BH3 #491

BH3 #491
Monday December 14, 2009
Start: Willoughby St and Lawrence St
On-In: Casa de Dental Damned
Hares: Dental Damned

Another week, another write up for me to write. As much as I dislike doing these, this week’s shenanigans need to be documented. I know I will not do it justice, but let’s get this show on the road, shall we? 

Yours truly arrived at the start to find a few hashers already shivering at the start. As one of the JMs once said: "There are only a few things that a hare is expected to do. One of them is to bring chalk." Dental Damned clearly didn’t hear that piece of advice as he arrived with no chalk. "Three to three and a half miles" he said, and we listened. Only a few blocks in did I realize that I was missing chalk. That was very inconvenient since we were at a poorly marked check (did I mention the trail was set in very light yellow
chalk?).  "Leave no man behind" is clearly not the motto of the hash and the entire pack didn’t hesitate to leave the check unsolved, leaving Ding!, Barnacle, and Canine Fixation to fend for themselves.

A few impossible checks, a park, and 6 miles later, we ended up
exactly 20 steps from the start location, at the entrance to Dental Damned’s apartment building. Making our way up, we found the 3 lost souls from the first check that decided to shortcut and finished the trail in a mile flat and Technically Foul sitting on the couch drinking, what seemed like, their tenth beers. The rest of the pack followed shortly. The hare decided to forego the
standard pizza fare and treated us to homemade lasagnia, gumbo (not to be confused with DUMBO), and some sweet pastries. At some point, Headlights and FMIG applied their spy skills and went searching for evidence for "This is why you don’t let hashers into your house" down-downs.

After a bit of socializing, the circle was called:
First the hare was down-downed for setting the trail. Dental Damned was again made to drink for not bringing chalk for the pack. Dogface drank some beer for being a bag hag and then still running the entire trail. What followed next was a fun little series we like to call "Hey! Look
what we found in Dental Damned’s house"
1) A bone in Headlight’s gumbo. Not a place you want to find a bone
2) Dora the Explorer plates being used for food
3) A portrait of kids (one of them possibly the Hare, let’s pretend it was)
4) 1 pink sex candle. Unused.
4) A series of porn DVDs:
   "Love is Blue, a Deeper Love",
   "Cheating Wife Tales #3",
   and last but not least "Slightly Older Sluts"
   Ask your local porn shop about them!
5) An asshole piggybank which farts when you throw a coin in
6) A pair of silicone (saline?) fake breasts (Owner still missing)
7) A fairly racist Louie Armstrong animatronic doll

Ain’t hashing grand, folks? Ok, so let’s continue with the down-downs: Jordanna (hasher formerly known as Breast Stroke) was named Queer Fear because she was heard speaking to another hasher about the guy with questionable sexual orientation that she is dating. Graine was down downed for standing around the start location after the pack left until being rescued by another hasher. Death Breast, Technically Foul, and Amy drank for having "holey" socks (did I mention we had to take our shoes off
in the hallway?). Dental Damned was then almost down downed again for setting the hotline when the doorbell rang. Is it cops? Landlord? Strippers? To everyone’s surprise it was the hare’s friends from the South, who were promptly made to drink/sip on beer for interrupting our frat party.

This is usually where I would tell you that I drank some beer and headed home… well, that isn’t what happened. The committee decided to model some hats found in the Hare’s room, that would be all right had they also not been wearing red dresses. Headlights was wearing a classy little number, while FMIG looked like Ru Paul on halloween. Seriously, the dress must have been sewn by a blind schizophrenic. If that wasn’t enough, a wetsuit with breast implants was modeled by Headlights. Since breast implants were involved, our own Death Breast‘s help was required to rescue Headlights from the swimming apparatus.

I had to call it a night when hashers started playing Wii Bowling!

Just remember, the Brooklyn Hash… better beer, better stories!

Trader Blows