GGFM #197

The Truth

Official Organ of the Greater Gotham Full Moon

Hash House Harriers

G2FMH3 Hash #197 – Friday, August 24, 2007


Hare:  Joe Pennsylvania           

Start:  96th Street & Lexington Avenue

On-In:  Reif’s, 92nd St. & 2nd Ave.

Punk Ass Bitch (Scribe):  Joe Pennsylvania – as told to Noah’s Dinghy


On what was truly the finest Friday night of August, a veritable who’s who of hashers, not counting the several who were in Greece, as well as an encouraging number of virgins, gathered at a conveniently-located intersection on the Upper East Side for a well-marked yet still challenging trail.  And who set this fine trail?  Why yours truly, along with a virgin hare, Maria. 


What’s that you say?  A hare doing the write-up for his own trail?  Yes, it seems that Lauren was in such a hurry to start her sailing vacation in Greece, that even though she had an entire month to find someone willing to do said write-up, the only name that occurred to our fair On-Sex was my own.   Now I suppose that may be an appearance of impropriety in this, as some might suspect a less-than-unbiased review of the trail and choice of on-in.  Well, I am my own worst critic, and so this write-up shall be, as the title suggests, the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.  Unfortunately, my arms are now tired from fawning over myself, and so I have entrusted the actual writing of this piece to Noah’s Dinghy, who promises to transcribe only my recollections of the evening, without editorial comment.  I’m such a tool.


All week long, I had been eagerly telling one and all of the fine trail to come that Friday.  Pleased with myself even more so than usual, I invited everyone in a series of emails to get “dizzy” with the hash at the GGFM.  The hash itself began with my usual bluster about what a great trail I had set.  Of course, it turned out the trail intersected with that of the Catholic School Girl R*n that had taken place on Wednesday, and even though that hash was a lot more fun than mine could ever hope to be (seriously, just look at what it was called again), I refused to alter the course.  For you see, I had a plan!  But to accommodate this plan, it had become necessary to place what I called “Joey Trail” marks, where the arrows, instead of bearing straight lines at the tail, curved to form a J.  So they looked like exceptionally cruel fishhooks.   I handed out chalk, including one piece that looked like it ought to be a prop in a Jenna Jameson movie, and sent the pack on its way.


How was the trail?  If I do say so myself (and I do), it was brilliant in its repetitiveness.  West went the hashers toward Central Park, then south to somewhere in the 90s, then east to the river, then north to somewhere in the 100s, then west, then south, then east, then north, then west, then…..  Remember when I said I had a plan?  Yes, as several of the hashers realized on trail, they were r*nning in a series of ever smaller concentric circles.  Get it?  “Dizzy” with the hash!  I got the idea from going to a Cinnabon or something.


Eventually everyone ended up at the on-in, where thankfully there was a great deal of beer and I showed hashers a map of the trail that confirmed what they already knew.  There was pizza too, I think.


The circle involved the drinking of still more beer.  First, myself and Maria, for setting that not-at-all-overhyped trail.  (Though it would certainly prove better than certain monstrosities that followed on future Wednesdays.)  The virgins, of whom there were many and were never seen at any other hashes again, were given their beers.  There weren’t any visitors per se, so a beer was given to Congenital Defect, because he hadn’t c*m in a while and could be considered one.  Noah’s Dinghy was given two beers, first for carrying the sex-toy sized piece of chalk (who held up the chalk and announced, “Yes, it’s true!” because he apparently thinks he’s funny) and for being about to turn 29 a few days later.  Two hashers whose names escape my ever-so-beer-addled brain were given down-downs for racist behavior – her for r*nning a race, and him for telling anyone who’d listen that she’d finish second.  Were there other down-downs?  Yes, probably, but let’s go back to talking about me, Joe Pennsylvania.


That bit of mandatory drinking out of the way, everyone drank themselves silly on the considerable amount of beer we had left.  So I guess at the end of it, everyone did get dizzy with the hash.


So long for now, and let’s hope in the future Lauren pays attention when she has 30 days notice to assign a scribe.  Because some hashers aren’t as honest and ________________________ as I am.
(Mad-lib your own adjective here)

On out!

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