PlazaJen: Passion Knit

I've had one of those rock-m, sock-m headaches today that Just! Won't! Quit! with a frickin' vengeance. The Headache Gnome has been ignored long enough and now he's riding a dirt bike around the inside of my cranium, much like the stunt riders at the circus ride their dirt bikes inside a large metal cage.
So that really only leaves me one choice: Hit Gnome. A sordid, mysterious sort of gnome, who smokes unfiltered cigarettes, drinks thimbles of whiskey, and refuses to wear the pointy hat but instead dons a red do-rag. He is a Renegade. One one bicep there's a mushroom tatoo, on the other the requisite "Gnome Free or Die" with the national Gnome masonic symbol. His ride is, of course, a Harley DavidGnome. All the better to catch up with the mo-fo Headache Gnome, I say. Tear it up, buddy.

Apparently, the Imagination Gnome is hard at work today. That's good. Somebody oughta work hard, and it's not really turning out to be ME.

UPDATE (3:40 p.m.): The headache is nearly gone, and it seemed to dissipate during a meeting with the Blandest Rep Ever. Seriously, his personality was as substantive as wet tissue. I thought Kristin was going to leap on the table and flash her boobs, just to see if he would blink. (she didn't. I bet he would've.)