Wednesday, September 24, 2008

September 24th Topics


ARM
You owe money for buying something crazy, and now you can't pay it back. What happens?


Couch
She stared into his eyes and tried to look smitten, but he kept talking and talking until ...
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2 comments:

SweepAnd Mopp said...

Got them Adjustable Rate Blues
Well they
[G7] told me this would happen and now it’s come to pass.
[C7] The interest rates adjusted, and I need a little cash.
[G7] The boys up there on Wall Street, they need their money back.
[C7] That empty house just down the block we need to pay for that.

[D7] Who will help me? I don’t know.
[C7] Bush, McCain, Obama.
[D7] Write a check for me from you.
[C7] A trillion bucks from mama.

[G7]

[G7] The CEO of AIG can’t buy shoes for his boy.
[C7] Cigars, jets and pretty whores won’t be his little toys.
[G7] Cleetus in the suburbs livin’ in a big ole mansion.
[C7] His job at Taco Bell can’t pay for the expansion.

[D7] Who will help me? I don’t know.
[C7] Congress and the Senate.
[D7] In blue suits and red ties we trust.
[C7] It’s our only holy tenet.

[G7]

[G7] If you lose a million dollars every single day
[C7] You’d need two thousand seven hundred never ending years.
[G7] To make a pickle big enough and make tax payers say
[C7] Here’s a trillion dollars just go spend it your way.

[D7] Who will help me? I don’t know.
[C7] Corporate CEO.
[D7] Went to business college and
[C7] drank a lotta beer.

[G7]

[G7] If you live in China and have a little cash
[C7] You can buy America; we’re going really fast.
[G7] Nine eleven Al Qaeda you think you’re really tough.
[C7] We terrorize ourselves with easy mortgage stuff.

[D7] Who will help me? I sure know.
[C7] American taxpayer.
[D7] We got wars and no health care
[C7] Can someone say a prayer?

[G7] [G]

September 25, 2008 at 1:02 PM
ItsNaughtKnotty Cannned said...

Get Off The Couch
She stared into his eyes and tried to look smitten, but he kept talking and talking until she'd heard enough. He mumbled something about their future, but he'd said the same thing so many times she'd tuned him out weeks ago.

And clearly he didn't notice.

So she stood and ignoring his surprised look, she walked to the front door and opened it.

"Get out."

"What?"

"You heard me. Get out."

"Why?"

"We're finished. I'm moving on with my life."

"Just like that? What's wrong?"

Moments like these she needed a speech. Something concocted for these occasions she encountered from time to time in life. She shouldn't have to explain how she didn't need a man to complete her. She shouldn't have to go through the fighting, or the pleading, or the complicated goodbye process. And she shouldn't have to have an "it's not you, it's me" story.

"It's not you, it's me," she heard herself saying. "I need some space and we're starting it tonight."

He sat up on her couch in his ridiculous tank top, cheap jeans and ugly shoes. His attire alone should have been reason enough for her to declare an end to the love affair. His dumb hair cut, his cheap jewelry, that tattoo ... she could think of a dozen reasons she didn't need to be seen with him, and two dozen reasons why she shouldn't have to explain the first reasons. She'd been through this enough times to know she could slice him to ribbons with her words, but she hoped he'd gracefully find his way to the door, give her a kiss on the cheek and be gone.

"Is it something I said?"

"Don't call me. I'll call you. Please don't make this difficult."

He served his purpose for awhile. She occasionally felt a case of the "lonelies" and she used her sex appeal and her conversational skills to find what she needed to erase her isolation. He happened to be in the right place at the right time. He'd simply been lucky. She wrote their doom after knowing him only two minutes. They might make a few weeks, maybe a few months, but she knew in those early moments he would make her laugh, make her satisfied, and then make her bored.

Tonight she'd reached the limits of her boredom and loneliness sounded pretty good.

Thankfully he didn't make it difficult.

He walked past her like a confused and wounded puppy out onto her balcony. Not even a peck on the cheek. She closed the door behind him and smiled.

Freedom.

He would be replaying the night over and over in his head and he would probably be calling her a few names tonight, but she didn't care. He would call her number and she wouldn't answer or listen to the voice mails. She would enjoy the next few days, maybe a few weeks, and then she could go cut the next one from the herd.

September 26, 2008 at 8:45 PM

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