Racial profiling, but not

Event number one:

I walked out of Safeway holding only a box of Cream of Wheat, that being the only thing I purchased and my breakfast of choice at the moment. One of the Safeway staff who happened to be black saw and commented, "Mmmmmhmmmm. Cream of Wheat. My favorite." I replied, "Yes sir, none better" and continued on my way towards the car.

But he snuck up on me and, before I was even halfway to the car, he tapped me on the shoulder and asked, "Hey man, you half black?"

Now, I've gotten Japanese, Korean, Filipino, and most commonly Samoan/Hawai'ian, but this was my first time getting half black.

I gave a puzzled look and replied, "No, why do you ask?"

He blurted out, "Then why you like Cream of Wheat so much? Cream of Wheat's a black man food."

In the split second thereafter in which I froze up and racked my brain's fifteen-year library collection of racial stereotypes/jokes, Cream of Wheat was noticeably absent. I'd always known about the controversy regarding B&G/Kraft's usage of the character "Rastus," the smiling black chef on the box cover, but I hadn't heard anything along the lines of "white people : stealing other people's cultures :: black people : Cream of Wheat."

I really didn't know how to respond, but he just kept looking at me, looking for an answer, so I responded honestly, "I'm allowed to like Cream of Wheat if I want to. It's easy to prepare, low in cholesterol, and an adequately filling breakfast."

Taken aback at my super lame answer, he said, "Oh is that so. Well then, what, you like fried chicken, watermelon, okra, and that purple shit too? Huh?"

This guy was getting on my nerves. All I did was admit that I enjoyed Cream of Wheat, and somehow he's throwing random accusatory-sounding remarks my way, though I still wasn't quite sure what his point was. And, of course, I once again honestly said, "Yes, actually, I thoroughly enjoy all of those things."

He grabbed his forehead.

"Damn, man, you blacker than ME. I HATE fried chicken. Go enjoy your Cream of Wheat, brotha."

Acontecimiento numero dos:

Earlier today, SRS was headed to a potluck, for which he decided to make a simple Cracker Chicken recipe he found online. The recipe involves grinding a ton of Ritz crackers and mixing it with paprika, garlic powder, salt, and black pepper, and then dredging it onto drumsticks covered in eggwash and baking the drumsticks. I tasted one, and it seriously tastes like a giant chicken nugget, but that's neither here nor there.

Conversation:

Me: "What are you making?"

SRS: "I'm making cracker chicken for this stupid meeting."

Me: "CRACKER chicken? Does that mean that we're not allowed to eat it?"

SRS: "You're dumb."

Minutes pass while he tinkers away in the kitchen and I watch a ESPN special about Steve Bartkowski and his kick-'Boys-ass Falcons team back in the '80s. Go Bears.

SRS: "I added a secret extra ingredient in the dry mix. Bet you can't guess what it is. You might be able to taste it when it's done cooking, but I doubt it."

Me: "Is it chili powder or dried chili flakes of some sort?"

SRS: "Fuck you."

Me: "What?"

SRS: "How did you know?"

Me: "Because you're Korean."

Event the third:

G-Unit got two dwarf hamsters a couple months ago, which he named Flotsam and Jetsam (Flo and Jet for short). He took them home over winter break and brought them back to the apartment a couple days ago, but poor Flotsam was missing. He informed us that Flo got out of the cage somehow while he was at home, and is now MIA in the house. (She'll probably die pretty soon, but whatever. Jet was always the less temperamental one anyways.

SRS and I figured that, since Jet is darker than Flo, Jet has to stay in prison for much longer. We felt bad for about five seconds after making the remark.

Jet tends to run on the wheel a lot. We think she's bulking up so she can eventually break out of that hellhole.