11:00 pm. Jeff comes home. We have both been drinking, separately. I am responding to blog comments and preparing to get my Lost on.
Jeff: Did we get any mail?
Me: We got a census form. We have to fill it out by law. Or else they'll arrest us.
(Moments later, as I am navigating Hulu...)
Me: Are you actually filling that out?
(I see Jeff fill in my name and date of birth.)
Me: Are you pretending to be me? That's illegal! They'll arrest you!
Jeff: No, I'm just answering the questions.
Me: (looking over his shoulder) How do you know I'm not Hispanic, Latino or Spanish?
Jeff: I checked under your hood.
Me: They have a check box that says "Negro"? That is so wrong.
Jeff: I am trying to do super important government stuff. Please be quiet.
Me: You didn't list me!
Jeff: Yes I did.
Me: You're Person #2. Where am I? ... Oh, I'm Person #1? Why wouldn't you put yourself as Person #1?
Jeff: You're Person #1 to me.
He is the greatest. But that doesn't mean I'm not potentially Hispanic.
Aaaaaand... scene! Don't blog (or fill out the census) drunk, kids!