I would never be classified as a violent person, but if the lady from the Census Bureau calls me one more time, there's no telling what I might do. Bless her black and blue heart, but somehow we were chosen as participants for her quarterly survey. She calls every four months to ask us the same series of four million questions. Either my life isn't as exciting and ever-changing as most, or she needs to not call so frequently.
CENSUS LADY: Okay, this will only take about 20 minutes...
*1.5 hours later*
CENSUS LADY: Okay, and do you have any more children in your household, sir?
ME: You mean, more since the last time we did this four months ago?
CENSUS LADY: Yes, sir.
ME: Isn't that biologically impossible?
CENSUS LADY: Let me ask my supervisor.
3 Comments:
Sorry, I had to leave myself a comment. This lonely blog post went for days sans a comment. I just couldn't take it.
8:22 AM
Uh...why don't you just change your census answers every time?
"Yes, we have more children. Four more, in fact - one for each month since the last time you called."
8:58 AM
I have New York Doll still in my DVD player waiting for me to watch it, but I haven't gotten around to it for almost a month.
What? You wanted a comment.
Oh, about the post.
BYU has my age wrong in their computer systems. Everytime I have to confirm my birthday they call me a liar. I then refer them to my sister's birthdate and beg them to notice that according to their records, we are 5 months apart.
I'm glad to see that biological impossibilites can thrive in bureaucracies both large and small. Their faith in what women's bodies can accomplish is both endless and affirming.
(p.s. Jenny sent me here)
9:40 PM
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