One of our most favorite Gnome Scouts (who goes by the name, Much) located this amazing photograph on Pintrest. We are dying to know who this man is and where he is located so that we can stalk him.
His gnome community looks amazing and we need to make best friends with each and every one of them. We will travel anywhere to meet him. He may actually be a freakishly tall gnome himself!
Anyone with any information whatsoever should comment on this post.
X’Smores The Gnome
Check out the cool new “surf blue” Jeep on our blog’s cover page! That dastardly photo documenting St. Bastille Day’s brief reign over The Gnome Abode has been removed and tossed into a fire pit I made in the living room.
Gnomes love Jeeps! Especially this one!
Kamikaze has the best driving skills out of all of us, so he usually takes us out to do our errands. The broom he holds helps to push the petal thingies.
Now that we have successfully defeated that evil (and way horny) lizard St. Bastille Day, we don’t expect him to be taking up our well-deserved Jeep privileges as much anymore.
And according to a Jeep dealership in Vancouver, Jeeps are incredibly gnome-safe!
You won’t accidentally “kill” garden gnomes with a Jeep
One conspicuous fault that all SUVs and light trucks share in common is the interminable presence of a “blind spot” at the back of the vehicle. Even when all three rear view mirrors are facing squarely at the middle portion of the rear, it’s still impossible to gauge if you’re not in danger of running over something (i.e. the aforementioned garden gnome) or someone (i.e. your cat). Thankfully, folks like the Vancouver Jeep dealers are only too aware of this problem. The solution? Make the mirrors wide enough to accommodate the view, and just to make sure, early collision detectors like the compass, auto dimmer, and thermometer are all prerequisite safety features of a Jeep that will help you ensure that no gnome will die in vain.
Peep sqiddily doo!
X’mores The Gnome
The guys took me bowling for my birthday last weekend. It sounded like a fun idea. Colored balls. Long lanes. Fun shoes. Breezy hand dryer thingies.
After a few draughts of shitty beer, it was finally my turn. I picked a pretty purple ball and posed in dramatic fashion.
Caesar quickly advised me that I was facing the wrong way. I turned around with little to no argument.
Gutter ball. Blast. I was promised bumpers. These dudes told me it was a game that even a sleepy gnome with his eyes closed, like me, could play. I guess I was bamboozled again. Leonardo told me that the the penalty for throwing a gutter ball was to sit on the thingie that spits out the balls and stop them from rolling until someone else rolls a gutter ball and assumes the position.
I assumed the position, alright. The very next ball rolling through the thingie weighed 15 pounds. I don’t even think I weigh 15 ounces. I’ve been working out.
Anyway, that large black ball knocked me right off the thingie that the ball rolls through. A true gentleman never discusses his injuries….especially when his injuries involve gentleman-specific parts.
Ahem. Enough said.
This marks the first and the last bowling experience that I will ever put myself through. I wandered out of the bowling alley and found a pit of fire in a real alley next to a homeless man. Even this was more pleasant than what I had just been put through during what those other asshole gnomes call a “sport”.
Homeless dude and I found a bag of stale marshmallows in the trash bin behind the grocery store. And henceforth, I shall ever be known as X’mores….the Xtreme S’mores maker.
Good evening and good night,
X’Mores The Gnome