Me: Three, including two dogs, and not including the Little Bastard, who moved to Quebec.
Census Canada Twa: The Little Bastard?
Me: Long story. Worst roommate EVER. Move on...
CC Twat: So... one?
Me: One what?
CC Twat: How many people live at your current residence?
Me: You do the math.
Twat: Are you employed?
Me: That depends.
Twat: That depends on what?
Me: That depends on how you define sitting alone humped over a computer all day, fuckin' around with people.
Twat: Who is your employer?
Me: Some bitch who underpays.
Twat: I'm sorry?
Me: Don't be sorry. The perks are fabulous. Just look at this place! And the dog farts under my chair.
Twat: What kind of work do you do?
Me: Advertising
Twat: What do you make?
Me: Not enough.
Twat: No. What kind of advertising do you make?
Me: Ads, silly.
Twat: Where do you work?
Me: Here, in this chair. Above the dog.
Twat: Where is here?
Me: Here, in this chair. In my office.
Twat: Where is your office?
Me: Here.
Twat: So do you work out of the home?
Me: Huh?
Twat: DO you work outside of the home?
Me: I mow the lawn.
Twat: So you work at home? Are you a housewife?
Me: Didn't we just establish that I work at making ads, not fucking pot roast?
Twat: How many hours a week do you work?
Me: That depends.
Twat: So, on average, would you say you work 20 hours a week?
Me: I would not.
Twat: So, on average, would you say you work about 40 hours a week?
Me: Warmer...
Twat: Do you have any aboriginal blood that you are aware of?
Me: Whoa! Where is that coming from?
Twat: I'm sorry?
Me: Don't be sorry, no one is holding a gun to your head making you ask these stupid questions that cost taxpayers a goddamned fortune, when kids can't even make art and eat yummy white glue at school because of cutbacks.
Twat: Let's continue... Do you have any aboriginal blood that you are aware of?
Me: Only when I drink gin.
Twat: I'm sorry? Do you have any aboriginal blood that you are aware of?
Me: My mom does have really brown eyes and apparently could run really fucking fast barefoot when she was a kid. And she smokes. So there could have been some teepee tipping down the road, if you know what I mean.
Twat: So you do have aboriginal blood that you are aware of? Is that a yes?
Me: Only when I drink gin.
Twat: Is that a yes?
Me: Or tequila. Oh, and egg nog. That shit makes me want to burn your fucking holiday wagon.
Twat: Okay... I think that's it.
Me: Wait, I was just starting to have fun!
Twat: Someone will call you in the next five months to confirm how many hours you are working at that time.
Me: They never call when they say they will, don't ya find that? Especially after you sleep with them.
Twat: I'm sorry?
Me: Don't be sorry. And, hey, keep in touch. Maybe call back in a month or two, will ya? Late at night. Even dinner time is fine. Hell, call me on a weekend like the good ol days. I may get lonely.
Census Canada: Goodbye.
I am sure the poor woman hired to chase me to take the mandatory Census of Canada survey is a sweet soul, but she asked for it. And $500 or three months in jail for refusal to expose my privates seemed a little harsh.
I am back.
halifaxbroad@gmail.com
