Can anyone tell my why during the winter we freeze our asses off running through frozen streams but during a scorcher like Saturday we can only find one lousy semi-inhabitable stream to trudge through? I'll give you the answer. Because this is hashing and we like to run through garbage dumps and construction sites where we breathe in toxins and our bodies ooze the remnants of a bad poison ivy rash. There is no other way to describe Saturday's hash other than hot. It was very hot. I am still astonished that the hares found 5 miles of black asphalt to run us on in Northern Virginia, which is so full of nice shaded trails and babbling brooks. However, Saturday's run turned into more of a cook the hash fiasco. Hash stew, mmm, mmm, good. We may even have to add a little puppy to the mixture, Lick me, (or Trina), had a rough go of it there for a while but we are happy to know that she is ok. The trail started with a hellacious back check and then a serious of BTs really threw the FRBs off. We were finally on trail and semi-bushwacking when we finally found some shade and entered the woods. There was the strong odor of decaying flesh as we trudged through knee-deep poison ivy. After a check where most of the hash seemed to wonder aimlessly, Dual Air Bags and Hollow Point led us to true trail. We had to cross onto federal property to avoid a stagnant, mosquito infested stream but the barbed wire was such a nice accompaniment to the poison ivy I had already waded through that I didn't mind trespassing at all. Trail then led to a dusty, and yes, I believe toxic construction sight were I practically gagged on what I am sure was fiberglass. This is about the time I felt that Mud Buns was doing us a great disservice by not providing us with the water-squirting oozie she had at the beginning of the run. We headed onto the road from Hades and several hashers passed me slowly, and breathing heavily. Fortunately, we hit a water stop that Penis was manning and I was revived from the coma I had entered. Wilber was caught stealing a beer at the water stop.. what is this the White House Hash House Harriers? Trail led up some other black top, hell road and then came out on Route 50. Tore Ass and Quick Drawers headed across the street for the on-in. Poop Deck was caught standing in the shade waiting for Black Box who had his bag in her car. He coaxed Cheap Slut and I over but even in the shade it was probably about 500 degrees. Circle was officiated by Elvis, who got the hash-it for not leaving the building and we named a couple of wankers. Deb Barry was named "Steel Trap" for owning some sort of metal lingiere - ouch! And Bad Dog was renamed Geisha Boy due to his love-affair with his sunblock. Helmut Head stayed Helmut Head but I think we should just call him dick head, that is if we don't already have one. Good job on the Beer even if the trail was shitty. was shitty.