Hash # 725
Hares:  Hands Solo, Milk Money, French Toasted

5/25/01 (pretty damned late, I know)

Dear Jizz Bucket,

Last Saturday's hash was going to be lovely.  We were going to traipse through fields of young daisies, delighting in the light May breezes, communing w/ the fauna and stopping ever-so-often to taste the dew from the buttercups.   But that would not be the case.  I arrived late and missed trail entirely, learning that the four creek crossing that had been planned were abandoned.  This kind of intelligent fore-thought must have been brought on either by intense sobriety (which leaves out the hares and 9/10's of the pack) or, simply, an obscured path to beer.  My money's on the latter.

As I mentioned earlier, I arrived late.  Pulling into the McDonald's parking lot at the corner of Rolling Road and Edinburgh at 11:07 my vehicle was surrounded by FRB's including Byte, Dr. Jekyll, WoWo, Blank Check (mmm hmmm, you read it right), Teeny Weeny Peeny and See Dick Run, all looking for trail.  Byte yells out, "I see flour, I see flour!  There it is. Right there!  Flour!" and the sextet scampered off between office buildings towards On In.  No one saw me.   Putting my car into reverse,  I start to look for a parking space realizing that beer is, of course, near.  From the corner of my eye, I caught it -- the Menage a' Knot.  Sloppy Drunk, The Babysitter and Slipknot were floating along together, arm in arm, the two whispering eye-popping secrets into SK's ears in stereo.  I wondered what may be transpiring, JB.  Flaming Asshole, clad in a woman's robe sauntered by, reminding us that cross-dressing is not just for October.

I parked the car and recall that the Indigo Girls were on the radio when I shut off the engine.  Speaking of, Stained Sheets earned himself a down-down for asking to change the conversation from the topic of lesbians to falling interest rates, but, then again, that kind of  "going down" won't make your teeth go bad, will it, JB?

Oh, I almost forgot.  You almost got a namesake here at Mt. Vernon.  We came through some mighty nasty mud right at the end of trail.  Slippin' and slidin', squishin' and squashin.'  Hell, I thought we'd been abandoned and left in this god-foresaken alley behind the MacDonald's.  Many other folks musta felt it, too, JB, for that slippery alley theme was heavy on their minds at circle.  Yep, it was a close 'un I tell ya, but 'ol Vaseline Alley joined the ranks of the irresponsible with the rest of us that day.  Some folks offered up some homo-eroticism to support (when you need a supporter, call Jockstrap) the name.  But me?  I think it was the mud talking them outa it, JB.  That was it.

Yes, security was tight, JB, because BOTH May Queens, Pudnocker and Loan Shark, were present at the same event.  Oh, the looks of envy those two get.
 

You always like to know who got pinched, don't ya?  Well, I told you about Flamin's robe already.  Short Bus Bitch earned one for her Princess Lay-me impersonation (is that a light sabre in your pocket …?)
Mellow Foreskin Cheese told me a story that Black Box, the Buxom Birthday Girl was first to arrive at the start and was greeted by Only 2.  The next 9 folks to arrive were GM's.  11 GM's and Only 2?.  Foreshadowing?  Foreskinning?  Only time will tell.  According to MFC, "the old fart GM's" were Byte Lighting, Stained Sheets, Wankers Aweigh, Blank Check, Hard Drive,and Missing Link.

 The directionally-challenged award was shared this week by a virgin, Just Kimberly and co-DFL's Cheap Slut and Loan Shark.  We managed to lose a visitor, but hell, I forget which one … Pinky on the Brain, Kojack Sack, or Just Kimberly.  Everyone made it back in time for eats, virgins too, Just Don & Just Joan  (aka, Ma & Pa Crotchet) and Just Brett.
 

Speaking of tales, the hares planned a four-creek crossing trail.  With the rains we've had lately the creeks had risen formidably and the crossing were aborted.  But not before a little experimentation, I understand.  Byte scouted the river, finding a spot where the current would carry a person diagonally downstream, allowing for easy passage.  Seeing now that he could put his prophylactic gear to good use for others, too, Byte removed his hard hat and placed Milk Money in it.  Cunning Runt looked on approvingly, having left her boot behind.  Gripping the sides of the hat, Milk Money bid farewell to the well-wishing wankers who had gathered to watch.  Tension hung heavy on the air.  Crafty sang a sad song and more than a few eyes were misty.  Just Don's eyes were red-rimmed.  Nurse Crotchet asked if he was touched by the scene and he said, "no, I just gotta pee."  The feeling was shared by many, you know, that running water, and all.

Signed, your faithful friend,
 

Greezy Leevins
 

P.S.  If you want to join us next time, at the Combat Beer Patrol Hash, here's how to get there.  Ooops.  I'd tell ya the directions but I ain't got 'em.  Listen to Throbbing Member's directions on 202.PUD.JAM0 (rhymes w/ "who made you butt-slam hero?")

P.P.S.  (yes, I think I might … brb)  Fussy again denies any involvement with this load of crap.