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|Snow Moon Hash with No Snow
(over 8 years ago)
aka the Thank Goodness for Hare Club hash
Hares: Saskapoon, Muddy Buddy
Bag Car: Just Keri, D*ck Bank
RA: Tw*t My Mom
Pre-lube: Victory Pub, Noddles Island (I mean Orient Heights)
On-in: Some park on Deer Island
Weather: Clear, cold, and wet [it had just rained] (in the mid-30s)
Pack: Tw*t My Mom, Bloody P*ssy, Mr Papagiorgio, Cocksmith, Bring Out the Gimp, Father Shishkapoo
Between the weather, Burlington Mardi Gras, and it being a Saturday night a relatively small pack gathered at Victory Pub. The crowd of locals was smaller than usual, but the ones who were there were great. Just Keri hit Saskapoon on the *ss (lightly), I don't know why, and when the locals protested claimed it was just foreplay, prompting one of the locals to exclaim: "Foreplay! He's black and blue!"
D*ck Bank (wife of Muddy Buddy) thought that Bring Out the Gimp was my husband which was amusing because while I do have three husbands, Gimp is not among them. And no, I'm not taking more applications thank you very much.
Since we didn't have any pack chalk other than the chalk that Cocksmith and I brought, and no virgins, we skipped chalk talk and went out to find trail. Of course that intersection right by Victory Pub is a pain in the neck; I went to look north but the trail went south. The half the pack that found trail couldn't go any further because there was a t*t check and yes, I was the *only* girl on trail. Hah. And no, this wasn't the only t*t check. Thanks guys, really. :P
We got lost pretty soon after that. There was a check, and we could only find marks heading towards the water facing Logan Airport, but at the end of those marks was a big old F. So we wandered around for a while, checking for a check, or a turn, and all the other directions. Eventually someone ran northeast far enough to find another check so we headed over there. At the next check we got lost again – someone in a car stopped and asked us if we were lost and needed help finding anything, to which we replied that we were indeed lost but there was no way he could help us. The next check was somewhat easier because one of the two possible ways trail could have gone was a dead end. You may sense a pattern here as much of the first half of trail was staggering from one check to another because the chalk was too dark for us to see (pink and blue don't work so well at night, especially when it's wet).
Trail wound along 145 past Belle Isle Lobster and Seafood. I had a bit of an advantage at this point because from scouting trail in this area I knew exactly where trail might have gone and was not fooled by the checks. Except that High Anus and I ran right past a check, and also right past some arrows that drifted off to the right of us because we were so focused on the road right under our feet. And it was actually well lit! I still say we fared better than Gimp and Cocksmith who followed marks through holes in the fence into a private yacht storage area. Having finally found trail, we ran (literally) into Tw*t My Mom who was exiting a parking garage having apparently run through the yachts and emerged on the other side. This was the location of yet another check where we couldn't find trail. It went east, then south, then at a check Gimp ran one direction and Father Shishkapoo ran the other. Gimp yelled "on-on" and we couldn't hear Father Shishkapoo, so we followed Gimp for a good couple of blocks before he hit a YBF and we backtracked.
Trail actually went through a park that had lots of little walkways and pathways on which we could look for marks. Father Shishkapoo was apparently yelling at us where to go, but none of us heard him. Eventually we figured out where we were going and emerged on the other side. Trail next ran through Winthrop Center which is actually incredibly cute, or so it seemed at the speed at which we ran through there. A few blocks later we emerged back onto 145 and proceeded in quite the deathmarch (broken up only by about three checks), before coming across the beer check at Saskapoon's house. Father Shishkapoo had beaten us here, despite blowing right past the beer check and continuing up the road, heads-down like he was a racist or training for something. Or something. Maybe this is where the hares got the idea to lay a great long YBF and make him run the same stretch twice, pointlessly both times.
Now I must say this was quite probably the most scenic backyard I'd been in recently, right up on the water, with all sorts of boats moored out there and the whole thing illuminated by moonlight. In fact, it would have been romantic except that the beer check was punctuated by conversations like the following:
So we ran through the park, through a playground, past the Winthrop Fire Department and over to a long stretch along the beach. Up ahead of us was a huge hill with a water tower with blue, white, and red stripes on it. At the bottom of this hill was a check, and from the beach the other direction emerged Glitorus, who had spoken with Just Keri at the beer check and parked at the on-in. Rather than thinking for 6.9 seconds about this, we all proceeded to run (or, walk…) up the steep hill to the top, despite not seeing any marks. Finally we figured out that was wrong, and trail actually went along a seawall the direction Glitorus had come from. Well, I don't regret it – the view from up there was stunning, and running along the ocean in the moonlight was beautiful.
Unfortunately from there on out trail necessarily got boring with a lot of straightaways along and near the beach before meandering through the neighborhoods a bit, through a parking lot, and up a really, really muddy hill to the on-in. I was pretty relieved at this point because I felt like I had run 6.9 miles. Father Shishkapoo's GPS said he ran 8 miles making this both the longest and most scenic hash I think I've been on.
The original idea was to do down-downs with Gatorade and vodka (the better to hide from the cops, who apparently are cutthroat in Winthrop). Sanity prevailed and beer was procured from bag car.
Comments on trail:
Accusations and other circle shenanigans:
Announcements consisted of a reminder to register for Marathon, and an announcement that the Seacoast Green Dress run is starting in Revere and will be held on Saturday, March 13th.
Some of you may or may not remember that attendees of this hash were told to bring $1 in addition to the $5 hash cash. After hash religion, we noticed a bus pulling away from the parking lot at the bottom of the hill. Apparently this bus runs once an hour, and we had clearly just missed it, hence the thank goodness Glitorus showed up late and could shuttle half of us back to the start! It was cold at this point and the prospect of waiting an hour or walking 4 miles were equally unpleasant.
Glitorus took off after dropping us off because amazingly, no one needed a ride back into Cambridge. The rest of us congregated at Little Asia which was really *just* awful. Really, hashers, don't eat there. Or if you do, don't order off the all-day specials menu; I guess the regular menu items were somewhat better. Even more surprising was the fact that no one ordered anything to drink and pretty much everyone went home after. I guess there is a combination of trail length and temperature that can make hashers quit drinking, at least for the evening!
Heard before, on, and after trail:
|VD Hash 2010
(over 8 years ago)
Hares: Catheter the Great, Jamaican Me C*m, Pbvzzzvvzzzz, Tw*t My Mom
Bag Car: Accidentally An*l
RA: The 2nd Cumming
Pack (I may have missed some; if so I'm sorry, there were a lot of people!): Just Patrick, e=I'm a Douche, The Buttler Hit It, Tampon Jelly, High An*s, 5" Penalty, Pig F*cker, Goes Down on Buoys, Brigham Tongue, Better Late Than Pregnant, Screaming Japanese Girl, N*pples Erectus, Necrophiliac Jack, Sucker's Bet, Bondage Barbie, An*l Beads, Just Emmy, Dirty Latte Sanchez, Just Becca, Virgin Josh, Horse's *ss, Taj My Hole, Pat My Fly, Floppy D*ck, Just Jen, Just Leslie, Virgin Scott, Virgin Brad, Sketchy Ho, C*m is Kosher, Blows My Mind, Virgin Phil, Virgin JJ, Jolly Green V*gina, Peppermint P*ssy, Bend Over Mommy, Queer Leader, Stick It to the Bros
Wangers: I Eat Tea Bags, Dude Where's My Virginity, Shorn Scr*tum, Sugar Plum Fairy
Pre-lube: The Lower Depths, Kenmore
On-in: The Hub Pub, Downtown Crossing
Weather: Clear, cold, and windy (in the 40s but high 20s/low 30s with wind)
I love The Lower Depths. Although really anyone who expects patrons actually to drink Tusker beer should have another think coming. I had arrived early and by around 2:40pm the pack was about five people so I was starting to get worried that hashers might actually have something better to do on Valentine's Day than come run a trail and so there wouldn't be much trash to talk. Boy was I wrong! We entertained ourselves eating hot dogs and watching men with big guns on TV until the hares left.
I have to say that this was by far the most awesome bag car I'd ever seen – because it was not a car, but was a really sick pickup truck. Go Accidentally An*l!
The 2nd Cumming led chalk talk in the middle of Comm. Ave which was amusing mainly because he had put an "F" right next to a "YBF" and someone spelled this out to read "F*ck Your Boyfriend." Also because there were five, yes FIVE virgins, two of whom were wearing jeans. Crazy b*stards you'd think they'd fit right in … An*l Beads told them to take a look at his t-shirt which, well, I can't make a square root sign but it spelled out that equation we all know so well.
Moving on … The 2nd Cumming explained that instead of a turkey-eagle today's trail featured a single-taken split (hence the need for four hares), and the first man and woman after the split were to go into the first store they encountered, say they were a hasher, and receive a gift. What could go wrong there?
Eventually we headed out and found trail pretty quickly; it headed up Charlesgate and down Boylston. At this point we all assumed the trail went into the park so we ran over there … no. Then we assumed it went south … no. Then we assumed it went along Boylston … no. Finally someone figured out that trail actually went over by Fenway and around under Charlesgate (clever, hares…), before emerging on the other side and coming up on Bolston again!
There was another long delay at the Mass. Ave song check (we sang "My Girl's a Vegetable") as some people ran down Boylston, and I headed south which was the wrong direction. Eventually we figured it out, and came upon the single-taken split. I started off down the taken path – the FRBs on this leg were High An*s and N*pples Erectus who emerged from the store with sexually explicit pastries that they then had to carry for the rest of trail. Not sure what happened to them after that but I have a few guesses.
Anyhow we followed trail into the center of Comm. Ave, but then couldn't find anything after the last mark we saw. Maybe we missed a check, I don't know. So we ran around for a little bit, trying to find trail – eventually came upon a YBF in the other direction on Gloucester Street. At this point we were totally off trail and lost, and I saw a bunch of people running up on Newbury Street by the mall so I ran up that way, and I think I may have found my way onto the single trail. Figures that I'd start off taken and wind up single, that's what Valentine's Day is all about right? I guess it's fitting since the only valentine I got was from a girl (although she is pretty hot… ).
From there we didn't have too many problems following marks through the alleys and roads of Back Bay and over a pedestrian footbridge to the Esplanade. There was a check and one arrow pointing out into the Charles River – The 2nd Cumming decided it would be a good idea to walk across the ice and go check it out; happily for everyone involved he didn't fall in! At around this time we came upon a song check which Tampon Jelly, Just Emmy, and Necrophiliac Jack decided to blow through without singing! Suckers Bet and I managed to sing and then chased after the FRBs, who might have just gotten overly excited by the presence of the beer check by the Hatch Shell. Otherwise known as by the Massive Wind Tunnel Created By the Hatch Shell.
There was a lot of ice by the wall people were sitting on, and Virgin Josh nearly brained himself by sprinting towards it and then slipping … why he was exhibiting such athletic prowess I do not understand. Buttler did manage to eat it for our first and only ice-related hash crash of the day.
We got very cold and so headed out, over the other pedestrian bridge and into Beacon Hill where we ran by a tremendously cute house with a garage that was bigger than the house, and then hit a check back. The revised trail headed into the Boston Common where we paused for another song check before trying to find trail. A bunch of us wound up on the wrong side of the frog pond from trail so decided it would be fun to run over it. This was great until we got to the far side where the ice looked a little sketchy and there were four or five people all approaching it at a run … but it did hold out, thank goodness.
We ran through the rest of the Public Garden and across Boston Common, and up some steps. Trail led right past BBAG and Dude's place, with a YBF arrow pointing at the door to their building. We then ran down Beacon and shortly after that the hares were apparently snared (all four of them, as a group)! The on-in at The Hub Pub was all of a two-minute run from there, which made the whole thing particularly amusing.
Something approximating what I ran can be found here: http://www.mapmyrun.com/run/united-states/ma/boston/870126618379879677 (iPhone gen 1 does not have GPS, so no, I didn't run through buildings – walking through walls is hard enough)
Comments on trail:
- GAP trail of the year
- Not enough t*t checks
- Nobody blew me at a beer check
- Not enough hares
- Not enough hairs
- No single people (apparently everyone ran the taken path)
- Couldn't find one mark in my car
After guest singer Pig F*cker treated us to "Pissonya" or whatever that song is called we proceeded to dement the virgins! Now you might remember that there were five virgins at the start … by this time we were down to three. The two with the jeans on were at the beer check and then vanished. Which means they drank beer and didn't pay any money for it, which quite possibly makes them smarter than the lot of us, although definitely wankers! Anyway on to our real virgins:
At some point during circle Tampon Jelly yelled "Will he Taj my hole?" to the general horror of everyone who heard this utterance. Somehow Pig F*cker wound up with Jack's tags and I wound up with Just Patrick's valentine but in the end sanity was restored and we retired to eat appetizer platters and drink beer until we all got really hot and bothered. No, really, it got really hot in there because we were on the top floor and there were a lot of us.
That's all for now, hopefully see a lot of you at Preggers' and my trail next week in Southie!
- Brigham Tongue
|Founder's Day 2010
(over 8 years ago)
Hares: Nice T*ts, N*pples Erectus
Bag Car: Drippy Spigot
RA: The 2nd Cumming
Wanger: Mr Rogers
Pre-lube: Honey Fitz, Malden Center
On-in: Honey Fitz, Malden Center
Weather: Clear and cold (20s)
Pack: Ski Bobbit, Hare Club for Queers, Sucker's Bet, C*mlocker, e=I'm a Douche, Brigham Tongue, Pbvzzzvvzzzz, Willy Wonka and the Backdoor Factory, The Buttler Hit It, High An*s, Tw*t My Mom, Blow My Mind, Horse's *ss, Mexican Humping Queen, Peppermint P*ssy, The 2nd Cumming, Just Mike -> Deaf Dumb and Do Me
The pack assembled for the pre-lube at Honey Fitz in Malden Center. The first real excitement was when I managed to trip, fall, and twist my ankle running the 20 feet from the bar to bag car. Ha.
We found trail pretty quickly; it ran through a plaza and down the road before we completely lost trail in the middle of the median on Route 60. Somehow we found trail again, running down a bunch of really dark roads that didn't seem to have any distinguishing characteristics, in an industrial area. We did pass the Mystic Valley Gun club before veering off through some shiggy and parking lots. Trail must have been really well laid because until we ran through the parking lot of some big building and got lost, we didn't have too hard of a time finding trail. Shame on us for getting lost where we did, though – trail went exactly where it should, through some old or abandoned equipment and across a playground before running us along a ridge with a beautiful view of some tributary of the Mystic River at night before the beer check which was off in some sketchy park.
After the beer check the trail ran through some lovely Malden neighborhoods. After running a couple of blocks there was a check, and of course trail goes up, right? Well, sure, until you hit a great big False! We ran down Main Street a couple of blocks and somehow became very, very lost … we ran every direction except, of course, for the right one. Guess it was too dark to see the marks properly without a cranium lamp. A similar situation occurred a couple of blocks later in a park … the logical place for trail to go was up the park but someone swore they had just been up there and couldn't find trail. What we didn't realize was that "there" was the road paralleling the park, not in the park itself.
At this point we saw the bright lights of Malden Center ahead of us and figured we were going back there …. But where? Trail was supposed to be A to B, so we just kept plodding on. A couple of falses later (one of which was like 5 marks, sheesh!) we crossed back over Route 60, up through the Exchange Street garage and pedestrian walkway (a nice touch), back up to Pleasant Street and Honey Fitz.
You can check out trail here: http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?hl=en&ie=UTF8&vps=1&jsv=202c&oe=UTF8&msa=0&msid=118272277346908244801.00047db4c18da20c49597
The hashers swarmed the Subway sandwiches and mostly ignored the cupcakes. Geez you'd think we were an athletic group or something the way we were acting! After everyone had eaten their fill and moved on to the beer, circle began with comments on trail:
Noticing that we had a hasher named Just Mike who had been hashing since the fall if not earlier but didn't have a name, the pack took it upon itself to give him a name. Despite the fact that we know there was a story that he refused to tell about what happened at Anti-Buffett (I guess what happens at Anti-Buffet stays at Anti-Buffet…) a couple of names were tossed out most of which were really lame but the decent ones were:
Heard on and well, actually mostly after trail (one of these days I'll bring paper with me on trail …):
|Wolf Moon Hash
(over 8 years ago)
Hares: Mr. Papagiorgio, Tw*t My Mom
Bag Car: The Crying Gay, I Licked Butts
RA: The 2nd Cumming
Pre-lube: Alumni Café, Wollaston, Quincy
On-in: Merrymount Park, Quincy
On-after: Alumni Café, Wollaston, Quincy
Weather: Clear and cold (30s but it felt colder in circle!)
Pack: Accidentally An*l, Cocksmith, Bloody P*ssy, Peppermint P*ssy, Master Gator, C*mlocker, Just Carol, Beat By A Girl, The 2nd Cumming, Sucker's Bet, Bondage Barbie, +2 Coonass, Virgin Phil, Night of the Giving Head, Glitorus [in spirit], e=I'm a Douche, Just Amanda
Amid the cold and deep snows of midwinter, the wolf packs howled hungrily outside Indian villages. Well, so says the Farmer's Almanac and hence the Wolf Moon. I'm betting the wolves were howling because they knew the people in the villages had beer (or other mind-altering substances) and they weren't sharing.
For the first time in what felt like months the hash started somewhere other than Boston, Cambridge, or Somerville. And what a wonderful location Quincy – there was a Brigham's Ice Cream, a Middle Eastern grocery, and a dive bar. Oh, I guess I could be talking about Watertown too … anyway moving on … pack gathered in the lovely Alumni Café for some libations before the hares were away in a surprisingly timely manner.
Since we were promised shiggy, half the pack headed directly for the marshes trying to find trail but what do you know, trail went the other way, through a parking lot, down some stairs, and along a long deathmarch straightaway until …. CB8! For better or worse once we got back to the check there was really only one way trail could go and from there it went along almost exactly the same route as STD's going away hash last August, including a t*t check and the crazy short tunnel heading directly out to a major road where we all did our best to be very careful. OK so I don't really remember if STD had a t*t check there but it sounds like something he would have done. The more the merrier except when it's cold out hey although come to think of it maybe that's the point …
On the other side of the tunnel most of the pack again assumed this was a recycle of STD's trail so headed towards Furnace Brook Parkway. For some reason a bunch of people stopped to stretch once they realized that was the wrong way. Not sure what was going on there. Trail, of course, went the opposite way before heading up a steep hill, and up, and up, and …. CB6. Sheesh … back down we went, then around, and back up (I'm getting dizzy just writing this). Luckily we stopped for a song check, singing "I Used to Work in Chicago." Moving on …. At the next check we found a quick series of marks which turned out to be a false. Figures, since the beer check was about 20 feet in the other direction in Furnace Brook Golf Course, through a hole in the chain-link fence. Happily, unlike STD's trail there were no killer mosquitos out, or poison ivy for that matter. I guess there are some good things about winter.
After a while we realized that we had lost Master Gator somewhere on trail. No one remembered him being at the song check, and The Crying Gay figured that he probably just went home. However, he showed up – not entirely sure what he was doing during his separation from the pack but one might postulate that it has something to do with his name. Or maybe wolves. Peppermint also left after this beer check, something about being tired, or something, whatever it was her excuse was boring.
After the beer check we ran downhill for a little bit before heading up the aptly-named Summit Ave, because this was a hill to remember. Night of the Giving Head was so far ahead of the rest of us that The 2nd Cumming and I blindly followed him all the way up to the summit of the hill before realizing that we hadn't seen any marks in quite a while. So we ran back down the hill, found the check (and the rest of the pack), and had to run back up the same hill on another road. Got what I deserved I guess.
Trail headed straight across the golf course, through a turkey-eagle split, and rejoined shortly thereafter on Furnace Brook Parkway, running up it, through some huge building's parking lot and out over to Adams Street where the FRBs wandered aimlessly for a while before finding trail again. Unfortunately the town of Quincy didn't know how to spell Buttler correctly, as we saw a sign for Butler road right by a song check where we sang "The S&M Man." At this song check we realized we had lost BBAG, and after this song check there was yet *another* false.
Finding trail again and crossing 3A, we got into some more serious shiggy. At a check, half the pack went towards the marshes and I hear that some people actually started wading into the channel before we heard "on-on" from the path not taken. Figures that the path not taken would be the one we were meant to take, doesn't it?
We emerged from the woods onto a field and immediately lost trail – there were about 10 of us looking in all different directions before somehow someone figured out that we'd reached the on-in and called everyone over. Turns out BBAG had gotten into bag car at the beer check. Well, he was pretty drunk to start out with…
Comments on Trail
I also feel compelled to say that for a pack that wasn't drunk enough or cold enough, we managed to mess up the lyrics to almost every single song we tried to sing.
Heard on and after trail (sadly, I forgot a lot but some is better than nothing):
We got cold pretty fast, so wrapped up circle and headed back to the on-after. Notably we walked through more shiggy to get back to the bar than we had run on trail! Unfortunately we were trailed by a cop so people had to ditch their beers. Look at those cops making us abuse alcohol like that, it's a sad, sad thing. When we got back to the on-after the locals remembered us and then also started singing but unfortunately I think they were singing to the juke box rather than drinking songs.
See you all next month, same bad time, same bad channel…
- Bloody P*ssy
|Robbie Burns Hash 2010
(over 8 years ago)
Hares: Ski Bobbitt and Cum Fly With Me
Bag Car: Ski Bobbit
Pre-Lube: The Cask n Flagon near Fenway Park (Beat By A Girl and Dude Where’s My Virginity with Cletus the Fetus On-board left after pre-lube)
Whiskey Check: Swam Garden Walkway next to Amory Park Brookline
Beer Check: The shores of Ye Olde Loch Muddy
On-In: Punters Pub
Scribe: Sugar Plum Fairy
Pack: High Anus, Necro Jack, Brigham Tongue, The Buttler Hit It, Nipples Erectus, Taj My Hole, Fucksaw, Pat My Fly, Spitz, Vagitarian, Shawskank, Dribbles, Stick It To the Bros, Immaculate Erection, The 2nd Cumming, Bondage Barbie, Brzzzz, Double Flush, Cums Alone, Catheter the Great, Dirty Latte Sanchez, Floppy Dick, Hoover McFuck n Suck, Jamaican Me Cum, Vagitarian, Cum Locker, Viagra Doubt Fire and Lube Me In with Just Riley, Sperm Breath,
Justs: Mike, Evan, Stan
Visitors: Jimmy Crack Whore, Pig Fucker, Counterfeit Dick, Pussy Factory and Anti-Cock
Transplants: Just Carol (Madison), Horses Ass, Blows My Mind, (sorry didn’t
write it down) Plus 2 Coon Ass and Swamp Gravy (Atlanta)
Returning: Rocky Mountain Whore
Late Cummers: An Inconvenient Poop
Lame Non-Cummers: Bend Over Mommy. I would call her a late cummer but she arrived so late I’m not sure she came at all oh and, Velvet Pelvis
Ski Bobbitt treated everyone to a celebration of Scotland’s most favorite person next to Jackie Stewart and William Wallace. As we gathered at for the 69th stumbling of the Anal Robbie Burns Hash. The first thing I noticed about the upcoming shitshow was that it was no where near Charlestown or Malden.
After circling on top of a parking garage next to the Cask behind the Green Monster, trail led us around Fenway Park down Lansdowne Street and around Fenway Park toward Brookline Ave and the Riverway. It was at this point that Pig Fucker, Velvet Pelvis and I veered toward the Fenway neighborhood. PF mistakenly thought he saw pack go that way and we followed him a few blocks before we decided that following Pig fuckers only leads to one thing, feeling like you have been fucked by a pig.
PF and VP decided to go back to following marks and I ran toward the Muddy which I intended to follow until I hit trail which I thought I would soon see. I was actually right, and began to see orange blotches and thought I was wicked smaht. As soon as I lost sight of the orange blotches I spied the walkers cumming toward me.
They told me they were going to the Beer Check which was a long the shores of the roaring Muddy and that to get to the Whiskey check would take forever so I waited for the rest of the pack with them. Real trail went toward Brookline via Beacon Street and ended at the Whiskey Check off the wooden walkway next Amory Park. I wasn’t there but I’m pretty sure whiskey was drank producing many a sour puss. Following the Whiskey Check I was informed that trail went through Brookline and the Longwood Medical area and around Emmanuel College back across the Muddy to where Oat Cakes, Shortbread and Belhaven Scotch Ale were waiting.
At some point an entire pizza floated down river which we assumed was Hare Clubs idea of speedy delivery. We stayed there until Necro Jack bitched about being cold which was not surprising when you wear shorts and a light shirt in winter time. Trail then snaked its way through the Fens the warmer environs of Punters Pub on Huntington Ave.
After making ourselves at home our sexiest RA Shawskank got our circle going so we could chastise the hares for their shitty trail. Over the inane babbling I heard, “Not enough Turkeys.” I also heard Bondage Barbie say not enough dick checks to which I offered my own private check in the corner. I figured with Tea Bags being laid up and me being the giving person I am, I would fulfill her request. Sadly she declined.
Cum Fly with Me sang a great song that I could barely hear but I think it had something to do with a Scotsman finding out his girlfriend is a man bye looking under his kilt. There were quite a few visitors and transplants my favorite being Just Carol who gave us an early look at the full moon before the Full Moon hash on Tuesday 1/26.
Our one Virgin Leslie was demented and apparently she moos like a cow when she is REALLY excited. 2nd Cumming was also demented….Nobody knows why. Accusations were made down-downs quaffed and we were all reminded to register for Marathon 2010. Swing Low was sung; we ate pizza (no not the floating kind), drank beer and made the world safe for democracy.
HEARD AT THE HASH: