dropping the work deuce

So I periodically find myself in a predicament. I'm sitting there, enjoying my cup of joe, having a staring contest with my computer monitor at work, and it hits me. I'm going to have to do the unthinkable.... drop the work deuce.

Now, I know for some people this isn't a big deal. For me, I used to love this scenario. I used to work in a large corporation, we had a huge building, something like 15 floors. With several bathrooms on each floor, the possibilities were endless, I personally never dropped the package off in the same place, had a nice rotation, you know, to keep things exciting. Also, it isn't exactly roses and fabreeze if you know what I mean, so I never tried to hit the same place twice.

I would load up on the free coffee, grab myself some leftover newspaper, and stalk my porcelain prey until I found something I could cozy on up to. The greatest part of the work deuce is that you are essentially getting paid to let one out of the old squeeze box... at one point I think I figured out I was getting paid $2.45 per deuce. Not bad if you ask me.

Now the ferry tale has ended. I now find myself in the nightmare scenario of all nightmare scenarios. I happen to work for a smaller company now, and we only have one depository per floor. In fact I can't even get into accounting upstairs to test out their facilities. To make maters worse it is a unisex bathroom, as in male and female use the same little room in there. Let me make it clear that this is the worst possible thing anyone could ever do ever ever ever. What the hell is management thinking?

Months go by before the inevitable happens...... let's just say there are reasons you don't pig out on sushi on your lunch break, anyways, I gotta go and I gotta go now. I try to get into accounting so I can drop in stealth mode, but of course, the door is closed, like what the hell are they hiding up there anyway?

I only have one choice. I won't go into much detail here, but this bathroom is maybe 3 feet by 3 feet, I mean it is SMALL. No windows, and some tiny little fan you'd find in a dollhouse. Safe to say I almost passed out. So my whole plan is to just sneak on out of there, but of course, I hear the dreaded jingle of the door handle... someone tries to open the door... I realize now that someone is going to be waiting outside. I stall, maybe two minutes, but realize that this is probably a bad idea, and of course, it was.

I open the door, and sure enough, guess who is standing there. Perhaps the only hot chick in the place, I mean she's really hot and likes to work out, has a bunch of hot friends, the kind of girl that would get drunk at the company Xmas party and make out with me. But guess what?

She runs in there, shuts the door, and BAM. It must of just consumed her. I hear coughing. I of course run back to my desk. I don't want to go down as the the guy that drops the nasty at work. But it is too late. She comes out all red faced, purely disgusted. I mean I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemies let alone a little nugget like this, and of course she tells everyone. She makes the rounds, letting everyone know she just walked into the cloud of doom, everyone knows, everyone I am sure is laughing their ass off.

My goal was to have a girlfriend by now, and the deadline has passed. This chick at work was about the only prospect I had, I pretty put all my eggs in this basket, and you fill in the blanks. This girl won't even come near me now. Even some dick at work that no one ever thought was EVER cool made some "oh I'm plugging my nose" gesture as he walked by my cubicle, and it was the highlight of every ones day. What a dick.

Safe to say from now on I am taking the time to walk across the street to the Wendy's and do my business there. Granted, it is a public facility, and has all the CONS of a public restroom, but you know what? When I leave, it is some stranger that has to deal with that nightmare in that room and not the HOTTEST CHICK AT WORK EVER.

thanks anyways old lady

So I find myself this last weekend checking out a baseball game, you know, America's past time. Why not. Personally I'm there for the Nachos and $8 beer, but who cares, right?

As a plus, I am told by those that know of such things, that it is a fan appreciation night. That means I am getting something for free, and granted, I'm not struggling and looking for handouts, but I can't say no to something really cool for free.

As we get out of the car, the free item has become rather obvious. Bad ass T-shirts, that say fan appreciation on them, so everyone will know when you wear it that you were there and they were not. Your friends will be super jealous, and the girls are going to go crazy for it.

So we get in line, show our tickets, and now it is time to get our free shirt!!! But you know what? I get handed what seems like an XXXXXXL T-shirt that wouldn't even fit Tommy Lasorda AFTER the weight watchers. Are you kidding me? So I ask this 192 year old person handing these out, "hey, you got anything here smaller than a freaking para sail?" And I get this, "would you prefer a child size?" A CHILD SIZE SHE SAYS. You know, this sort of thing doesn't bother me. Don't care, not going to get all worked up over B. Arthur or whatever the hell Golden Girl she looked like, I DON'T CARE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My face might say I'm PISSED OFF and I may be a little redder in the face than usual (i got sunburned the day before is why) but trust me on the inside I am cool and composed. But you know what R-TARD is standing directly behind me??? Some underachieving FRAT BOY and the rest of his Neanderthal drunk friends... And of course they heard this exchange. So Alpha Male starts laughing and laughing. One of his friends with an IQ of ZERO makes some kind of comment like "awww is it going to cry?"

I think to myself, dear God turn me into the most badass ninja from feudal China and give me the strength to go DOUBLE DRAGON on these guys, give me the ability to impress EVERY GIRL in this stadium with powerful scissor kicks and swift and precise punches, and please don't let me break my glasses in the process (I am out of contacts right now, I don't want any glasses jokes!!!!!!! THIS ISN'T JR. HIGH) But you know what? I don't resort to violence. At least not in this world. I will go Mike Tyson on someone online, such as in this little game called WORLD OF WARCRAFT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And besides, its not like I'm going to tell these brainiac frat boys to find me online and I will make you all sorry! I doubt they even play WOLRD OF WARCRAFT, and if they did I HIGHLY HIGHLY doubt they would give me their screen names, for obvious fear induced reasons of course. And even if they they did play, and they were very stupid enough to tell me how to find them in the WARCRAFT UNIVERSE, even asking them would confuse the old lady handing out big shirts, she would probably ask a billion stupid questions like what's that, what's a computer, how does electricity work. WHATEVER!!!!!!!

So I leave these guys and put it behind me, since it doesn't bother me, I mean not even one bit does it bother me. I have a HUGE shirt now. I was thinking I could turn it into kind of a muscle shirt, you know, cut the sleeves off and maybe some of the length and show some skin. I don't know, I am sure it will be a collector item someday, and if I'm not going to open my Super Man Dies comic in the Black Packaging then I sure as hell can't destroy this shirt. If and let me stress WHEN I get myself another girlfriend, I guess she can wear it around the house or to bed or something.

so why call yourself the furious gnome?

I've gotten a lot of emails from the blog asking me, so hey, what's up with your blogs name?


Well.... a joke I have heard before, actually I guess I was the joke, anyways someone called me a gnome once, and with the group of people I was with at that time it just really sticked. I didn't get that upset, I mean, gnomes aren't necessarily a bad thing, right? They seem to be real jolly people,not a care in the world. These guys over here to the right happen to have joined up in a band and are having the time of their lives. Lucky Gnomes! Who wouldn't want the fame, fortune, that come with being in a band.



So after awhile, let's just estimate I'd say about TEN years of gnome jokes and references, surprise gifts (who wraps up garden gnomes anyway?), and joke after joke after joke, I drew a line in the sand. The gnome to the left is simulating a JUDO chop to an adversary, excellent form by the way. Wile Martial Arts training has taken a back seat to other developments in my life, I have instead chosen to hone my skills in the WORLD OF WARCRAFT!!

Now I would embrace what those used against me, I would become, the FURIOUS GNOME!

who i am

I'm a hard working, tax paying, American man who also happens to be five feet tall. But that doesn't make me any less American, doesn't mean I pay less taxes. And I have an important job, I just don't work seasonally at the mall or as some hurtful folk like to say at the North Pole!! Pay respect to us tiny folk!! I realize that is not much of a threat, but you understand where I'm coming from.

Still, even with me being a very understanding and tolerable person, I can still get a little UPSET when people show no class. Examples of people saying things with NO CLASS are things like, hey little guy, I didn't know they make suits that small. Or look at that midget! I'M NOT A MIDGET! FIVE FEET TALL IS NOT BEING A MIDGET!

Don't get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with midgets, I'm not saying that. In fact I used to Tivo Little People Big World, I loved that show. I like midgets, like I said I am a very very tolerable and understanding person. Just don't call me a midget, OK?

It would blow your mind how many successful people there are out there who are on the smaller side. In fact, I think there should be a month dedicated throughout the year to smaller stature indviduals, we could even have a few days off work, now who wouldn't mind that?

Does being five feet tall bother you? If I had a quarter for everytime I heard that, I could buy enough computers to have a super computer. I would use it to win the lotto, buy a nice car, and date super models as a hobby. See this girl to the right? Something gives me the feeling that she wouldn't be impressed with my Ford Focus, despite the fact that I have a navigation system and leather seats, upgrades of course. So I am left with the realization that I really need to win the lotto.

But to answer the question, does being five feet tall bother you, well, NOOOOOOOOOOO! SO STOP ASKING ME THAT QUESTION!!!! It's getting old.

To wrap it up, If you play World of Warcraft, I'll see you out there, you better watch out!