Hares: Trim My Bush, No Pussy for Him, Rambush: First Blood, Winter Merkin, After School Special
Hashers: Heavy Load, Mother Load, Over Load, Touch Myself in General, Ride the Pony, Diaper Rash, Don’key, Big Fat Fuck, Vagiant, Just Scott, I’m Not a Cock, The Rapist, Sex and Ate, Six o’Cock, Chicken Dick, Olive Dick, Altered Boy, Udderly Fuuuuuuuuuuuucked, Maggot, Pennsyl Vein, Show n’ Tell, Virgin daughter of Rambush, Two Virgins who we may be lifers (yes!), and anyone else was forgotten or still lost due to TMB’s directions.
….Bushwhacker… Brownies…. Apple Pie… oh myyy……
Only down in the brushy bushland of Pittsfield can some wankers put on a swell hash. The trail this day was set with the many nuances of TMB’s historical pilgrimage into the U.S. (minus la migra scares), including a lot of hares hiding from their snatchers, a lot of trespassing and wading through questionable sludge, BFF sticking foreign objects up his ass for safe passage (not like we’re surprised… I’m pretty sure that’s where Don’key curls up and sleeps every night), and as always, a lot of alcohol consumed before, during and after. Thankfully Rambush: First Blood came fully prepared, packing enough poison ivy meds to sooth even Vagiant’s itchiest of sensitive areas, and supplying the Hash with a glorious amount of “Bushwhacker Drank” and brownies. On top of that, we were also disgraced with the heavy presence of the Load family, providing us copious levels of delicious “Apple Pie” drank, along with unforgettable moments and quotes, including Over Load to Vagiant after some indecent exposure: “I’ve seen bigger balls than that on my dog.” We love you Over.
As the hares saunter off, TMB comes to the realization that he pulled a “Tarahumara” and went off without his shoes until the first beer check. Freshly lacquered with bug spray and liquored with “Apple Pie” and Hamm’s, the hashers took off into the wild blue yonder soon after. They trotted through corn husk as bristly and as prevalent as Udderly’s changing profile, and in honor of Mother’s Day, the hares laid for the hashers a wide, swampy, sticky, bacteria-laced hole for them to wade and force themselves through, much like many of our, or at least Chicken Dick’s, first emergence from our birth mothers’ canals. Vagiant took a chance on trail and dove into the high stalks and powerlines, only to be stabbed by them in vain and encounter a false. There were many other falses, as well as Back Checks and a Singapore Back Check. You’d think that Pittsfield wouldn’t give a f#ck about people running around, drinking and blowing each other….’s whistles, but apparently I’m Not a Cock, Sex and Ate AND the Mother Load herself were acting like a bunch of debauchees, and were questioned by the local police (that’s twice, Not a Cock, am I right?).
Ceremonies began at the cars, where Sex and Ate substituted for the absent Semper Pi and acted as temporary Religious Advisor, which meant, there was no f#ckin’ around during circle this day. Vagiant learned that the hard way after tossing his beer across the crowd, and had to be punished publicly for his actions with a water lashing of his own. The racists had to drink, especially TMI for his incredible finish at his first 50k at Gnawbone, as did late cummers, cop-flirters, and some freaky-fresh Virgins. As the cars were beginning to pull out, Rambush turned up her stereo and broke into liturgical dancing, accompanied by yours truly, to the always hip, “She’s Blinding Me With Science”. At Frasier’s COMB and Just Candace graced us with their ultra-late presence. Ceremonies were opened to honor COMB as an overachiever for his recent 50 mile finish at Gnawbone, and Just Scott was cleverly given the hash name “Asti Spunk On Me”, which so well resembles his bottom-bunk roommate agreement with Vagiant. Some male hashers enlightened our loud barmaid with the black-eye on what you tell a woman with two black eyes (“nothin’. you already told her twice”), meanwhile the rest ended the night merrily and scraped to shit.
Til next trail! ON ON!
As Winter Merkin was out of town this weekend being a racist, BFF has submitted hash trash from the hare’s perspective:
Hashers present: Tranny, BFF, Don’key, Cakehole, Vag, AB, NPfY, J Chris, Damaged, Poop, Chicken, J scott(I think), Show’n'Tell, just Vaughn
Quotes-
Tranny “your nice when you are drunk”
Bff “I am? Why?”
Tranny “you leave a lot more marks”
Cakehole “I love haring drunk. I’m going to do this from now on! Thanks BFF”
Poop “I’m drunk”
AB “I’m drunk”
BFF “I’m drunk”
Starting a little late with reduced numbers we lit off into the unknown. Rivers were crossed brambles torn through. Off to the first beer check. It appears that Tranny should have the title as COCKtail master as everyone liked his tequila sunrises on trail. While at the first Beer check AB and the Vag showed and preceded to catch up the intoxication level of the hares and pack.
As for the second leg… Let’s just leave it at BFF leaving two hares for dead so as not to be snared himself. Tranny blew his ankle out and tried to hide in the woods by getting naked. BFF runs quietly through the woods and two pack members were within 15feet of him but never caught sight or heard… Strange how such a large mass can move without disturbing the underbrush. Almost like a Yeti, we know they exist but no one has ever captured on film.
On after at the cozy was good Show’n'Tell stopped in with just Vaughn, his spawn. After drinking our fill we moved the on after back to Show’n'tells house to listen to 90’s alt rock with the occasional Shania Twain thrown in whenever ChickenDick got ahold of the CD player.
Hares: Cum on My Back-teria, Diaper Rash, Coxcycle, Slurpee Seconds, Scottish Fingercuffs, 2 Vicadin and a Bottle of Wine
Hashers: oh god here we go…. Ring Around the Russel, Used Virgin, Minute Man, Private Showing, Trim My Bush, After School Special, Analytical, Suzie ChapsDicks, I’m Not a Cock, Rambush: First Blood, Six o’Cock, The Rapist, Pubio, Phantom of the Aerola, Show ‘n Tell, Cakehole, Ben Wa Ball-less, Touch Myself In General, Semper Pi, Ride the Pony, Big Fat Fuck, Donkey, Winter Merkin, Chicken Dick, Jingle Pants, Altered Boy, Full Mental Jacket, Hi Ho Hi Ho, Rubber Gloves, Broken Boner, Ford Flaphead, Heavy Load, Trannyhead, No Pussy for Him, Udderly Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucked, Sex and Ate, Decorated Asshole, Dudley J. NoSwell, Vagiant, Fish Bait, Sleeps in His Sister’s Bed, Ice Bitch, Damaged Goods, Olive Dick, Lube My Beads, Just Mallory, Just Nicki, Just Chris, Just Sarah, the Aussie with bowling shoes (replace with real name), a Virgin and a wank or two more.
We raised our kilts and our flamboyantly colored vessels in honor of our 25 years of debauchery, beer, shiggy, and many foot miles. The start was located near the very first Detroit hash in 1987 (Winter Merkin wasn’t quite 2 years old then, you old fucks). Hashers were so excited for the day that many showed up early, and many more showed up late. The hashers received their commemorative t-shirts and mugs for the event, and Coxcycle was giving his commemorative blow-jobs (aka “the Cock-suckle”) in honor of the day. Chicken Dick strutted around the crowd in his mullet wig and jean vest/short ensemble like an unwanted extra from “Roadhouse”, and a large bunch of overachieving wankers came to circle with that sore “Diaper Rash” gait from racing in the Running Fit Trail races earlier that weekend.
The trail was a pleasant run: 3 miles or so with visible markings, no “Falses” or “Back-Checks”, groomed pathways and dry as dry could be, and then monkeys flew out of our buttholes on a rainbow . FUCK. THAT. If that first sentence were true, I wouldn’t still be applying Gold Bond to my itching knees and calves or trying to wash out the orange tinge in my socks that the Rouge River left behind. Holy fucking Shiggy. Everyone, at one time or another, had been molested by the low-hanging branches, the stinging nettles, the creeping vines, or the ever-lurking Jingle Pants. The hashers were getting fucked on this trail; they were getting fucked for hours, “uprooting trees and shrubs and flowers”. With the burn of the “Mystery Drank” still coating their throats, the hashers waded through high waters, slipped through bogs of eternal stench, straddled large logs (other than Sex and Ate’s), and sacrificed their skin and blood to the Hash gods.
By the time the first beer check was in sight, the FRB’s were so eager to get their muddy paws on some pudding shots they dove right into the deep murky waters of the river and swam their way to glory. Nevermind the warning calls from the hares to “NOT CROSS THE RIVER”, the tetanus, hep-c, cholera and parasites floating in the tepid waters, those hashers were thirsty for some ramekins filled with boozy, creamy love. The second beer check was equally appreciated after a long haul. At some point COMB fell victim to a stranger’s indecent exposure of stranger-danger wang (no joke), and some hashers lost and found trail after being misguided by locals yelling at each other in the middle of the woods (at that time Cakehole said, “We’re safer in numbers”).
The close of the hash came with much to be celebrated at circle. Many hashers received their 50/100/200 runs patches, and others celebrated personal achievements and other analversaries. We watched many a kilt go up, many a song sung, and many a beer drank. Since there were abajillion hashers present, accusations were thrown around as freely and as loosely as Show ‘n Tell and BFF’s weekend game of “pitcher and catcher”. Olive Dick and Sleeps had to both drink due to the shift of weight they exchanged recently. At least 5 had to suffer the safety-down-downs for acts of chivalry on trail as well. The evening was merry, and below are pictures to prove that MOA2H3 still knows how to run a hash after 25 years.
ON-ON!
Hares: Touch Myself In General, Semper Pi, Hep-C,
Beer Bitch: Vagiant
Hashers: Coxcycle, Tranny Head, Ride the Pony, VD, Heavy Load, 2 Vicadin and a Bottle of Wine, Cum On My Back-teria, Ass To Math, Tramp, Slurpee 2nds, Scottish Fingercuffs, Sex and Ate, Udderly Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucked, Decorated Asshole, Dudley J. No Swell, Minute Man, Private Showing( am I right?), Buttery Nipples, I’m Not a Cock, Rambush: First Blood, The Rapist, PennsylVein, Rubber Gloves, Hi Ho Hi Ho, Full Mental Jacket, Maggot, No Pussy for Him, Black Box, Just Mallory, Just Nicki, Just Laura, Just Ashley, Just Scott (x2), Just Brian, Just Amanda, other wanks I don’t remember or made up, Winter Merkin
Where would Dearborn be without our belligerent ass-picking and trash-picking group of wankers? Probably better off, but we had a good time displacing some garbage, watering some trees and shrubs and wearing down some shiggy with our steps. TMI and Semper started the hash in true style, with some sexy new tank tops, plastic bags, beer and cheesy poofs. Despite the multi-colored course, most hashers navigated the trail with little problem, except for a handful of falses and slips into the river at the underpass. Wildlife and children were scared away from the pounding of our feet, our shouts of “ON-ON” and from Udderly’s recent growth of pedophile-like facial hair. The first beer check had cum soon after a good romping in the woods. Hashers arrived with bags full of neglected items, including a bike air pump, a few sweaters, a blue bouncy ball, a couple of shovels, a piss pot, an un-eaten taco (much like most of No Pussy’s dates), and traces of wolf hair. At the beer check the items were counted and bagged up, only to be put into Vagiant’s truck for him to take home and feed to his farm sheep (come on Vagiant, we know you have some).
The second beer check was underneath a secluded, decorated bridge, aka a good boning spot. When the eagles arrived we noticed TMI and Semper a little sweaty and smiling, so the bridge holds true we’ll assume. Tranny took an opportunity to carve “ON ON” and a huge phallic symbol of his undying love for the hash in the shadows, and people were going down left and right sliding in the mud to get to some seating, some beer, and some delicious orange salty food.
After the trot back to the cars, ceremonies were held in true style. COMB received his 100th hash patch! A virgin did a safety down-down against the wind for his chivalry, as did Cox, Slurpee, and Full Mental Jacket. DA, 2 Vics, and COMB all received prize beers for finding the lewdest and most creative trash on trail. A successful Earth Day Hash! ON ON!
Hares: Coxcycle, Cum On My Back-teria, Sex and Ate, Broken Boner
Hashers: Full Mental Jacket, Trim My Bush, After School Special, Vagiant, Touch Myself In General, Semper Pi, Hep-C, I’m Not a Cock, Rambush: First Blood, Diaper Rash, Ride the Pony, Maggot, Big Fat Fuck, Donkey, Scottish Fingercuffs, Slurpee Seconds, Whip It Out, Tranny Head, Phantom of the Areola, Pubio, Six O’Cock, The Rapist, Show ‘n Tell, Cakehole, Stickless and Badass daughter, Olive Dick, SOG, BOS, Decorated Asshole, KY King, Mother Inferior, Analytical, Suzie Chapsdicks, Chicken Dick, Altered Boy, Back Check 2, Damaged Goods, No Pussy for Him, Poop Skywalker, Just Scott, Just Alyssa, Just Monica, Just Mallory, Just Chris, Just Beth, Winter Merkin, others of high importance.
I’M SO FUCKING ANGRY AND I DON’T KNOW WHY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Turns out, the hash was frustrating, long and sloppy, much like Altered Boy’s last relationship and Donkey and Diaper’s last peanut butter rendezvous. Some hashers tried to change the start location by a few hundred feet, out of spite and wankiness. SO MANY hashers showed up to this fury-filled “HULK SMASH” hash, including a couple of well received virgins and some forgotten faces (Back Check 2, we thought you died). The fury was felt as hard in the wind as it was in SOG’s shorts and in all of our middle fingers.
The railroad tracks sucked. The swamps and several water crossings were a deep pain in the ASS. The continual searching for the BN made us want to vomit and stab people. The fact that the hares left FRB beers with 0% alcohol in them was a Danza-slap in the face. The only thing that saved us from total revolt was the life-saving High Life wading in coolers for us.
Circle was heavy in accusations and celebrations. I’m Not A Cock shared his birthday with us with delicious velvet cake shots. Other hashers did a down-down for not celebrating their birthdays with us, assholes. Too many people in our kennel were overachievers this weekend with the Martian and Big House Big Heart races. Amongst the analversaries, Diaper and Suzie celebrated their 210th hash, Sex drank to his 1030th, and COMB drank to his 99th. The night closed at the Brown Jug, where hashers were accompanied by the always loveable Heavy Load, and also by Vagiant’s DD– err ladyfriend.
ON-ON!
Hares: Vagiant, After School Special, Creeping Charlie, Not Cakehole
Beer Bitch: Trim My Bush
Hashers: Semper Pi, Touch Myself In General, Hep-C, Whip It Out, Ride the Pony, Diaper Rash, Slurpee Seconds, Scottish Fingercuffs, Six O’Cock, The Rapist, Sex and Ate, Coxcycle, Creeping Charlie, Cum On My Back-teria, Winter Merkin, Altered Boy, Tranny Head, PennsilVein, Sharin’ Fluids, Udderly Fuuuuuuuuuuucked, Ben Wa Ball-less, Jaws, Rambush: First Blood, I Am Not a Cock, Chicken Dick, Ben Gay, Room Service, Pubio, Phantom of the Areola, Mother Inferior, Maggot, Just Scott, other NFN’s, aaaand other hashers that I forgot again.
Swamp-Ass Hash, you say? The only thing that received some swamp-ass that day was Merkin’s insole and a few wankers who decided to wade through the lake instead of walking around to the last beer check. However, it was a pleasant Saturday afternoon hash, with copious beers and sunlight to fuel our start. We were aroused to welcome a couple of hashers from Tampa: Ben Gay and Room Service. The hares boldly started off with a five minute head start in multiple directions, leaving the hashers chomping at the bit for some hare snaring. Quickly comes a back-check, over one of the only swampish spots on trail, and Merkin pulled a Pubio and lost her footing in the muck. Chicken Dick saved the day though, and through his chivalry, Winter Merkin could run another day in her fucked up shoes.
The trail was quite urban, and the first beer check was quite appreciated, especially with the guidance of the Saline police force pointing the way for the hashers (they were jealous). The second beer check had a lovely view of the mosquito nesting in the river and the many little children playing in the park; too bad No Pussy wasn’t there to enjoy the latter’s scenery (I hear 12 is the new 16 now).
The on-after was held at the *Ho-Ho-Ho* VA-Giant! farm, fully equipped with dilapidated barns, tetanus, and other burned out buildings and securely locked up secrets to creep out the average and turn on Altered Boy. A few wankers tempted the bee boxes in the fields (just because something has a hole doesn’t mean you stick things in it) , while others just sucked on jello shots and sangria-laced fruit chunks….mmm…….During circle the safety 3rd down-down was a favorite for the amount of chivalry displayed on trail. The hares drank often, as did the many analversaries celebrated. New kilts were sacrilegiously blessed for Vagiant, COMB, Merkin, Rambush: First Blood and I’m Not A Cock, and there was much rejoicing. I hope that sangria was consumed to the fullest.
ON-ON!
HARES: The Stranger, BFF, Don’key
HASHERS: Diaper Rash, Ride the Pony, AnalLytical, Ring Around the Russel, Pennsil Vein, Just Michael, After School Special, I am Not a Cock, Rambush: First Blood, Lube My Beads, The Decorated Asshole, Cakehole, No Pussy for You, Rubber Gloves, Sex and Ate, Six O’Cock, Chicken Dick, Ice Bitch, Just Helen, Udderly Fuuuuuuuuuucked
“He’s going to Kansas City…. Kansas City, here he cums…”
So we “serenaded” the Stranger on Sunday afternoon in the Big D as he leaves us to join the “River Folk” of KC. This beautiful day quickly turned to shit (literally) however, as Stranger somehow managed to land his trail marking ball in a pile of human excrement, leaving many of us to wonder what exactly happened to a previously well marked trail. The trail itself was quite colorful with folk art, burned out houses, brick streets, and graffiti coated underpasses. Our first BN at the Heidelburg project featured a local who offered a guided tour in exchange for some beer. BFF managed to sweet talk a few Eastern Market residents into guarding the first FRB for the Hashers, while the good people of Gratiot Ave. were more than helpful in directing certain Turkeys in keeping up with the pack. Walkers also got some “assistance” from residents of an apartment building cheering us on. Our second BN (on the DeQuindre Cut) featured a visit from a Rent-A-Cop, who reminded us we were on private property with no alcohol allowed. Officer Donut also offered that the red poles along the cut had security cameras, for future reference (though Trim My Bush tried to get said officer to prove we HAD in fact been drinking). No Pussy continued to live up to the name, attempting to chat up a passing jogger. The last stretch of trail was promptly ignored by the vast majority of the Hash, who decided that 6 miles was plenty long for one afternoon.
Just Michael’s announcement of his recent unemployment, rendering him quite possibly the only Mexican in the US without a job, FIIIIIIIIIIIINALLY resulted in a name: Trim My Bush. He is currently available for all your landscaping needs.
Just Helen was forced to leave ceremonies early for a “Fly By Booty Call” at the airport, though not without some assistance from the Hash in extracting her truck from its parking space.
The “Hash Shit” was ceremoniously (and quite happily) passed on to a new owner by Chicken Dick. In honor of his never-ending tales and his creative terminology when talking about his conquests, No Pussy for Him is now the proud? owner of the Hash Shit vest.
The Hash concluded with Stranger being awarded a bag of flour over his head, as a lovely parting gift from Pony. On-On!
-After School Special
Top o’ the mornin’ after to ya.
Hares: Chicken Dick, I 4 Beer, Itchy Sandbox
Hashers: Slurpee Seconds, Scottish Fingercuffs, Six O’Cock, Tranny Head, Diaper Rash, Ride the Pony, Too Drunk 2 Fuck, Coxcycle, I’m Not a Cock, Olive Dick, Semper Pi, Touch Myself In General, Hep-C, Big Fat Fuck, Donkey, No Pussy for Him, Lube My Beads, Rubber Gloves, Ass to Math, Analytical, Suzie ChapsDicks, Sex and Ate, Just Melissa and her Just twin, other Justs and a Virgin that I never knew the name of???, Cum On My Back-teria, Winter Merkin. Late cummers: Show n’ Tell, Just Susan, Rambush: First Blood, The Rapist (the latest cummer of them all)
Just so we’re clear, circle was the longest, most drawn out circle on record, clocking in at 1 hour and 47 minutes (not really, but it might as well had been…we were much more intoxicated and unruly at the end of circle than we normally are). Chicken Dick’s explanation of markings were shoddy to say the least, but he made up for it with the vest and bowtie ensemble.
The sun was surprisingly hot for the hashers, but honestly, who isn’t? The hares started off, and after 10 minutes, the rest of us merrily stumbled our way out to follow.
The walkers stunned and amazed all with their fitness in running, which can occur when there is no walker trail laid for them. The FRBs took advantage of their advanced abilities in sensing trail and locating flour and sped ahead of the course. At a couple of points, COMB and Lube were able to even successfully snag a hare or two.
Warm beer was available at each beer check, as was sweaty embraces from BFF, but no water, shade or nearly enough nudity.
Other highlights of the festive day’s trail included: Pony’s excessive cheekiness on trail (thank you wind), inappropriate arrows turning into falses, No Pussy’s wintery wardrobe for the event–WHY didn’t he get a down-down for wearing sweats on an 80 degree day???!!, Lube finding a condom — unused — in Chicken Dick’s flour bag — “No need for a safety 3rd down-down, he’s being safe enough”, and Itchy Sandbox’s phenomenal trail laying that no one ended up finding.
All of the shittiness of the day was made up for when the lead hare, Chicken Dick, took one for his team and grabbed the seat at the dunk tank. Although his tits weren’t as big as the following participant’s, strangers and “amateurs” crowded around to gawk and cheer us on in singing a merry tune fit for our hares. Green beer poured into many glasses for multiple accusations, including an ignored “boob check” by the ladies, and chivalry on trail from Tranny Head to a few strapping young boys in need of a man’s touch on their flat tires.
CORKTOWN!!!!!
Location : Corktown, Detroit, MI
Hare: Speed Semen (in honor of his birthday!)
Hounds: Diaper Rash, Ride the Pony, Heavy Load, VD, Anallytical, Suzi Chaps Dicks, Too Drunk to Fuck, Used Virgin, Ring Around the Russel, Pennsil Vein, Sharin’ Fluids, Touch Myself in General, Semper Pi, Cum on My Back-teria, Winter Merkin, Willing Filling, Just Ross, Tranny Head, Mrs. Tranny Head, Slurpee Seconds, Scottish Finger Cuffs, Just Michael, After School Special, Rambush: First Blood, Lube My Beads, Just Mrs. Lube, Sleeps in his Sister’s Bed, Just Melissa, Decorated Asshole, Blows Hard, Useless Tool, and other wanks that we can’t remember, because they left too soon after the race (Vagiant?…).
Becoming close to an offical “Hash” (because it was posted on the website calendar, ceremonies were conducted by Semper Pi in order to give Speed Semen the “21 bum salute” in honor of his birthday, and there was plenty of beer at the “on after”), the 2012 Corktown race went off without a hitch. Beer was provided by DTRW’s and MOA2H3’s for all of the volunteers at the race (thanks for the lube, guys). Many PR’s were made that day, and many people drank and showed appreciation for the sun that crisped and baked our skin for the first time this 2012 season.
As the afternoon wore on, and the kegs were emptied, the hashers slowly ventured to their homes and alter-ego lifestyles. Of those who stayed, the afternoon was young with possibilities and adventure. It is ventured to say that Ring Around the Russell may have purchased a pink luchador mask, Used Virgin may have ordered enough peach margaritas to kill a burro, and Ride the Pony may have picked up potential future virgin hashers with her dazzling drunken “wits”.
It was a beautiful day in downtown Detroit, and a wonderful excuse to drink for free (minus the cost of parking). ON-ON!
Hares: Diaper Rash, Just Michael, Just Ashley (and in a way, Ride the Pony)
Hashers: Ben Wa Ball-less, Jaws, Touch Myself In General, Semper Pi, Lube My Beads, Rambush: First Blood, I’m Not a Cock, After School Special, Donkey, Big Fat Fuck, Mother Inferior, KY King, No Pussy for You, (Ho Ho Ho) VAgiant!, Tranny Head, Heavy Load, Pubio, Phantom of the Areola, Udderly Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucked, Just Melissa?, VIRGIN (crap I can’t remember her name, but she was pretty awesome!), and perhaps other wanks I can’t recall.
Location: Grosse Point (aka: MILF-ville)
As Hashers were arriving to circle up, the wind and generous clouds made for another tit-nipply start (Phantom of the Areola was pleased to not be the only one making a couple of good points…and for some, even some grosse points? You know that was a good one). The agonizing period of waiting for the run to start was lessened with intervals of bathroom breaks (btw: don’t go to the ACE hardware store, right No Pussy??!), beer and rides in the local Kroger shopping cart. The Grosse Pointers were gawking and, believe it or not, pointing at us as for interrupting their favorite Sunday afternoon passtime of being privileged.
Highlights of the Run: Many hashers skipping over streets and blocks to “out think” the trail laid by the hares, No Pussy For You’s uncanny ability to not signal when he’s on trail, Rambush: First Blood showing the oncoming traffic what it looks like to relieve yourself against the wind on the sandy beaches of Grosse Pointe, Donkey using her sex appeal to get every single freakin’ dog in the area to yelp and bark in her general direction, Semper Pi using one of her best attributes (other than her vocal chords for the necessary “SHUT THE FUCK UUUUUUUP!!!!!” at circle) and contributing to the Boob Check laid in the second half, and my personal favorite: Lube My Beads skipping his way back to the cars to the sung tune (by yours truly) “Skip to My Lube”.
The On After was at the Pony-Rash Ranch. The hashers ate their chili “Cincinnati Style” (just add spaghetti noodles!) and were forewarned of the digestive consequences of eating said chili. Luckily, there was no recreation of the bathroom scene from “Bridesmaids” at circle this evening. However, the night was young when WM took off. Circle was mild with accusations, but the always chivalrous Vagiant did a down-down for sharing his FRB beer with a few fellow hashers, as did a few backsliders (*cough*Ben-Wa, Jaws and Heavy Load *cough*). Throughout dinner hashers dove into some really deep and penetrating conversations, like how to use trail markings in body paint and foreplay (ON-IN! ON-OUT! ON-IN!), how the hell could Lube spill his weenie juice on Pony’s carseat, or how many flavors of jello shots does it take for a hasher to jump in the hot tub without their clothes. No namings, No safety 3rd down downs, just a comfortable evening with a warm fire and a houseful of wanks.
Addendum: Following Winter Merkin’s exit, there was so much frivolity in the hot tub that it caused the neighborhood to lose power. At which point, KY King thought it was a good idea to stand naked in the window to entertain the passerbys. Mother Inferior and KY King schooled us young’uns on the infamous ‘popcorn trick’.