Confucius say, man who run through airport turnstile backward going to Bangkok... WoWo say, hashing in rain like making sex with Meta - women get wet, but not have good time.

 

Yeah, so... how about that Hash on Wednesday?

 

Passing through Cahokia on my way to another fucking trail in Illinois, I stopped at a small Indian trading post to stock up on feathers, loin cloths, and arrow heads. Before leaving, a red-tinted man by the name of Runs With Scissors offered to trade his canoe for my running shoes. "Silly retarded Indian" I smirked, pulling away in my Honda. Stupid me, eh? Little did I know that in less than an hour, I'd be drinking a beer with Captain f*cking Nemo; twenty thousand leagues under the sea.

 

So off we ran into the darkness, greeting Asia's worst enemy at the third chick check. Tall and wide stood the Tsunami as we scurried through the residential streets. "It's going to get me wet!" exclaimed PMS... chuckles and murmers of "that's what she said" were heard through the darkness.

 

Eventually, all of the hashers became tired of jumping in puddles, playing in traffic, and not seeing boobs at the chick checks. Mr Fart, our fearless leader, bravely screamed "on-on" and took us down a false trail to the closest drinking establishment. Now, If I wasn't such a self-centered asshole, I would have taken this time to personally thank each and every hasher that bought and shared pitchers of beer... but I am, so moving on.

 

While enjoying our frosty beverages at the bar, Nurse Hashit began some sort of grand quest to locate a tampon for her womanly needs. It was sort of disturbing really, as it reminded me of an old Zelda nintendo game or something. Three paces forwards, one pace to the right, climb down the ladder, and viola!... She located a pearly rod of flow-blockery! I shuddered slightly as I sipped from my beer.

 

Now, the rest of the evening is a bit fuzzy to me. Sometime after leaving the bar, Whiny parted with some 50% of his clothing (I remember WoWo asking him "why you be naked?".

 

Mucho thanks to Bama for serving up some home cooking to the line of wet and shivering hashers. I swear it looked like the soup kitchen at a homeless shelter! There was a pot full of stew, a drunk woman with a ladle, and a tray full of three day old cornbread (no resemblance to the aspiring young rapper with a similar name.. Thre day 'ol cornbread, you my homie!). Bama, nice nut sack by the way! I know it was big and red, but did you really need to whip it out on the table and let all the hashers handle your nuts?!

 

There was definitely a possible chance that there may have been a circle after the eating and nut touching, but I don't really remember much other than the cold weather. I think Bama got Hash-shit for a past crotch-vomit episode and Moma's Ass Porn played the guitar for us while receiving his new headband. The on-after was nice though... Never before have I paid for a beer with a one dollar bill and received change. Hell yeah! It was also brought to my attention that the easiest way to fend off a biker guy at a bar is to let Cliff demonstrate his versatile sexuality by telling him that his purse matches his eyes.

 

Thanks to WoWo for the Japanese beers and for helping me break into my own car after leaving the on-after (mental note: key OUTSIDE car before closing locked door). We will all miss you so much around here!

 

Swing woah,

 

-Pubic Head by popular demand