We’ve already started boozin’ over in The Gnome Abode….how ’bout you? Ya gotta do kegs & eggs for St. Patrick’s Day! C’mon people, don’t get old and lame just yet.

Beer? Check. Beads? Check. Flask? Check.

Eggs? Eggs? EGGS?!? Roxy was supposed to bring the eggs. Where the hell is that little slut. We’re starving!

Roxy? Roxy! Answer this blog post ASAP!!!

Chug-a-lug,

Leonardo The Gnome and the rest of the Gnome Gang

So Jerry and Horace threatened to snap my broom handle in half if I didn’t finish the entire household’s laundry before the end of the weekend. They can be total bullies sometimes. I may or may not be a push-over. I don’t have a problem with taking my turn doing the household chores, but I can’t help to notice that I’m the only one doing all of the work. I was hired to work in this backyard as a Sweeper. Seemed easy enough from the ad I responded to…. See some dirt, sweep it up, repeat, repeat, repeat.

But today I find myself at a laundromat. Washing EVERYONE’s solid colored shirts and suspender pants with some goopy stuff the girl at the front counter kept referring to as “detergent” and “fabric softener”. WTF?! 

The closest laundromat I could find was an oddly bright colored establishment called Bubbleland. (Bubbleland, I thought….sounds like a fun place full of merriment and joy!) I was wrong. Dead wrong.

First of all, look at this place! It’s freaking creepy as hell! Bubble letter “Clean is good” slogans? Why is everything so bright? Why am I fenced in? How is that man in the black shirt coping with these conditions?!

Second of all, the smallest of all the washing machines cost $1.80! How does any gnome ever afford to have clean clothes! Isn’t this a basic gnomish right!? I’m writing my alderman a strongly worded letter.

Third of all, the dryers were so huge that I literally had to climb into it to start pulling the dripping wet mass of clothing on top of me. It was humiliating. You know all those cheesy romantic comedies where a cute single guy gnome and a cute almost-single girl know catch each others’ glance across the rows of dryers, fall in love at first sight, and overcome a test of obstacles in their lives to be together and find true happiness? (I love those movies)

WELL THOSE MOVIES ARE A LIE! I’m never going to meet the gnome girl of my dreams here if I look as ridiculous as I do  sweeping in a dryer!!!

A grueling four hours passed and finally the spin cycle made its final spin. Time to crawl back in and pull ’em out. Ugggghhhhh….

Ooo…

OooooOOOOOO! So warm! So clean! So fresh! Oh I think I’m just going to stay and nap in here! The other gnomes would be SO JEALOUS if they had ANY idea how amazing this feels.

What? What’s that you’re mumbling about, weird man in the black shirt? No. No. But…but…but…You can’t be serious. NOW I HAVE TO FOLD EVERYTHING?!?!??!?!??!?!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I always have credited my buddy, Sheldon for his good taste in music. Then last night I find myself at the Rihanna concert. I heard that name before but I always thought it was a teenage Latino beached whale boy with a speech impediment. Tickets were as expensive as hell but we hopped into the coat pocket of some big guy and didn’t pay a dime.

All they served at the Riv was Bud Light. Sheldon and I sat on the floor with our mouths open waiting for drunk bastards to somehow spill out of their gawking mouths. After we got about ten or eleven drops, the music stopped and the crowd cleared. Someone or something scooped into me and Sheldon into its hand and I whipped around, ready for the fist fight of a lifetime. Instead I was patted on the top of my little gnome hat by a very nice looking human figure and handed something burning at one end and smelling like road kill. I didn’t really care what it was because this is who handed it to me:

Not a Teenage Latino Beached Whale Boy

These are the moments that remind me that there are new things to be learned every day and that not all teenage Latino beached whale boys are half bad.

Highly magnificent,

Pablo the Gnome

I found some — oh wait, that was supposed to be ‘Dear Diary’ — anyway, I just found some holes in my wall today. I climbed over my bearded boyfriend, wait, no, scratch that. I crawled over my bearded man-atee (haha, get it??), and went to investigate what I thought were bugs on my precious, beautiful wall. But those ‘bugs’ just turned out to be uninteresting, and untitilating holes. Whoops, I spelled un-titillating wrong… Tits!!

I miss my friend double-D McGee, sister of Tits McGee. I rode her, hard, in Florida the other day. Tits is jealous, but she will get over it.

Bye Dairy…

Moooo!!!!