That good ol' Bisque sent me a care package chock full of staff meeting snacks for all da ladies. The high amount of Pop-Tarts both proves his understanding of me and served as the basis for his name among other counselors: "Mr. Pop-Tart." There have been worse nicknames.
Fun while they lasted, but when I smelled real french toast after the fact in the dining hall, I truly did almost flip a table in disgust.
I know a product's quality should not be measured by the quantity the reviewer was able to comfortably consume, but, come on, Pepperidge Farm. What did you think would happen? Lacing those little sea creatures with coke and smiles.