The scribes would like to thank Dual Air Bags for volunteering to write this week’s Hash Trash. GO HO!!! Here she goes:

What a glorious day!!!

I was up late last night turning tricks until about 4 a.m. but nevertheless, when my alarm went off at 8, I jumped out of bed because I could not wait to hash!

I drove for about an hour and a half to get to the hash but I didn’t mind—I sang all the way—some hash songs, some radio songs.

I noticed the hares made a slight boo-boo in the directions but since I’m not as anal as Perk-A-Set, Black Box, or Stained Sheetz, I let them slide.

We arrived at the start and boy was it hot! The assembled wankers were being signed in by Milk Money and Perk-A-Set and they were making it a happy, painless, cheerful start to the hash. Have I mentioned how much I love this year’s mismanagement?

I noticed an extraordinarily large number of hashers carrying water bottles this week but the FRBs were noticeably without them. I guess carrying a water bottle interferes with running fast.

Circle Up was called and Hawaiin Puke, Ranger Dick, Wankers Aweigh, and Yes Dear led us in Father Abe. This, by the way, was a joint hash with the Baltimore Annapolis Hash House Harriers. Gosh darnit, I don’t know if I’ve ever had so much fun during Father Abe!

Hawaiian Puke called WALKING and we all waddled off, out of the school yard, up the street (why do hashes always start on a gentle upward incline?), and running was called. We turned left to see a pack of confused hashers wandering around a grocery store (why do hashes always have a grocery store within ½ mile of the start?). It seemed the runners were going down the street and walkers kept going straight at the intersection but there was general confusion about which was the walkers trail. When somebody with an authoritative sounding voice yelled "walkers straight", the whole pack started running straight.

We came to a wooded trail with a marked check pointing walkers straight, runners to the right. Again, the whole pack ran straight. Wimps.

We came into a clearing where, from the bottom of a small hill, there were hashers going in every direction, like a switchback. I followed the pack to find myself on a BT. Did the pack notice that? I ran through it and finally found hash on a gravel road. Fire and Ice and I spotted Quick Drawers and Big Bird Turd up the road coming out of the woods. That raised our eyebrows since they weren’t on trail, but who are we to judge?

We came into yet another school yard where the checks had been marked by Stained Sheetz. That FRB!

We ran back into a neighborhood with mass construction going on—another one of those Potemkin Contruction Companies (that’s intylecktual humor) to see Quick Drawers darting about way up ahead. Normally, I wouldn’t feel very good about being on trail if I can see Quick Drawers ahead. So, I figured I was off on some short cut hunt. Low and behold, there was flour on the street.

All of a sudden, I thought I heard somebody yell "Beer Near". How could that be since we haven’t been out very long? Sure enough, I got to the corner and it was plain as the nose on your face. That’s what you get for running the walkers trail!!! So I sprinted the last 1/8 mile uphill to the lovely home of Call Girl and Fuzzy Butt.

Thinking we must be the first ones in, we went to the back yard to find Cunning Runt, Late Cummer, her virgin, Bramble Bush, Hymen Dickover, and various other hashers already sitting around in chairs eating and drinking. What, did they just drive over from the start?

We feasted on hamburgers, hotdogs, excellent southwestern rice, and lots of COLD beverages.

Have I mentioned that I love these people!

After waiting forever for the rest of the pack, the FRBs started arriving. First came Dr. Jekyll looking like he had just run a marathon. Then came French Toasted and the rest of the pack. The evaporation of the sweat from their bodies caused a rainbow in the backyard. It was hot!

Bags were arranged in the garage, where Milk Money and Perk-A-Set were taking care of hash business. Missing Link, Dr. Jekyll, and Ranger Dick were harassing them. Ranger Dick stretched out on his back and we heard an interesting noise and we all started snickering just like 12 year olds. He claimed it was his back cracking. Yeah, back end maybe. We claimed it was air escaping from an orifice. He adamantly denied our childish accusations, which of course made it even more important for us to continue on this sensitive, indiscreet topic. That was an all american, full bowl of beans, 18 cucumber, 6 beer fart, my friend. Don’t deny your body in the future. Be proud! Be a man! Fart with gusto!

We ate, we drank, we ate, we drank. I kept yelling about getting the circle started, and finally, it started. And it was excellent.

We drank to the hares for a shitty trail and then we greeted the virgins. They were Erich Miller (Fresh, Young Meat), Lisa Gunderson (Early Cummer since Late Cummer brung her), and Jody Brady (Heidi Fleiss since Call Girl brung her).

Anniversarians were Coffee, Tea, or Me (5), Cow Poke-Her (25), Late Cummer (85), Fire and Ice (115), Poop Deck (269), and Cheap Slut (475).

Visitors included Zachary Ellis, Tammy Blake, Couff, On the Rocks, Dimple Balls, Hangman, and Butt Sucker—what a name.

Returners included James Hodgson, Gummi Blow—haven’t seen him or his front teeth for a while, Cyclops, and Heat Seeking Moisture Missile.

We had 2 namings at this hash and to make it less chaotic, the highly intelligent mismanagement decided to go back to naming committees instead of the cluster f*ck it usually is. First up was Hymen Dickover’s youngin, Tim Foley. What a coincidence. That’s similar to Tom Foley (nerd name). We deliberated for a short spell and tossed around Burnt Lips, Blow My Crank, and Yank Me Out. He will be known throughout the world of hashing as Yank Me Out.

Next up was Barney’s Bitch who was named at the lurid, sinful, pagan, heathen White House Hash but who achieved his 6^th run with us. We decided to let him keep Barney’s Bitch.

Violators were:

Time for the hashit ceremony—

I was proudly carrying the hashit on this run—like a flag. I went into the circle to give it up (and to get rid of the hashit) and recognizing that I was soooo hot, Ranger Dick poured beer on me. Boy that came at just the right time and was so refreshing. How did he know I wanted him to do that? Hashit candidates were Milk Money and Late Cummer for embezzlement, Hawaiian Puke for creatively singing Father Abe, and Stained Sheetz for getting a speeding ticket. Milk Money was the temporary winner. It eventually got passed to Ranger Dick and then to somebody else so I lost track of who it finally went to. It’s a shame Late Cummer or Perk-A-Set aren’t writing the trash this week because they would surely have written it down and accurately reported it. I’m just a ho, what can I say? We don’t get paid to be reporters.

Finally, Hawaiian Puke called for whistle check but Ranger Dick interrupted saying the Baltimore Annapolis Hash didn’t do whistle checks. And we care because??? Whistles blared and we closed with Swing Lo. Let me point out here that chicks don’t have dicks so what are they doing during this song? That ain’t the way I masturbate.

Anyway, it was an excellent hash and a most excellent circle. I’m going to think lovingly of all of you this week and look forward to seeing you next time.

May the hash go in peace…

Love ya to pieces,

____________________________________________________

Next Week’s Hash

____________________________________________________

____________________________________________________