So...we circled, we drank, we sang, we hashed, we drank, we circled again, we drank, we sang.
Here's some stuff that may or may not have happened.
Way out west, there were these fellas. Fellas I wanna tell you about. Fellas by the name of Sara and Colin. At least those were the handles their loving parents gave them. But they never had much use for it themselves. This Sara and Colin called themselves Dewey and Gladdy. Now, Dewey and Gladdy, those are names no one would self-apply where I come from. But then, there was a lot about Dewey and Gladdy that didn’t make a whole lot of sense to me. And a lot about where they hared, like-wise. But then again, maybe that’s why I found the trail so darned interesting.
They call Olivette the center of it all. I didn’t find it to be that exactly, but I’ll allow as there are some decent highway connections there. Of course, I can’t say I seen Ladue, and I never been to Frontenac, and I ain’t never seen no Ray bringing beer as the fellas say. But I’ll tell you what, after seeing Olivette and this here hash trash I’m about to unfold, well, I guess I seen something every bit as stupefying as you’d see in any of those other places, and in chalk talk, too, so I can die with a smile on my face without feelin’ like Gispert gypped me.
Now this story I’m about to unfold took place back last night, long after our conflict with Sa’dam and the I-rackies. I only mention it cause sometimes there’s hashers, I won’t say heroes, cause what’re heroes, but sometimes there’s hashers, and I’m talking about Dewey and Gladdy here, sometimes there’re hashers who, well, they’re the hashers for their time and place, they fit right in there, and that’s Gladdy and Dewey, in Olivette. And even if they’re lazy hares, and Dewey and Gladdy were certainly that, quite possibly the laziest in the St. Louis Metropolitan area, because one of them is from Ill-i-noise and the other is from the city, so I can’t just say county, because that’s a thing here, anyway, which would place them high in the runnin’ for laziest hares worldwide, but sometime there’re hashers, sometimes… there’re hashers… Well, I lost my train of thought here, but.. aw hell, I done introduced them enough.
See, these here hashers set a trail, in honor of another, another they called The Dude. They called the trail the Lebowski Hash, which is the The Dude’s given name. Jeffrey Lebowski. Lebowski, The Dude, was a bowler and in his memory, the trail started around abouts Olivette Lanes. Hashers came a tumblin’ in from all around the area. Some of them came dressed like associates of The Dude or characters from a tail about’em. There were a couple Sa’dams, the Jesus, a couple dressed like The Dude himself, and The Jesus. The hares were dressed as Maud, ex flame of another Lebowski, and Smokey, who was a nice enough guy with fragile feelin’s, who may or may not have went over the foul line in a league game. There was a bit of deliberation, some explainin’ about what was a’coming our way, and then the hares were on their way. The pack followed soon after, keepin’ their eyes peeled for an angry German woman, who was probably one of those Nihilists.
The trail was straight forward enough, winding through a neighborhood and eventually going down into a drainage canal for a length stretch. About a third of the way through the canal portion, there was a beer stop in a sewer outlet. Disco alleged that he defecated in the tunnel, although no downstream hashers reported his detritus. Trail came out of the canal farther down and into some decent shaggy considering the location. Once out of the stretch of shiggy, trail went into a business park of sorts and then back into Warson Park with the constantly repeating tunes of Toto and The Who, which turned out to be coming from the STL Rock School that was having band practice. The fuzz eventually showed up to scurry us off and trail headed directly back to circle and somehow Tased got lost.
Back at a wind-beaten circle, Quarter Pound Me lead trail at his typical half speed cadence, meaning it would take the better part of an hour. It took so long that a hungry hasher was forced to cook dinner over a camp stove in the back of a car just to survive. Hash shit went to Disco for his phantom poop and the hash swung low and moved on to the bowling alley where the party really got into full swing. Vomit Comet showed off his sultry bowling moves and Locknut, in full Jesus costume, rolled his rock to victory. The early closing at 11:00 saw the pack slamming beers at a quick clip, and eventually this scribe retired to his abode. The seventh annual Lebowski hash was a great success.
On the second to last day on which the temps are acceptable for fair-weather hashers, a very robust pack of ne'er-do-wells gathered at the location of an ancient Anasazi adobe bowling alley. The occasion was the birthday trail of two of our finest, nay oldest hashers, Fake Bake and Copped and Fing- Ice Princess. They also chose to complicate the occasion even more, by inviting those in attendance to don their skankiest onesies. And there was much friction.
The slow trickle of latecomers in progress, Quarter Pound Me took to the top of the stout coolers and started the proceedings. In addition to the invasion of CoMo hashers, there were 7! virgins in attendance: Just Karen, Just Gus, Just Breck, Just Gayle, Just Fredo, Just J'Antoine, Just Jürgen. Fake Bake soon took to mansplaining marks, ignoring the perfectly good directionals laid down by his cohare, opting for versions of his own.
After a grope shot by Betty Cocker using the patented Beaver Chaser filter and 10 minutes of furious beer pounding, the pack was away, with the Wimps and Rambos being immediately split. The Rambos headed south on Tesson Ferry and were greeted by a chick check, which Just the Tick gracioulsy opened up for the FRBs. We were then thrust rudely and ever so deeply into the heart of Lindbergh Flyers country, scaring neighbors and interrupting the late afternoon suburban calm. As we made our way back to Lindbergh, Ovary and Claim pulled up the rear, sweating in their heavy wool onesies and shedding undergarments in a very non-sexual manner. Bastards.
Across Linbergh Boulevard we went, under the watchful eye of the Lindbergh High resource officer. We skirted around campus, back into another neighborhood where a MH was encountered? Murder Halt? Mudbutt Halt? Masturbation Halt? We made our way down the list of the obvious, finally settling on Mmmmosa Halt. A sweaty concoction of orange liquid tainted with cheap gas station Brut was consumed with a fury. With a few more winding turns, the Rambos made their way to the Ronnies Cinema parking lot and met the Wimps at the Beer Stop. Birthday cake flavored vodka was dispensed, and the author contemplated the black magic required to make otherwise innocent vodka taste like a fecking birthday cake. Alas, I was blinded with Science!
A short skip back to A commenced. The mass exodus of buzzed, onesie clad hashers interrupted the South Countians late Saturdayafternoon rush to the vape shops and Lion's Choice. As I had other business to attend to, I removed myself from the end circle, where I am certain chaos ensued, Quarter Pound Me trying in vain to keep order. Jokes were spewed, Natty Daddy's were swilled reluctantly, a wayward teat may have been shown, and a bare posterior or four peeked out from behind the zipper of the aforementioned onesies. We shan't see the kind of numbers we saw on Saturday for about four more months. Into hibernation with the lot of you. May your onsesie provide warmth and spiritual renewal. We shall emerge from this long dark winter of discontnent one day next year, perhaps I'll be waiting for you there with a beverage still left over from World Peace Through Beer.Yours in Christ,
As the Big wheels plodded through the bubbling fountain and children laughed with nary a worry, a sickening site ascended upon the Pavillion that crested the top of the highest hill of St. Louis. A fitting start to hash, as it was literally all downhill from there.
Each cooler came graciously pre-packed by the beermeister with the finest beers and delicacies that the Americas had to offer, including Natty Daddys, S.T.A.G. and Cheetos. Truly we wished to represent our nation with pomp and circumstance as the world peace through beer event was not one to be taken lightly. Luckily the beermeisters also thought ahead of time to keep only the American beers and cornpuffed cheese turds cool and made certain that there was no room in any cooler for any other beer.
However, savages as they are, the half minds dug into the luke warm international stock that was slowly accumulating on the tables in an effort to give the appearance of culture and sophistication in the likely event foreign dignitaries and diplomats were to appear to appraise the fanfare.
An entrepreneurial “T.S.A.” was providing everyone with the opportunity of a lifetime wherein each of us, for the small fee of $6, could have a temporary silhouette of human male anatomy transcribed upon our hands. Flabbergasted at her unique skills and the nonchalance of the speed in which she performed the act, the crowd was then stunned to hear that additionally she and “Ice Princess” would be providing us food of the fried and cheesy sort after the run. A wave of emotion crashed upon the hill as everyone choked back tears to exclaim the praises to our generous patrons.
Around this time the second hare, one “Fake Bake Fuck”, appeared from the South carrying an emptied bag of flour. When looking upon the crowd of smiling faces a shock of pure terror turned his hair white at the realizations of what he had condemned these innocents to on the grueling and certainly fatal trail he just had laid. “How many would die tonight?” and “How many children will now grow up without parents?”
“Quarter Pound Me” sought to maintain some sort of order. Gathering the half-minds into a circle The delegate from New York, Rusty Drawers, was presented. As were a multitude of sacrificial virgins including Just Andrew, Just Andrea, Just Drew, Just Andy, Just Androux, just Andrew Yang, Just Eric Andre show, Just My Dinner with Andre, Just Dr. Drew, Just Andes Mints and Just Valerie.
Within the inner circle The hares, “Fake Bake Fuck” and “Ice Princess” transcribed the ancient symbols of hashing and ritual casted the “Hare Hunt” spell on the 30 radius area so that our next 20 turns we had to use the dash action to seek the hares. In an effort to dose the pheromones to a non-lethal level “Quarter Pound Me” tried to counter-act the spell with the “Blessing of Flour” Spell. It merely delayed the inevitable though as the Hares took off. After 10 minutes of drinking now slightly cooler foreign beer every member of the party except “Postage” failed their Willpower saving throw and were compelled to chase after the hares.
After much debate flour was eventually found in the grass and the hounds plodded madly down the hill. Checks were checked and dots were found. Down Southwest Blvd and past a blockade of a restricted street the feverish hounds, now foaming at the mouth were loosing fluids fast. Often from more than one end. Beer was found quickly in the crevice of tree and the pack, now satiated, continued on. Civilians milling about in their Wednesday best at the local market screamed in horror as men and women in the form of beasts galloped through their carriage park and behind to the eerily groaning abandoned huntsmen hall of “Sandrina’s place”. There the brutes slogged down more, equally exotic tinctures and elixers from Australia and Germany.
The Hunt continued past the old St. Louis Mental Hospital. Hidden from view and obviously a coded message, “Dewey Sexual System” discovered the Dairy-oriented sexual exploratory tome of Christy.
Transcribed in full is Christy’s One Day In Fall:
I was with my daddy and we where at home and we thoght to stay up in till 3am! And we made popcorn and then we put presles and then we melted chees and it smelled good. In a bowl and then we whacht Power Rangers. But then I wanted to play Uno and my daddy shufle the cards and it sondeded like somebody is saying shhhh really fast. We played 2 ronds I won at the 1 rond. And my daddy won the last ronde. DAD DONT GROPE THE HOT CHESES BECAUSE IF YOU GROPE IT. IT WILL STAN MOM’S FLOOR! And after the last ronde we checked the time and it was 2:30 AM I said “it is allmost 3A.M.” my daddy said “yes I know” and we wachd another movie called Tine Titans go to the movies and then we chekd the time and it was 3 AM! We finished the movie and then I said “Can we stay just stay up in till the morning My dad said “ok but if I go to sleep don’t wake me up” So I said “ok” but then both fall asleep on the coch. And then I wake up because dad was snoring and I hit him with a pillow he woke up and he fall back to sleep and then I chact teh time and it was 6:30AM abd the TW was still on so I turnd it of and I whent back to sleep. Until the next morning and when I woke up there was a big MESS and I started to clean and the I exadently groped a bowl and I heard a ding I told my slef opse. My….dad…..is...going….too….give….me….in…..DROBLE! And then he woke up and he didn’t give me in troble instead he helpd me clean up
“Vomit Comet” came upon a license plate holder and, being a hasher and not a trasher, retrieved the trail treasure with pride and renewed fervor. “Fat-Liner”, with an air of audacity flew to take it not once but twice. Each time cutting open his hand as the God’s smote him for his gall.
In Tilles Park the hares met with the pack and dropped concentration. Astoundingly all had survived and took part in the boon of now very cold foreign beers. Once full A quick jot back to the starting circle was had.
It is at this point the record seemingly becomes fuzzy and little detail is recorded.
The Pizza once promised was awaiting us. Our dazed minds, contorted from the fever-dream of the hunt and the elixers of foreign lands engorged on the Italian pies and the frenchest of fries.
Within the Circle, the Religious Advisor presented again the Esteemed delegate from New York wherein he performed a native song. The crowd went mild.
At about this time an officer of the law had braved the victims reports of the townsfolk and sought to brave the army of be-socked hounds. Upon arrival, however, he observed friends within the pack whom had once helped him in a time of need (so I assume). With great conviction he allowed the ritual to play out to its fullest with the knowledge that such a happening is necessary to make the flours grow on the streets of St. Louis.
The virgins were summarily asked to show a joke, perform a hidden body part, or tell a song. Jokes were told and consequently many jollies got off.
The closing chants of Low were swung and the hill slowly returned to being as quiet as the grave.
-- Vomit Comet
Slip n slide on the ILL side
Over the river and through the shig, to the Illinois side we go. We followed our fearless leader COCKodile Undie on his second Big Hump haring! This was the “redemption” trail. I used quotes for a reason. What time do we circle up? Is it six? Is it half past six? No one knows. Where’s the second hare? Is she still in Indy? I thought this was a nomad trial. Just Ian came on time, thanks to the internet.
For starters, Team Humping Strap-On got stuck at the traffic light on the bridge. Cue the banjos. Circle was awesome. There was beer. And that fancy Natural Light seltzer. Oh, and DANGER PICKLES!!!! Nothing of note during circle, other than the hare not understanding the word “directional” but then dropping “edification” like it was a hot potato. On out YFFS.
The walkers had a 5 minute h*ad start that was immediately diminished by the sandy slip-n-slide hill right after the first harrow. Don’t lose and eye. It’s no fun. Walkers made it to the first check where we ran into a couple of archers playing 20 toes. #putitinyourmouth #whosaidhead #hegotsomeofthat The archers were as surprised by us as the walkers were to see their naughty bits. The best part? The walkers solved the check!!! Cuz sometimes we do things.
The hash followed the marks to the beer stop. PeeCOCK decided to “mark” trail along the way but got busted by a car back. Too bad she didn’t wait, the BS was near an outhouse. The BS parking lot had graffiti told us “Brian sucks ass” and left us a number for a good pickle fuck. #picklesinmynaughtybits
The rest of trail was in heavy shiggy, or so the walkers thought. They found a random sidewalk in the woods, but no other marks. Claim found an easy way out and the hash came back to on in, only to discover it was a BH, until the ranger locked the gate and our fearless hare had to retrieve the last beer stop and bring it back to circle. #fuckjohnnylaw #wecouldclimbthatgate #butwedidnot
Closing circle was fun. We drank. We sang. Just Ian showed us a body part... it was his asshole! (Potential naming: Spread it on Reddit AKA Do Not Enter). We said we were going to on afters and then danced to Lizzo in the parking lot for 30 minutes before anyone moved. #whymengreattiltheygottabegreat
Overall, it was another shitty trail.
BONUS: hash trash for on afters.
There was a dart league. The bartender was also the cook. We got Rick Rolled and COCKadile learned the importance of not leaving his phone unattended. Then there was a dance party and things got naughty. #thosewerenotmyballs #maybethoseweremyboobs #whoplayedpony #topsoffdanceoff #justiancantwerkOn On
It was a warm summer day with a trail in the elite St. Charles Co. that started at 5:00 pm. Pussy Snatcher and In Your Endo's dual Virgin hare. What? Two Virgin hares. Haring together? Piece of cake, NOTHING could go wrong...
The original pin drop took Eye Swallow, Stink Palm, Humping Iron and Beaver Chaser to Busch Greenway Trail, where they ran into a muggle that is a former hasher, Didn't Cum. They talked, drank beer, finally got chairs out to sit in as they waited for the hares to show up. After checking on FB it was discovered that there were hashers all over St. Charles. A Virgin that was coming gave up and went home. After a few phone calls everyone met at the Howell trail head. (If the write up would have mentioned this, it might have been useful) Everyone but the hares that is. Around 6:10 the hares showed up to their own trail! Everyone rejoiced. There was a quick 10 minute opening circle and the hares were off. There were concerns by many hashers about this trail....so they started taking bets on whether or not Endo would be murdered on trail by Pussy Snatcher. Eye Swallow is nursing a knee injury so she opted to auto hash, was given detailed directions and Stink Palm drove the chariot.....straight to Hog's Haus.
5 Star Review: Great bar! Loaded Nachos and onion straws were ordered. Food was delicious. Beer was cold. Sports ball on TV. Restrooms clean. Server friendly.
With full bellies and a buzz, Stinky and Eye Swallow went to find the beer stop. They parked where instructed and started doing trail in reverse. It was getting dark quickly. About half mile in they heard voices and saw lights. They hid behind some brush. Just as they were to scare some hashers...abort mission!!! It was a muggle family. They had startled them. Oops. Apologizes were given and on they went. Close to a mile in, they decided to turn around and head back to the trail head. The concern grew greater the later in got. No cell service was available. At 8:50 there was light emerging from the woods...it was Fatliner, TSA, Tased and Sweet Ho. Sweet Ho was lost on trail for over an hour by herself. Not cool. Fatliner drove them back to the start while StinkEye waited for more survivors. Fatliner and StinkEye shared beverages and wondered how long they should wait before calling authorities. As the 911 call was being placed Eye Swallow saw a shadow figure emerging from the dark. It wasn't Big foot...it was the rest of the pack. Tired, sweaty, thirsty and hungry. They looked as though they had been foraging for food and drink for hours. They had been I suppose. We got them all hydration and loaded up to head back to circle. Circle was short, everything was blamed on the hares, but mostly Endo. He got all butt hurt because no one liked his shitty 7+ miles walkers trail, his 12 foot tall shiggy, or getting lost on trail. He is probably still confused. Pussy Snatcher has promised to redeem herself at her next trail. There was no on after because everyone just wanted to go home.
Forever grateful for my knee injury right now,
Happy Hashy Birthday to Colorado Cocktease, Goldie Cock, and Hidden Cow Cock. Today three of our hash ladies decided to celebrate their 29th birthday by setting a trail starting in Soulard..
It began with chalk talk on the grass and ended with drawling on the hares, standard mark except when they were not. The hares were away and only asked for a ten minute lead. This is the first time I every see Cow Cock run, well kind of run and then she is walking over the pedestrian bridge.
Five minutes later the Walkers are away, and today they will have Postage Tramp leading them ( I almost wished I was going with them but I thought the runners would need my trail solving Knowledge) And five more minutes, and we are off. Try Harder, Gaping Huge, and Vomit Comet take the lead over the pedestrian bridge and mess up some strange trail marking, and send us back to the start (we blame Hidden Cow Cock for all the confusing marks). Luckily Dewey and Strap On figure out to ignore some marks and we are back on trail , we are looking for yellow half arrows that look like a bird foot print and for a couple blocks, we find them. Then we lose marks and find the walkers on Park Ave, we think these might be our marks but after a check we can't solve (blame Cow Cock) we lose trail again, Whiney and Strap On go way around some building looking for trail, while Stink yells to us " hey are you looking for yellow half arrows that look like bird footprints,because there over there" . So we are back on trail, doing good,we hit a CB 5, no problem pick it up on Dolman curving around on to 18th street, and lose it again, we bounce back and forth from Chouteau Ave to Hickory we find Sundays trail but can't see the peach colored half arrow hidden in the dark alley ( we blame Cow Cock) Finally we are off. Tsa leads the pack South on 18th street to an Ice cream stop, Ah ain"t that just so cute.
We are at Clementines Naughty and Nice Ice cream. The hares are waiting for us, and the walkers, and Strap On. They are enjoying maple Bourbon ice cream. We were warned to bring money to buy are own, and I did, and it was good. Meanwhile Down Under walks by dress in Cilivian cloth, Like she was on a date or something and ignores us. Fatliner talks to a patron sitting near us about hashing, she seems interest but has Yoga at 8:00. Yoga 1 Hash 0.
The hares set out to set more trail, with a quick check at the end of the street, 5 minutes later the walkers are away, till they see the check at the end of the street, and look back at us and ask which way should they go. Trail goes left on Layafette then right on Tucker heading South, a check at Geyer a CB on Geyer (we lose Whiney again) find trail on either 11th or 12th heading south still till a left on Shenandonoah (nice down hill ) then a left on 9th At Pontiac Park the hares had water and Busch beer, then the walkers showed up, some riding scooters, and Whiney showed up. The last seven blocks were straight up 9th back to Lafayette, and the grassy corner next to the Farmers Market .
Sweet Ho leads the circle (She is getting very good ) and the Hares have another treat for us, something called a jelly donut but you drink it, or two. Some locals wander over and they were give a beer or two. More songs more jelly donuts, and finally Hash Shit went to the hares and their trail marking problem (it was all Cow Cocks fault), but then instead of doing a down down they flashes the circle with Colorado spinning clockwise, cow cock spinning anticlockwise, and Goldie Cock she spun, well I'm not sure it was over to fast and I was drinking more jelly donut. So the RA had to drink the down down beer, collected by Teased in bag of pickeled favored potato chips. From the way Sweet Ho did the down down, beer in a potato chip bag is not to great. Announcements were made, incredible stuff is coming up. and its time for Swing Low.
Thank You Hares, Goldie Cock, Crouching Tiger Hidden Cow Cock, and Colorado Cocktease
- Road Kill
Let’s Tarantino this bitch. It’s all fun and games until the cops show up. THEN IT’S A MOTHA FUCKIN PARTY!!!!!
(Buckle up wankers. I have no clue what I’m doing and I didn’t remember I volunteered for this mess until I got called into circle for showing a boob. I apologize for the fact that my boob wasn’t covered in glitter.)
Trail started like any other. We made a circle. Some muggle showed up to pet the pups, but then seemed taken aback by the fact that we were talking about blowjobs when she approached. We gave a shout out to our visitors! First Class and Mother May I from Memphis (who made the decision to cum to trail at 11am today), as well as UPMS and PBR from… IDK but they were at KC Campout so HORRAY! Our hares were Shitty Fuck and Vomit Comet. One of them was laying his virgin trail. Spoiler alert, no one shat or vomited on trial. Kind of disappointing, but let’s keep it moving.
There were lots of puppers on trial. What’s better than 4 dogs on trail? FIVE!!! Just Oscar thought it was the BEST TRAIL EVER!!!
Umm… after the blessing, the walkers and runners were on out. The Walker/Runner split happened pretty early, but not so soon that Just Oscar didn’t have time to cover himself in mud. The checks laid in chalk were very dainty. Remind me to show you a more efficient way to do that with chalk. IDK what the runners did. Mostly took off their shirts. No complaints about that here. #manboobs #showusyourmitties #mittiesmeansmantitties
The beer stop was at Suncorp, or some business with the word “sun” in it, but there was no sun. We were drinking in the dark, which is how I like it. The beverages were things that Shitty Fuck didn’t want in his fridge, so of course it was all shitty. I found a Truly that Just Oscar promptly knocked over. Sometimes he is an ass. Conversations were had, and at some point the hares left with the beers but then left the kennel without a trashcan. Thankfully the kennel ran past a dumpster as we were leaving the stop.
There was more hashing and a second walker/runner split. Shout out to Tri Harder for pointing that out to the walkers. Again, not sure what the runners did, but I heard complaints about a Naturday beer halt. #everydayisnaturday #theshirtsarelikedresses
We made it to closing circle. There was an insignificant run. Then there were not one, but TWO significant runs. The first was a 150th run for ??? At this point I was dealing with a rambunctious pupper, so I don’t remember who got the 150 bandana that has been in several naughty places. TAZED, who wasn’t even at opening circle but still managed to r*n trail and catch up to us, hit his 200th hash. The real MVP goes to TSA who ran to “Doll General” to get us hash snacks because what’s worse than drunk hashers? HANGRY HASHERS!!!
As we’re winding down and getting ready to head (who said head) to on afters, Maplewood’s finest appeared to shit on our fun. (Oh, there WAS shitting on trail) Luckily, the cops were too lazy to write everyone a summons and just politely asked us to move it along. I think he was just salty that he missed me flashing my boob. #fuckthepolice
All in all, it was just another shitty trail.
--|--|--|---> Humping Iron Traveling WhoreAbles H3
Ah, the compton water tower. A sight unseen for at least like a month? At any rate, here we are, and all of us reasonably where we are supposed to be!
We had a visitor this night, so the hare proceeded to explain the trail to everyone. As it is a Dewey trail, there was no runner/walker split, but there was a turkey/eagle. There were also no chick checks, as it is a Dewey trail. Right, so blabla, introductions, off we go. (well the walkers decided to give themselves a 5 minute head start even though there is no walker trail, I guess they really wanted to get to that first check and solve it before the runners caught them and did all the work.)
Of note, we came across the first of at least two chick checks on this no chick check trail, so they were solved with the usual level of enthusiasm and swearing. Then we were such a spectacle running on Grand that a car crash was conducted in our honor. Itâ€™s fine though because although it was a hit and run rear-end collision, the victim also took off, so no harm no foul I suppose. There was a danger water check that the runners made sure to demolish before the walkers could get to it, so we were well hydrated at least. Then we all got turned around I SWEAR IT WAS A BLOWJOB 3 MARKS PERPENDICULAR TO TRAIL MEANS WRONG WAY. Well guess what it was just Dewey being sloppy with her flour bag surprise it wasnâ€™t a BJ after all, so that was a fun 15 minute diversion. Oh yeah and there was also all this pink and purple chalk that was barely visible.
That was the good part. We had a naming at circle, Shitty Fuck. Oh did I also mention our visitor, LIFA, was from Chicago? Do you know what Chicago people bring when they visit? Malort. So of course there was malort at circle, yayyyyyyyy. I somehow was improperly chosen for hashshit due to the whole blowjob thing that a reasonable person would have agreed with me.
I donâ€™t remember where the on-after was, probably because I had to leave because we lock the bridges into St Charles at 10pm.
So welcum.to trail 1573.. or the trail.of satans nutsack. The pack was thinned but not defeated as many gathered to celebrate just the tick as she endeavored to take us to our highest high and our lowest low. The pack was blessed with two visitors. A soon to be transplant tri- harder and a completely lost east coast hasher tiny bubbles in my rear. Trail was discussed and blessed and the pack was away. The first leg of trail was met with a re-enactment of a hill resembling "how big is the lie" of a hill. Final after a near "amber alert" tit check and a bit more sun the pack was rewarded with delicious libations. .. conversation ensued and soon... part II of our journey was underway. Oh wait... lest we not forgot...the impromptu trail marking.
Quickly the pack was off on the second leg which well ... it was uneventful till we found the lizards and a beautiful puppy at the casa de tick. The tardis made an appearance and may or may not have received blessings from multiple hashers. As lizards were stroked and laughed shared the walkers were soon away again. This time those rac***st bastards decided no shirts were allowed for the final leg of trail.
The pack reconvened near the waterfront. We listened to a rousing verse of my name is jack from our visitor tiny blower in my rear, bungle was discussed and pretty much the whole pack went to Big A's for some delicious food. All in all a shitty trail with great people, delicious libations and a shit ton of pavement.
A Tale of Two Circles
It was the best of trails -- which is easy when you just pre-lay over the Vag’s trail.
it was the worst of trails -- a complete and utter lack of shiggy.
it was the age of wisdom -- one circle had the hares, the RAs, and the beer.
it was the age of foolishness --the other circle was clearly lame, I still don’t know why we moved over there..
it was the epoch of belief -- the hares told us “don’t take the eagle trail”, but who listens to the hares?
it was the epoch of incredulity -- the hares told us the truth!
it was the season of Light -- We’ve got visitors! And virgins too!
it was the season of Darkness -- you can’t do a chalk talk in the grass
it was the spring of hope -- Beer near? Oh joy!
it was the winter of despair -- a half mile isn’t ‘near’.
we had everything before us -- not one, but two options for on-after.
we had nothing within us -- until a bunch of us went to iTap.
we were never going direct to Heaven, we are all going direct the other way -- flipping the double bird as we on-on into hell.
in short, this trail was so far like every other poorly laid, pavement pounding, sonuvabitch trail, that some of our noisiest hashers insisted on its being recorded, for sober or for drunk, in the superlative degree of comparison only. I can’t wait for Bungle.
Hash #1571 AKA The Totally Original Hash AKA Holy Shit Where Did That Rain Come From? AKA Let's Celebrate That Dewey Has Spent $5782 On Hashing went swimmingly. Nothing to see here, move along.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA just kidding. Have a seat, grab a beer, and strap in. No no, not Strap On, he didn't show up, that smart mother fucker.
Where to begin? Oh, maybe at the beginning, where we circled up at Sublette Park for the 1004th time this year. Seriously though. It's been 3 times in a month and we ran through it two Wednesdays ago. At least the hares, Claim to Flame and Reverse Australian Shepherd, were aware of that decision. Prior to arrival, the Arch was apparently shorting out and a ton of rain was dumped in the area. The park has a pavilion, so we decide to circle there and scare the crap out of a girl taking refuge in the storm. GladHeAteHer got everyone circled up (like we aren't just programmed to stand in a circle) and we started in on chal...HOLY SHIT IS THAT HUMMERS AND PMS?...k talk. Everything seemed normal, except for about 10 Phoenix H3 marks..ahem, dollops that Shepherd added to the mix. New marks, pouring rain, same spot as past 4 hashes...yeah, nothing can possibly go wrong.
And nothing did! Except for TSA finding every Brown Bag check that was just Gatorade and Tequila with a fuck ton of salt added (Gatorade is pretty much salt, FYI, and you didn't need to add more) so that it was like a Brown Bag of nasty cum water. Thanks. Oh, and there was really no indication that the Eagle could circle jerk back to the Turkey and we just thought all the marks, sorry, dollops washed away, so that was a fun 20 minutes. Annnnnnnnd there was that part after the BS when the train the was sitting on the tracks decided to start moving and almost killed Tazed and Sweet Ho. Or that all the walkers got lost and ended up at a bar and those that did make it drove back with Stink Palm and Eye Swallow...wait, WAS that an accident? Hmmmm.
Luckily, everyone made it mostly alive back to the start. Circle was a blast, Gladdy must have been taking notes from Quarter Pound Me's cheat sheet or something. Splash and Licks gave out awards from the previous week's 69 Minutes Left trail, which included LockNut (who chose hommade empanadas) and Dewey (who got the default gift of delicious Mexican Chocolate Peanut Butter stout). Dewey also got her (yes I speak in third person, deal with it) 600 band beating out LockNut by only 3 hashes. Suck it loser.
It was a shitty trail, but fun, I guess. Hopefully Shepherd's next haring a couple of weeks from now will be better and we won't have to make him leave...oh wait.
See you at next week's #1572 AKA The 3rd Trail in the Benton Park Area in Two Weeks" Hash!
A thoroughly pleasant summer evening at Fox Park turned into an immediate clusterfuck as the walker’s trail disappeared no sooner than it started. As usual, Beaver took way too many goddamn pictures along the trail. Perhaps less usual, Is It Inuit was busted no fewer than 3 times while furiously masturbating in dumpsters. It wasn’t that impressive.
Back on trail, as the runners cruised around South City, the walkers stumbled aimlessly. The beer halt at Sweet Ho’s place turned into a full-on easy breezy beer stop after which point the runners were so far ahead that they drank all the fucking beer at the actual beer stop at Free Mustache Ride and 2:19 from Chicago’s. I have no idea what actually happened there, but the runners ate all the goddamn ice cream, too. Cunts.
By the 3rd and final beer stop at casa de Strap On I was pretty fucking schmammered, but the Big ‘ol Titty Committee (Humping, Sweet Ho, and Eye Swallow) treated us to a lesson in the virtues of the knockout bra. Made me wish I had a big set of boobies. Even us drunken butt pirates in the crowd liked it. Three beer stops at hasher’s houses is pretty cool.
We meandered our way back to the park for circle. Garage a tois and Eye Swallow got some huge fucking bags for their 200th runs. Some other shit probably happened, then we headed to my favorite part (on-after) at one of my favorite bars (Tick Tock Tavern). Ate some mediocre hotdogs and some badass mac and cheese. Drank more beer. I’m guessing Betty drove me home. Gracias.
It's well known that presidential approval ratings increase during times of war. This is known as the rally around the flag effect. It's recently become evident that Splash Mount'em is trying to use this to increase his approval ratings, and it's disgusting that he used his pregnant wife to put his conspiracy into action. It looked like Licks was in charge, but he kept whispering things to her and dictating to her, so that is definite proof that we are in the midst of a hash conspiracy.
It all started when we received an ambiguous even invite that we thought was going to be another hash Olympics. We were promised moisture and "stuff." We thought this was code for games or an orgy, so we all showed up. But no, it was actually the start of a brutal water balloon war where we had to run up and down a gravel path dangerously close to River Des Peres.
The rules of the game were simple, but they told us after they gave us beer, so naturally no one knew what was going on, but we finally started after every hasher independently clarified the rules with the hare at least once. The rules: Each competing hasher has to run up and down the path without getting hit with a water balloon to get a point. If you get hit, your lap doesn't count. Each hasher gets a water balloon to throw each lap. If you drink a beer and carry your empty can with you, you receive immunity (from water balloons, not STDs). If you fall or get pushed into River Des Peres, you lose and then you die from flesh eating bacteria or gangrene, whichever comes first. Do this shit for 69 minutes and the drunken idiot with the most points wins.
Sounds fun, right? NO! It was an all out war, every hasher for her (or him) self. Balloons were thrown at dicks, vaginas, boobs, asses and faces. By the end of the night, there wasn't a dry dick or vagina in the house, and not in the good orgy kind of way. The worst part was that the balloons weren't filled to the optimal capacity to ensure they would actually burst on impact. So at least 50% of the time, you were just being slapped with a fucking water balloon. Friendships were lost. Bodies and egos were bruised. Locknut became belligerent and started throwing people in kiddie pools full of water balloons and slurring his words so badly that not even Headlights couldn't translate.
After 69 minutes of this shit show, we thought we could finally relax. But Splash and his accomplice saved enough balloons for a grand finale water balloon assault circle. So if you got called into circle, you had to relive the assault once more. Quarter PoundMe was the RA. He did a wonderful job reading off his RA cheat card, but seriously, I think he needs to go back to RA school. All of the other RA's just get hammered and wing it. That's ok though, because we let him know what we thought of his circle with our water balloons. (BTW, sorry about your face, and also accidentally throwing a balloon at it.)
So Splash, you should probably know that this tactic only works if the war is with another entity, not your own people. Also, there are no approval ratings in the hash. And no, you can't just create an executive order to demand that we to take your approval rating poll. We found the draft poll you were writing. We won't be fooled by your questions - "How much do you love Splash on a scale of 1-5, 1=I totally love Splash, 5=I'd die for Splash, he's my dream GM." Your cabinet of RA's who just regurgitate words off a card verbatim aren't fooling us either.
It hasn't been verified if Tased is complicit in this conspiracy. He seemed clueless as usual, but it could be part of the ruse. But... If you can't trust one GM, you can't trust all GMs.
I know I'll take a lot of heat for bringing this conspiracy to light, but I believe it's my civic duty as a hasher to let you know what's going on in the hash, right under your noses. They will tell you I'm crazy or it's fake news. But they'll also tell you that the earth is round, and we landed on the moon in '69. They'll probably even tell you that vaccines save lives. It's all lies! They're trying to control you!
Obviously nothing went wrong with this trail at all.
We circled up in Illinois at Gateway National Golf Course, where we were assured by the hare that we had permission to park, and it was even recommended to pre-lube there for their kindness. We knew trouble was brewing with the hare asking for people to volunteer to drive the pack around since he decided to do an A-B trail. Not to worry though because a nice train decided to park and undergo maintenance between start and the beer stop. Since the A-B trail thing kind of just didn't work, the train screwed up any kind of planning that was done, and the hare got kicked off the golf course he promised us we had permission to park at, Tased stepped in and got on his phone with Louis C.O.C.K. (Because that's who you want showing you how maps work is Tased...) and they decided to move start to the on after, so at least the A-B business was solved.
Once we got all set up at the start we all got in our cars and drove over to the on after where we acted like this was the plan the whole time. We re-convened circle, frantically posted on facebook, and hoped the chalk directions wouldn't be too hard for people to see and actually pay attention to. At least there was cold beer, so whatever, it's Illinois we weren't expecting much. We did the circle thing. As usual no RAs showed up, so we called Pussy Snatcher to RA but she wasn't paying attention long enough for Quarter Pound Me to actually show up and take over (Yay an RA!). The hare(s) (Surprise Tased is now a hare too!) were called into circle where they proceeded to tell us about marks that one would normally see, and failed to tell us about marks which we actually did see, and blessings and names were said. The hares were off, and took a nice leisurely stroll down the street, and actually just kind of stopped and stared at each other for a few minutes like 3 blocks away from start, well within heckling distance. Eventually they remembered that they were in fact laying a trail and meandered down some side road, then the pack was soon off! Walkers away first so they could immediately be overtaken at the first check, then runners away! The pack is off!
We were all prepared for some deep shiggy as the google maps of the golf course parking lot showed dense vegetation to the north and south, so of course this was a pavement pounder of a trail and several people decided to make their own shiggy by jumping up and down in pot-hole puddles on the street. We all got to a true trail arrow and got thoroughly lost, and at least one person went and investigated to see if Tased was being cute and putting a 4 line true trail to trick us. It was decided that it was indeed a true trail, and we wandered around lost for like 10 minutes until we found trail going in the opposite way, because everyone who checked the true trail just can't count past 3. We then made our way to some park where we got to the beer stop and we all got a contact high from some dude who stopped Dewey (who was promptly abandoned to deal with the locals, cause hey, there's beer to be drunk), and it was explained to her that they don't get a lot of runners out there.
We drank beer, shortcutted the already short trail somehow, and made it back to the on-after. The restaurant that was chosen for on-after promptly closed as soon as we got there, because I guess 8:30 is time to pack it in over in Illinois, but we had chips and stuff. Headlights combined 3 different types of chips into one bag so that was neat. People got called into circle for all of the normal things, complaining about getting wet, sneaking into the on-after and making a takeout order before circle started because they knew it was closing, hares for the list of issues this trail had, etc. Eventually it was decided that the hares should drink, because they obviously should, you'd agree too if you showed up. People tried to convince everyone to do an on-after in taco bell, so instead Soulard was chosen because that's in Illinois and who knows what the hell happened after that.
Remember that time when Dewey and TSA thought it would be fun to make us run every fucking hill in fucking Shrewsbury? No? That's because you weren't at fucking hash #1566 and you fucking suck. We're not fucking mad about the fucking hills though. Really.
We circled up at some old man wiener park. There weren't very many old man wieners though. Just Pee pole', Beaver chaser, and some guy named Sexorcist. They didn't even show their wieners, so that was a bust. The hares did their little chalk talk, which included a new notation. They wouldn't tell us specifically what DWH meant, so like good hashers, we immediately started speculating. We were at a wiener park, so logically D = dick. I mean, it doesn't matter where we are, logically D = dick. Maybe they were going to make us eat a bag of dicks? But what about the WH? After intense deliberation, we concluded that it was probably dicks with hats. Then we were informed that PH doesn't mean puke halt anymore. So many exciting surprises. But then Dewey said it was a pee halt, but we would have to wait to find out what kind of pee we were being forced to consume.
At least 50% of the hashers were walkers, so naturally, the hares didn't have a walker trail. There wasn't even a turkey eagle split, so I'm not sure why we needed 2 hares. Maybe they like to hold hands while they lay trail. TSA was already tipsy at circle, so that probably explains why she needed someone to hold her hand. The walkers were given the option to walk the trail backwards to the beer stop, but they would be bypassing the dicks with hats and pee halts, so the ones who had already had enough dicks and golden showers that day opted for that. Circle was short and there were no virgins or visitors, except some guy named Sexorcist who isn't a virgn or visitor, but no one remembered him because he hasn't hashed in so long.
After circle, we were all ready and eager to start trail. The hares pre-laid, so they were auto-haring to the beer stop. The RA was ready to send us on our way, but then TSA said Tased would be there soon and we should wait for him. Against our better judgement, we waited for Tased. Then we waited some more because he wasn't almost there. Finally after hours of waiting, Tased showed up and he wasn't even ready to hash. We had to wait even longer for him to put his shoes on. WTF, Tased?!?! Thanks for making us wait, fucking wanker.
Trail started up a hill on some soggy field. This was the first indication that it would be a shitty trail. Then we immediately lost trail (second indication) and we went back and forth through the soggy field 10 times before finding trail the opposite way from where the trail seemed to be going. Fuck me pumps sprinted ahead of the group and we would occasionally catch a glimpse of her far away, but I think she was embarrassed to be seen with us or something. Then we went up another hill. Then down a hill and up another fucking hill. And so on. Then at a check, we see Reverse Australian Shepherd sprinting down a big hill. I have no idea how he found us since he didn't follow trail, but he works for the government, so probably some kind of spy shit. When I asked him if there were marks that way, he said, "yeah, lots of them." He failed to mention that there were only a few that led to a soggy blow job that looked like spilled flour. His misleading information furthers my suspicion that he's a spy, or just incompetent. He works for the government, so either or both could be true. We didn't see fuck me pumps until she was forced to stop and wait for us at the DWH stop. We were all super disappointed that it was not a bag of dicks and there were no cute, tiny dick hats. Just some danger water. The pear elderberry was actually good, so the hares are redeemed though. We drank the cold danger water in the shade of a testicle tree (it was a pear tree, but they grow in pairs like testicles). Then we ran some more fucking hills to the pee halt, which was a can of peeckles (which is just pickles with the juice replaced by Deweys urine from when she was on the verge of alcohol poisoning.) On the way back to circle, we came to our first and only water crossing, which was weird because it had monsooned for hours that morning. It was just a tiny stream going through a small patch of trees. There were two ways to cross it, go a few feet to the right and cross a narrow spot or go over it on a small log. Claim to flame decided to go over it and promptly slipped in mud. That was the wrong way anyway, so we went back to cross it again. Tased thought, if Claim can't do it, then I definitely can, and proceeded to fall in the stream. Accepting his defeat and taking advantage of the urban hot tub, he soaked in the sewage laden stream for a few minutes before continuing on trail.
Sweet Ho came to circle with a runner she picked up who had just finished running a fucking Shrewsbury hill and tricked her into coming back to the on in. She said "Come with us. It'll change your life." Someone said that to me once at a party and my butthole hasn't been the same since, so I guess it was true. Circle was the usual shit. Sexorcist got in trouble for talking nonstop during circle and So sweet ho gave him a verbal lashing. There were some insignificant runs, we sang vulgar, profane songs right next to a children's birthday party, etc. We initiated Just Kristine into the hash by having her sing swing low. All I remember from hash shit was that when one hare drinks, all hares drink and when one birthday loser drinks, all birthday losers drink, and when one gm drinks, all gms drink, and it was just a big circle jerk. Tased needs to post his factual hash synopsis. That shit's useful.
Since the worthless RA forgot to assign someone the job of writing hash trash, said worthless RA will write hash trash. It's gonna be worthless.
It was a gorgeous day in the 'burbs for trail 2 of the Dewey and TSA Emergence Days Celebration, the annual week we celebrate two of our beloved harrierette's existences. A nice crowd gathered in a bank parking lot, including some Very Good dogs, S&M&M&M Man from Houston's Brass Monkey H3, Monistat's GGG virgin Just Kim, and some returners we'd not seen in a while and wouldn't see again on trail. TSA led us through a very clear and well-organized chalk talk, not at all laughing too hard to stand and having to be reminded by the pack about Beer Stops and the like.
The pack took off into some nearby residential neighborhoods, encountering bewildered people who wanted to know why we were running, and seemed to believe GladHeAteHer when he explained we're all ultra-marathoners. After the Turkey/Eagle split the turkeys gathered on a playground to drink beer and eat startlingly delicious Schnucks Baby Back Ribs chips while the eagles did their five miles trail, which hopefully gave them whatever they needed to feel okay not getting any of those chips. A quick amble back to start was marked by concerns that Pillow Biter Fucker had not shown up to beer stop or circle, but then the pack got distracted by more Schnucks Baby Back Ribs chips and figured Pillow Fucker was probably okay because those chips were so damn delicious. Your worthless RA had correctly remembered Dewey had passionate feelings about lemon bars and made some to celebrate, but had misremembered the DIRECTION of said passion. Your worthless RA had also had enough to drink that her Broca's area failed her utterly, resulting in word salad the pack deemed Gladdy-esque and awarded her the hashit.
Sweet Ho: "What if I flash to get out of it? Who drinks it then?"
Everyone: "THE RA."
-- Sweet Ho Alabama
Oh. Hey there. You look confused. Is it because I helped hare trail AND I'm writing the hash trash? Makes sense, but if you think about it, no one said hares can't do that. No rules in hashing, right? Well, strap on, you're in for a bumpy ride.
To really start the tale, we're going to go back, WAY back, to June of 2018. After a fairly successful week of haring, TSA and I vowed never to do it again. Why? Well, it sucked. Setting one trail is hard enough, even when phoning it in, so doing 5 or 6 took a real toll. So when we got drunk after a Tumbling Dice in January and thought it would be a great idea to do it again, the pain of that week must have worn off. We did make a few revisions. Instead of both of us haring every trail, we'd kind of stick to one solo each, two together, and two "we'll figure it out when we figure it out." I set Sunday solo, and this was the second in a possible 6-part trail week.This trail fits into that last category.
I told TSA earlier in the evening that I could help out since I'd be off work a little early. I let her know that I was on my way to Kirkwood and she told me to go to the Kirkwood Unitarian Church. Cool. I actually couldn't find one on my app, but there was an Eliot Unitarian in Kirkwood so that had to be it. Almost there, I get another message that she meant Kirkwood United. No worries, it's right up the road. Lindbergh road. Which is about 4 miles from the start. I thought this was odd, but it's a TSA trail, so I wasn't really sure. I get to the church, no TSA. She sends her location. THERE ARE TWO KIRKWOOD UNITED CHURCHES WTF. No sweat, I zoom over to where she is, but (and I really didn't know this) she was running and laying trail while messaging me. So we agree that I'll go and set from the T/E to the BS and meet at circle. Done.
We circle up and Sweet Ho starts us off by blessing the birthday sash I brought for TSA to wear. And we learned that this would be Secret Cervix's last trail with us for a while. As soon as we get her back, off she goes! :( Since trail was pretty much pre-layed, TSA and I could take the quick way to the BS, set a few marks that we missed, and drink some Sea Quench while we wait for the pack. We moved spots to get away from some children at the park and the Turkey's quickly arrived within minutes of us cracking open our beers. Turns out, Turkey was about a mile to the BS. Eagle was much, much farther.
About 5 miles longer, give or take .5, but it also included a fishhook and a shot stop. So about an hour after the Turkey trail arrived, the Eagle trail met us at Pioneer Park. Since we had stashed TSA's car at the BS, I asked her when we should go to which she replied, "probably soon we have to set the end of trail." Um, what. "Why didn't I do that? Or we could have done that on our way to the park. Or I could have done it in the hour that we were waiting." TSA just laughed and shrugged, and we decided to go ahead and get moving on that. I zig-zagged pretty much the way we took to get there and TSA and the pack were soon back at circle.
There were some awesome lemon bars that I enthusiastically ate because I'm polite as fuck and my Italian grandmother would roll over in her tomb if she found out I passed on pastries. They weren't that bad, I promise. Dusty Box's dog LOVED them and licked the pan clean. And they lick their own buttholes so what does that tell you?
The on-after was planned at Village Bar. They stopped serving food at 9 so some people moved to Three Kings. Which also stopped serving food. So then we went to Circle 7. No one knew this though, unless you were with the group that went since no one posted an update on the event page. I had a beer at Village Bar and then TSA came in to let us know. Because she didn't hit 'send' on her message to me. Everything's fine, we only have 4 more trails to do!
Circle 7 has a burger called the OMG, consisting of five patties, cheese, LTOP, and served on a bed of fries. I ordered that. We did a toast at midnight for my actual birthday. No regerts. I love this hash.
See you Friday! Dewey
Many of you may have forgotten (or forgotten to care) that there was a hash scheduled for Wednesday, June 12 in the year of our lord 2019. Well…there was, and some of us even travelled great distances to be there to actually keep our kennel from fading into oblivion. I know, I know, it’s not every day that Phish comes to town…except it WAS every day from June 11-12. So you could have gone the night before and still hashed on Wednesday. In the end, 7 brave souls showed up (which I must say is less than the Springfield hash on Sunday – shame on you): Reach Around, Claim, RA Shepherd, Whiney, Purdy, yours truly, and our guest of honor and backslider Secret Cervix.
Things got off to a great start as people trickled in to the Tip Top Cleaners parking lot and we realized there was no beer meister and thus no beer for circle. Luckily, Claim always travels with a few in his backpack to avoid having to pay the exorbitant hash cash of $7. Finally the hare (Reach Around) showed up on his bike after pre-laying trail and gave us beer from the beer stop cooler. He also came with a warning: if the campus cops tell you to stop, just ignore them and keep going. This seemed like solid advice. We circled up and watched the storm clouds roll in while Whiney told us just how miserable the rain was going to be. The hare requested a 90 second lead time, because…well…trail was already laid and…um…he was still riding his bike. Off he went, only to show back up a minute later going the exact opposite way. At this point, the writing was on the wall: this was going to be a true clusterfuck.
Let me stop for a second to give a disclaimer: I don’t know shit about where we were (or where we ever are), so proper street names and landmarks on trail will henceforth become “this way”, “that way”, “over there”, and “around the bend”.
The pack took off that way and past some sort of campus and baseball field. This is where we first encountered the campus cops, and like good hashers we did what we were told and kept running. It was about this time the rain really kicked in and left us all wondering if this was really worth it. The answer was: kinda? But not worth it enough to follow all of the loop backs that we were starting to find all over the campus. So we did some shortcutting, as Reverse Australian Shepherd said he ran past a big chunk of trail on his way to circle, so he knew where it was going. However, in true hasher fashion, we apparently fucked ourselves out of the beer halt on one of our shortcuts…unless it was the empty Busch Light, half-empty bottle of green tea, and crushed pack of Salems that we ran past on the curb. In that case: shit.
But I digress. The rain didn’t stop, so neither did we. If I could, this is where I would post a YouTube link to either “Don’t Stop Me Now” by Queen
or “We Can’t Stop” by Miley Cyrus
(Tased, can you make that happen?).
It became apparent that Reach Around intentionally was leading us into and among the human cesspool that is Phish fans, which made us for the first time appreciate the blessing of the rain. Washed clean of the stank of BO and reefer, we also thanked the hash gods for cleansing our taints and allowing our balls to not stick to our thighs during a June hash. (As an aside: I probably heard the word “taint” spoken more on this trail than I’ve heard it in the last 15 years.)
Eventually we came around the bend to find a scooter factory…and our hare sitting in a fucking lawn chair by his car. This was the beer stop, and it was under a bridge so we got a bit of relief from the rain. And at this point I will also take a short break to relieve myself and have a smoke, because my creative juices seem to be waning.
Ok, sorry I’m back…I decided to also eat lunch as my legs got a bit shaky after I peed. The rest of trail was either uneventful or I’m just trying to get to the end of writing this…either way our de facto RA Claim promised us a quick 5 minute end circle to get out of the rain and to the on-after. Unfortunately the hare had a couple more pieces of fuckery for us: 1) there was no on-after and 2) he didn’t show up for circle. Because #2 didn’t become immediately obvious, we were able to take some time to call around to rectify #1. Whiney decided to bring out the newest piece of technology he owns, a transistor radio circa 1941 (because, you know, the Germans are coming). He promised to play us some “blues” but I only heard what sounded more like a sporting event instead of the sweet sounds of B.B. King.
Secret Cervix stood in for our missing hare and took his down-down and…oh wait a minute…THERE HE IS. Pulling in the parking lot 20 minutes late and without a care in the world…and then immediately leaving again to go join the other dredges of society at the Phish concert. Oh well, who needs him anyway. So we swung low and to the on-after we went. As we were hurting for options, we ended up at Wellspent, which is “this way” and then “that way” and next to a barber shop. The place was only half-full, but they had a projector screen hooked up to a laptop as the locals were very engrossed in a game of Stickpuck. The good guys in blue won, and there was much rejoicing. On that note, I bid thee adieu.
-- Louis C.O.C.K.
Circle: Parking Lot of Foundry Art Centre
Hares: Eye Swallow and Stink Palm
RA: Pussy Snatcher
(In)Significant Runs: Pussy Snatcher (11), In Your Endo (15), Just The Tick (35), Tased and Confused (185), Claim to Flame (411)
Shot Stop: Jean Baptist Point DuSable Park
Beer Stop #1: Corner Bar
Beer Stop #2: Pine Room
Beer Stop #3: Boone's Lick Park
Hash Shit: Beaver Chaser (for everything)
On-After: Big A's
Circle: Affton, parking lot South of Carpenter's Apprentice School
Hare: Frankie the Dick-Thrusting Pussy Eater
RA: Quarter PoundMe
(In)Significant Runs: Louis C.O.C.K. (20), Princess Pussy Pants (35), Fatliner (45), Road Kill (135), Eye Swallow (195), Splash Mount'em (195), TSA (195), Frankie the Dick-Thrusting Pussy Eater (230)
Beer Stop: Abandoned Rothman Furniture Parking Lot
Visitors: Barely ManBelow (Eugene H3), Beer Factor (Boise H3), Freda Goodhom (Eugene H3), Rambo (Kigali H3 - Rwanda)
Hash Shit: Quarter PoundMe (for not providing us with an actual Tornado)
On-After: Hot Shots
Circle: Lemmons Parking Lot
Hare: How Do You Like My Headlights NOW
RA: Fake Bake Fuck
(In)Significant Runs: Quarter PoundMe, Fatliner (44), Claim to Flame (410)
Beer Stop: Joseph R. Leisure Park
Hash Shit: Free Mustache Rides (trying to pay hash cash with a scratch off)
On-After: Pepper's (to see the Blues get their first Stanley Cup Finals win ever!)
The circle formed at lovely Cherokee Park where the hares Vomit Comet and Is Your Refrigerator Cumming informed us to park on the north side of the park where there was practically no parking. As the hashers began arriving, it was noted that A: There was a large turnout for a Saturday hash, and B: There was no beer. Eventually TSA arrived to collect our money, and provide an entire big ass cooler full of beer, which was promptly carried up a hill. Once it was time for the pack to be away, it was decided we should probably get the RA to start the circle. Of course, being newly minted RAs from elections just one month prior, none of the RAs could be bothered to attend, so Pussy Snatcher was pressed into service to commemorate her newly given name by immediately making her take charge of the pack. The circle began to form into an actual circle, apparently in the living room of a homeless person, as all of their effects were staged for their evening like 15 feet from where we circled up. We did the usual circle activities such as forgetting what songs to do, forgetting to announce who we were, and forgetting what order to do everything in. We were treated to a virgin, Just Tanish, who just stared wide eyed at what was transpiring before him.
Eventually the hares were called in to do a chalk talk, where they proceeded to show us their lovely marks and explain that this will be an educational trail, as there is a history of beer caves in the St. Louis area. We were tricked by the recommendations to bring cranium lamps and assuming the descriptions of tite and dank were just millennial speak instead of cave references, but fortunately nobody read the descriptions posted anyway so those references were lost on the pack at large.
The pack was then off! Off south from Cherokee park, down the historic row of mansions including Lemp Mansion and Chatillon DeMenil, where it was remarked that this would be a beautiful scene for a themed hash such as a bridesmaid hash. It was at the end of this block where the hash was met with the first beer halt, which we were promised were all cave themed. The pack split the generously provided single can of PBR and wondered aloud where any trace of a cave could be, before moving along. We then proceeded through what I can only assume (because I’m too lazy to look it up) to be the Lemp brewery, and then around Shepard School, where Reverse Australian Shepherd demanded a picture, assuming that Shepard and Shepherd are the same word because they sound the same when you say them out loud. Somewhere around here we had another beer halt to celebrate another cave that there was no outward indication of, with another entire 12oz can of PBR for the entire pack to enjoy together.
We then ran down Cherokee where we passed the on-after, in what was noted to be an attempt to taunt the pack with refreshment, and it also was noted that nobody brought cash or ID on trail, otherwise we would just skip the whole damn thing and go to the on-after since we were there already. Being that we had no means to enjoy Earthbound at this time, the pack then proceeded onward past some checks to the beer stop, which was at the end of a ¾ mile straight shot much to the pleasure of all the usual FRBs.
We all partook of the beer stop and were soon off again. (Seriously if you want to see the beer stop, Beaver Chaser took and posted enough pictures that you could print them off and make a flip book from them, and have an animated re-creation.) The pack proceeded to go around the AB brewery where there was nary a beer to be found, although we did soon find a complaining Whiney Bitch running the wrong way with two cans of Naturdays, as he was the lucky finder of the promised fishhook. The runners and walkers then joined up at yet another beer halt to share what was presumed to be yet another entire can of PBR just for us, but no, this time we were met by Claim to Flame who was enjoying a tallboy of busch and regaled us with his surprising the hares by beating them to their own beer halt. The pack then enjoyed not one, but 6 entire tallboys of busch, quelling our complaints of not enough beer at a beer halt by suddenly shifting gears to complaining that there was too much beer at a beer halt. Eventually Whiney and Ovary Punch came in, an incorrect assumption made that the fishhook had been solved by these two. EVENTUALLY EVEN LATER Tased and TSA came in to the beer stop, where we were informed that it took them so long due to the fishhook and sex on trail, but if you look at the strava feed, they just missed a turn and did some extra mileage. After we finished all this beer, it was back to On-In.
We circled up, met our virgin, introduced everyone to each other, called in pints of lager, called in general complaints, which was pretty much everyone, then proceeded to hash shit, where it was between the hares for always dressing the same, the GMs for whatever GM –like behavior they did, and a few other people who I can’t remember because I wasn’t really paying attention. The hares lost a drink-off to the GMs, and had to enjoy the hash-shit, which they thoroughly did. We awarded headbands to our significant runs, celebrated July birthdays, and then swung low. Pussy Snatcher learned that there was more than one verse to swing low as she lost control of the circle, and the pack was content to go all night before “May the Pack Go in Peace” was shouted out by enough people who came to drink, not to sing.
Circle: Cherokee Park
Hares: Vomit Comet & Is Your Refrigerator Cumming?
RA: Pussy Snatcher
(In)Significant Runs: Vomit Comet (30), Betty Cocker (90), Whiney Bitch (720)
(Very)Significant Runs: Pussy Snatcher (10), Is Your Refrigerator Cumming? (25)
Virgin: Just Tanish (Pussy Snatcher) [joke]
Beer Stop: Corner of Cave St. & 7th St.
Hash Shit: Vomit Comet & Is Your Refrigerator Cumming (lost chug off to the GM's)
On-After: Earthbound Brewery
We circled up at Lockwood Park’s tiny parking lot. Betty Cocker’s virgin, Just J.D., was called into circle for a shitty chalk talk, and Puke Halt explained all the hash notations, as he looked on with excitement. When Gladdy called in May birthdays, TSA, who claims to have birthed two children, commented on how they were all Valentine’s babies (that would be a 3 month gestation period for the mathematically challenged). Her children don’t really look like her, so maybe that should be investigated…? The hares were sent away and Just Jennifer was questioned.
The trail began with rolling hills, which made me contemplate getting lost and going back to circle. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one with this thought because Tased, who was “looking forward to another 9 mile trail like last time Puke Halt hared in webster”, got lost after 2 miles. We thought about looking for him, but we were more excited to see the extra-long trail he would set for himself. But before he set out on his own venture, the handsome and valiant Tased courageously found the trail through the metal tunnel and up the steep. rocky hill to the railroad tracks. (I wrote this trash days ago, but Tased wouldn't publish it until I edited it to include his heroic, hashy behavior.)
Shortly after we lost Tased, we found the trail through the woods and over the railroad tracks, where we were suddenly faced with a rickety old trestle bridge, missing pieces and covered in “so much tar,” according to hasher and death bridge of death enthusiast, Dewey Sexual System. After the thrilling trek across the bridge, we were met with a full bottle of Captain Morgan Cannon Blast, which is 35% alcohol and 69% sugar, for the much anticipated puke halt. The runners decided that it would be a shame to waste such fine liquor by puking and going into a diabetic coma, so they saved the remainder of the bottle for the hares to enjoy.
Then we went on to our second knee deep water crossing (well, just the hashers who like to hash harder, not smarter) in a storm drain tunnel, where a creep was waiting in a scary mask. We assume this was Lock Nut Monster, but he/it was wearing clothes, so identification is still unconfirmed. This clothed monster has also been deemed responsible for the witchy way that led to another witchy way on the top of a steep hill, which led to three blow jobs. Fuck you Lock Nut!
After 4-5 miles of trail, we finally made it to the beer stop at a small park a mile from the on-in. The walkers were mad at the hares because they made them wait 20 minutes for beer, which is totally unacceptable for a DRINKING club. We stayed extra long at the beer stop because the hares were waiting for Tased, who was chilling out at the on-in facebooking while we were worried sick.
When we finally returned to circle, Gladdy decided no one had anything to do the next day and ran a Postage circle. He may have been a little drunk because he couldn't tell the difference between Tased and TSA. I know they're basically joined at the hip, but you can easily tell them apart because Tased's penis is slightly bigger than TSA's. Pints of lager were given to Just Peter for noticing that an older gentleman hasher (Whiney Bitch) was complaining the whole time, and to Just Peter and Is your Refrigerator Cumming? for helping me and TSA out of the storm drain. TSA won hash shit for thinking that humans have a 3 month gestation period. Gladdy called people in the circle for everything under the sun, and if you weren’t included in that, then you were called in for not being called in.
After Gladdy went through everything on his RA cheat sheet to keep us there, Just Jennifer was brought into the circle and questioned again. Then Fatliner took her into the woods for a quickie, while the hash deliberated over names. The hash voted to name her Silver Slipper Shitter Sleeper, based on her propensity to fall asleep on strip club toilets. When they were called back to circle, they failed to respond. We thought Fatliner was just taking his time, but it turned out that he was too quick and Just Jennifer went out looking for pussy to satisfy her needs. She must be really good at finding pussy because she came walking out of the woods with a random cat. Her new hash name was instantly recalled and she was named Pussy Snatcher.
When Gladdy finally ran out of songs and other reasons to keep us, he called Just J.D. into the circle to entertain us. He tried entertaining us with a shitty joke, but it wasn’t even dad joke funny. So he then entertained us by bending over and giving us a view deep inside his colon.
Later, we were all disappointed when we saw that Tased zenned back to the start instead of following the trail backwards until a quarter mile from the start, and then forward again, following each check the wrong way for at least a half mile and finally arriving at circle after a 9 miles of freestyle hashing. Maybe next time though. -Cunt Punt
Circle: Lockwood Park
Hares: Puke Halt and 59 Seconds Left, Wanna Talk?
(In)Significant Runs: Road Kill (133), Licks and Sticks (180), Stink Palm (430), Lock Nut Monster (590)
Virgin(s): Just J.B. (Betty Cocker) [whoo!!]
Beer Stop: Glen Park
Hash Shit: TSA (not understanding human gestation)
Naming: Just Jenn will forever be known as Pussy Snatcher!!
On-After: Weber's Front Row
Finally the first warm dry day of 2019, Wednesday of May 15 the Big Hump gathered at Brentwood Park. The hares were none other Fake Bake Fuck and somebody with dark curly locks of hair Beaner Wiener. Quarter Poundme ran the circle and called in a visiting hasher named Whore with no name ( I like names made from song titles ). The hares explained their trail marking system, and ask for 15 min. Hares Away
See Tased I can do paragraphs. Waiting 15 mins is hard for me, but today I had my first strawberry lemonade natural light beer, while waiting, so it seemed longer. Finally the pack is away.
Trail splits, right for the walkers. We never see the walkers again till near the end so I will tell you who they were 2 Fuck Canuck,Betty Cocker, Dapper Sapper, Just Jennifer, and Purdy Mouth. The runners go straight toward Manchester on Bremerton till a ladies check. Dewey who just makes the hash today after driving a thousand miles and recently dumping Disco in the Missouri River, solves the check leading the pack West behind some Manchester business. The pack is lead by Fatliner, Maybe it's Methamphetamine, or just Meth, and Cums on the Record, or just Record
At Rockhill road, trail turns South then West and we run by Rockhill city hall (I did not know Rockhill was a city) we run behind Lucky's , global brewing, RSI kitchen and others, till we finally head into the woods to enjoy a little shiggy. Little does describe the shiggy, a pile of grass clipping and a trickle of water blocks us from a hash halt. The visiting hasher Whore with no name decides to go back and gather up and help the people in the back of the pack, a concept never thought of by the rest of us. Record observes this behavior and refers to him as a positive G Tort, ( I didn't know G Tort but those who did thought it was funny). How do you like my headlights now and Locknut show up after starting late, and when Quarter Poundme and Fuckushima make it to the hash halt, the pack is away.
Reach around Rabbit, or just Rabbit is found trying to solve the next check, but he can only tell where trail does not go. a hole in the fence behind Hacienda Mexican restaurant gives Meth a chance to lead the pack back to Manchester Rd and across it onto Kortwright rd, , a turkey eagle split by Hudson Elementary takes Meth, Record, Fatliner, Locknut and Roadkill, around while the rest of the pack makes a right on Stantley, with Dewey leading to another ladies check, Headlights solves the check going North on McKinley and gives herself a long lead while Cums on Down Under thought she solved it and had to do her own trail to catchup.
A right on Old Warson Rd then a left on McKight gets the pack to a Beer Halt. The beer at the beer halt reminded me of how I get rid of beer that has been lying around at my house, a blue moon, a Yuengling, my favorites and others odd and ends. Everyone made it, eventually, Quarter Poundme and Fuckushima make it and finish the beer
Thanks to a hint from the hares, we quickly find trail across McKnight and onto Creve Coeur Dr, The hares skip the construction site and keep us on the road, up to Sutton and right on Rockford, past a Pizza Halt (no thanks) and onto Manchester Rd. From Rock Church I see the FRBs Meth, Fatliner, Record and Locknut, crossing Manchester onto Collier Ave.
A beer stop and walkers greet us behind the UPS store. I try to chill with a Truly berry favored beverage while Record got the Blues hockey game on his phone just in time to see the blue score a leading goal ( sorry they did not keep the lead) Walkers away, runners away and we are back to the start. The Hares drink, the visitor Whore with no name entertains us with a joke a song or a body part (It happened so fast I was not sure which one he did) . More hashers get pulled into circle for various crimes and good deeds, Roadkill gets Hashshoot for well, roadkill like behavior. Announcenents and the on after are decided and we swing low and Hash number 1558 is complete. Thank You, Fake Bake and Beaner (nice hair by the way) ON ON -- Road Kill
Circle: Brentwood Park
Hares: Beaner Wiener, Fake Bake Fuck
RA: Quarter Pound-Me
(In)Significant Runs: Betty Cocker (88), Cum on the Record (115), Tased and Confused (180), How Do You Like My Headlights NOW (240), 2 Fuck Canuck (265), Fake Bake Fuck (277)
Visitor: Whore With No Name (Traveller) [woo!]
Beer Stop: Schnucks Park Lot on Collier Ave.
Hash Shit: Road Kill (for constantly trying to abandon the pack)
On-After: Trainwreck Saloon (watched the Blues get screwed by a no-call on an illegal hand pass)
Circle: Benton Park
Hares: 2:19 from Chicago, Sweet Ho Alabama
RA: Free Mustache Rides
(In)Significant Runs: Reverse Australian Shepherd (22), Beaver Chaser (70), TSA (190)
Shot Stop: The Lemp Mansion
Cupcake Stop: Gravois Park
Beer Stop: Fox Park
Hash Shit: TSA (for trying to poison the Hash Shit)
On-After: Trueman's Pub
TSA forgot to bring the salt and a knife to cut the limes, so COTR, being such a kind and generous soul, brought a “smallish” knife, which was actually a machete. And Dewey brought salt because COTR couldn’t carry a massive knife and salt at the same time. After a shitty chalk talk, TSA proudly shoved the machete in her pants and ran off like a lunatic to lay trail with Tased. Tased made it back to circle, so we know they didn’t have any disagreements while laying trail. The hash was on out at 7:14, which was unusually early, but I guess the hares were afraid of the rain.
The trail to the tequila mile was about a mile long. There were the usual checks, a fish hook and even a song stop that no one stopped at because it wasn’t in the chalk talk, so definitely invalid.
TSA brought 4oz dixie cups for the tequila shots because buying disposable shot glasses would be too logical. Then, she wanted to just pour the shots all willy nilly and call them even, but I figured we should have a level playing field because a tequila mile is punishment enough without also playing tequila shot roulette. Although that would be fun for another day.
The tequila mile was super easy and went by so fast, mostly because I wasn’t stupid enough to do it. We had only 8 individuals/teams, at least half of which were couples. They all ran exceptionally fast considering they were full of tequila and stupidity. The rest of us enjoyed watching their junk flopping in their shorts, I mean their amazing athletic feats.
Tequila mile runners bitched about the tequila shots being on the ground. I guess their moms never told them about the starving kids in Mexico who would kill for a shot of tequila on the ground. Ungrateful wankers. But also probably a valid complaint. They should fill out a comment card and give it to their nearest GM. They take that shit seriously and would never make fun of you or make you drink for it.
We walked the 0.1 mile or so back to circle where Tased ordered everyone to circle up in a massive, muddy mosquito pit as it started to rain. Quarter Pound Me RA’d the shit out of circle. I’m joking, he was looking at the cheat sheet on his phone the whole time and still forgot something. That’s ok though because the hash is full of back seat RA’s, so it all worked out.
In addition to all the usual shit, Just John was called into the circle, asked a bunch of questions, and then was granted a reprieve from the mosquito pit so we could vote. Someone really wanted to name him hamburglar, maybe because that’s what he didn’t want to be named or they were just drunk. No one knows. The hash decided on Momma I'm Cummin' because someone asked him if he’d rather fuck his mom with his girlfriend’s mind or his girlfriend with his mom’s mind, and his response was, “Why do I have to choose one of those? Can’t I fuck my mom with my mom’s mind?” I guess it never occurred to him that the other, much less disturbing alternative to avoiding the choices given, would be to fuck his girlfriend with his girlfriend’s mind. This guy is obviously fucking weird, so he’ll fit right in.
Then we all said a heartfelt goodbye/fuck off to Disco Ass. COTR gave him a bottle opener that has been passed down through the military men in his family since the Civil War, or something like that. They hugged and everyone cried into their beers. Then the hash went in peace.
Circle: Joseph L. Adams Park
Hares: TSA, Tased and Confused
RA: Quarter PoundMe
(In)Significant Runs: Fatliner (40), Sweet Ho Alabama (70), Puke Halt (133), Dapper Sapper (145), Splash Mount'em (190), Purdy Mouth (366), Lock Nut Monster (588), Dewey Sexual System (590)
Tequila Mile: Francis Field (Washington University)
Winner Masturbation Division: Aunt Flow (6:01)
Winners Couples Division: Disco Ass and Cum on the Record (5:33)
Hash Shit: Disco Ass (for leaving us to play with himself on the MIssouri River for a few months)
Naming: Just John will forever be known as Momma I'm Cummin'
On-After: Mission Taco (Loop)
Ice Princess was pretty excited about retiring from mismanagement, although I overheard a conversation a few weeks ago between Tazed and Splash, our new GMS, and I'm not so sure she should have given up on us. Just, well, decide for yourself:
"Ahh, not so fast Tazed. You heard Ice Princess, we’ve got adventures to go on. Just you and me, and sometimes TSA, and sometimes Sweet Ho, but NEVER Claim! You wanna know why? Because he CROSSED me. OK, take it easy, Splash! Th-that's dark. Oh it gets darker...Welcome to the darkest year of hashing. First thing that’s different, no more Claim. He threatened to turn me in to mismanagement, so I made him and mismanagement go away... Ohhh fuck... I repla<burp>ced them both as the defacto-GM of the Big Hump. Oh man... Ice Princess wouldn’t have accepted me if I came home without you. So now you know the REAL reason I rescued you. Ohhh-woah... I JUST TOOK OVER THE HASH TAZED! Oh man... And if you tell anyone I said any of this, I’ll DENY it. You'll deny it... And they’ll take my side, because I’m a hero, Tazed. And now you’re gonna have to do whatever I say, Tazed, FOREVER! A-and I-I’ll go out and find some more of that Tequila Szechuan Taco dipping sauce, Tazed. Wh-what are you talking about? Because that’s, that's what this is all about Tazed! Szechuan? Th-that’s my one arm man. I’m not driven by avenging my dead family <Tazed 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘭𝘴 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺> Tazed, that was FAKE! <𝘢𝘯𝘥 Tazed 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬> I-I’m driven by finding that, Taco Sauce. Tacos? I want that Tequila Taco Sauce, Tazed. Tequila? That’s my goal Tazed! What the hell? If it takes 9 years, I WANT MY TACO DIPPING...What're you talking about Splash?...SAUCE SZECHUAN SAUCE TAZED! What are you talking about? TH-THAT’S WHAT'S GONNA TAKE US, ALL THE WAY TO THE END TAZED! 2028, 9 MORE YEARS TAZED! Taco sauce? 9 MORE YEARS UNTIL I GET THAT DIPPING TACO SAUCE! What is that?!? FOR 9 MORE YEARS MORTY! What're you talking about?!? I WANT THAT TACO SAUCE TAZED!!!"
That's how it happened. Swear.
Anywho...trail was pretty long for being hared by someone who never runs. There was a cryptic message during chalk talk: TBTS. We spent a good 10 minutes trying to figure that one out. We got Taco and Beer, but never tequila. Warm, gross tequila. Aren't we having a tequila mile next week? What is this, Tequila H3? There were Jack in the Box tacos though, so YAY!!! Looks like Splash won't have to wait 9 years for the Tequila Szechuan Taco Sauce after all. Whew. Wait, that wasn't Szechuan? Fuuuuuuck.
Also, from now on all Beer Stops have to have food. You can thank Dewey and Record and the "Best Beer Stop of the Year." You're welcome.
(Around this part of the trash I took a peek online for the attendance and found a summary of the hash. So....yeah....never finished.)
Um, we finished trail even though there were no marks leading us home. "Just go that way!" was good enough apparently. No one got lost on the way. (Or did they?)
Gladdy did a great job RA'ing and fucking up songs as he tends to do. We drank beer. 27 hashers broke the coolers. Whiney bitched. Annnnnnd we swang low. Good job all around.
Yours, forever and deeply,Dewey
Circle: Sublette Park
Hare: Ice Princess
RA(s): Fake Bake Fuck, GladHeAteHer
(In)Significant Runs: Reverse Australian Shepherd (20), Is Your Refrigerator Cumming? (22), Reach-Around Rabbit (30), Licks and Sticks (177), Tased and Confused (177), TSA (188), Purdy Mouth (365)
(Very)Significant Runs: Sweet Ho Alabama (69)
Virgin: Just Peter (Vomit Comet) [joke]
Visitors: Virgin Mobile (Jolly Roger H3) [song], Limp Fish Dick (Beijing H3) [song]
Tacos, Beer and Tequila Stop: Berra Park
Hash Shit: Vomit Comet (lost a chug-off, poor handling of virgin)
On-After: Some went to Bobby's Place, which was crazy crowded, others went to The Hideaway
Circle: Tower Grove Bandstand
Hares: Maybe It's Methamphetamine, Strap On
RA(s): Tased and Confused, Stink Palm
(In)Significant Runs: Splash Mountem (188), Eye Swallow (190)
Beer Stop: Strap On's Backyard
Hash Shit: Reach-Around Rabbit
On-After: Three Monkeys