After what seemed like an eternity in the relentless blasts of west wind, we took off across Rte 50. Can you believe how irate non-hashers can be when you distract them from their earlySaturday errands? Good grief, they honk, cuss, and threaten innocent hashers as if they were going to work! Maybe if they loosened up and hashed once in a while they could relax and go with the flow. Oh well, fuck them--if they had lives, they d be hashing instead of running errands!
There was at least one pooch who became unnerved by the Rte 50 traffic. Gunner gets the Bone Head Award for running straight into a brick wall on the south side of Rte 50. Numerous hashers witnessed this bizarre behavior, unable to reconcile what their eyes told them. Apparently unhurt and unfazed, Gunner bounced off the wall like a toy robot and continued in search of flour. The pack meandered through several apartment complexes, over a small stream, and into the first of many, many suburban neighborhoods.
Thorny Prick and Byte Lightning scoured many checks for BTs this day; it was the only way the pack stayed within sight of them. Happily the wind was tamer virtually everywhere on this trail when compared with the raw onslaught we all faced at the start. The pack wandered about aimlessly through brick apartment buildings, finally settling out along a creek when Byte found first flour off a check.
Pretty soon after the creek trail wound through a little townhouse neighborhood-- at least, the most convenient shortcut led through the neighborhood. The sour strains of some old bitch whining about her private property blessed us as we cut between the houses. People sure have their nerve, telling us where we can and cannot run! What was wrong with them?
For about the fifth time in as many weeks we found ourselves along the same fucking part of Four Mile Run-- they ought to name this section 'Hash Highway' for the frequency of our visits to it. Our thoughtful hares provided a Blarney Stone at the top of the hill as we exited FMR. Clearly marked with chalk, some thoughtless hasher (why does S'not come to mind?) also marked his or her territory on it. No way was I going to kiss that Blarney Stone!
After a brief jog along a neighborhood street, we encountered the second stream of the day, much more challenging than the first. Before long, we dipped below Rte 50 on the way On In. You had to be careful, because the wily hares stashed the bag vehicle away from the end, so if you shortcut you got punished.
The On In featured numerous varieties of pizza: barbecued chicken, white, plain, sausage & mushroom, veggie. The waitress kept bringing it out, and we kept eating it as fast as the kitchen could make it. Likewise, the bartenders continued to pour beer & soda all afternoon. A perfect hash affair with lots of visitors, so long as you don't mind pushing people away from your pizza...Son Hung Low's crew did an admirable job!
The Circle
To celebrate our 500th, we baptised our ceremonial hares Missing Link and Burnt Sox.
Anniversaries:
Lick It Off, Baby! (95), Spinal Tap (55), Wide Open (55), Bump & Gump (25), Dual Floppies (15), Blue Balls (15), Tom Jones (5)
Virgins:
Rick Davis, Kern Braum, Lesley Harding, Toe Chees, Glenn Catania, Ron Leonard, Kurt Glass
Returning Hashers:
Gina Eppolito, Bill Eshelman, Slot Machine, Physical Terrorist, Spinal Tap, Cheryl Kopecki, Pig Fucker, Heart On, 1 Ringy Dingy, Terry Robinson, Great Balls of Fire, RAS, Mellow Foreskin Cheese, Black Box, Screws Everyone
Namings:
Gina Eppolito kissed so much ass to get a good naming, that we finally decided on Sticky Lips. Mellow Foreskin Cheese kept his hideous moniker.
Violations:
Dribbler, Snow Fairy, and Mud Buns were recognized for completing MVH3 Run #1
Harboring a Stripper Without Insisting on a Freebie for the Hash: Slot Machine & Physical Terrorist
No Condom, as Evidence by the Recently Announced Pregnancy of Dud Finder: Cross Hares
Late Sign In: Sun Hung Low
Running Into a Building: Gunner/Mud Muffin
Birthdays: FMB, Screws Everyone
The Scribe is going to cease rehashing the announcements and other parts of the On In in the hope that people will shut the fuck up once in a while and let the Religious Advisor do his job. Anyway, things degenerated rapidly into a big beer & pizza party anyway, sort of like a Three Stooges pie fight. You get the idea...that's probably why you came in the first place!
My Work Here Is Done.