<![if !vml]><![endif]>The Truth
Official Organ of the Greater Gotham Full Moon
Hash House Harriers
G2FMH3 Hash # 173 – Friday, Dec 16, 2005
Hare: Fuck Me I’m Gay
Start: Botanica bar
On-In: Doc Holiday’s
Punk Ass Bitch (Scribe): Salt Lick
Can I Buy a Hash Mark?
Who’s the Hare that set the trail that sucked for you and me?
I’d rather sit here and drink my beer than run your shitty trail.
Such was the second Down-Down song shouted by a rowdy bunch of Hashers to our fearless Hare, Fuck Me I’m Gay. Why was he so fearless? Could be because he thought no one would find him.
We should have known we were out for a rough night in the cold when FMIG showed up late to the prelube, claiming his cohare, Kindergarten Kim, had dissed him (She’s soo drinking for that.) But we all had been drinking for an hour (half of us at Milanos’ bar next door), so we foolishly followed him outside the Botanica bar in the Village despite his warnings that the trail, well, sucked.
Anyone who has ever run an FMIG trail knows he’s not a fan of marks. One per block is considered generous. So we were not surprised at the, oh, half-a-dozen times we all had to split up with partners in hopes of finding some semblance of a hash mark and having the vocal skills to shout loud enough to alert the rest of the pack.
We succeeded for the first four or five times, but after more than an hour of running in the 30-degree weather and scratching our heads yet again as we approached the low-20s and practically jumped into the East River, we lost our patience. When we finally hit a big fat “F” we were on a mission to kill the man who wrote it. FMIG denied ever putting a false on the final stretch of the r*n, but no one believed him, and even if they did, it would not excuse the dozen other atrocities he committed.
Fortunately, Don Juannabee knew the On-In location and we all put our faith in him as he led us to much-needed beer at Doc Holiday’s
“Part of being a hasher is finishing laying the trail,” Leo demanded as he stumbled in about five minutes after everyone else had shouted obscenities that made FMIG’s name look Kosher. “I don’t know what’s wrong with all you people,” the always self-confident Hare replied. “I think you’re all retarded.”
Vince, shimmering with a fresh Florida tan, declared it to be the worst trail of the year, which your Scribe and Ass Ranger graciously seconded and thirded given that we are both in contention.
Fortunately for FMIG, he was saved by the fact that our final $15 GGFM Hash took us well into the wee hours of the morning, though that may have been because Lunch decided to pour everyone’s half-drunk beers back into the pitcher, an offense for which he was dubbed A**Hole of the Week as he declared, “Waste not, want not,” and which we’d rather pretend never happened.
Other notable Down-Down mentions go to Kyle for wearing some butt-ugly bright orange shoes that he claimed were not his, but he was “trying out” for a mysterious third party; Ass Ranger for posing as the former FRB in Gary’s absence and forced to carry a stuffed-animal-clad backpack filled with “rocks, shoes, and condoms” throughout the entire run (the honor will go to Don Juannabee next time around); Mary for downing five shots of vodka prior to the run; Jacob for, I think (or wrote in my drunken state), having a big penis; a Virgin named Matthew who Leo made cum; John Burke for taking 2 hours attempting to actually solve the so-called trail; and Lauren for being beautiful enough to be made to drink during the random abuse of power.
If there was one saving grace of this Hash, it was that the beer lasted us long enough to do what all great GGFMs have done in the past: Made us feel it all day Saturday.
P.S. The mismanagemet asked me to include lyrics for some other songs that we learned and so desperately need. So I have, but I cut off their names in this writeup to save trees. Try something different the next time you get a Down-Down!
There’s a game called "Twenty Toes"
It’s played all over town
The women play with ten toes up,
And the men with ten toes down …
Down, Down, Down, Down,
Meet the Hashers, or The Hashstones
Tune: Theme from The Flintstones
Hashers! Meet the Hashers!
We’re the biggest drunks in history.
From the Hash of Gotham,
We’re the leaders in debauchery.
Half-minds, trailin’ shiggy through the years.
Watch us as we down a lot of beers.
Down, down. Down, down, down, down.