"If we are going to have a PMS run in the future, I demand that there be
at least one male hare."
Wilburr December 1998.
This is how our most adept (and sadly, our most diplomatic) public speaking member, Wilburr brilliantly summed-up by this ad-hoc PMS Hash. And damned if it didn't properly captured the true nature of today's festivities.
Even before 'Ather Abraham had taken place, we had a series of violations: RangerDick mouthed off to the very senior Scribe about waiting his turn, instead of butting-in to the front of the line, to sign in. Now this type of behavior is just plain stupid as the Scribe decides which folks drink - and how often. Thus, not only did RangerDick do some DownDowns, but so too did the damned OnSec for creating such an ugly situation: This is a hash, we don't need no stink'n lines! ByteLightning was stupid enough to wear new shoes and a racing shirt, as was duly noted and promptly reported to the Scribe by Nurse Crotchet. (NC seems to have quite the fascination for Byte and his, how shall I say this delicately, his accoutrements!). Hoping to avoid at least one of these violations, Byte quickly removed his shirt. While most of the women folk were quite flustered by this, DualAirBags made it quite clear that we are not playing basketball (where shirts versus skins is allowed) and condemned him to drink. The new shoes of FlyTheFriendlyThighs were almost missed as the male members of our tribe rarely get their gaze that far down. (Actually, if she hadn't said that she had thrown-out the KITCHEN SINK, she might never have been indicted.) And finally, BigBirdTurd had new shoes - but he had to turn himself in.
With a quickie 'Ather Abraham out of the way, the pack followed flour, which was conveniently attached to the backside of BlazingStraddles' shorts. For those close enough, it was a scenic route.
As in past trails starting from this location, we crossed Prosperity Ave and headed into an apartment complex. In a surprise move, PoopDeck was the lead dog (all the normal FRBs went chasing down a long-assed BT) and he continued to successfully shortcut through most of the trail. Alas, while he did finish the Hash, it was not as an FRB. Like all SCBs (Can you say QuickDrawers? I knew you could.), PD was eventually hosed by his aberrant behavior. Unfortunately, a similar situation arose with the vaunted HashMaster, FullMetalBalls. In a rare moment in MVH3 HashHistory, FMB actually attempted to stay on trail. He was even leading the way throughout the first half of the trail. (Yes, MissingLink was not present.) Sadly, FMB's head swelled to three times it normal size this day (down you heathen women) due to this early success, causing him to run through a BT and into never-never land. Not to worry, he did finish.
The rest of us wandered aimlessly through traffic, reeking streams, muck and mire, and lovely suburban neighborhoods. In fact, until the Rt 29 CheckFromHell the pack was doing great. At this check, all traces of flour seemed to disappear. If LateComer hadn't shouted out encouraging words as she drove by (!) we might still be out searching for flour. You see, BigBirdTurd (who has a vested interest in one of the hares) was standing on the Hare's Arrow (in his new shoes) that we were supposed to be following. To make matters worse, he started yelling: "There is nothing down here." Damn his black heart.
But as always, the Hash Gods smiled upon us and true trail was found by Psycho heading through a neighborhood of townhomes and apartments. I believe there was a brief respite from the gawking locals when we traversed a school yard. It is difficult for me to remember much as it was mondo-butt ugly hot (it's freak'n December and we are running in singlets and shorts!) and there was no waterstop to be found anywhere. Luckily, I was swept along on the coattails of Byte and DuckJob. These two seemed to know exactly where to go - mainly because of the all the damned marks left by ThreeTimesALady. How in the blazes did he get so far ahead? Well, it seems he shortcut and the next thing he knew, he was at the finish, the little ho.
At last the FRBs crossed a familiar highway when what to their wandering eyes did appear but two cute little hasherette butts which just happened to belong to HotLegs and ScrewsEverybody. It is such a nice sight to cum-up behind female walkers. And it got even better, they called us on to true trail. Of course they weren't really on true trail, but they did save us a lengthy loop through yet another yuppie enclave.
Just as the FRBs passed by these kindly walkers (they are not nearly as frightening when they are separated from the rest of the walker pack) Psycho stuck his ugly face out of the woods and motioned for us to follow. And so we did, running right over a HARES ARROW! Byte, can you say Hares Arrow? The FRBs stumbled and rumbled to the bottom of the hill where Byte espied Psycho off to the left and quite some distance away. Honestly believing that no-one would go that far without being on trail (remember, this is Psycho we are talking about) Byte swept-up Dr.J and DuckJob in his tailwind, completely disregarding the trail markings, and headed off to find true trail with Psycho After a half-mile loop around a big huk'n lake, we came upon a note left by Psycho: "Why am I way over here when all the other hashers are on the opposite side of the lake?". Byte you Bastard, I'll bet you killed Kenny too. We did finish, but not until after the walkers, who had so kindly assisted us (and who continued to follow true trail), had finished their first beer. Humiliating it was.
DOWN-DOWN
The trail finished at LateComer's lovely abode, which was nestled up
against a lake. Unfortunately, based on the signs along the shoreline,
we were forbidden from even looking at the lake. Hoping to ameliorate
this situation, the hares had prepared a lavish array of cold cuts and
sandwich bread. No expense spared today!
It was not long before the ritualistic festivities started-up. In honor of the birth of one of our more popular members, DrinksOnMeBud (now 40 years young) was invited forward and offered the icy seat of honor - in an ice & water filled cooler. Without a second thought, he dropped trou and plopped his big behind into the icy depths and demanded a beer. What a man. We sang and rejoiced and then allowed DOMB to leave. He arose, turned, and shook his booty. Those up front were showered with "butt-water", which is nothing at all like rose-water. Only BlazingStraddles spoke up when the newly created DOMB-flavored ice water was offered to the crowd. Common sense quickly overcame her and she did not partake of the elixir. However, later, when HawaiianPuke was honored for his birth (using the same water), BS was quite happy to sample the magic potion. Hmmm.
There were numerous virgins, returners and anniversarians. Alas, the official Hash sheet with all this information has mysteriously disappeared. Ergo, no recounting of such Hash Honors will be found within these pages.
Hot Legs was honored with a nifty jacket for having cum 200 times - in a row?! Wankers must be one tired dude! ?
We were blessed with two namings today: Ed Taylor was officially monikored as GivesGoatEd in honor of his propensity for goats. Don't even think about going there. Equally impressive was the title conferred on Gary Griesmyer: Viagra Falls. (Personally, I still think BlackBox'sBitch or FeltUpBlackBox'sBoobs {Do think about going there - OFTEN!! WooHoo} would be a better choice, but hey, I bow to the wisdom of the Hash.)
And now, the VIOLATORS: Byte, FlyTheFriendlyThighs, HotLegs, BigBirdTurd (New Shoes, racing shirts or some combination of the above); FlyTheFriendlyThighs & Wilburr (throwing out the KITCHEN SINK); DualAirBags (whining that the trail wasn't long enough - it was under an hour); HotLegs (splooging the Scribe); RangerDick (mouthing off to the Scribe and environmental); FussyBitch (bringing hairspray to the hash, losing it and having the big hairy ovaries to ask the hares for it - in other words, fashion statement); WaterSport (drenching the Scribe's notepad in beer); BigBirdTurd (lying about being on true trail, even if it does help him to get sex with a hare); *69 & IndecentProposal (for providing BlankCheck with a major hashing "advantage" - as well as the greatest thrill of his life - when they each grabbed a cheek and assisted him up a hill. Last, but certainly not least, in honor of bonking his head and causing it to bleed profusely, StainedSheets was temporarily renamed (till the end of the year) as Gorbachev.
HASHIT. In the most confusing round of HashIt I have ever witnessed, Dr. Jekyll, yours truly, was awarded the heinous artifact for a lie, created, promulgated, and testified to by DualAirBags. Regardless of the fact that the story was a bald-faced lie, I still can't understand how the Hash could possibly punish me for "accomplishing" what we all strive for: Bed-Destroying Sex. As related to me, as I was trying to swallow the vile stuff called "DownDownBeer" that was thrust into my face, it seems CunningRunt was not at the Hash today because she was waiting for new bedroom furniture. I had apparently destroyed her old furniture in a love-making frenzy. How can you even think of punishing this type of behavior? Evil, EVIL Hash! Anyway, when you do see the Runt, please compliment her on her new CHEST. It is much larger than her old one - weighing in at about 300 lbs!. Eat your heart out DABs.
In view of the HashIt, my parting comment to the Hash for this week is:
Your proctologist called, he found your head
(and a ham sandwich with hot mustard).
DJ