Hare: Booty Call, Charlotte, Kindergarten Kim
Start: Collins Bar, 46th
On-In: Jake’s Dilemma, 81st &
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
We were directed west on
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
“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!