Jefe Redux

I was inspired to give this thing another go by a new blog I saw called Dooce. It's fun and vulgar, two things I like.

Speaking of which, I would like to announce a party!!

"Oho," you cry "when and where Jefe?! When and Effin Where!"

But wait!

Before you dig out your pink tutu and plastic funnel, I have to tell you about the catch. This is a special party you must understand. Some might say that its a once-in-a-lifetime type of party.

A "Pucker up Karl" Party! (not-locked in)

I have pledged that upon hearing that Karl Rove is being sent to Leavenworth, bulwhipped in public, or even just dismissed that I shall host a party to end all parties, a "Pucker up Karl" party if you will. Should they throw Karl in the Clink I have promised to buy champagne for everybody! If they bulwhip him, well that's an act so unprecedented and blatantly unconstitutional I think I would have to provide everyone a hooker's ass to do coke off or something.

It'll be grand.

Years from now you'll be standing around at some lame cocktail party and the subject of Karl Rove's demise will come up. Everyone will have a chuckle and then someone will ask if anyone remembers where they were when they heard the news.

"Oho" you'll cry, [which is kind of annoying fyi] "I remember exactly where I was! Shit yeah, I just don't recall the next two days!" They'll laugh and laugh....

Maybe we'll play stick the ass on Ass-face
el Jefe

The War Room Vantage

My office, the War room, is located on the second floor of the house where I live. It faces our street which in typical fashion of a neighborhood such as this is named after babbling brooks and oak leaves. My buddy, hizzle, owns the house I rent in. It's located in this hidden little development where all the houses are big and new. Respectable people with jogging perambulators and rescued greyhounds live here. Our street is the artery leading out of the neighborhood, people walk up and down it traveling to and from downtown Carrboro, our fair city. There are two large windows in my room, one situated right next to my desk. I like to sit up here and watch the proceedings. Sometimes when its not hot as bugger, I'll open the window which has no screen and stick my feet out. My little piece of surburbia.

Across the street are these condo/apartment units. Their yards are verdant and lush. Well maintained too, you could cut your effin teeth on the grass. Our side is a little rougher. We don't really go in for meticulous lawn care and we sure don't want to pay for service. The yard is an amalgamation of three or four different types of grass, clover, weeds, and empty patches of dirt. Ironically, though we have several areas of the lawn where the grass will not grow, our sidewalk and drive is slowly being destroyed by grass and weeds pushing up through the cracks.
Life is a funny ole girl.

The place is lousy with birds that fly and twitter about. One annoying little bugger likes to sing around midnight which I find inconceivable. In these nice areas, there are always ten or twelve silly buggers who decide it would be great fun to put up gigantic bird feeders. They of course park their SUV's in the garage so who cares if the street parker's cars get pooped on by flying rodentia?

Today I was just musing that it really might be time to mow the lawn, my house job, when a Doberman just wandered by the house. Strolled down the sidewalk in a business like manner didn't even bother to sniff the grass. I sat here waiting for an owner to trot after it, but none was forth coming. Kind of weird. I think I was more worried that it would crap in the lawn than anything. Not good.