Monday, March 15, 2010

Census Taker, Schmensus Schtalker!

So an apparent 'Census STALKER' visited our house this weekend and it went a little something like this:

I was sitting at home...alone (of course!)...sipping my freshly ground french pressed coffee (Thank You Mom!) while doing a little blog stalking myself when I heard footsteps on our front porch.  Waiting for our 'guard dog' to start barking, I continued to bloggle.  'What's that, no dog bark?!?!', I thought to myself...Oh, damn...J took her with him out galley-vanting around.  I was feeling particularly lazy that morning and just waited for the door bell to ring...hoping the person would disappear.  Well, it worked because the bell never rang!  About 5 minutes later, I hear footsteps yet again on the front porch.  Now I'm just mad that some person can't work up the balls to just knock on my damn door.  I looked out the window (closest thing to me that allowed for me to stay fully reclined and comfy) and noticed a big, old, red pick-up truck.  'Odd!  I didn't ever hear a big truck like that pull up?!?!  Perhaps I should go look out the window on our door'.  To my surprise, what do I behold?  Some short, scrawny guy (imagine Radar from M*A*S*H but skinnier and more confused looking) sitting on my patio chair and writing on a piece of paper on my patio table...  At the same time 'Radar' gets up to knock on my door I realize I'm in my pajamas still (Adidas warm-ups and a sweatshirt...don't get any crazy ideas here!  It's a lot what I look like when working-out minus the ponytail.) and children's cartoons are blaring in the background because I was so focused on bloggling that I lost track of time and apparently all reality.  So I quick-ran and put my hair in a ponytail (so he wouldn't think I was answering the door in my pj's) and muted the TV (because what stranger would know if I had kids or not to watch said cartoon?!?!), all the while processing the weirdness of what I had just observed.

So I answered the door, but kept the glass door firmly shut and shouted at him through the door (I say that like I had to shout because our house is so fancy with some super cool, hefty duty door!  Really, I could have farted and he would have felt the breeze...we still live in the crappy, 'arid', rental with a $200.00 per month gas bill and an average temperature of 55 degrees inside...yes that one!).  He showed me his little 'Census 2010 badge' and his little 'Census 2010 clipboard' (I guess to try and tell me 'I know I look like a serial rapist, but really you can trust me!').  And I showed him my little 'I don't give a f*ck what you have, you look like a serial rapist to me' look.

Oh, I forgot to mention...going back to the whole Radar look.  Take off the army camo. and add a full length black trench coat, black jeans, and hard core-shit kickin'-cowboy boots to accessorize his little 'Census 2010 badge and clipboard'.

He proceeds to explain what he's doing (hand delivering Census Forms...rrrrrriiiiight!).  I'm thinking, 'OMG!  They just ran a news story this week about how we will be getting a letter in the mail that let's us know that we will be getting our the mail...soon!  And how people were all miffed about the waste of paper and postage...yadda, yadda.'  (Like it mattered though...I only walk down and check our mailbox like once every two weeks...because who lives in a town so small that they don't have a mailbox directly on their property somewhere???...GAWH!')  So I am under the assumption I will be getting my Census in the mail right?  But, since I'm apparently a big girl now (it's my first official Census...FYI!!!), I have no flippin' clue how this shit works!  Not too mention, living in small-town-rural-america almost always trumps the rules of any sane assumption of lifestyles as I once knew them.  So I crack the door open enough to stick out my hand for the envelope.  When this conversation ensues:

'R': I just need to verify a few questions. (As he looks at his 'Census.clipboard')
Me: Okay
'R': Are you the primary residence holder? (AKA...Do you live here alone?  Are you alone right now?  Those pajamas of yours are hot!)
Me: No, my husband is.
'R': What I meant (oh, uh-huh, right!) was, is this the only residence here?  There's no apartment inside anywhere where another family may live?  (AKA...You're not harboring any small trolls in the crawl space are you?)
Me: (Laughing out loud at that one!)  Uh, no!  (Does he see the size of this house?!?!  Really???  It's like the smallest house in town!)...(AKA...You mean other than the rabid-stray-alley-cats that crawl in there purposely to waft their scent throughout our house...driving my huge guard dog that's chained up inside and about to eat you...CRAZY in the middle of the night just so that I can only get 2 hours of sleep?)
'R': Okay, all I need to do now is confirm the address on here.
Me: (You are standing...quite front of the numbers on my house and the street sign is in the corner of my yard!  Not too mention, I already heard your scrawny ass on my porch once today!  And now you're trying to tell me you're not sure where you are!)
'R': Okay, this is (insert street numbers and street name here)?
Me: Yes.
'R': And ummm, this is Bogue, KS right?  Or wait, no???***
Me: What? NO! (You IDIOT!)  You......arrrrrrre.....innnnnnn......Clllllllaflinnnnnn, KS (Very slowly and loud!).  (Where the hell is Bogue, KS???)
'R': Oh, right (awkward chuckle)...okay, well let me just scratch that out and write in Claflin here. (I'm about to rape you!)
'R': Well, but the zip code is right...67635???
Me: NOPE!  67525...completely off!  (How did this weirdo end up on my porch today?!?!)
'R': Oh!  Oh?  Okay, well let me just scratch that out and write in 67525 here.  (Damn, she's onto me!)

Blah, blah, blah...yadda, yadda, yadda...he gives me my census and leaves!


***FYI...I googled it...Bogue, KS is about 130 miles away from me!!!