Blank wasn't the only one carrying on wildly this morning; Beezer got a little too rambunctious and caromed off of a moving car. The bitch was tied to Fire & Ice's garage door when I arrived, to forestall a second encounter before the start. Turns out that this was a wise idea, for who pulled up next in the Jolly Green Giant Pimpmobile but the returning Wilburrr, with Friendly Thighs flying copilot-- 'Where's the valet parking?'
Tore Ass showed up leading a contingent of DCH4'ers as their new JM. Slip-Not arrived with the newest black shoes I've ever seen, they even shined in the morning sunlight! Then there was the chalk soaking ceremony of Missing Link and Corkscrewed. Briar Buns indicated that some folks have trouble lasting long enough, and dipping your chalk in water is supposed to help. I hope nobody else has to resort to these extremes in the future!
After a quick Father Abraham courtesy of Byte Lightning, we were off into the shiggy right away. Dirt bike trail that wound around and up and down a couple of small hills, checks galore! One large puddle was particularly memorable, since the algae was a color heretofore never found in nature. This algae was so advanced that it had formed its own government and charged a toll!
Thence through a deepish stream, and into a wide mud bog. I got sucked off in that mud-- the bad kind of sucking off, that is; the kind where you lose a shoe in the process. This was a Milestone in Hashing for Your Humble Scribe: never before has a shoe been pulled off my foot! I soon realized the worst part of having your shoe sucked off; you have to 1) plant your stockinged foot somewhere, which probably means losing your sock to the mud just like you lost your shoe; and 2) you have to extract your shoe from the mud (it's messy). Using my keen hashing instincts I was able to get my foot back inside the shoe and actually tie the laces together. At this point I noticed what many others already had-- the mud reeked bad, and it was all over me. On On!
More up and down on dirt bike trails followed for the next ten or fifteen minutes, checks every couple of feet, as the pack frantically sought refuge from that little patch of hell-on-earth. You know what they say: the pack that checks together, stays together! Somewhere a seldom-used checkback was found (by Byte? Only his hairdresser knows for sure), and the pack was brought together once more. Soon we took true trail leading into the nearby woods.
There was a lot of serious hill work ahead for the pack. The trail wended its way near several paths, but not down any particular path, not for any appreciable distance. Lady Bugger was heard to ask, 'Is this what they mean when they refer to shiggy?' Yes, indeed! Thankfully there was little PI to be found in this area, but plenty of thorns, low brush, and fallen trees for the SCBs to contend with. Again, numerous checks kept the pack together. I haven't seen so much of Byte Lightning and the other FRB's on trail for quite some time! Byte hardly needed a whistle this day, folks could hear him bitchin' 100 yards back! Check after check we checked, and checked, and checked. We found mud on every dirt road taken. Eventually we emerged from the woods into a new housing development, through their parking lot, and behind a row of houses. At this point the forward part of the pack (they couldn't be called FRB's today) started to return to a check Poop Deck & I had just reached. So, following our keen hashing instincts we headed into the woods in search of a shortcut.
Ten minutes later we found true trail on Waterway, after carefully examining the pool and tennis court areas for flour. Out popped the pack on the other side of the street, and we trudged along looking for the next mark.
The FRB's had left me in the dust a long time when I got to the next check. I could hear a lot of confusion out in the distance beyond the curve in the road, so I checked another direction with Mud Buns. Sure enough, 50 yards out we found directions for swimmers and non-swimmers. We forged ahead looking for more swimmers; maybe we could cool off this afternoon!
A few minutes later we came across the path of returning hashers, including Poop Deck and Topless Skateboarding Nun. 'Turn back, the water smells bad, and it's a long way On In. Better to take it by foot.' So we did. Meeting up with the rest of the pack on our way to the footpath, we continued all the way around the lake.
For one more time this day, the pack was back together. About one more mile, and we caught sight of the On In. Byte was on his way back to the car, clearly unhappy with the day's trail.
The hares had prepared sushi in addition to the usual On In fixin's. We were on a spit of land pushing out into the lake, and there was a floating dock to soak your tired or mud-stained feet. Many took advantage of the beach that lay along the path down to the On In.
The Hares were duly punished for such a shitty trail. They were joined by Hollow Point, Friendly Thighs, and Wilburrr, because the hash interrupted their Private Party.
Today's anniversarians included Slick Slit (175), Mud Buns (95)-- one Buns drinks, ALL the Buns drink, and Lick It Off, Baby! (69).
With such a huge contingent from DCH4 it was hard to separate the virgins from the returners. But here goes: the sole virgin was either Eric or Erin Johnson. The returners included Little Boy Blew, Dr Bimbo, Come Again, Big Gulp, kraM, Flat Ass, Cap'n Crunch, and Space Museum.
Violators:
Slip-Not, New Shoes
Tore Ass was brought up for being the new GM for the Harriettes. Corkscrewed was indicted for new (as in wedding) jewelry.
Toxic Cock: racing
Topless Skateboarding Nun, Hollow Point: Late Sign-In
Evil Eye, Space Museum: Gave Up Sex to Hash
Wilburrr: Alcohol Abuse
Poop Deck and Steamer: advising hashers to turn back from the yucky water (not quite sure how I was implicated in this one, but at least I got to share the credit)
Sticky Buns, Briar Buns, kraM, and basically all of the DCH4 in attendance: Whistleless
It was noted that whenever we select a Religious Adviser, he seems to disappear. Recent history seems to bear this out; anyone encountering evidence of BurntSox is asked to tell someone who gives a shit!
One hasher noted that he saw Byte Lightning on the way back to the vehicles, disoriented and lost. He was still upset about the trail. Some days you should just stay in bed!
We swung low, and some went home. Others stayed, perchance to imbibe...
My Work Here Is Done.