Hash No. #760 - The St. Patti's Day Hash
Start: The bar formerly known as Mr. Day's

Hares: Black Box, Blazing Straddle, Bullshit, MellowForeskinCheese, WhereDaFaKhawe

I am told that the Celtic-American Anti-Defamation League would have this report focus on the cultural aspects of Irish tradition rather than the 114 green beer swilling potato-eaters who descended on the late lamented Mr. Day's. Well, fook 'em all and the leprechaun they rode in on. St. Patti's Day is one of the most sacred Hash holidays and certain traditions must be followed. True to form, Never Saw Him Cumming acknowledged the festive day by showing me her left tit.

Our pre-run report includes the case of Leaky Tampon, whose girlfriend is on travel in Italy. Leaky made the mistake of calling on his cell phone to check up on her. I'm sure she misses you, Leaky, but what was that soft moaning, punctuated with cries of "Oh, Don Rigoberto, that's it, don't stop, OH GOD YES".

Next we turn to Microsoft, who was sporting a horned hat, contending that the Vikings originated in Ireland. According this wee, soft hasher, these early hasher Vikings plundered their way through the emerald isle, and spawned an assortment of red haired lassies like our Blazing Straddles, US Boobs, PortaPotter, Orange Ruffie, Puss 'n Boots, Watergate, and Blue Balls Squared (formerly Just Liz). The Hash-Trash I-Team will do an internal investigation to see how many of these so-called redheads are fully clad in authentic red beaver coats.

Along about this time St. Patti (or Green Box for a day) screeched something about starting the hash instead of drinking all afternoon. It made sense at the time, so Semen on the Pew was called in to lead Father Abraham, as his final act before going off to Croatia to serve our country. Semen has some unique skills in human relations. He has dated every available Asian woman in greater DC. That may be a little more difficult in Croatia, but God love you lad, hope you have good hunting abroad.

I am told there was a trail, but it wasn't obvious at first. Blow Job sounded some grace notes and we were off into a slew of blind alleys. I saw Hawaiian Puke and No Genitals yell out some BTs. No Genitals took the opportunity to excoriate your humble scribe for not giving her enough ink, despite numerous intentional fouls and violations. Some day your print will cum, No Gs.

In terms of the geography of the trail, I felt a strange tingling sensation, as if I should ask for directions. I shook it off but there we went up and down L street, over to K street, back around by NH Ave, PA Ave and all through your favorite numbered streets. I heard shouts of back check four and kill the lame- ass hares. It was bloody hard to figure how Mellow Foreskin Cheese, a hobbling cripple with only few brain cells left in his account, was able to set such a trail.

The highlight for me was watching Drip Dry attempt to squeeze through a narrow opening with Assfinder in hot pursuit. The Dripper is known for wearing outfits with holes everywhere including the crotch, so I can only speculate on whether she had some added ass-istance in plunging through openings.

The pack bounded down to Foggy Bottom and proceeded to dither about. I saw BoloHeadRat, Turkey Timer and BlowsMyMind stumbling around that area for awhile with Big Bang, BackSnatch, Hawaiian Puke and others. Someone said follow Short Bus, which we all know is a huge mistake, but somehow we managed to head back uptown. I caught up to Bad Ditch and we proceeded to chug up a very long hill heading up to Mass Ave and some peculiar steps that seemed to rise about 100 feet. While I generally enjoy being beaten by a woman, this hill was no fun. As luck would have it the beer near mark appeared and more marks led up to the park across from the hallowed Residence of the Irish Ambassador.

There I checked in with some of the FRBs. Golden Showers dropped his polar-tech penis warmer on the ground, but no one wanted to touch it. Puts It Out lost a perfectly good beer opener and was cited for a violation. WOWO tried to hit on some civilians walking their dogs in the park, but struck out without his canine babe magnet to use as bait. Dumb Blonde and Microsoft picked up from there by posing as Park Rangers, claiming that beaver inspections were mandatory. Watergate assumed her usual role as crotch inspector.

PoodleFucked was richly rewarded with a semi-private flashing of Just Neoma's perfect pair just before she was appointed BeerBitch for the day. Just Tish was wearing some very tight running shorts, which drew a few mentions. BlowsMyMind was initially cited for wearing a racing shirt but got marked up for having a milky white substance on her upper lip and some weak explanation.

St. Patti served up some delicious shooters and
KY Belly led us all in a serenade of Irish Residency. Highlights included "What do you do with a Drunken Hasher" and "When Hasher Eyes are Smiling."

Then we all set off down toward Dupont Circle and dashed to the end of the trail for more green beer.

More violations were noted at the end of the trail. Visitor Hershey Highway whined about there being too many hills in DC. Short Bus was violated for running into cars and taunting them. In a revealing moment, SnatchShot undressed in front of reflective glass showing off some shiny ass.

The highlight of the hash was finally nailing Just Betsy. Well sort of. Betsy has been running a long time with no name. She has a fondness for riding (horses I think), so many equine names were suggested: Hi Ho Sliver, Ride 'em Horsey, Cums on Top (o' the Morning), 3 Ring Cervix and Big Top, and Occasional Dryness, but the winner was "Saddle Up."

During the circle we had some heightened drama with the arrival SlipKnot who was rescued on trail by Gonad the Librarian. She managed to hail a cab and bring him in. The DC Fire Dept sent a fire truck in short order to assist him with some seizure problems. Special thanks to Gonad for her bravery and Watergate and WDFK for going to the ER with him and waiting until he was sprung. As PIO told us, SlipKnot is DEFINITELY the toughest hasher around. Three cheers for this hardy hasher!

The brand new Hashshit was present, but we didn't get around to awarding it due to all the other exciting stuff going down.

Thanks to our Brew Crew:
Mr. Softie
Number 2

Beer Bitch:
Neoma Mills

Virgins:
Rob Williams
Steve Ross
Jennifer Buchinsky
Noam Unger
Kyle Aveni-Deforge
Kelley Bagby

Visitors:
FarFromScor'n
Skin-A-Max (Orlando H3)
PeckerChecker (Ashland, OR H3)
Da Beave (Ashland, OR H3)
J-Walker (Tittsburgh H3)
Flying Burito (MVH3)
Granny Boulders (MVH3)
Lack-a-Labido (Hawaii)
Hershey Highway (Houston H3)
Bobbie Williams
Katherine Williams
AssHopper
Golden Geek (No one could read his writing)
Saur Krotch

Long Time No Seers:
Dr. StrangeLove
Hot Legs
PayPerView

Spert Plus

AnalVerseries:
ShortBusBitch 50
PoodleFucked 100
NoGenitals 169

ONONON: The little green hares found a great oNoNoN spot for us at the Capitol Hilton (yes, that one) with FREE PIZZA and buckets of cheap beer!

P.S. PIO reports on the scene: "The Brew Crew is suspected of putting Saltpeter in our beer, because all the harriers whose laps I sat on at the on-on-on said they were unable to get-up their Leprechauns. Erin-go-braghless!!!"

Anonymous hasher questions asked and answered.

A Mr. Micro-S___ asks: One minute I'm Vice President of Product Development at a Dot Com and the next thing I know I'm re-filling the paper towels in the toilet and fixing the copier. The new economy was great -- when I wasn't hung over from the Sunday, Monday, Wednesday and Thursday hashes, I would check my stock options, surf a little porn, and then try to get lucky in the break room. Now I have to submit billable hours. I mean, like, when are the good times gonna roll again?

MT: Dude, at least you can still dress business casual. You should have cashed out before the hashshit hit the fan. Look at that wily old pro, Big Bird Turd. He never worked an honest day in his life but he knew his scam couldn't last forever, so he stuffed his hashing shorts with cash and now he's suckin on a fat Cuban, living la vida loco.

A Mr. Bolo H. R___ asks: What is frickin' hoof and mouth, foot in mouth, and mad cow disease? Can hashers get it from shiggy or that raw burger I ordered at the on-on-on?

MT: I checked up on this by consulting with animal husbandry expert, Poodle Fucked. Poodle was slaughtering a goat in his back yard, but that was just for fun. It seems hoof and mouth, foot in mouth, and mad cow are not the same thing. According to Poodle, you probably got Mad Cow from eating that nasty Irish stew on St. Paddy's Day. Because it is a fatal brain disease, sooner or later someone will notice a sharp decline in your verbal skills.

Hoof and Mouth is bad for cattle but it doesn't kill humans. The symptoms are canker sores in the mouth and foot fungus, but you could get that from kissing a hasher's sister in various places. The USDA is attacking Hoof and Mouth by spraying the shoes of British tourists with Lysol. If they've been hashing through some shiggy in the U.K., the swat teams strip them naked and hose them down with alcohol. Hashers don't seem to mind. Finally, for obvious reasons, the Bush administration has no plan for attacking Foot in Mouth syndrome.