Knickerbocker Hash House Harriers #19
Wednesday 10 March 2010
Start: 110th and 7th
On-In: Bar East
Hares: Fire In The PieHole, Tit-Totaller, with special guest 69Down
Scribe: Mickey Mouth
When a hash is good – good hares, good run, good on-in, good food – when a hash is just all around good, there is really nothing to write about. Good doesn’t make a story. Luckily, I am still not at the age, to paraphrase Mr. Clemens, where I can’t remember stuff that didn’t happen.
The Briss Trail
As you all should know too clearly, I am a completely useless individual, being that my hamstrings are more fucked than Wanchai in the ‘40s. So I found out where the on in was and made a calculating decision not to trudge half way around the world – otherwise known as the UWS – and instead met the hares for bag duties at the bar. And I did, 69down and Fire in the PieHole showed up right on time and we lugged the 30 or so bags into Bar East.
We Will Need Something To Protect Us! Do You Have a Knife?
I Have a Spoon.
The ******* trickled in and skipped over the water that I held it close, afraid that if I let it go, it would turn to beer. Because you see, I attempted what was heretofore thought to be impossible! A sober hash. A sober hash?! What? Yes, you read right. More difficult than The North Face! More fearsome than Cerebus! More challenging than staying sober at a hash! Wait….
So they trickled in and proclaimed the hash “good”. Again, what can the scribe do with that. I tried everything, “dogo”, “doog”, “ogod”…not even a jumble will give it panache.
No Joey Left Behind
Let’s turn to the DownDowns, maybe inspiration will come with others perspiration.
We had the hares, Tit-totaller and Fire in the PieHole with special guest star 69Down. Good.
Visitors to Mean Jean, her brother and niece. Good.
FAD couldn’t find the checks…and his marks were bad. Good.
Eager4Beaver and FMIG couldn’t get it up, I mean started, I mean location…Good.
Eager4Beaver is one year older. Good.
Eager4Beaver blah blah pack mark. Good.
Just Rich proclaiming to the crowd that he is “just not large” Hmmm. This is getting better!
Junky Monkey touching all the pies…as in pizza…better.
And finally Hardy, the epitome of aplomb, ripostes with “that’s the last time I will ever check.” And, I will add a couple of “fucks!” here to spice it up. Not that Hardy would ever emit such blights. Eh..back to good.
For The First Offense – I’ll Use an Open Hand.
Well, it was looking promising but I am still not inspired. I can’t feel a historical parody, or a news quiz, or a theatrical release. Maybe all my creativity was stored in my hamstrings and now, since they are as useless as wet noodles, I lost my humor. Maybe I will have to stick to what actually happened. Oh sad day.
Perhaps I can salvage this write up with one last attempt. A challenge! Put forth by none other than FAD himself. He proclaimed that no one, NO ONE, can pass him. Ok, he did concede that maybe MAYBE! Meb might be able to pass him on a run. But no one else! Not even in a hash. Which we all know KNOW is not a race, not even a run. I might need to repeat that. The hash is not a race. It is not even a run. Of course, a stranger would not know this if they happen to see a cavalcade of hashers. Why? Let me tell you. Most of our beloved NYC hashers (even the KH3 yes! It’s twew!) wear racing shirts. As in run races. I know. Don’t shake your head at me. I don’t’ do it. [But, the KH3 did just sell super awesome sweatshirts (just in time for summer!)] Special thanks goes out the folks that wore hash shirts (has it come to this? Really?) and extra special thanks to Dave 2 Long for wearing the best Hash shirt ever.
Anyway, so FAD issued forth a challenge and I thus encourage all of you. When you happen to see Mr. FAD meander by, just try to pass him. Chicanery encouraged. Let’s have fun out there people!
Ok, well, looks like I did the whole write up and still I got nothing for you. Apologies. Like a wrote, can’t do much when a hash is just good. Or maybe I am at that age. Oh Mr. Clemens*, say it ain’t so!
Or, now that I think about it. Maybe it was being sober. I mean sobriety has never been pinned as a creative folk. It was never written, "In a sobriety-fueled trance, I wrote my best stuff ever". or "the sobriety made me do it!" or "dude, I was so hopped up on sobriety, I cranked out 50 pages of mind blowing prose." Hmmm. Something to drink about.
*this refers to Mr. Samuel Longhorn Clemens. Not Roger Clemens. Just so you know.