Oh, How I Wish the Economy Would Improve

So the apartment across the hall from me would sell.
And the guy living in it now, a buddy of the seller, would have to leave.
Because every time I am sitting at the computer,
he is on the other side of the wall,
talking on the phone,
SO VERY LOUD.
Every single time.
How is that even possible?

Who is he talking to?
What are they talking about?
I am trying trying trying not to focus on the actual words for that might drive me insane.
But did I just hear a reference to Timberwolves center Al Jefferson?

Why don't they just text like normal people?

Maybe I will pool my resources and buy the place myself.
Rent it only to mutes or those who have taken a vow of silence.

Maybe I'll just store my CDs in there.
Another bookshelf or two wouldn't hurt either.

Last month I found two Christmas cards in the lobby with this street address, but not addressed to a name I recognized. I left them outside the door across from me with a note reading "For you?"

The cards, the note--he didn't touch them. Not a "Sorry, not me." Nothing.
WHat sort of social etiquette is that?
Or does he never leave?

(I tried to Google the name on the envelopes. Checked the Jersey City phonebook for the name on the return address. No dice. Finally wrote "Not at this address" and left them for the mail carrier. I feel like I let somebody down.)

The guy before--now he was quiet.
Kept to himself, but so what?
Never figured out what he did for a living.
Had theorized road crew or chef.
His dad sells carpet.
Couple of times we (me and the guy, not me and the dad) mentioned getting a drink, but, it never happened.

What's he building in there?

It's quiet now.
But it won't be for long.
I just know it.

"Why is that a-hole always tippety-tippety-tapping on his keyboard?" he's probably thinking right now.

This Is My New Bank

Before, it was Washington Mutual.

Write Your Own Joke

Another Economic Metaphor

From a NYP article about the Boston Globe:

Another widely discussed option -- selling the 137-year-old Boston paper -- seemed less likely as potential buyers waved off any thoughts of owning the admired money-pit.

"It's like trying to catch a falling knife," said Jack Connors, the former head of Boston ad agency Hill Holliday, who was part of an attempt to buy the paper several years ago.

Can't Swing a Dead Cat 'Round Here Without Hitting an Artist

I've noticed an increasing amount of "homeland jargon" quotes nestled into articles dealing with dire economic forecasts as of late.
Here are two examples, the first about Oregon's statewide school budget crisis:

The worst part, she said, is the ongoing financial uncertainty. The town agonizes through one round of funding cuts, only to hear that it was not enough.

"It's like target shooting in a dark building," Pearson said. "Then you turn the lights on and say, 'How did we do?' "


(source: LA Times)

Or this gem, about fearful college admissions staff:

“Trying to hit those numbers is like trying to hit a hot tub when you’re skydiving from 30,000 feet,” said Jennifer Delahunty, dean of admissions and financial aid at Kenyon College in Ohio. “I’m going to go to church every day in April.”


(source: NY TImes)