Chicks

Mitch and I are sitting here listening to the radio and chatting like married people do. I said, "If it doesn't rain today I think I'll mow the lawn," and he said, "Is that a euphemism for something?" What? What else could that even mean? Anyway, I asked him what I should blog about today and he said, "The time you called for chicks," which I don't think is that funny of a story, but whatev. A couple of years ago in the spring I called Dan's Feed Bin to ask if they had any chicks available for purchase. Here's our conversation:

Dan's Feed Bin: Hello?

Me: Hi, I was wondering if you have any chicks for sale?

Dan's Feed Bin: What?

Me: Chicks? Do you have any for sale?

Dan's Feed Bin: (silence)

Me: Hello? Is this Dan's Feed Bin?

Dan's Feed Bin: Yes, this is Dan's Feed Bin.

Me: Well, do you have any chicks?

Dan's Feed Bin: Yes. We have chicks, but around here we call them "women."

Me: What?

Dan's Feed Bin: We don't think it's nice to call them chicks. They prefer to be called women.

Me: No, I mean chicks as in baby chickens, not women. I don't want to buy women.

Dan's Feed Bin: Good because we don't sell women. I think that's against the law.

Me: .................. So, do you have baby chickens for sale or not?

Dan's Feed Bin: No. We don't sell chicks.

Me: You sold chicks last year

Dan's Feed Bin: No, I think you are mistaken.

Me: Okay..... thanks anyway.

Dan's Feed Bin: (hysterical laughter) This is Mat! (my brother in law)

Me: Why are you at Dan's Feed Bin? And how did you know it was me? Why are they letting you answer the phone?

Mat: (more hysterical laughter) I'm not at Dan's Feed Bin, dummy! I'm at home!

Me: But I didn't call you, I called Dan's Feed Bin!

Mat: I called your house, I must have gotten through before your call got through.

Me: Oh. I have to call Dan's Feed Bin. Bye.

I know, you're thinking, "Well, did she get the chicks?" No. I didn't. See, as a story it's more sad than funny.