Monday, June 14, 2004
I received a census form in the mail the other day (might've been a few months... I can't remember). I tried to fill it out, but the questions were harder than I remembered them being in previous censuses (censi?), so I kind of stuck it in my backpack hoping I'd suddenly find myself needing to fill it out, as I sometimes suddenly find myself needing to clean my apartment.
Anyway, needless to say I WAS cleaning my apartment when a census guy showed up at my door on a Saturday to collect my paperwork. And then he said something mildly disturbing: "Christina... you are the only person chosen in your zip code for the census, so until you send it in, your zip code is totally unrepresented. This is what the government bases all of its funding and planning on."
So, to all my friends in the 90068, I'd like to let you know exactly how the government will see you for the next five years:
You're white. You're very, very white. And a citizen. That's nice. You're 32, yet you still rent an apartment for a blessedly-low amount of money (utilities included!). You're a writer and, like many writers, you don't make very much money. You also live alone, which shows that your love life is about as stable as your career. The property on which you live is worth vastly more than you are, yet you have a college education, so someone somewhere lied to you. And you're a girl (sorry boys). You have no children, which makes your mother crabby, and there are no agricultural materials produced on your land. I'm not sure how that figures in.
Now, to the government who's basing their aid on my sad little guest apartment figures, we of the 90068 (that would be the royal we) would like to ask for a few simple things:
1) Please eliminate street sweeping tickets. They're mean and the street just gets dirty anyway.
2) Please evict the idiot across from us (the royal 'Us') who likes to have parties and let his friends take up all the good street parking.
3) Please tell the people who take pictures of the Hollywood sign from my corner that it's not safe to stand in the middle of the street when I'm driving home. I will hit them.
4) Please make my landlady an ambassador or something, as she's a rare jewel in landlordism and deserves to go to heaven.
5) Please name Beachwood a government-funded artists' colony and give us all fluffy genius grants so we can just write all day.
6) Please tell our moms that we do intend to have children someday and that we're not just remaining single to spite her (ahem... them).
That's about all right now... if I can think of any more good abuses of my newfound power, I'll let you know.
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Anyway, needless to say I WAS cleaning my apartment when a census guy showed up at my door on a Saturday to collect my paperwork. And then he said something mildly disturbing: "Christina... you are the only person chosen in your zip code for the census, so until you send it in, your zip code is totally unrepresented. This is what the government bases all of its funding and planning on."
So, to all my friends in the 90068, I'd like to let you know exactly how the government will see you for the next five years:
You're white. You're very, very white. And a citizen. That's nice. You're 32, yet you still rent an apartment for a blessedly-low amount of money (utilities included!). You're a writer and, like many writers, you don't make very much money. You also live alone, which shows that your love life is about as stable as your career. The property on which you live is worth vastly more than you are, yet you have a college education, so someone somewhere lied to you. And you're a girl (sorry boys). You have no children, which makes your mother crabby, and there are no agricultural materials produced on your land. I'm not sure how that figures in.
Now, to the government who's basing their aid on my sad little guest apartment figures, we of the 90068 (that would be the royal we) would like to ask for a few simple things:
1) Please eliminate street sweeping tickets. They're mean and the street just gets dirty anyway.
2) Please evict the idiot across from us (the royal 'Us') who likes to have parties and let his friends take up all the good street parking.
3) Please tell the people who take pictures of the Hollywood sign from my corner that it's not safe to stand in the middle of the street when I'm driving home. I will hit them.
4) Please make my landlady an ambassador or something, as she's a rare jewel in landlordism and deserves to go to heaven.
5) Please name Beachwood a government-funded artists' colony and give us all fluffy genius grants so we can just write all day.
6) Please tell our moms that we do intend to have children someday and that we're not just remaining single to spite her (ahem... them).
That's about all right now... if I can think of any more good abuses of my newfound power, I'll let you know.
