*We started the night by writing on Goose*. As we begin to pre-lubricate ourselves for the hash at hand strangers quickly became close friends as we admired our shared laziness and ability to cut holes in trash bags. *I'm wearing an American Flag Speedo* said one hasher, as if we hadn't all already noticed his come hither bulge. *I just made my own nipples hard* said Gay Matthews Lamb, clearly trying to play off that the real source of his diamond nips wasn't the *DICK 3------D * strategically placed on Goose to make people *Touch me in my naughty places*. "CHALLLLLKKKKK TAAAAALK!!!! Saved by the bell this time GML...
As we stood outside in various stages of clotheslessness we quickly shattered the myth that *Hoes don't get cold*.
*Lick me please*! Said one hasher to another in an attempt to find relief in the warmth of a tongue. *Put Mouth Here*. Clearly, we had reached a level of hypothermia where forming complete sentences was no longer an option. In as last ditch effort to warm up, we were on out!
Making our way through the city, it wasn't long before we came to our first song check. It was there, with no *Cause* in sight, that we knew we would need a song that would last. "Does anyone have a note for this song check?!" we shouted "I know a One Direction song!" said another, which was quickly shot down because *One Direction Makes Me Horn-Y* It was then when he showed up. Our savior, *Weird Al Spank-a-bitch - Runner of song circles*. "*Elvis Lives!*" "*Open your mouth* and sing us a song!" And sing us a song he did! A mere 45 minutes later we were back on trail.
Thirsty and unable to go on, we knew we were in trouble. What kind of *mAlice* hares would make us go this long without beer?! But like a mirage in the distance,
Race Street Pier ah..... piered. *Put the lovin in the mouth!* we cried as we guzzled down Twinkle Juice, admiring its *Exquisite mouth feel*. As the liquor warmed our trash bagged bodies and souls we could feel it *Make my Oscar less grouchy*. Shouts of *Grab me by my...* *Slap my booty!* and *Touch me!* filled the air.
But of course there's always one nay sayer in every group killing the vibe... *The clitoris is a lie made up by women to control men*. Someone scoffed.
*Did you vote for Trump?* another inquired. But have no fear! Just Imoni to the rescue showing us that *Black boobs matter!* We all *Smile for flash* And with that, we were off!
As we made our way On-In, *I Farted*. Prompting some to say *This is his butt, hehe* making the sound of a goose. And everyone knows *Geese love Ganders*.
Arriving back at Paddy Whacks we were confused to find a bunch of Villanova wankers had taken over our On-After space. *Hello, my name is Rupert* said one of the boat
shoes wearing trust fund having bar thiefs. "The manager gave your bar to us!" *He did what to who?!* We cried! "Where are we going to eat, drink, and be merry?!"
I knew *If I were a chicken I'd eat that*, but that was clearly no help here. We politely told Paddy Whacks to *Have a great summer!* as we made our way to Johns Bar and Grille for circle shenanigans and BEER!
I think it goes without saying that we all learned a very valuable lesson that day: *Ohio. Heart of it All!*
Post-Traumatic Goose Disorder / Post-Traumatic Goose Disorder's Costume