After being psychologically and emotionally date-raped by Battle: Los Angeles, I headed over to Cold Stone Creamery with a friend. Absent crisis counseling, ice cream was definitely in order. (Lest you think I'm unfairly exaggerating, this is what Roger Ebert has to say about the movie: "Here's a science-fiction film that's an insult to the words 'science' and 'fiction,' and the hyphen in between them.")

Cold Stone was advertising a quartet of new sundaes, but the one that caught our eye was something called the "Churro Caramel Crave"—pieces of crispy churros, shoved into vanilla ice cream, slathered in hot caramel, and topped with whipped cream. It looked like a little piece of heaven, frankly. I mean, c'mon! Churros! Ice cream! Caramel! That's a combination so fucked-up that it had to be good!

Well, I'm here to report that the Churro Caramel Crave is disgusting. It's so overly sweet, sloppy, and suffering from identity issues that it crosses the line from "indulgently tasty" to "an abomination." The thing is, we didn't realize how wrong this dessert was until we had eaten the whole thing, were dripping with shame, and gripping ourselves in gastric discomfort.

The whole goal of washing away the dirt of Battle: Los Angeles didn't happen. It was like expecting to meet a crisis counselor but instead being forced to spend time with circus clown prone to inappropriate touching.

You have been warned.