Half Acre Cipher Review

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What up party people?! Drizzunk Caesar in da house!

One of my toughest dwarf critics made a sly side comment to me at our local dive bar last night about this “Drunk Gnome Blog” not having enough blogging about drinking. So I dedicate this post to Sneeze, Dopey, Doc, and all you other judgmental fuckers.

Last night I tried a new brew. It’s called Cipher, a Belgian Blonde, from Half Acre in Chicago. Anyone else ever tried it? If so, I’d be interested to hear opinions from human taste buds such as yours.

Half Acre Cipher Bottle (empty of course)

I’ve always been a big fan of Belgian Blondes (both the beers and the broads, of course). It pumps in a good 7.5% of alcohol and I picked up a pint at the Half Acre Brewery on Lincoln Avenue. I found the beer to be pleasant and drinkable, but nothing to write home about. Not that I ever write home about anything anyway. My home sucks. A pile of dirt next to a watering can is nothing to brag about.

Nothing was terribly memorable about it but it had a light flavor that didn’t make me feel like a Fatty MaGoo. It had flavor, but nothing that made me orgasm my socks off either.

More memorable than the beer itself is the label on the beer bottle. Apparently this beer was just released last week and the label holds a cryptic messages to “Cipher”. GET IT?! Someone over there thinks they’re freaking clever.

Rumor has it that if you can decipher the code on the label, you win a brewery tour for you and your 10 closest friends as well as a VIP already-sold-out hacker conference in Chicago.

http://beerstreetjournal.com/half-acres-cipher-is-a-beer-a-hidden-code/

Gnomes aren’t known for their tech savvy nature by any means, but this sounds like a great reason to go rummaging through the recycling bin in my back alley to find that bottle and get really high and cross my eyes and see a mystical image that explains the meaning of life.

Stumbling to the recycling bin and finding the meaning of life,

Caesar The Gnome

Good vs. Evil: A Manatee Survival Masterpiece

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Savior Gnome Rescuing Manatee From Evil Gnome

This masterpiece is not intended for the faint of heart. Rating PG-13. Kids turn your computers off and go find a swing set.

You may have heard rumors about manatee abuse and the guide companies that support it. On my daily 5am swim with the sea cows, I spied an deformed looking creature hiding in the bushes. He was an evil gnome! He had a gun! And he was pointing it at Suzette, my most favorite manatee in the whole wide world.

BANG BANG BANG!

He got her! NO! He got her!!!!

I had to think quick on my feet. I gnawed off an anchor rope from a nearby tour guide boat with my tiny gnome teeth, threw the lasso around Suzette, and climbed on top of her. Suzette was so brave! If I had just a fraction of her braveness, I would have totally joined that fraternity back in undergrad.

I am thrilled to report that due to the best medical attention available in the Homosassa River, Suzette has made a full recovery. We are toasting with champagne at this very moment as she reads this blog post over my shoulder. She is considering getting some sort tattoo design around her gunshot wound scar as in remembrance of the dichotomy of good and evil in the world.

I find my remembrance by exhibiting my masterful work of art in the Shovel and Rake Gallery in Greenwich Village. Hours and location details will be available when I feel like showing up there.

Artistically yours in life and death,

Jerry the Gnome

 

Cracking Cankles

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I was finally able to hobble over to this Internet machine after hours of screaming in agonizing pain. Have you ever had an ankle injury? Yeah yeah, it sucks whatever. Now. Have you had a CANKLE injury?! OMG these are like 104% worse. For those of you who are skinny and/or stupid, let me learn ya something…..

Exhibit B: Cankle Education

It all started at my friend Katie’s retirement party Saturday night. Well I thought it was her retirement party anyway. Turns out she had just gotten hired at a new job instead and she’s only 29. Who knew?! Katie and I go waaaaaay back. She and I used to make out behind the maple trees at recess during out time at the Woodlands Academy of Magic Arts. Ah memories…

I found a brilliant receipe for blueberry vodka/Godiva white chocolate/Licor 43 martinis and had about 8 of ’em before heading out to Katie’s retirement, er hirement (?) celebration. There was hugging, there was groping, and there was an entire martini list that begged one of each to be ordered.

I was hoping Katie would go back to my mushroom pad in the garden to shack up that night but she was playing hard to get. I think there’s someone else.  Rejected and wasted, I pulled back up my suspenders, buttoned my vest and much as it would button over my ever-extending waistline, and staggered towards the door. This is the precise moment that a magical evil stair appeared from the void of darkness and attacked me for no reason whatsoever.

“Ow! Ow! My cankle! My cankle!” I screamed as I tumbled in slow motion and saw my life flash before my eyes. (Eh, it was okay). That cankle cracked like no cankle has ever cracked before.

The bouncer nervously glanced around to see if there were any witnesses to this horrific incident. There were not. He took his pretentious metrosexual shoe and shoved me out the door into the frigid 31-degree night.

Due to the swelling, my cankle is now 5 times the size of my normally sized cankle. Work boots will never fit over this horrid thing. I’m thinking of buying some of these socks to see if they live up to the hype. The folks on the infomercials can’t stop raving about them. What do you think?

Cracked cankle curing sock

Hobbling but not a Hobbit (I hate those snooty bastards),

Maurice The Gnome

 

Why I hate Master Alyssa this week

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That crazy broad wouldn’t let me go on the Florida trip with her and her manfriend. I have been by her side (and in her bed….ahem) for 10 years now! Where is the respect? Where is the loyalty?

I tried to sneak into her suitcase. Check this shit out:

See! I told you I'd fit!

And do you believe what happened next! Even if you do, I’ll show you anyway because I’m just that pissed off.

No!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

To make matters worse, she came home with a stuffed manatee, a manatee backpack, and a manatee necklace. I feel like I’ve been replaced. Life sucks.

Can someone please get me out of here? I can be reached via carrier pigeon. It’s a little known fact that pigeons and lizards mate in the springtime.

Whatever,

St. Bastille Day

Gnome + Manatee = Gnomanatee

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Freaking sea cow!

Sheldon here. Remember me? I’m the gnome who carries around those tasty mushrooms in my  vest pocket? Yeah yeah, that was me that night. Trust me, you had a great time even though the last thing you remember was using my garden shovel as a pillow.

Our Supreme Master and Worshiped Goddess, Alyssa, recently had an amazing experience with some freakish creatures called manatees. Alyssa (who prefers to go by Gnomeplaya today) and her manfriend, Sridhar (who prefers to go by Pippi Longstocking today) recent traveled to the Homosassa River in Crystal River, Florida to seek out these wild beasts. Fortunately, I was lucky enough to ride along in Alyssa’s coat pocket for this trip. And yes….lame…she was wearing a coat because Florida was freaking freezing. Whodathunkit?

Playa and Pippi boarded a boat operated by Sir Hippie Dude with America Pro Diving. “Into the water you go!”, said Hippie. Our Master and Goddess looked SO HOT in her wetsuit OMG. Pippi was okay too, I guess. No Homosassa River jokes, please. Are manatees gay? Hmmm…that might work out well for me if they are. Anyway…..

Although we were all hardcore briefed on manatee abuse issues, Pippi was determined to capture and eat a manatee from these treacherous waters. Playa was successful in protecting the entire species from extinction. Feel free to send her thank you donations via pay pal for her valiant conservation efforts.

Look at her snorkeling skills!

Fortunately, the adventurous human couple let me hang out on the boat while they jumped in the 72-degree water with snorkels in search for sea cows. Pippi preferred to hang on to the side of the boat, where he was continually prodded and groped by horny manatees. Playa swam around frantically in search of deep manatee emotional connections and squealed with delight and panic at inappropriate times. Meanwhile, I took some amazing video and photography footage of these bizarre encounters with my Gnometastic 3000 Underwater Camera. One of my favorite shots is shown here, but this is just wet your whistle. You need to buy me a couple shots of bourbon before I release the really good ones to the general public.

Prior to the trip, Pippi concerned me that our guide company was super sketchy and was way mean to the manatees. I am ecstatic to report that they treated those stupid creatures with more respect than they did to me. Wait. Why does that make me ecstatic. My only complaint is that they didn’t have any wetsuits and life vests small enough for my petite gnomish (but sexy) body. I would have humped those things like they’ve never been humped. What beautiful gnomanatee babies we could have made….

Yours in lonliness and solitude,

Sheldon the Gnome