A review of the Banff Mountain Film Festival from new blogger & slackliner: Sketchy Andy!!

‘Sup guys.

So if you’ve missed the Banff Mountain Film Festival as it tours over to your city, you pretty much suck and you can stop reading this right now.

The festival plays like everywhere, folks, so don’t gimme no lame excuses.You don’t even gotta go to Banff to see it. But if you do, send me a postcard. Eh?  http://www.banffcentre.ca/mountainfestival/worldtour/

I just so happened to be doing a promotion to do slackline back flips from the top of the Sears Tower to whatever that building is across from the Sears Tower. It was pretty rad. And I didn’t die, which is always cool.

The film about me that made it into the festival is called Reel Rock: Sketchy Andy, and highlights some of my most kickass tricks. If ya just cant’ enough of me, check out the You Tube video in my profile.

What do you mean that doesn’t look like me? It’s just the camera angles that make me look almost human in these shots. My beard has grown a little longer and whiter since that vid was taken too. But seriously, take another look or buy some glasses or something. It’s totally me and you know it.

Whatever, I’m not here to defend myself. I’m actually here to give a review of the other six films from the festival. So get your panties out of that conspiracy theory wad and settle in with a cup of tea spiked with whiskey.

The first film All.I.Can: The Short Cut showed this rad dude skiing down concrete streets, over cars, and through peoples’ ‘hoods with their clothes lines hanging up and stuff. How whack. There’s tons of ski slopes aroudn the world. Surely, (and don’t call me Shirley) he could have found his stoner way to one of them. The music totally pumped me up though.

The film, Origins – Obe & Ashima, was about this cute little nine year old girl would could totally kick my ass at bouldering. Her dad is some kind of a freak show dancer and they live in New York City, which makes no sense for climbing whatsoever. But anyway, they hired bouldering legend, Obe Carrion, to train the pipsqueak. Finally, little Ashima gets to hit up some real rock and Obe takes her  to the bouldering mecca of Hueco Tanks. I can’t wait to see what this crazy kid does next.

I’m no wimp, but the film, Kadoma, totally made me tear up. South African kayak legend, Hendri Coetzee, (nicknamed “Kadoma”) has explored the craziest freaking rivers in all of Africa. A couple American pros followed him into the Lukuga River in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Turns out, he legend ends up dying. I hate crocodiles even more than I did before. Not that I ever really thought about crocodiles much at all before. Whatever.

Blue Obsession was all about ice climbing…something I’ve been wanting to get into just to step up the slackline gig a notch. The glaciers in Alaska are wicked beautiful. I gotta see that for myself. Secretary: Add this to my bucket list. Thanks, bitch.  

The film, On Assignment: Jimmy Chin was about this Chinese photographer, who after a bunch of sleeping in his car and getting shit from his family, made it big in the world of climbing photography. His stuff is pretty rockin’. His shots seem to catch his pro climber subjects in a moment where nothing else matters. Truly freaking beautiful.   

The final film, The Freedom Chair,  was all about this dude, Josh Dueck, who rocked as a skier but got in a real bad accident that left him paralyzed. He was way bummed for awhile but eventually learned to sit ski and got awesome at it. He went the Olympics and got back to his real passion of skiing in the back-country. These types of flicks always seem a bit cheesy, but even jaded fuckers like me can’t help but feel inspired.

Shoutout to Gnomeplaya who invited me to live in the Gnome Abode and join the blog world as a contributing author! I owe ya a beer or seven.

Once my Sears Tower vid comes out, ya’ll be the first to know about it.

Yeah,

Sketchy Andy The Gnome

Titties and Tarot Cards

Greetings Interweb! Just your friendly cello player here. We’ve been in the van for a few days now since our debut show at the Cow Palace. The show was pretty rad and stuff. There were at least five gnomes in the crowd, which is four more than our pre-tour show last fall.

We’re headed to some godforsaken place in Nevada to play a show over there. McCartney and Lennon have it under control, I guess. I’m just along for the ride and the strumming.

For whatever reason, this weird chick keeps following me around. I don’t even know how she got in the van in the first place. But here she is. Flashing her titties around and chugging whiskey from the bottle.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t really mind her all that much. She just kinda freaks me out. Today she pulled out these gnome tarot cards and starting giving us all tarot card readings. Based upon the cards she flipped over, she told me that my one true love was right before my eyes and I didn’t even know it. She also told me that the callouses on my hands would eventually heal and I would live to the age of 68.

I’m not sure what I make of all this fortune telling bullshit. She set some sort of crystal ball on the dash of the car and then was devastatingly surprising when it rolled off and shattered into a million pieces when McCartney slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting a poor, defenseless raccoon crossing the road.

I wouldn’t mind banging her one of these days. But I have this nagging feeling that if I don’t cuddle long enough or call soon enough afterwards that she’ll put some sort of evil curse on me. Maybe she already has. This is all very unsettling.

Oh but she looks amazing in that tank top. And the mountains out here look kinda amazing too. And as far as I’m concerned, this is the only future that I’m thinking about right about now. These guys had better stop for a brew and piss break within the next 20 minutes or I’m gonna get cranky.

Peace out,

Starr the Gnome, Cellist for Amish Meth Lab

Where are we and what is that wretched smell?

For the first couple days I asked questions like that. But now I’ve stopped even trying to get a straight answer. This is life on the road in a tour van.

So yeah, bitches…my voodoo spell totally worked and I am have been inducted as the one and only groupie of the HOTTEST all gnome band, Amish Meth Lab!!!!!

They had a show a few days ago or something. I think it was in San Fran….I think so anyway. After the show, I remember Starr throwing me over his shoulder and into the tour van.

I’m trying to retrace my the steps of my past few days right now, so bear with me, K? There were bottles being passed around. I remember sitting on Starr’s lap. I remember puking. I remember Starr holding my hair back. Um…um….ok that’s all I got for ya right now.

After some minutes/days/hours passed, I woke up in the middle of the night and scratched my head, only to find there was peanut butter in my hair. Too hungover to do anything about it, I lied back down on the floor of the van and let the soothing roar of the engine let me return to the unconscious world.

I have decided that Starr is my soul mate. He’s so mysterious and so hot. The chase is always better than the catch anyway.

I overheard Lennon and McCartney talking in the front seat about how the next tour stop was in some place called Battle Mountain, Nevada. Based on my badass Wikipedia skills (on this fancy smart phone I stole from that douchebag awhile back), Battle Mountain looks lame as shit.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_Mountain,_Nevada

Population 2,871?! Where’s the battle and who is fighting? What kind of crowd to they expect in a place like that?

But then again, what do I know? Maybe there’s a huge fan base over there. Shout out to anyone from Battle Mountain, Nevada! Shout out! Anyone! Anyone? 

Lennon keeps making disgusting jokes about wanting to go there because they have the letters BM carved into the side of the mountain at the edge of town. BM. Hardy har har. What are we, in  second grade? But speaking of, the wretched smell in this van is getting worse and worse. I sure as hell hope they don’t expect me to clean up after them since I’m the only chick in here.

Here to party….not here to clean,

Roxy The Gnome

NOW HIRING GNOME SCOUTS!!! (*compensation commensurate with experience*)

Dear Applicants,

Hypothetically speaking, let’s just say that you spot a gnome in a yard, or on the interweb, or in a store, or working out on the treadmill next to you. Well THIS is the place for you to share all of your gnome sightings!

The first Professional Gnome Scout that we have hired is a lovely young lady who goes by the name “Hurricane”. She spotted this collection of mini gnomes at the Walgreens on the corner of Washington & Michigan for $1.99 each. What a bargain! I knew the illegal gnome trade cartel was going through some economic difficulties, but gee whiz. In some gnome cultures, “miniature” gnomes are considered a rare delicacy and are bought and sold out in trailer parks for at least double that amount.

To be considered for one of our Gnome Scout positions (which are quickly filling up) please post one sentence explaining why you would be a good Gnome Scout and a head-shot on our Facebook page, The Drunk Gnome.

Happy trails,

Zookwinkle The Gnome

 

Pourin’ One Out For my Gnomies

As our dear Alfredo explained to you yesterday, Easter is a very tragic time in the gnome community. I would like to dedicate this post to one of our beloved brothers, Chaka Kahn, who risked his life standing guard by the door to keep those all evil bunny rabbits and scavenger children away.

But he was only one gnome. And one gnome can only do so much.

I would like to dedicate this poem to our dearly departed brother, Chaka Khan, as well as the others who suffered a similar fate yesterday.

Rest in Peace
Our fallen gnome soldier
There’s so many things
That we never told ya

 

You were brave and selfless
The very best gnome guard
The world feared your mushroom
And respected you in the yard

 

I saw the bunnies charging
I heard the children’s screams
I saw your life flash before my eyes
Like one of my bad dreams

 

But it was too late
You shattered apart
And I’ll always miss
Your piece of my heart

 

Pourin’ one out for my gnomies,

Yankee Doodle