RDR 2005

9th Anal Red Dress Run

(September 10, 2005)

 

Starring: The New York City Hash House Harriers

 

Directed by: HUA, Flabio, Prick and Punk Ass Bitch

 

Executive Producers: PBR, Bass Ale and Shots

 

Script by:

Cockstar and Flaccido Domingo

 

Opening Theme Music – Chris Debergh

I’ve never seen you looking so lovely as you did tonight
I’ve never seen you shine so bright
I’ve never seen so many men ask you if you wanted to dance
They’re looking for a little romance
Given half a chance
And I’ve never seen that dress you’re wearing
Or that highlights in your hair
That catch your eyes
I have been blind


The lady in red is dancing with me
Cheek to cheek
There’s nobody here
It’s just you and me
It’s where I wanna be
But I hardly know this beauty by my side
I’ll never forget the way you look tonight

I’ve never seen you looking so gorgeous as you did tonight
I’ve never seen you shine so bright you were amazing
I’ve never seen so many people want to be there by your side
And when you turned to me and smiled it took my breath away
And I have never had such a feeling such a feeling
Of complete and utter love, as I do tonight

I never will forget the way you look tonight
The lady in red
My lady in red

ACT ONE – The Pre-lube

“To pre-lube, or not to pre-lube. THAT is the question!”

When you are about to embark on a:

1)    10-to-12-hour drinking spree/binge – call it whatever you want;

2)    in a red dress;

3)    while r*nning; and

4)    you are a man or a deranged woman dressing like a man dressing like a woman

this is a serious question. One that is pondered by many a hasher. And the answer is, of course:

DAMN F*CKING RIGHT YOU SHOULD!

That’s why just about everyone showed up early to get their beer sneakers on and all liquored up before r*nning the downtown streets of lower Manhattan in red dresses.

Of course, Booty Call and Flaccido Domingo were two of the firsts at the Patriot – silly cross-dressing boys! We “do it” (pre-lube) upstairs. Others included Pussy Repellant, Marit, Annette, Karen the Tall and Slip-n’-Slide. The ever-so-tall posse (in descending height order) of Wet Connection, Mean Jean, Karen Z. and Cockstar sauntered in about 24 minutes post celebrity makeover hour.

As the other drunks rolled into the bar there were many beers consumed, nails painted, dresses exchanged, lips outlined, accessories donned, wigs combed, photos taken and war stories told about the trip down-town to the Patriot. For example, snippets of conversation revealed some of the comments heard on the subway-ride to the pre-lube and in the bar: “I thought the 6’4” drag-queen parade was NEXT week!”; “Who’s the cat woman?”; “Nice Tits!”; “Who let the dogs out?”; “Boo-boop-d-boop”; and “Oh my God! It’s you!”

Others were smart enough to change at the Patriot. Including, and we always have one, the “new guy” who decides to r*n his first hash during the RDR. Thanks to Mean Jean, they wear the same red-and-white checkered button down dress with a tie on the back to accentuate the positive. One-size-fits-all.

ACT TWO – The Trail

A hundred plus people gathered in front of the Patriot at 3:15 full of anticipation and pre-lube beer. Man-o-man was it red. Passersbys stopped and gawked. Parents of small children crossed the street in the middle of traffic to steer clear. And one lone cop sat there trying to figure out the proper radio code word for calling in a bunch of people gathered drunk in red dresses. “Um, central, we’ve got a possible 10-68321 in progress here at Church and Chambers . . . Looks uglier than the Idiotarod in January. Request back-up.” But since Mean Jean wasn’t giving her usual Chalk Monologues, the pack was off before back-up could arrive.

 

Heading south and then east, this sneaker-clad fashion fiasco soon found their first check on the far side of City Hall Park. Checking up, down, left, right, south, north, east, west, the pack was absolutely befuddled. Rumor has it the FRB’s checked Brooklyn Heights just to be certain. Tourists on the double-decker sightseeing buses who initially thought maybe we were idiots, had all doubt removed as we ran in every direction imaginable, only to return to the same damn spot over and over again. Finally somebody suggested that perhaps following Wednesday’s leftover trail was not the best route and perhaps we ought to re-check each direction. And with this little push from our lone MENSA representative, we were off on trail heading towards the Fulton St. Fish Markets.

 

Braving the sundry aromas of the fish markets on a warm fall afternoon, we plunged into the back of the South Street Seaport and completely around the pier, giving tourists what must have been their oddest moment of their trip to NYC. South and then west up Wall Street, the pack at this point had become rather strewn about. Mercifully as we constantly lost trail (attention hares, its considered good etiquette to mark turns), construction workers, police officers, cabbies and tourists all were quick to realize that this new group of fools r*nning in red dresses must be following that last group of fools r*nning in red dresses, and were quick to point out the direction they had last gone. So in this spirit of post-9/11 helpfulness, the pack continued on.

 

On south that is to Battery Park, along the water past the ferry lines full of tourists, past the freaks who dress like the statue of liberty and charge for photo-ops (and they think we’re weird – green is just so tacky compared to red) and on up into Battery Park City. Up the promenade past the cute older jewish couple “Oy Marv, here comes some more of them! Their mothers would be so proud. This is why I love New York!”, onto the World Financial Center patio, and straight on into the WFC. Straight past the security guard who declared that “there’s no running in here dammit”. The same security guard who didn’t take it well when one hasher who will remain nameless (but he was wearing a red dress, if that helps) said “what are you going to do, throw us out? Trust me, you want us getting through here as quickly as possible…”

 

Out onto the west side highway, over the pedestrian bridge, up to Chambers street, and across to the on-in whence we began. And by the way, a quick message to Slip ’n Slide: When it’s an A-to-A, and the on-in is once again in sight, you don’t have to follow trail. It’s ok to shortcut at that point.

 

 

ACT THREE – The Down-Downs

 

The beer started flowing, as well as the bull shit . . . ahhh , errrr, we mean bras. No, actually, those were worn with underwear, by Prick later in the evening. But we digress. The down-downs went something like this:

 

The Hares – same sh*t different year.

 

Virgins — too many to name except for the 4 unfortunates who happen to

Know a guy in a red dress named Ass Ranger.

 

Visitors: Guam people (with an infant in tow)and G-String and Butt Gravy from the New Orleans Hash.

 

Viagra Vince and HUA: Vince, because he stole HUA’s idea for a red dress from last year – the red “Sexy” cheerleader outfit – and HUA because he wore the same piece o’ crap cheerleader outfit from last year.

 

Vince: for sporting the same leopard skin panties from last year. Does anyone know if he washes them form year to year?

 

John: for the ultimate RDR accessory – a red sequined thong under his dress, which he modeled a little too enthusiastically.

 

Booty Call: got his annual RDR hair cut – a chunk of his bangs lopped off by Mean Jean.

 

AOW: Devo. He told his house guests that he “wins” the hash every week.

 

Last-Minute Beauty Queen: Carla, for wearing her second place homecoming queen dress. Mean Jean loaned her a tiara.

 

Then the RDR boyz took over.

ACT FOUR – The Red Dress Awards (in random order)

Mr. and Mrs. Red Dress: Dave Too Long & Annette (Audrey Hepburn from Breakfast at (red) Tiffany’s)

 

Best Ass: G-String (form the New Orleans HHH) by popular vote

 

Best Tits: Joanna (now we know why she shows up only once a year)

 

“Holy Shit, is today the Red Dress Run?”: MasterCard – for wearing a white dress with red writing on it (get it? “read dress”) and for calling JJG at 12 noon after completing the 18 mile marathon tume up to ask him where she might get needle and thread in New York City to sow her dress for later

 

“Tried to Hard but Still Looks Like Crap”: Pussy Repellant

 

“Looks too much like a woman to only do this once a year”: Eric

 

“Got Wood?”: Karen Z. (for her Marilyn Monroe outfit in red)

 

Most Likely to Sleep with the Hares – Aren (Britney Spears/Naughty Schoolgirl outfit)

 

Visiting Red Dress Hares: G-String and Butt Gravy from the New Orleans HHH

 

There were onion rings, French fries and belly bombers for the lucky few – and we use the term lucky loosely. But the good news was, to the best of everyone’s recollection, hash cash for beer never ran out!

ACT FIVE – The Deluge

We’re not sure which part of the evening we (especially Flaccido) liked more. When Alexandra smooched Lisa (non-Dave-Lisa). Or when she was dancing on the bar and pretended to dry hump Lisa’s face. Or when she decided to break ranks with her red dress and change into a t-shirt that said “I’d rather be masturbating.” Or when she tried to talk Lisa into a threesome with her and Ass Ranger. It’s so hard to pick just one favorite part.

 

Of course you have to expect this kind of behavior when the downstairs bartender is so hammered by 6 pm that she can’t make change correctly. Or when the next shift’s bartender is celebrating her birthday with a sombrero on and doing tequila shots with everybody in the bar. But we digress.

 

More on point, there were rumors that Mastercard was seen smooching a hasher (unidentified, but allegedly wearing a red dress so we assume he was a hasher) late in the evening at the bar. That is, smooching him until he threw up on her. Since some of us take our investigative journalist duties quite seriously, Flaccido emailed MasterCard asking her if it was true that she was thrown up on while smooching. Her reply:

 

> > No - he missed
> > 
> > I hope that this is not a fact check for the
> > write-up? 
> >            MC

 

Lest Alexandra think she was alone in all sorts of fun behavior, not only did Lisa smooch Alexandra, but then Jodie insisted that their kiss wasn’t a good kiss, so she and Lisa locked lips and tongues for a minute or two. Not wanting to be left out, your faithful scribe Flaccido asked Lisa if she was such a good kisser that everybody wanted to smooch her. So she locked lips with him too. And rumor has it she may have done so with Booty Call as well. Perhaps next year we could get this event sponsored by Wrigley’s? “So kiss a little longer, make it last a little longer with Big Red…”

 

And lets not forget the visually striking image of Pussy Repellant grabbing HUA by the back of his head and ramming him face first into his crotch repeatedly. And some people claim that the RDR isn’t a family-oriented venue.

 

Another fun fact from the RDR: Jodie loves the endorphin rush from a good spanking. The harder the better. Could become its own theme hash some day.

 

And in what has to be the biggest cock-up of the evening, Fluffy managed to leave the On-in completely loaded AND with Cockstar’s knapsack. When she went to locate her keys she discovered to her horror that it wasn’t her bag. Her first clue was the box of Magnum sized Trojans in the pocket, but we’ll let Fluffy explain that one himself. After getting hold of Wet Connection, they managed to track down Fluffy via Sideshow Bob’s phone, told Fluffy to get in a cab and come back to Manhattan with the bag, which he did. Upon arrival he mumbled something about ransom and not having enough money to pay for the cab, upon which Pussy Repellant attempted to solve things by giving him $20, but instead Fluffy was directed by Cockstar to an ATM and packed off into the darkness to do who knows what with his bag and condoms.

 

In parting, we ask you to read the lyrics above and ask yourself if maybe this timeless song was written not by a lovesick musician, but rather an RDR attendee from the past.

 

On-out,

 

Fin.

Cast of Characters (in order of appearance): Booty Call, Pussy Repellant, Slip’n Slide, Annette, Marit, Karen the Tall, Flaccido Domingo, Deanna, Cockstar, Mean Jean, Wet Connection, Karen Z. (Marilyn Monroe), Jumpin’ Jack’s Gash, Fire-in-the-Pie Hole, Ed Lunch, StEwa, Fluffy, Viagra Vince, Aren, Jodi, G-String, Butt Gravy, HUA, Flabio, Prick, Punk Ass Bitch, Alexandra, Ass Ranger w/ four virgins (cum back y’all, y’hear?), John, Stacia, BJ Boy, Junior, Erica, Fuck Me I’m Gay, Cree, Andrea, Chad, Ken, Tim, Loretta, Dicktator, Sketchy Dave, Fast Am. Dave # 6, Devo, Boyslave, Hilary, Dr. Bruce, Alison, Norman, Charlotte, Maria, Shana, Daniel, Dave Long, Lisa, Peter, Lesley, Kerry, Alice, Loretta, Carla, MasterCard, Sideshow Bob, and Yello Smello.


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