This Guy is a Weirdo

This guy is a weirdo, and I love him.

The All-Natural Prank: Eating All-Natural Soap, Cat Food, Deodorant, and Aphrodisiacs

While visiting my local health food store, I noticed how many non-food products are labeled "All-Natural." Toothpaste. Dog biscuits. Deodorants. Some of them, like those Carrot-Honey-Ginger soaps, sound good enough to eat. Is it a soap, I found myself asking, or a salad? Recently, I decided to find out, by eating a wide variety of "All-Natural" products, and reporting on their delicate flavors and aromas. First, I taste-tested three all-natural soaps, and here are my findings.

Grandma's Old-Fashioned Oatmeal Soap. Oatmeal adds a nice texture to oatmeal cookies and oatmeal bars -- would it do the same for oatmeal soap? To find out, I took a giant bite of this crunchy beige bar, chewing thoughtfully. The taste was not entirely unpleasant, with a mild creaminess delicately balanced atop the solid earthy flavor of oatmeal. As the soap interacted with my saliva, however, my mouth began to fill with suds, and it was all I could do to choke down the bite of soap, most of which had lodged in my back teeth. It was akin to eating a box of Oreo cookies and having the creamy filling pack itself into your rear molars like spackling compound ... but much, much soapier.
Taste: 5 out of 10
Aroma: 8 out of 10
Presentation: 10 out of 10

Burt's Bees Tomato Garden Soap. This soap sounded not only delicious, but downright healthy. Who can resist the goodness of fresh tomatoes in a springtime garden? I took an enormous bite of this lovely rose-colored soap, but was disappointed to find it nearly flavorless. It frothed in my mouth as I chewed, and I could just barely make out an undertone of tomato beneath the waxy, soapy mess. Visually, a beautiful soap, but the taste just doesn't measure up: where the hell is the tomato?
Taste: 3 out of 10
Aroma: 7 out of 10
Presentation: 10 out of 10

Tom's Natural Glycerin Soap. I was looking forward to dining on this liquid soap, since the back label lists every ingredient, along with where it is found in nature. I squirted a few ounces onto my tongue, and though I would love to comment on the taste, I cannot because THIS SHIT BURNED MY MOUTH. Honestly, it was like holding a mouthful of flaming kerosene. I managed to swallow a small amount, which shot down my gullet like Satan's horseman riding his fiery chariot into Hell. I began to gag, so I ran to the sink and desperately siphoned water into my mouth. My tongue screamed as if I had dipped it in boiling water, and my throat felt like it had been scoured with an industrial-strength sanding drill. While Tom's soap may be au naturel, my mouth is in au natur-Hell.
Taste: 1 out of 10
Aroma: 5 out of 10
Presentation: 3 out of 10

So I guess that's what it's like to wash out your mouth with soap.

The gastrointestinal effects of my initial taste test were minimal, except for violent eruptions of gas throughout the night. These deep tuba notes were completely odorless (perhaps they had been washed clean), but almost disturbingly loud. One honk of the trombone, which occurred at 3:00 am, was so noisome that it actually roused my wife from a deep slumber. "Cut it out," she mumbled, then rolled over and went back to sleep.