Monthly Archives: February 2011

When you care enough to send your most offensive (Part II)

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Because Black History Month is coming to a close I decided another round of Mahogany cards was appropriate–especially since many of you enjoyed the first one.  Here are some gems I found in my local CVS:

Does Justin Timberlake get a royalty check every time this one is sold?

The Kikkoman Holiday Phantom: A post three months in the making

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This post is about my slightly misguided imagination. It’s about having a steel trap memory. Most important, it’s about not wanting to end up in my local police department’s weekly crime report.



A few months ago I heard my co-worker lament about not having any soy sauce to complement her lunch. Without telling her I took a quick look in my office drawer but was doubtful I would have any. I’m not a big soy sauce fan unless it’s mixed with wasabi and I’m dipping a piece of sushi in it.

Later that day I was in the grocery holy grail known as Wegmans and noticed a condiment shelf filled with packets of duck and soy sauce in the checkout line. As I blankly stared at the soy sauce wondering why it was important to me I remembered my soy sauce-less co-worker. I grabbed a bunch of packets on my way out the door to give to her later.

I basically never leave the office so my co-worker was out the door well before I could deliver her soy sauce. I opted to leave them on her desk but failed to leave any type of post-it note indicating I was the provider. I didn’t think she needed to know it came from me as long as she had soy sauce at the end of the day.

Well it turns out she had no idea who left her the soy sauce. The next day I heard her talk out loud that she had no clue who gave her the bounty. I could have lifted my hand and said “Hey it was me,” but I chose not to.  A few weeks later a third co-worker who remembered she asked for soy sauce went to hand her some directly. His generosity reminded me that she never identified the first provider.

So I decided to see how far I could keep the gift giving going without her knowing.

I came up with the idea to give her soy sauce on every single holiday as the Kikkoman Holiday Phantom. I figured Kikkoman is a pretty big soy sauce distributor and phantoms are pretty stealthy–a quality I would need if I was going to successfully pull this off.

The First Drop

The first drop was at my co-worker’s apartment complex which up until that point I had only been to once for a housewarming party. I obviously couldn’t ask her roommates for the number so I decided to look in past Facebook events for an address. Since this was around the Christmas holiday I wanted something to reflect holiday cheer:


I tailgated into the complex while she was at a happy hour and mounted a poster on her unit’s door with mounds of magic tape so it wouldn’t fall off. In the process of taping the neighbor across from them saw me in the act. As if what I was doing wasn’t creepy looking enough I said to her, “You never saw me here.”

Hours later this popped up on my co-worker’s Plixi page (otherwise known as a Twitter picture album):


The Second Drop

Since Valentine’s Day was approaching I knew I had to plot the second drop soon. I knew two places were out of the question: our office and her apartment complex. This time it needed to be her car.
Finding soy sauce packets wasn’t as easy as it was the first time around but I managed to get my hands on some after a work assignment.

On a sidenote: F*ck this place for making me PAY for said packets…


Like some soy sauce crack addict I gave up and forked over the 70 cents for 10 packets. The guy standing next to me at the carryout restaurant window asked why I needed that many. Without elaboration, I replied, “It’s for a project.”

“Must be some project,” he said.

Flash forward to a few hours later back in the office: My opportunity presented itself when she asked if I wanted to play skee ball downtown. I seriously contemplated the offer but realized her being in D.C. gave me time to make a poster and find her car. Knowing her parking garage of choice, I trekked there during one of the most obnoxious, windiest days EVER and found her car easier than I found her apartment number for the first drop.


I placed it under her windshield then went to Whole Foods and called it a night. I was waiting for some type of Plixi post like the last time but was kind of disappointed not to see anything.

The next day at work I emerged from a backroom to find my co-worker calling out to me from across the office asking if I was the stalker leaving soy sauce messages wherever she went. I struggled to restrain every muscle in my mouth from curving into a smile when she asked me this. Somehow I managed to play it off like I didn’t know what the hell she was talking about.

“Wait…what is this?” I asked.

She then proceeds to tell me what I already knew and went through a laundry list of possible people who could have done it which–thanks to my amateurish acting skills–I was crossed off of. I even helped her in a process of elimination of who it could and couldn’t be.

I spent the rest of the work day finding the strength to not laugh out loud. Unfortunately, the suppressed laughter ceased when I overheard our co-workers suggesting she file a police report.

Oh shit.

The Third Drop

I knew I was going to have to reveal myself if she was getting legitimately freaked out which was evidenced by her last Facebook post:


Very quickly I came up with the idea for a fake third drop. I told her that someone had left a poster for me too, except this time it had less to do with soy sauce and more to do with Sriracha Chili Sauce (which until an office bottle ran out played a prominent role in my bloodstream during the lunch hour).

I said to hold on so I could e-mail her the photo as an attachment, which ended up being a poster I whipped up fast that said the following:


She already said she’s plotting revenge so if you’re reading this….I like SRIRACHA CHILI SAUCE. Damn really wish I had some SRIRACHA CHILI SAUCE.

The end (and kudos to you if you made it this far).

Care to take a roll of the die?

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In the spirit of Valentine’s Day,  I want to show everyone some of the more humorous combos I rolled in a pair of Valentine’s dice I won by placing 3rd in a PlayStation SingStar competition some of my friends held this weekend:

This sounds extremely difficult. And how high up are the chairs? Are we talking about bar stools?

This one has a "To Catch a Predator" feel to it...

This situation is incredibly ripe for injury

"Let's go to the emergency room" "In the next few minutes" because we wrestled in the bathtub and one of us is bleeding

A travesty fried to perfection

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Is it sad that in the wake of a national $14 trillion debt and a soaring unemployment rate that the thing that makes me truly fear for America’s future is this?:

Kentucky Fried Chicken has aired commercials as of late that proudly proclaim a Zagat rating for their fried chicken. When most people see a Zagat sticker in the window of a restaurant there is an expectation that the food will be delicious, have a decent quality to price ratio and be edible by default. These traits–if you have any tastebuds at all–are completely incongruous with the KFC franchise.

My first reaction upon seeing the commercial was denial that an establishment that introduced food shame spirals such as this and especially this would receive such recognition. The unfortunate truth is that in a 2010 Zagat Survey, KFC did rank #1 and #2 in two chicken categories:

I can’t speak for KFC’s grilled stock but a bucket of that haphazardly seasoned backside of a Shar-Pei they call fried chicken shouldn’t be anywhere near the top of that list. Don’t get me started on the fact Bojangles was ranked fourth.

However, this survey only polled 6,518 Americans. That means depending on where these 6,000+ people live they may not have access to better options such as Popeyes and Bojangles. I’m confident that once one of these 6,518 people gets their hands on a Popeyes chicken wing he or she will be so overcome with emotion that he or she will break into Col. Sanders’ grave and sprinkle cajun spices on his headstone out of anger for depriving them of the glory.

Ebony and Ivory Live Together In Perfect Om Nom Nom

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As seen on on 2/3/11

It’s obvious from this picture that Lisa knows what’s up.

Unfortunately she knows she has to play along for now. I don’t think she could look any more paralyzed with fear right from the get go.

This was started out of need for companionship? Really? The first month of friendship might go without incident.

The second month they’ll get into a playful scuffle and Paulchen will accidentally lick the backside of Lisa. Hours later Paulchen will turn to Lisa and say, “Hey did you know you kind of taste good? Kind of like chicken. I know it’s kind of random..hehe…just thought you’d be interested to know.” He’ll laugh nervously and then that’s when the makings of a delicious friendship will begin.

Sidenote: Can’t be a good sign if Paulchen’s tongue is already hanging outside his mouth–probably because he’s trying to catch the flavor of Lisa’s scent that’s been windswept into his mouth.

Directions to I-95 North: (1) Bear to the right (2) MERGE WITH THE SKY

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While you were dodging car roof ice shards on eastbound I-495 en route to Baltimore, you might have seen this victim of last week’s Thundersnow chaos:

You know I would totally be fine if the Maryland State Highway Administration never corrected this...