I was sitting on the couch, working on my laptop when I heard my neighbors G. and N. on the front stoop. G. is our erstwhile building manager, although he's mostly known for feeding salads to the stray cats in back and wondering if he should date that girl he met at the gang bang. N., well N. lives in the apartment over G. and I'm not sure what he does except wander along the darkened streets of Los Angeles in his leather cap and big sunglasses and hide behind trees. Although upon telling him that Will and I were getting married in Vegas he related the story of how he chauffeured an underaged couple* across the desert to get married. So maybe he runs the Romeo & Juliet Taxicab Agency.
G: I wish they wouldn't dump these coupons all over the hallway.
[Sounds of G. picking up the debris and dumping it in the recycling bin.]
N: You're throwing out money, y'know.
G: It's garbage.
N: No, some people do really well with the coupons.
G: Whaddya mean?
N: They gotta system. They got it all figured out.
G: But you gotta go to all of these different stores. And spend money.
N: You gotta spend money to make money.
There you go, the first step to financial freedom, according to my neighbors. Although none of them seem to have jobs, and they all have a roof over their head, take vacations, and ferry underaged couples to Vegas. Maybe I'm the crazy one.
*I would like to take a moment to point out that he is the less creepy of the two people who live in that apartment.
