!!! Urgent message from last week's hares !!!Cameron Run Leech Alert: Please spread this to anyone you heard of who was affected or infected Sunday. From what I've been hearing, this little leech issue may be the biggest public health crisis to hit the WH4 since the food poisoning episode at the McLean VFW. Believe me, none of us saw it coming all reasonable precautions were taken to ensure a safe trail.
Warnings were issued at the circle to perform a leech check, but most ignored it or claimed they didn't hear it. Also there were apparently a lot of smaller skin-colored specimens that people didn't find until the next day. The hares contacted the Alexandria health department and they say that there are no known leech borne contagious diseases at this time of year. They (health department) want to be contacted by any hasher who:
- Found two or more leeches on them more than two hours after the hash.
- Found one leech with it's head buried deeper than 1/16" inch under the skin
- Woke up the next day with a headache and polyuria.
- Feel that a leech entered any bodily orifice.
They say that the greatest risk is local tissue necrosis or infection if you didn't get the head out when you pulled it off you. The hazards of bleeding to death from leeches has been over exaggerated since Medieval times. Statistically when tested in a rat population--pretty good hasher equivalent--approximately 1 in 25 leech lesions will spread to the central nervous system and result in permanent bamage. There is anecdotal evidence that some victims may lose up to half of their drain. The problem is, between the beer and country music that followed, it is hard to figure out how much of the harm can be blamed on the leeches.
If you hashed last week, and waded across Cameron Run, expect a call from the health department. They will need to know where you crossed, where you had been wading for 72 hours prior to Cameron Run, and what symptoms you had. They will distribute a remedy within six months. Meanwhile, hash well, and drink beer.
I had only one small leech that I found after I got home Sunday night--it left an enormous hickey on the back of my right leg.
Apologies to all infected. Sort of makes you long for plain old prickers and PI doesn't it? [scribe's note: I also got PI from the trail, I prefer the leeches.]
!!! End urgent message !!!
Date: October 4, 1998
Hares: Cum By Ya, Put It Out, Shave Me Elmo, and (just) Adrian
Location: Huntington Metro
A damp afternoon awaited the 615th trail of the White House Hash House Harriers. As the pack assembled, I was pleased to see my fellow Virginia Interhash '98 comrades, Burnt Sox and Pay Per View (Hash Babe '98), already at the sign-in. A number of WH4 mismanagement and other irregulars were still in Kuala Lampur for World Interhash '98, with a leech issue of their own. Black Box and (just) Judy were busy with sign-in, which is always more challenging performed in the rain. Though I was a bit late, I was still in time to observe Hawaiian Puke arriving in his classic '69 (the ultimate hashing vehicle).
Eventually Cyclops, concerned that the pack would fall victim to hypothermia in the Canadian front, whistled us to circle up. In honor of the rumors floating about regarding the nekid hash at VAIH98, Pay Per View and I were honored to lead 'ather Abe, because it was so damn chilly, was done at 75 rpm. After the hares delivered unto us instructions as to the shape, size and color of trail marks, the runners took off on trail of white, the walkers on trail of Tang (which, oddly enough, matched the color of hare Cum By Ya's t-shirt, perhaps he had a spill). Armed with knowledge that there were two beer stops, the walkers went right, the runners went left, and Missing Link went somewhere else.
The pack made a noisy start up some Street. Solution of the first check took us across traffic, and up the first of many hills. Then we went up another hill. And another hill. And another hill. The air was getting thin, I almost went to sleep. Fortunately, I had the pleasure of the invigorating company of Ty-D-Bol and the babe-bottle- toting Pay Per View, who entertained me and managed to keep me awake. Missing Link marks were spotted, so we knew he was in the area. By this time we were really warming up, so despite the cold and damp, most of us had shed a layer of clothing.
At least one hare was seen at every check, eagerly watching the pack try to solve their trail marks. Dumb & Dumber, apparently the only member of the pack packing chalk, kindly marked the solution at each check.
Having neglected to double-knot my shoe laces, I suffered a blowout in a residential area stopped to make repairs, and was nearly the cause of a three-hasher pileup. I watched my chances of being an FRB this week shrink as I was passed by Heat Seeking Moisture Missile, Zimboobwe, Roach Motel, and Eat Me for Breakfast, or EM in the AM, as he likes to be called. Which reminds me of an ad I saw the other day: Doxidan in the PM for a BM in the AM. Catchy.
Finally, my efforts were rewarded when the pack missed a turn, and ran for half a block before realizing that there was no flour. I ran to the nearest hare, (just) Adrian, who was proudly standing by the last visible mark, at the top of a hill. I am the FRB!! At least for the next twenty feet or so, when Einstein blew by, on flour once again. Trail went precariously near a plot of freshly-sown grass, so many hashers opted for the infant green. This, in turn pissed off the neighbors. Some poofter with a dog tucked under his arm gave chase, but the pack was too nimble for him and his pretty dog, too.
The next check was solved right, the pack ran through bushes, into creek, and under bridge. Except for those who didn't want to get their shoes wet. They took the bridge. Their shoes didn't stay dry for long, for the trail soon dipped back into the creek on the starboard bank, and went up said creek bed for quite a distance. Vominatrix, recovering from her birthday celebration, was spotted looking for signs of this trail's first hair-of-the-dog stop. Finally out of the creek on the port bank, BN was spotted, and I joined Spits It Out for the jog to the beer wagon.
The brew crew had set up shop and was serving customers. Dumb Blonde was busily searching for a barca lounger, I think he may have been sniffing the walkers orange powder. Not a bad idea, though (the barca lounger, not sniffing Tang). Great Balls of Fire was distracted by an interesting furry object protruding from his pants, he rhythmically stroked the creature and fondly called it 'Monica'. Monica, in turn, appeared to be humming 'Anchors Away'. But I digress.
Soon the pack was off again, running through a field of flowers that seemed to grab Dumb Blonde and hold him captive. He was especially attracted to those orange flowers, a theme that seems to be recurring. We eventually hit a check on the edge of a construction site. It was here that we were joined by the irrepressible latecummer Hurly Gurly Mon, sporting a fashionable t-shirt with adorned with the likeness of a diaper-clad woman. This caused the pack to yearn for the return of Hasher Humper and her WH4 t-shirt line, which bears the diapers on bunnies.
Another beer stop already? Once again, the brew crew was in action, working out their biceps with 32-oz. curls. The pack was quite the specter, with a clouds of steam pouring from our collective bodies. I saw in the Post the next day that National Airport was forced to close briefly due to the fog we generated.
Beer stop observations: Dr. Strangelove and Betty Crotcher were modeling cool weather hash gear - they sported drinking gloves on both hands! For Sale or Rent soon strolled in, having tuned her beer sensors to the Sh*tty Sh*tty Bang Bang channel. Only one Buddha was seen, although I was passed on trail by at least three Buddha’s. Oralgina & Jimi Hendrix decided to join us after all. Number 2 was enjoying his reunion with the beer van, in one of his rare appearances away from its driver's seat. In the "I Have a Life" category, Bite Me Elmo let slip her planned duathlon next weekend, so I guess we won't see her at Full Moon H3 or Mount Vernon H3 next weekend. Put It Out seemed to have a problem with the number on my shirt (69), which goes on record as the first time I have ever gotten a complaint about 69.
Einstein was the first to break rank and hit the trail, and the rest of the pack followed suit. On around northwest Alexandria, through yet another tunnel, a dark, low, loooooooong tunnel, where said darkness was punctuated only by occasional light sticks, and the darkness was punctuated by occasional "ouch!"s. This time I had the good fortune to traverse the darkness between Cyclops and (just) Steve (at least it felt like Cyclops and (just) Steve) .
Back in daylight, along Eisenhower Avenue, Hawaiian Puke, HG Mon, and I heard whistles and on-ons called beyond a thicket, where we found another creek followed by another tunnel. Pulls Out Early was splashing along the creek, with the distinctive tunnel oogie tracks on the back of his shirt. In fact, by this point, nearly all the pack had tunnel oogie tracks on the back of their shirts.
Up another creek, through another tunnel, and, may I mention, up another creek and through another tunnel? Are the Rat People today's hares? Finally, across some gooey field of shoe-sucking muck, up another creek, up an embankment, and ON IN!
Kinda makes you glad you're a hasher, don't it?
The Tang was tasty!
Cyclops, supported by GBOF, called the muddy pack to circle. Wheredafukrwe and Fussy Bitch insured that the down-down beer pitchers were never empty. First order by business, the hares were called forward to drink for the atrocities of their sh*tty trail.
Next up were the :
| Virgin | Who Made Them Come | Temporary Hash Name |
|---|---|---|
| Josie | Karen & Mike | Velvet Liner |
| Ann | self | That Not-So-Fresh Feeling |
| Hilary | Target Practice & My Cock Shoots Blanks | Rubbed Raw |
And the visitors:
| Hasher | Home Hash |
|---|---|
| Target Practice | Hockesin |
| My Cock Shoots Blanks | Hockesin |
| Einstein | Mount Vernon |
Target Practice was forbidden to leave the circle, for she had worn a cap during her down-down! What kind of Hash is this Hockesin, that they let their kennel loose with such practices?!? Do I hear road trip?
Today's trail was the scene of many violations, listed by category:
Cinderella Of course, by this point, if anyone had worn new
shoes, all evidence of such had been left behind in the first water
crossing. New socks, though, were a different matter, so Raise My
Titanic drank new-sock-filtered beer.
Beat by a woman Bark A Dildo, you challenged the
wrong woman to a drink-off! Or did she challenge you? Whatever the
circumstance, the story went that Vominatrix was on her third beer by
the time he had finished his first, so BAD had drink again today.
Monica look-a-like Great Balls Of Fire drank for
whatever that blond thing was that had been a flippin' and a floppin'
from his shorts since the first beer stop.
Nice try Put It Out, because he didn't care for that
69 thing ("I wanted her to take her shirt off - I didn't think she was
wearing a bra") When one hare drinks all hares drink. And when one
Elmo drinks, all Elmos drink.
Maturity Vominatrix had a birthday! HAPPY BIRTHDAY
VOMINATRIX!
Budget Interhashing Pay Per View and Late
Cummer, who passed up World Interhash in Kuala Lampur for Virginia's
Interhash in Lynchburg.
Closet Racer (just) Steve thought he could hide the
fact that he actually r*ns real r*ces, so he thought that if he inverted
his 10K shirt we wouldn't notice. Ha! And then he forgot to take off
his cap! Ha!
Low-talking (just) Hilary doesn't have the low-
talking thing perfected, she was overheard discussing makeup. Faux pas!
Taking the plunge The holder of the Hashit, TBOS,
gave it up (the hashit) to Hurly Gurly Mon, whose misfortune was
to wear that funky diaper t-shirt.
There was on this day not one, but two solemn occasions! (just) Judy and (just) Adrian were to shed there nerd-world names for hash names! Nominations for (just) Judy bore a common theme, including 'Open For Suggestion', 'May I Serve You', 'Open All Night', and 'Tap These'. But (just) Judy will forever more be known in the White House Hash House Harriers, and throughout the world of hashing, as:
Nominations for (just) Adrian ran the gamut, from 'Can't Satisfy', to 'Rear Guard', to 'Just Head'. In the end (no pun intended), it was deemed that (just) Adrian will forever more be known in the White House Hash House Harriers, and throughout the world of hashing, as:
Split Mama's first act as Split Mama was to toss his christening beer on the GM and the religious advisor. The circle immediately began the chant of "Hashit! Hashit! Hashit!" And so it was that Hurly Gurly Mon became the Hashit holder of shortest duration, as SM was granted the vessel, and will carry it with pride and mold for the next week.
Hats off, pots on the ground, for Swing Low, then off to Lonesome Dove for burgers, beer and latex gloves, all to our favorite C&W tunes. For anyone who missed the Lonesome Dove massage line, tough sh*t!
On On, Latecummer
OK, I don't have it. It's an email thing, you wouldn't understand. Then again, maybe you would. As usual, though, GBOF is always scraping the bottom of the barrel for hares. If interested, call him at 703-876- 4772 and pant heavily.
Ditto. Except I do remember that the November Full Moon Hash will be October 31. Check 202-pudjam0 for details.
Wanna get your WH4 info electronically? Once again, GBOF is your man, ask him politely via email, at smythe_andrew@birdengineering.com. Include in your note first & last name (nerd), hash name, put GBOF in the subject line, and include your email address some where in the body of the text. Do not send cash or stamps; shipping and handling may apply. May not be valid in some states. Void where prohibited.
Today’s credits go to: