold’s Gym offering samples of three different flavors of a new type of protein bar. And by ‘new’, I mean one that wasn’t loaded with words I couldn’t pronounce and colors I couldn’t see and artificial sweeteners that I wished I couldn’t taste.

Before diving in to the Almond Raisin protein cube in front of me, I took a moment to inspect the packaging. It was WHITE. And not glossy, shiny, reflective, make-my-pupils-dilate-white. RECYCLED WHITE. Hmmmm…I thought, how will they compete with the day-glo oranges, shimmery blues, neon reds and glow-in-the-dark green labels that seem to permeate the industry in an attempt to differentiate themselves? I was further impressed by the label which contained the word ‘FOOD’ instead of claims of increasing muscle mass by 3286%. Honesty: A novel concept. I knew immediately from experience that this product would have to stand on its own merit and garner word-of-mouth to be able to grab some shelf space in the crowded supplement aisles.

I dropped the Raw Almond Raisin cube in my mouth and it practically melted. It was like a moist drop of fresh steel-cut oats covered in almonds and raisins. No weird flavors detected. No after-taste. I quickly grabbed a bar and flipped it over to the ingredient list:

Whole Oats, Almonds, Raisins, Whey Protein (Milk), Ground Spices.

That’s it! No Xylitol. No Carageenan. No Witch’s Mole or Eye of Newt. Just REAL FOOD.

I was more than a little impressed. And then I looked at the Nutrient Facts: 18g of protein. WOW!

Deep down inside, I’ve always felt the difference between having a REAL bowl of oatmeal and fresh fruit in the morning vs. downing a protein bar, but finally, it seemed, the two worlds had merged into one.

I skipped the Cacao flavor (personal preference) and dove right in to the Raw Walnut Banana. Whoa! My tastebuds jumped up, did two flips, a 360 flying roundhouse kick, and nailed a perfect 10.0 landing. Ingredients: Whole Oats, Walnuts, Whey Protein (Milk), Raisins, Bananas, Ground Spices. I proceeded to distract the demo lady while surreptitiously swiping and eating all of the remaining cubes on her tray.

I was blown away by the flavor, texture and ‘whole foodiness’ of these. It was just way too ‘fresh’ to be possible. Or was it?

I asked the rep how they could use fresh ingredients without preservatives and that’s when I knew I had stumbled on the ‘next big thing’ — she told me the bars must be eaten within about a WEEK of production or else it has to be REFRIGERATED!! You know, like REAL FOOD!

Holy Cow! Fresh food. Real food. Amazing taste. No fillers. No chemicals. No preservatives. No junk.

It was like Moses parting the Red Sea while Jesus was walking on top of it — Two Miracles in One Bar!

Priced around $4/bar and available via either mail order or at your local Whole Foods, it’s worth every red cent.

An Unbiased Review by Special Ed

I’m not exactly what anyone would call ‘high maintenance’ — I’ve slept on rooftops when tired, drank people’s leftover alcoholic beverages in bars when thirsty (and drunk) and jacked off to my aunt when horny.

But when it comes to meal replacement bars, I think I have a right to be somewhat demanding — after all, if I’m being sold an expensive alternative to Ramen noodles, don’t I at least have the right to expect something more tasty and nutritious??

With the release of their god-awful Syntha-6 Decadence protein bar, BSN’s answer is a resounding NO.

There’s a few ways companies can do protein bars — they can go Promax on us and deliver a bar that tastes so good we assume they’re totally full of shit when claiming 20g of protein per bar. Or they can go the Ohh Yeah! route and pack their bar with real food like peanuts to mask the taste of the interior. And then sadly there’s a few companies that go the LCD way.

And by LCD, I mean Lowest Common Denominator.

As in let’s throw together the cheapest bar possible with the shittiest ingredients imaginable and use the immigrant factory workers as laborers, insect exterminators AND taste-testers.

I don’t know whether to rag on the nasty cocoa xylitol, the excess sodium, or the terrible texture (think chewing gum meets stale peanut butter) but suffice to say there’s not much to like about the BSN Syntha-6 Decadence bar.

Even the wrapper looks like a cheap afterthought.

If BSN is going to follow in Muscletech’s footsteps by bringing us fourth-rate, outsourced, garbage LCD products unfit for consumption by starving Cambodians, then the least they could do is put some effort into the marketing by fabricating 8-page advertorials with great copywriting.

But no. BSN was content to treat Ronnie Coleman like a politician’s Guatemalan whore-servant to convince the hardcore bodybuilding douche that they actually cared about bodybuilders, only to go running into the arms of MMA and every other sport in a full-fledged assault to prove that their true motive was nothing more than to gain entree into the Walmarts of the world to sell the cheapest possible ingredients to the most ignorant possible citizens with margins so slim that to actually have a focus group stop and taste this garbage would probably cause them to lose money.

It may taste like horseshit, but BSN’s Syntha-6 Defecation stands tall as a sad testament to the American marketing machine: If you build it (and package it in shiny red), they will come.

So seeing how I fit in to that category, I decided to take a shot at Jack3d and give myself the most amazing pre-workout EVER!

Being the conservative guy that I am, I decided to stick with the entry-level Lemon-Lime flavor rather than roll the dice with some bastardization of Grape Bubblegum or White Blue Raspberry. I was hoping for something along the lines of Gatorade original, and thankfully, that’s exactly how it smelt when I tore open my sample pack.

But before mixing with water, I noticed a dire warning printed on the label. Yes, the dreaded ‘Black Box Warning’:

This Product Produces An Intense Sensation Of Drive, Focus, Energy, Motiviation & Awareness. In Addition, It Allows For Rapid Increases In Strength, Speed, Power & Endurance. Therefore, Extreme Caution Must Be Exercised & Should Not Be Used By Novice Athletes.

Now I must admit — this made me more than a little nervous. After all, despite my trophy rack consisting of championships earned at Chess, Scrabble, and QuakeCon, I still considered myself something of a Novice Athlete. To be honest, I was slightly dumbfounded.

Was USP Labs trying to imply that one needed to be a Professional Athlete to ingest this wondrous concoction? But then I thought about that pimply-faced, chubby teen who came running into the GNC right before closing, heaving and puffing after having sprinted three stores down from his Hot Topic cashier position, and I thought to myself: If he can use Jack3d, then gosh darn it, so can this pimply-faced, chubby old man who can’t even run the length of two stores without heaving and puffing.

I poured the contents of the pouch into my 8 oz of distilled water because nothing screams ‘Hardcore Bodybuilding’ to the wannabes at Gold’s Venice like a bottle of distilled water — especially when I announce to the camera Levrone-style — ‘Eight Ounces of Jack3d…in yo face!’ with each rep of sipping.

Jack3d tasted better than I expected — not quite Gatorade level, but certainly better than Powerade — but the real test would be the workout.

I cleared out a section of the gym where the incline benches are located (a loud and toxic, pre-workout fart blast can do that) and I got to work. I banged out 20 pushups as a warm up and it felt like butter. I was ready to dig deep.

I loaded the bar up with 135. Sure, it’s “light weight” to Ronnie Coleman but it’s downright “average” to us mortals with low testosterone. BOOM! I rocked out 15 reps with a form so sweet, the gals on the elliptical machines right in front of me were smiling and licking their lips in approval (either that or they were watching a Ryan Reynolds interview on Extra).

I tossed another couple of ‘Magnums’ (45’s) on the bar and braced myself. You know how it goes — if 225 feels heavy, it’s not gonna be a good day. I squeezed my shoulder blades together like Ryan Kennelly and held my breath like Scot Mendelson and screamed like Tori Black as I lifted off. The 225 was steady as I held my arms in the locked position over my erect nipples. Yes, I thought! I’m gonna crush this!

I lowered the bar in a controlled manner so I could feel every fiber in my pecs coming to life, just like Dorian told me to do (or Dorian’s MD article told me. Or Dorian told MD Ghostwriter Ron Harris. Or Ron Harris just made that up.) And then it touched my chest and I exploded. I arched my back, exhaled, and grunted so loud a Planet Fitness lunk alarm went off 12 miles away in the Valley.

But nothing happened.

The 225 just sat there on my chest like a female bodybuilder paid to sit there and spit in my face. Except this time, I wasn’t paying for the humiliation.

Help, I whispered.

But the figure girls on the elliptical had moved on from gossiping about Ryan Reynolds to openly negotiating prices for Trenbolone.

I tried to tilt the bar to make the plates slide off, but then I remembered that I was the ONLY schmuck in the 60 year Gold’s Venice history who had ever placed collars on the barbell. Fuck!!!

My pride stopped me from crying out like a girly-man, but it didn’t stop me from flopping my legs around like those speared-Dolphins from The Cove.

Finally, someone noticed.

And it wasn’t just anyone — it was Rico McClinton!

Yes, THE Rico McClinton — a controversial 3rd place winner at the 1999 NPC Nationals!!

He swooped in like one of Lee Priest’s 37 Superman tattoos and grabbed the bar and in one easy motion, spared my life and won the hearts and minds of MuscleWeekers everywhere.

I graciously thanked him and offered him some of my Jack3d backwash lingering at the bottom of my bottle, but he politely declined.

I stared into the bottle looking for a scapegoat for my faux pas. Could I blame Jack3d for my failed lift?

Of course not. I’d never gone higher than 185 on the incline bench, and even then I needed a spot to move the bar two inches.

But the point is that Jack3d (and its Black Box Warning) gave me the courage to try.

And isn’t that what Bodybuilding is really about? Throwing caution to the wind and putting strange, unknown substances with lengthy warnings into your body in the hopes that you’ll derive some muscular benefit therefrom?

To which I can only respond to myself: HELLZ YEAH!

During a recent and rare sojourn into GNC at the Jefferson Valley Mall, about two miles from Gregg Valentino’s arms, I spied something equally lumpy in a shiny brown wrapper, marked down to half-price: OHYEAH!, it read. But before you can say “Gayer than ice dancing with Clay Aiken”, I chose to look past the porn-influenced name and give this bar a shot. Oddly, before I could even sample it, I told MW Senior Editor Blockhead about my recent purchases and when I mentioned the ‘Oh Yeah’ bar, he quickly said, “That’s my favorite” before clarifying that ISS Research’s Strawberry Flavor was his preferred bar. (Insert fruity joke here!) So there I was — just me and my Ohyeah Protein Bar.

I had selected the Peanut Bar and the first thing I noticed after unwrapping it was how delicious it looked. Trust me, I’ve eaten more than my fair share of candy bars, and I was drooling before I even took a bite. Unlike those companies that drape their inedible protein in a black layer of stale chocolate (or worse, carob!), ISS drapes the Oh Yeah bar in an attractive beige peanut butter coating that barely covered the ample amount of peanuts just beneath the surface. I took a big bite. SCRUMPTIOUS! The crunchy nuts and outer peanut butter layer provided the perfect balance for what appeared to be a dark chocolate protein log inside the bar. ISS wisely masked the flavor of the bland protein mix with fresh peanuts and high quality chocolate and I didn’t taste anything except for what they wanted me to.

I finished the bar in record time and without any beverage needed to wash it down. Most importantly, I actually came close to eating a second bar in the same sitting because it really did taste that great. I’m happy to report that ISS is a company that actually does a bit of taste-testing to deliver a scrumptious, high-quality product that I highly recommend.

Ed. Note: I took away one star for making me say ‘Oh Yeah’ to a pimply-faced teenage boy at the GNC counter.

The movie opens with an immediate sense of creepiness, as we see some evil-looking dude sitting in his car. Waiting. He watches a bus pull off the highway and eyeballs a chunky dude who runs into the bushes to relieve himself. It’s game on.

The ominous music leads into a rather lame set-up. Two incredibly annoying American women (the film takes place in Germany) are on their way to a party when they get lost on a back road. To make matters worse, their car gets a flat. They’re stranded.

And it would be a coincidence if they just happened to get stranded in the same place where the evil doctor is waiting. But it’s actually even more of a coincidence when they stumble through the woods and wind up on the doorstep of the doctor.

Call it bad luck. Or call it lazy writing. Either way, the women are shocked when the scary-looking creep who answers the door turns out to be a scary-looking creep. But by then, it’s too late. He drugs them and when they awaken, they’re strapped to adjacent operating tables.

And that’s when the real fun begins.

Seems this doctor has a penchant for odd Nazi-era experiments — in particular — he seems obsessed with the idea of creating a human centipede — composed of three humans.

The first will be the head.

The second will be the body. And FYI, it sucks to be the body in a human centipede. She’ll have her mouth surgically attached to the anus of the head and have to consume the head’s feces. She’ll also have the tail’s mouth surgically attached to her own anus.

And the third will be the tail. Personally, I think the tail is just as bad as the body, because you still have to eat shit, and in this case, it’s the shit of the body AND the recycled shit of the head passing through the body. But I digress.

The head winds up being a Japanese guy who doesn’t speak a word of English — making it even harder for the human centipede to coordinate and choreograph their movements once their assembled.

Did I mention that the evil surgeon slices the patellas of all three centipede components so that they can’t stand up? Why? I have no clue. If my mouth was surgically attached to someone else’s anus, not being able to walk would be the least of my concerns.

The story ramps up when the assembly is complete and the women scream and moan into each other’s asses.

The movie climaxes (along with me) when the Japanese man announces that he has to take a shit. Really! It’s a wonderfully disturbing scene that made me smile.

Soon enough, the local cops drop in and spoil the fun as the doctor spirals into a panic and reveals himself to be more than just a suspect.

The final scene is a chase scene. Yes, a chase scene featuring a human centipede moving at the speed of molasses. And it’s awesome.

I didn’t expect to enjoy this movie so much, but I guess all of those people who always called me ‘deeply disturbed’ knew exactly what they were talking about, as I am giving 3 stars to this ‘deeply disturbing’ film.

3 *** out of 4

As I took it with my Code Red Mountain Dew (hey, caffeine + loads of sugar = alert driving!) to the cash register, I took another look at the front: Quadruple Layer! I was so excited I nearly took a bite without unwrapping it. I got back to my Bentley (okay, Murano) and opened it up. In the darkness of my car, I bit into the chocolate coating, felt my teeth sink into and then beyond the second layer of nuts, pass into the exoskeleton of caramel, before reaching the protein core. But instead of saying, “Yummy” or “Wow!”, I shouted, “Bullshit!”  How in God’s name can a company claim that a bar as sweet and gooey and scrumptious as this has 30 grams of protein hidden inside? Or even more preposterously, only 4 grams of simple carbs?? Who do they think they’re fooling? Okay, so I don’t really look like I work out, but do I really look that naïve?

I took another few bites and put the bar down somewhere between the gear shift and the change bucket.  Perhaps my road-weariness and hunger had turned me into some sort of hallucinogenic nomad wandering through the desert, so feverishly and desperately looking for water that he not only imagines that the sand he’s eating is water, but smiles on the verge of death’s door, happily basking in the sun as his sand-filled stomach offers him satisfying relief. In my state, I decided to leave half of the bar for later consumption.

The bar sat in an open plastic bag on my parents’ granite kitchen countertop for the next four days, without any protection from the elements (or cat hair).  At one point my mother took a peek inside the bag and pulled out something labeled “Beyond Ripped”.  Reading the label aloud, she simply laughed and pointed at my belly. Ahhh, self-esteem is a wonderful thing. On the fifth day, I took pity on the remnants of Mr. Supreme Protein and took a fresh bite. What the f*ck!?!? Those goddamn liars did it again!! It actually tasted better after five days at room temperature! This wasn’t a protein bar – it was a mad scientist’s experiment with some futuristic food substances that surely required the services of a 1985 DeLorean and magical clocktower to obtain. Unfair? Yes. Delicious? Absolutely. Liars? Hmmmm….

Rating: SUPREME (Liars?) ***** (Five Stars) out of ***** (Five)

Amended Comment: The quality of these bars has gone WAYYYYYYY down since this original review was published. Expect a new review right here soon!

“I’m going to review your bar and put it on the net,” I warn them, “so pick your best flavor.”

Like Donald Trump and his cronies on The Apprentice, the dorkasaurus and the two unattractive women at the booth briefly put their three ugly Cerberus heads together and announce, “Almond Caramel Crunch” in unison. I stare at them suspiciously for a moment. And then it hits me. Holy fuckwits, Batman! How the hell did the three ugliest people in the entire building all wind up in the same booth? Are they too cheap to shell out $50 for a hot fitness skank with implants and a thong to stand there for ten hours?

I bite into the bar, with these three people now staring intently at my mouth as it chews. And chews. And chews. The bar sticks to every corner of my mouth. I continue chewing as my eyes frantically search for a bottle of anything to wash this shit down. Mr. Propecia seems to sense my desperation but for some strange reason feels compelled to offer up a cheerful “We’re the best-selling bar in the country right now!”

“Manks a fumkin lot,” I reply. Here I am practically choking on his shitty bar, wondering what an improvement it will make when I spit it out onto his face, and this twink has the nerve to fabricate some phony sales statistics. For fuck’s sake, if this piece of insoluble dog crap is the best-selling protein bar in the country, Obama has fucked up America even worse than I thought.

With great determination and effort, I somehow get down the last of the bar and spend a few moments trying to trigger my saliva glands to get the remnants of this sludge down my esophagus. I sense that my audience senses my disappointment. They don’t even offer a full bar or suggest a different flavor for me to try. ‘FAIL’ is written all over their faces.

I quickly place the odds that in precisely one year the three of them will be unemployed at exactly 2:1.

Rating: ** (Two Stars) out of ***** (five)

I’ve tasted worse but never in the presence of such misplaced pride in a crappy product.

Fast forward five years to 1995 and I’m living in New York City and I discover Labrada has his own line of protein bars called Lean Body. It had been a while since my last protein bar so I was a bit hesitant. I scanned over the flavors and picked up one called Peanut Butter and Jelly. I bit into it and couldn’t believe my tastebuds. UNREAL! It actually tasted amazing. I took the label with me on the subway ride back to Brooklyn, analyzing the ingredient list and trying to figure out how they snuck 30 grams of protein past my esophagus without inducing the gag reflex even once. I was stumped.

Labrada eventually stopped making that particular flavor, saddening me and perhaps the other six people who loved the taste of Goober Grape and weren’t afraid to admit it.

Which brings me back to the present. I’m in my local GNC and I see the elegant reflective wrapping of several Labrada Lean Body Caramel Peanut flavored bars sitting in a box, with — you guessed it — orange discount labels. At just $1.50/bar, I banked on Labrada’s goodwill with me and bought the remaining NINE bars in the box.

Upon first bite, I was impressed, as the milk chocolate coating quickly gave way to a soft underbelly of gooey caramel. But as I chewed more and involved the complete range of tastebuds in my mouth, I detected a sodium overload. Sure, it went down without a fight, but a bit of a sour-salty aftertaste lagged behind. The only remedy was to take another bite of the sweet caramel and so on and so forth as my palette carousel continued to circle around the inescapable truth that this wasn’t the Lean Body Bar I had longed for and missed for so long. No, this had to be an anomaly. Or an impostor. Or so I thought. So I waited a few days and ate another one only to feel the same pangs of disappointment set in after the first bite.

Labrada, how COULD you?

Rating: * (One Star) out of ***** (Five)

Editor’s Note: It’s been nearly two years since I wrote this review and I still have a few bars if anyone is interested. I’d send them to Haiti, but chances are they’d be more suited to construct buildings than to be eaten. Hey, that gives me an idea…