BH3 #459

BH3 459

Monday, May 4th

Hare: Sorry, What?

On In: Washington Commons

I should have never agreed, er, offered to do this write-up, and it’s not because I’d rather be drinking beer or because I am presently intoxicated, although both would be fair assumptions.  My reason (this time, anyway) is entirely valid: I didn’t r*n this trail!  Eh, we all know the trail is just a means to a sudsy end, but I’ll ask you to keep that in mind as I slyly gloss over any and all trail details. 


I can tell you that it was a rainy r*n.  Misty (to be generous) and typical for our hare, Sorry, What? She at least smartly chose one of Broolyn’s better beer bars, this drinking institution getting points for serving several beers boasting alcohol contents on or around the 8% mark.  Some said beers were even served in fancy, academic glasses, though one pack member claimed he didn’t mean to order such a classy selection when others peered into his dainty cup of goodness.  The only way he (oh, let’s just say it; it was Conor) managed to slip under the down-down radar is because we were all (yes, I’m taking the liberty to say all because I’m writing this damn thing) quickly getting drunk, assuming the most bang for our buck given the new increased cost of hashing in Brooklyn.     


Now, I turn to Headlights’ legible notes, without which this write-up would be a work of fantastical fiction.   

  • Hares: (My notes say hares and not hare, so perhaps the bag hags—Just Dana and Dogface—also got credit for haring in the way of a down-down, though Sorry, What? must take responsibility for setting the sh*tty trail.)  “Hymn to the hares…” 
  • Virgins:  A lovely couple named Anthony and Erin. (Erin later admitted to me that she’d been receiving the hash e-mails for over a year and finally found the gumption to come check us out.  Something to keep in mind the next time the circle is desperate.)  “Here’s to the Virgins…” 
  • NYC AGM Committee member no-show:  Dana. What?  She had the audacity to engage in non-hash related activities the weekend of the much-anticipated AGM?  Daring, indeed.  “She oughtta be publically pissed on…” 
  • Smashmouth Award: Canine Fixation.  Brace yourselves, dear readers.  CF was found falling while stretching!  “F*ck him…” 
  • New marrieds: All glow-y and smiley, United States Marine Whore and Noah’s Dinghy.  “Twenty toes…” 
  • Sorry, What’s Birthday: Only her third or fourth celebration in a week, but hey, who’s counting (or caring—there was chocolate cake, after all!)?  
  • Asshole of the week: DBB, overheard saying (at least this is what I gather from my cheat sheet): “Damn, I wanted this bar for myself.”

Hash cash outlasted most of the pack members.  I thought I stayed until the bitter end, but I hear Sorry, What? closed the place down.