GGFM #168 Aug 19, 2005

Hare: Booty Call, Charlotte, Kindergarten Kim

                   Start: Collins Bar, 46th & Eighth Ave

                On-In: Jake’s Dilemma, 81st & Amsterdam

                   Punk Ass Bitch (Scribe): Mean Jean the Down Down Machine


Tap! Tap! Tap!


[Insert piercing feedback noise]


Is this thing on??  Well, hello everyone, it’s nice to be back on the hash soapbox again, spewing out my whatevers to all you who must listen (er, read) because frankly, you’ve just gotten in from another crap trail and you’re bored and the hares haven’t exactly got the beer ready yet so what the hell else are you going to do? I do love a captive audience. But enough about me, what do you think of me? (er, never mind, don’t answer that).


Cockstar and I left our own private Idaho of a pre-lube to discover that the driving rain occurring during pre-lube beers 1 and 2 had fallen off to a nice tingley drizzle, imbuing the air with a refreshing 90% humidity.  AHHH! We joined the masses, a goodly size pack of 40ish people listening intently to a Booty Call chalk talk, otherwise known as the first sign of the apocalypse (hey, you can look it up: “And the first angel poured out his chalk upon the sidewalk; and there fell a noisome and grievous sore upon the pack which had the mark of the beast, and [upon] them which worshipped his image.” Rev 16:2). We were then informed that due to the rain, Flaccido would be “sweeping” the trail (clearly the second sign: And the second angel poured out his chalk upon the still-visible trail; and it became as the blood of a dead hasher and every living soul on trail became lost” Rev 16:3).  With two signs out of seven occurring in the first 5 minutes of the hash, you can imagine how worried I already was.


We were directed west on 46th Street and turned north onto Ninth. An early check held us up briefly until we were back on, east along 53rd. We turned north on Sixth Ave and headed straight into the park. Pulling up the rear, as I am wont to do, I got to see the pack head one way in the distance but then Burke re-emerge out of the park to kindly mark the check for me. (third sign of the apocalypse—hasher being kind: And the third angel poured out his chalk near the waters of the pond and it became heavy with pond scum.” Rev 16:4). True trail swirled east of the pond and it wasn’t very long before I was reunited with the pack, darn the luck. We ended up out of the park and wandering towards Madison and points east. I wasn’t falling for this in a very big way so I played the odds and hovered along Madison until, yes! the pack pops back out onto Madison just a few blocks north of me. (Fourth sign, a shortcutting bastard guesses right).


We ultimately headed back into the park (surprise, surprise) and north along the mall. At about this time,          beers 1 and 2 from the pre-lube had had enough of my bladder and were insistent that it was time to break free. I ditched the pack, which seemed headed into the Rambles and I searched out a quiet dark space for peeing when naturally I heard the pack come back and head straight for me near Bethesda Fountain. This would have worked out fine if they’d just gone past but nooooo. The nauseatingly familiar Bethesda Fountain circle jerk had hashers searching all around me and I had to give up on nature’s call.   (Fifth sign would have been hashing by Bethesda without a check). True trail brought us eventually up out of the park and onto the Central Park West. I buddied up with DeAnna and we made our way toward bathroom and beer at Jake’s Dilemma.


“Circle Up”  Mayhem was the tenor of the down downs in the back room at Jake’s Dilemma. The usual affronts to hashing by the hares were noted by JMs Cockstar and Rich, followed by the virgins who all seemed to friends with Alexandra (a Michelle, a Lauren, and a Lexie, if my incoherent notes are to be believed). Next up were the Diamond Girls: Karen Z, Lisa, Lesley and Wet Connection all sporting diamond-studded t-shirts fresh from what one would have thought was the Home Shopping Network but was actually purchases from the Neil Diamond concert the night before. Then we had Magoo up, who demonstrated once again why he earned his hash name by tripping over marks on trail whilst asking, “Where’s the mark?” Interrupted by Ed Lunch passing shots of Jaegermeister from the belly-button-ringed promotion girl, Cockstar got her just revenge. Then came the line up of the century: Alice, Alexandra, Lauren and a couple of other of our tiniest friends for the “I See Short People” down down. Bottom did four specimen cup-sized down downs in honor of his recent drug test. Spewfucker and Lauren drank out of new shoes (the Virgin, you can understand but Chris, honestly!). Alice and Ookoie Cookie got the usual charming birthday wishes from the pack.  Flaccido got to give away the Random Abuse of Power down down and it went to Sexy Sadie. And finally, Magoo for actually getting a job (which we can all agree must be the sixth sign of the apocalypse).


The deejay got us going with a nice run of ABBA and other ditties from the 80s and early 90s. And, just like the  era itself, it didn’t last and we had to get our groove on to house and techno and the like.  Jake’s was packed to the gills but we managed to eek out space enough for a big hash dance circle with fly girls and fly boys jumping into the center for “feature” dances. Only Charlotte and Cockstar saved us from looking like complete idiots! But if you were wondering what the seventh sign of the apocalypse was, well, when Spewfucker did the funky chicken, I’m pretty sure that’s when the earth was swallowed up into hell. At least until this month’s full moon fiasco gets rolling!


On out.