I would like to use the obligatory trash prologue to speak about some various traditions at the hash. Yes, there may not be rules, but there are some traditions. First, I would like to clarify about beer checks. Yes, it is traditional that we have beer checks, however,  beer checks are a luxury bestowed upon the pack by the sheer generosity of the hare(s), whether there are one, two, or six, you should be happy and thankful to have any and all of them. Secondly, ‘Why do we kick up our legs at chalk talk?’ Well young little hashers, it is obviously it is the tradition of airing of the snatch before trail started oh so many years ago by one famous harriette. Third, (gripe more than a tradition) at the end of the hash when the RA declares ‘May the hash go in peace.’ The pack traditionally responds with ‘May the hash GET A PIECE!’ Not ‘go in peace’ If I hear anyone say ‘go in peace again’ I will proceed to crane kick you karate kid style during your next down-down. Fourth, the tradition of meowing during down-downs. MEOW! Fifth and final, this new tradition of on-in after the beer check is bull-ish. If this was a rural hash you would be left out in the woods for the wolves to eat your genitals. You gotta think. You got a trail. You got a responsibility. If your pack gets lost you don’t look for an hour then call it quits. You get your ass out there and you find that fucking dog…

Rant done. Who did I find in the bar that night…

HASHERS!… H*ld the Sausage, Rear Eng*neer, One *nch In, Tube C*ck, Uncle B*d Touch, Short D*stance Rimmer, Son of Goat F*cker, Where’s My Vag*na, Chef Boy or Horse, Pen*s in My Ear,  Taco? I barely know her, Bonzai Bush,Brave Cock, Gay Matthew’s Lamb, I Scream For Eye Cream (AKA ChickenF*cker), Punany Puri, Shop & Fuck, Two Clump Chump, S&M Man, Flounder, James Bondage, Post Anal Drip, Can You Hear Me Now?, Cause for Blindness, Softcore Analyst, Just Val, Just Al, Just Amy,Just Colleen, Just Tony, Just Amanda, Just Dave, Mama Fleea, and Just Sue.

Trail:

I wasn’t there for trail but when I rolled up to the bar the entire pack had already arrived, the hares were still laying trail, and Goat F*cker & G*y Matthews Lamb had disappeared into the night in search of the long lost hares. Soon enough the hares gleefully trotted into the bar from the second beer check, which apparently was a quant intimate rendezvous between two consenting adult aged hashers because the rest of the pack just assumes the trail ends after the first beer check. In my day you followed trail until it was finished, because you always hoped another beer check, shot check, playground check, shiggy, or random bar with strippers (especially in Penns Port). Regardless, upon what I gathered from second hand accounts, trail was long, there were circle jerks, crazy back checks and the pack turned lazy halfway through.

The Circle

Hares: Rear Eng*neer & Uncle B*d Touch

VIRGINS!… Just Colleen and Just Tony, who were lured in by T*ts of Steel. Just Amanda and Just Dave, who were brought by our visitor Mama Fleea. Finally, Just Sue was brought by Punany Puri. (I know, I was surprised too)

VISITORS!… Mama Fleea, who sung us a wonderful rendition of ‘My name is Jack!’

First In/Last In: I Scream For Eye Cream, the Hares (Rear Eng*neer & Uncle B*d Touch)

Comes Latelies: Post Anal Drip

Autohashers: Bonzai Bush and One Inch In

Accusations:

Short Distance Rimmer for MEOWing as RA (note: he was jumping around all nimbly bimbly and drinking milk from a saucer with Chickenf*cker)

T*ts of Steel for pointing out Uncle Bad Touch’s back nipples instead of playing with them.

Uncle Bad Touch for having nipples on his back.

Son of a Goat F*cker & Gay Matthews Lamb for agreeing to go on a fool’s errand and search for the hares.

CYHMN / Chef Boy or Horse for bringing the hash to a false irish bar. (They had beer & scotch, I still do not completely understand this accusation).

I Scream for Eye Cream for being a whiny little chickenf*cker.

Son of a Goat F*cker inevitably was thirsty.

Announcements:

GREEN DRESS THIS WEEKEND!

If you didn’t register for Stinko, you missed it.

Overheard at the Hash:

‘Oh yeah, well go f*ck yourself’ – SOGF

Meow-On

One *nch In

So I am really enjoying my election to mismanagement so much so that this week I get to enjoy being on-sec as well as RA. Therefore, you all get to enjoy my recounting of this week’s hash without a net, notes, or proper grasp of the English language. (I apologize in advance to all grammer freaks out there.

So allow me to recall who was there… ahhh

Sleeps Around the C*ck, H*ld the Sausage, Rear Eng*neer, Mr. Snuffleupam*ff, One *nch In, Tube C*ck, Seizure T*ts, Working G*rl, Uncle B*d Touch, Short D*stance Rimmer, Son of Goat F*cker, Where’s My Vag*na, H*-Hi, A new transplant from Okinawa, Dr. Squ*algood (eventually snuck in post-circle), Just Mike,  Just Dan, and Just Tom (I really have no idea, my bad.)

… If you were there but not up there (?), just accept it. This is what happens when on-secs are on vacation.

Trail:

So after we tore ourselves from some of the most amazing tater tots in Philly, the pack ventured out into a brisk Smarch night. The trail wound around and through the most r*pe-tastic alleys and historical parks of Old City eventually leading down into the underground tunnels of the city. Now, let me say it is not unheard of for the mob to travel underground in the subway system on occasion, however, this night we hit a record. We managed to travel all most full mile underground until the hare encountered the local underground law enforcement who, as usual, were not too happy about the idea of laying trail underground. So the pack was ejected back into the cold. Luckily, it was only about a two blocks away from the beer stop at the oldest ale house in the city. After Tube C*ck regaled us with a few stories of the second most popular Canadian past time of f*sting, the pack was on-in back to everyone’s favorite hipster basement to sneak some of dad’s PBR pounders and tater tots.

The Circle

Hares: Short Distance Rimmer

Virgins: Just Ray (?), Just Frank (?), Just Bill (?)… if you have a better guess what their names were, let me know…

Visitors: Something or another from Okinawa, welcome to the new transplant

First In/Last In: Son of a GoatF*cker / W*rking Girl… Seriously, he was. She decided to hold the door for himself and then got confused when he never walked through.

Comes Latelies: Ho-Hi

Autohashers: ahem… they disappeared before circle began.

Accusations:

Visitor… for escaping Japan

Uncle B*d Touch for letting everyone know that f*sting reminded him of grade school.

Tube C*ck, Visitor, Just Bob (?) for impersonating Where’s my Vagina

… this carried into a bunch of when one virgin drinks all virgins drink

Short D*stance Rimmer for getting more flour on his pants than on trail. But in his defense, he had to do a taste test for the police.

Rear Eng*neer for a false accusation. How could you expect a virgin to get a name right when veterans can barely remember another hashers name in the morning…

… There were some others but at this point, I would have to drink several PBR pounders and put on awkwardly tight jeans to remember…

Announcements:

Rear Engineer will be putting on a “3 In the Rear” hash in April 14/15/16.  Start limbering up now.

Overheard at the Hash:

Hasher 1: That reminds me of grade school

Hasher 2: F*sting reminds you of grade school.

On On

One *nch In