Wednesday, May 15, 2008

When I think of the hash, I think of the corporate headquarters of a childcare company.  That isn’t just me.  Duals lives with two children.   Anyway, trail was set to start out of the back lot of the corporate hq of Minnieland.  Which is either the 1-900 Fingered uses to get his ladies, or a childcare company.   We had a solid pack.  Not as many as last week, but I hear a lot of people wanted to go to Great Falls…What?...Seriously?...Man, if I were one of them I’d be offing myself right now.  Have you ever wondered what its like to carry the hashit for an entire year?  Your welcome.  Hares were away on time-ish, and I was apparently supposed to run Father Abe and get the pack away on time.  Fat chance.  We got to Father Abe a little late so I rushed it.  Apparently, “Father Abe, 7, left, right, WALKING.”

I took the low road, the experienced hashers took the high road.  They were right.  Trail went up a short hill, through a gas station and then back across the trail I’d already left.  After some course correction I was r*nning after Molly Hatchet and Wanks My Wonka. 

Trail headed down hill for about ¼ of a mile before turning abruptly left.  By abrupt I mean basically a U-turn.  Molly did NOT approve.

She Fingered Me, Wanks My Wonka and I continued on trail while Molly ranged off trail.

We followed trial around in a big loop and out to a construction site.  At a couple points I was joined by the likes of Doc Strangelove, Ultraman, Chases the Beast, and Assholio.  After some very good intersections we came upon a great little valley that seemed to lead us right to beer check. 

Wanks found it first and Fingered rubbed Sisters On Top’s belly for good luck.  Sister’s, our first quarter hare, had led us right to beer check and even laid trail in fear as he was worried that 14k was going to descend on us.

The beer check was brilliant. Great beer and a hole that connected to China.  While Ultraman was causing earthquakes on the other side of the world, She Fingered Me was describing to Molly Hatchet how Sister’s semen had turned to dust.

It was all VERY educational. 

After a sufficient break and 3, “hey are we shitting in a Korean toilet,” jokes, we were on-on.

 Molly and I led it out and while she chose the high road, I followed trail. 

 Believe me, I was wrong.  Trail crossed and re-crossed itself before ending in a stream-bed.  At the intersection, Molly and I looked left.  Wanks looked northish and Ultraman looked right (East).  Wanks was right.  We followed him through the woods, around a little subdivision and then back into the woods.

 I’m a little hazy at this point. 

 Suffice to say that there was much running about. 

 Ultraman and I found an asphalt trail marked with flour and followed it through and through.  I followed it so far that I found a checkback 16.

 Yeah me.

 Once I corralled everyone in the checkback, Chases the Beast and Ultraman searched out the checkback rather inexpertly. 

 After some help from Wanks they found trail heading up and into another subdivision.  Wanks, Ultraman and I wheeled around and headed up and to the right in the subdivision. 

 After sometime we found ourselves back in the woods,

 At this point we met a young man that felt we might be on his property.

 Instead of being smart and trying to be nice, I reminded him that I didn’t care. 

 Apparently his gun was still at work because I survived to follow Wanks through a little gap under a fence and through to a final subdivision. 

 Wanks and I followed trail around a creek. 

 At this point, I’d been carrying the FRB vest for quiet a while and I was pretty uninterested in finishing this bullshit.

 I pulled away from Wanks and Ultraman.

 I spent some time followed Running Bare (I think) arrows until I ran into 14k running along a random construction site road. 

 Trail turned into some woods. 

 I found an onion. Yeah onions.  Then we were on-on across the road and into start/finish.

 Fingered has wandering hands.

 Just so ya know. 

On-on

Nasty Bumpo

Wednesday, April 30, 2008

I haven't been to the hash in a blooming month so coming back as a hare is doubly fun. CTD, Slit and I have come up with some things OTH4 hasn't done in awhile - we threw in some whichyways, and a lovely Turkey Eagle split. OTH4 folks were like - what the heck is going on? Whichy way - what the hell is that? It means you can go left or right - they are both true trails. Eagle trail is for tough birds only and turkey is not for tough birds. However, our brilliant plans got foibled by Retard RentACop.  
Out of start CTD and SLit had the front end of long. All I asked was if they thought they were lost head towards what used to be Cherry Hill Road. But instead they did their whichy way, the long check back into another check back on the golf course and then into what used to be almost 1.5 miles trail of woods before the developors tore it up and built a golf course no is going to use for the forseeable future since the market tanked and the backers backed out then into construction and into the muck and mire. Slit said she and CTD were standing there sort of deciding which side of the muck to go one when they heard ," ON ON".
And what does a hare do when they hear, "ON ON"?
They say, "Oh SH*T" and haul a$$, that's what they do.
At the end of their section they ran into the greens and CTD took a beautiful check back up the hill and then sort of came back down as a ploy and pretended to be slow so the FRB's could catch her. Then they got to the top of the hill and waited for all the other morons to catch up which gave Slit some time to get the beer check.
I had the back end and family trail. 
However 2 minutes into my 15 minute head start I spent 10 minutes with Retard RentACop.
I tried to be patient and make nice nice to the kid but I realized that I am just too old for that sh*t.
I do not have any patience and try as I might, I just dont do well with stupid.
So while I hear my minutes ticking away - much like my biological clock and the waning realization I will never be Miss America, I try to reason with stupid here after known as Retard RentACop.
RR drives up as I am putzing down old Cherry Hill Road and says I can't go back there it's private property.
I said,"we're just setting a running trail -we'll be done in 10 minutes"
RR - You cant be back there - it's private property,
me - yes - you said that. I'll be done quickly.
RR - I said that's private property.
me - yes, you've mentioned that.
RR - You cant be back there.
me - No? Then how come 20 minutes ago I saw two people with their dogs walking up this road. Did you give them crap or is that relagted just to me?
RR - well it's private property and we cant catch everyone. You're not supposed to be on this road.
me - why?
RR - it's private property
me - Really? Since when?
RR - you cannot be on this road - you have to be on the main road
me - says who?
RR - you are on private property
me - so I've heard. Listen, I've been running back here for 15 years - not once has anyone told me I cant. I got 25 people over in those woods coming this way and I need to tell them where to go. 
RR - they cant be back there in the woods - its private property, you have to be on the main road only
me - yes I've heard this but if its private property and you wont let me go get them how will they make it to the main road? 
RR - I dont know either but if you go back there I'll call the cops.
me - listen, if I cant go back there and you want me to get all my mates out of the woods, how do you expect me to do that while I'm sitting here playing who's dumber with you? 
RR - stares at me.I said it's private property.
me - yes, you've said.
RR - where are you're friends?
me - in the woods over there
RR - did you not know it's privte property - there's construction back there - did that not clue you in?

Stop here kids. When some 21 year old Retard RetnACop thinks he can give me the stink eye and smart mouth to boot my tryng to be nice is about as friendly as a fart from 14k after eating 15 pounds of red meat

me - Listen here. Now I said I heard you. However I cant do anything about getting my friends out of the woods until you either call the cops or get off my back and let me make some pretty drawings up this here road to get them back to the main road - as you've said. We're not hurting anything, we're not tearing up anything and when you call the cops - mention the hash and they'll tell you everything's fine. So you do what you gotta do but I got 4 minutes left on my watch and standing here bickering with someone who clearly needs some higher education is making me old and tired. And I'm out of time for this.
RR- stares at me as I am laying flour on down the road.
then I hear a squeal of tires and then I assume the cops will be round in about 10 minutes.

There's goes ten minutes that I can never have back.
And I so want those ten minutes of my life back.

So I change the back end of trail  and my turkey eagle split is shorter than I had planned but doable nonetheless. I head up into the woods and cross over what someday may very well be Heritage Loop, then over into the woods across the street and head towards CHooChoo's. I get to the top and lay a check back and head back down the hill, up a hill, down a hill, up a hill and into walkers floundering about sine I had to write a map in chalk because RR took ten minutes of my life and I will never get them back.
We eased by the sink hole in the woods that about 5 year ago used to be about 10 foot across and now is several hundred yards long, 50 yards across and one story deep.
It's sinking by the minute.
Much like my bust.
Oh - that's sagging.
Sorry.

In the end everyone makes it in.
And I get to hear the stories from hashers who really think I give a sh*t what they do on trail.
For instance, I was running and I saw you talking to the RR so I just kept going, then I went up the main road, and I saw the beer check and I came back down and POOF you were gone - just like the travelocity gnome - POOF. Gone. So I ran some more and saw more marks I hadnt seen before and then I almost caught Slit at the beer check.
Then I went to the main road saw marks that weren't there before and blah blah blah blah f8cking blah.

heres two more minutes of my life wasted and that makes a total of 12 minutes I want back.

Then I hear more from more people - well I did this and I ran into your silly check back 18 but then I was first and caught CTD and more blah blah blah blah f8cking blah.
.
3 more minutes of my life wasted.

that's a total of 15 minutes I WANT BACK!!!!

What I want to truly want to hear is "your trail was brilliant".
And remembering something I read some time ago I go to the man that will tell me that no matter if trail sucked to high trail heaven or not.
Nasty Bumpo.
But after he tells you trail was brilliant you must talk about someone's private parts.
So we discussed his moobies and mitties (man boobs and man t*tties), shared a beverage, sang some songs and off we went to our repective sh*tty lives.

On On
Duals
 

Sunday, April 27, 2008

Wankers,

Missed one hell of a trail!

Yet another day perfect for hashing, and few took advantage of it. It was a reasonably warm day, with a cool breeze, a bit cloudy, and looked to open up at anytime. Perfect!! The start was at a Catholic Church near 610, but my dumbass drove past it and continued on south to BFE. So after turning around, an making Slit make a few calls, we arrived 10 til 2pm. A meger 6 person pack was present, and two of the pack drove from Leesburg. Weren't "hashers" from Stafford and
Fburg complaing that we never come to their territory... ? So anyway the hares, Spike, A-Z, Buffalo Chips and......a late Chasin the Beast leave sometime around 2:15 and wonder off into the wilderness. A quick class for Just Bob and a quicker Father Abe from Gladiator ensued and the pack was off.
Playing in traffic immediately, we all crossed Jeff Davis and perceded down a road. Gladiator and I managed to fall on flat pavement a few times, until finding trail up in the hillside tree-line. Gockel Stumper ran the lead, and sniffed out a checkback that led us into the Yogi Bear park. As the pack bumbled into the oh so peaceful park, butting against 95 we were treated to an underwater
adventure. Well, at least Hair of the Dog was, as he face planted and submerged himself in a newly flooded drain tunnel. I think he said later, he swore he saw a true trail at the bottom. This
prompted Any Stiff Will Do to reevaulate her decision on trail, and turned back to run family. Probably wise, as the future would behold more water.
The pack, with me leading the way, ran into a check back 20. Wanks My Wonka, Just Bob and Gockel Stumper, found the trickery route and left me in the dust. We scaled a small mountain, ran through a townhome development, and back to the mud. This led us behind a damn and a wicked girls soccer game, into beer check!!!!! Yeaahhhhh Beerrr! As the packed swilled some fine hoppy brew, Just Bob asked if this was the half way point. More or less we all explained, but with Spike anything is possible. Skeptically, Bob bit the line and continued on trail with the pack. Just Bob was right, as we did another loop de loop right back to beer check...oh did I mention
there was a creek, some swamp, shiggy, two gay guys on a four wheeler, and more creek? Apparently, we were supposed to run through a horse trail, but presence of poo warded off the bewildered hare, who’s name shall not be mentioned.
So again, we enjoyed more hops and barley, went out the same tunnel, and through the marsh of stafford. This time however, trail went through a now flowing river, and caused the pack to wade waist deep.
After some considerable shrinkage, finish was ahead, and debauchery ensued. Little Stiffy made the hashit into a robot, and it was passed to Any Stiff Will Do. Her crime, not drinking out of a new
shoe, even after she ratted the guy out. Oh yeah, remember Hair of
the Dog will be sporting the FRB jacket, for sprinting to be FRB.

Awesome Trail!!! Very OTH4

On-On

AS1 (Your Scribe because the real one never shows up)

April 5, 2008

February 17, 2008 Trail #1789

Ever hear that there are 2 sides to every story?
Well here are several perspectives.

Sister's said he heard the bionic man noise de de de de de de de de just as She Fingered Me in bionic man slow motion came around the corner.
She Fingered Me said it was more like a lion on a sick water buffalo.

2 different perspectives for the same action.

As I was wheezing my lungs out on top of the huge hill about 1/2 way thru trail, I was commenting to Mother Pucker between wheezes how I was pretty sure we were gonna see Pretty Boy Spike in about 10 minutes. I imagined he didn't bother with SOT's left hand turn into the woods towards the water and instead Spike stayed on trail and got to the intersection where the lawn mower tractors are sitting. However, MP and I didn't lay any directional flour there just in case of the short cutters. But my bag was leaking.
yeah that's right.

You figure out which bags were leaking what substance.
And being the CIO of BAEsystems that Mother Pucker is - he got all mathematical/ anal - itical on me. In about 10 seconds he formed a math equation that hurt my non mathing brain. "If the hares have a run time of 11 minutes per mile, and can get 1.5 miles in 14 minutes, and the FRB’s run 9 minute miles while the hares are still running 11 minutes
per mile straight out - how many beers at the beer check will still be there by the time we get back there?"

2 different perspectives for the same action.

Hares told Molly not to take the first left turn on trail - in fact we told her the night before stay on the road - trail itself was very muddy and not stroller friendly. Molly is more a man than I am and she'll be damned if she doesn't at least attempt walkers trail. She'll push that stroller come hell or high water and no man will tell her otherwise.

2 different perspectives for the same action.

Some one asked Little Stiffy did he like trail or coming to hash. The answer - no , my mom makes me go. Come A Come A Chameleon said it was good exercise and would put hair on that kids chest.
Oh wait - that's what I tell Little Big Man all the time.

2 different Mom's telling the kids - you'll like it or else.

Honeymoon Hoover had no reason whatsoever to be bloody on trail. There were barely any branches to rip through and tear his skin to pieces. Does that matter?
Not one bit. Apparently he feels the need to bleed so he dropped himself on a bed of
rocks and thrashed around so the bloodletting would not look self induced.

1 dude, 1 "crazier than Tucker eating Ogre doodoo" perspective
Peter Puffer got shown her section of trail about an hour before start. She had a simple part and this time no Amber Alert to screw her all up. She goes 100 feet in and forgets to stop throwing flour at her designated spot as Sisters Took over.

1 woman worked up into a hare frenzy equals 10 different trails - all good ones nonetheless but none of them are the planned trail. So all this equals 10 different perspectives from the same start.

She Fingered Me said trail sucked.
Pretty Boy Spike and AS1 said they both liked trail and we definitely got them on 1 intersection where they thought we were gonna hit the road for sure.

2 different perspectives of the same trail.

14K almost ran trail.
14k sort of helped his wife and sister in law on trail with the kids.  From 14's perspective ____________ _____ makes me fart.
You fill in the blank.

Wontcha Boob My Neighbor was checking Smut before start. From the male hashing perspective - a boob is a boob is a boob. From a woman's perspective a boob equals a dumb as dirt male. A breast however can come from a chicken or can be God Given and
enhanced by man.

 

At Boob My Neighbors age - her boobs are cute and perky. Why she felt the need to compare hers to the women in the smut rags I'll never know. At my age cute and perky are as long gone as the last box of Miss Clairol is in my linen closet.

The God Given breasts must now be enhanced by man and I don't mean a
man standing behind me holding them up.

3 different perspectives on boobs from 1 woman.

Peter Puffer wore new shoes to hare in. The pack said they were new anyway. I saw piles of dirt on them. They cannot be new if they are dirty. She had to do a Cinderella down down. She took her can of beer and put the can in her shoe. The pack said pour the beer into the shoe. Is it really a Cinderella down down if the liquid is not in the shoe?

2 different perspectives based on whether you are the drinkee or you are not the drinkee.

so as you can see there are many different ways to look at things that happen at a hash.
Do you have a perspective?

On On!

Duals

February 13, 2008, Trail 1787

Version 1

Cold as a witch's t*tty.
Cold as hell.
Cold as all get out.
Whichever way you say it, it was cold out last night. Add to that 30 mile an hour winds and even SOT and 14K had a good chance of getting blown last night.

Blown away by the wind that is.

And that's a hell of a lot of blowing..... .

Hares take off at 7 and about 13 minutes later SOT did the perfect 'Ather Abe. It was about 45 seconds long with not much singing or stretching and we were off. As the FRB's walked, I waddled in my 2 pairs of pants, 2 pairs of socks, 1 bra, 1 underarmor skin tight shirt, 1 short sleeve, 1 long sleeve, 1 hoodie, a raincoat, 2 pairs of gloves, an ear bra and both my hats from both my coats. Later on I will curse my stupidity in layering up nicely. The gals were so bundled up that when we ran we looked like weeble woobles so we we weeble wobbled early and just as we caught up the walking FRB's CTD went "TWEET TWEET" and called running and poof - the FRB's were gone.
We skirted thru the new Fords over at Cowles and on up in front of DAKS here CTD had a sweet memory. She regaled us with her story of taking 14K out to dinner at Daks and proceeded to tell him that she was preggers. She said he was absolutely quite for nearlytwenty minutes.
20 minutes of speechlessness from 14K?
That was the calm before the storm.
Heaven before Hell.
Sunnyside up.
Call it what you want but once he got over his initial shock - she ended up marrying the man and has been living in her Nightmare On Elm Street ever since. TALK ,FART FART FART,TALK TALK, FART, TALK, PULL MY
FINGER, DADDY's GOTTA TAKE A DUMP WHO WANTS TO SIT ON MY LAP? TALK FART
TALK.
Yeah.
Heaven locked the gates all right.
On up the street to a check back and Pretty Boy SPike and I cross over Minniville to head down Elm Farm Road.
Well that was a bad idea - but it was our only bad idea of the night. Trail went the other way behind Lowes. So while we waitied for the cars, SPike wanted to hold my hand and I said NO.
No means NO Pretty Boy.
As everyone else headed on the right way on trail, they were gone inside of 1 minute. Not even a dimming flashlight beam to see which way they went. So we start to shortcut straight over to the new Fire Station off the Parkway. I decided now would be a good time to water the grass. So I stopped by one of those great big green power transformers - genious that I am. As I am hiking up my 5 layers of shirts with 2 pair of gloves on and then try to drop 2 layers of trow
and a sweaty wet pair of grannie pannies, little did I realize that peeing next a power transformer is probably not the smartest thing I have ever done. Suddenly thoughts of a little pee line hitting electricity then following that pee line to my hoodie doodie and who the hell needs KY WARMING JELLY after that?
I was imagining the headlines even - 40 Year Old With A Smoking Vajayjay Found.
As I was finishing showing off my smoking vajayjay to the homeless guy, Spike heads over behind the firestation and on to true trail. It hit the paths behind the station and Spike and I decide to shortcut right to the townhouses and over to the road into Dale Sh*ttyhood where the beer check is generally placed. And there stood one Hairy Palm Palms
sipping a cold one.
Spike and I took off to the right and the pack was not far behind. Apparently WHine and Cheese stopped for a beer and one of the newer hashers decided to keep on going. So as the pack sat at the beer check they let this wanker work that intersection. First left, BT, back to the intersection. The straight, BT, back to the intersection then right, and off the wanker went.
Hash smarter not harder. Let that poor bastard work it.
Trail went up a huge hill and on left into to woods behind Hoovers place.
Working on the hash smarter theory, Spike and i went straight up  Forestdale on into Finish. At Finish I decided to go back out and run until I saw the runners coming from the woods. As I was coming back in for a second time, Ass Booger and Wanks my Wonka decided that they  should keep right on going past Finish and maybe do trail again.
Good thing God loves retards..
As do I.
I called the tards back and on and into finish they went.

It all goes to show that even a really cold night can be a good night for a hash. No one wants to be there at start but at finish everyone has a good time on trail. Even retards.

On on
Duals

Version 2

What to say about Wednesday’s trails?  If you were one of the many FRBs out there you probably thought it was a great trail.  See the problem - in a nutshell - is that when you’ve got three normal FRBs (She Fingered Me, Nasty Bumpo and Hairy PomPoms) laying trail they throw 20 minutes worth of trail at their pace, that to us snails in the back is at least a 25-30 minute segment.  Throw in a bit of slush, gale force winds, some mountain climbing, and about a MILLION raging creek crossings and you’ve got Wednesday’s trail.  Not that it wasn’t a well laid trail.  There was a lot of flour and for the most part it was very easy to follow (14K wouldn’t concur as he never actually found long trail – we all missed the long-walker split right out of start, and no matter where he went he ran into walkers trail).  I considered this trail more a trail of attrition.

 Right out of start we lost 14K, as I mentioned he never actually got out of start (is anyone surprised?).  He actually got on long trail at one point and thought long trail went across the street from Cowles Ford into the big church parking lot (darn Baptists).  He spent a lot of time “boxing” in a non-existent trail and eventually went back and followed walkers into finish.  We also lost Dual Airbags at the same location as she also went across the street and never came back.  I think she also tried to box something in, but I’m not sure what – maybe she and 14 were boxing each other in???

 My memory of where the trail actually took us (behind Gators to the tunnel, behind the fire station on the other side and into some trails behind Garfield high school then into the woods of Narnia, then back onto Forestdale Blvd where I was sure we were going straight to SFM house, but no, back to the wardrobe and Narnia we went) is hazy, I do have some recollections of some funny events on trail. 

 I remember Sisters harassing Chasing the Beast about stripping in the parking lot.  I remember the hares looking really concerned when I was the only one at start less than 15 minutes before they had to leave (funny, I remember when I was considered to be a fast and wily runner and my presence scared hares, now I get apathy and a “oh, she’s just a walker” – man, walk one Wednesday trail in 3 years and now I’m a designated walker).  I remember Beastie taking off from start at a brisk pace only to realize she forgot her flashlight, which was locked up in the bag vehicle with her keys (oops).  Someone must have given her a spare because she came back pretty quickly.

 I remember seeing Duals cross Minnieville and never coming back (Baptists got her and did their own little revival on her).  I remember thinking there is no way the hares would send us into the creek and into a tunnel on a night like tonight  - I forgot who the hares were.  I remember getting down to the tunnel and surprising Beastie with not only her pants down around her ankle but her shoes off.  Not sure what she was doing (either taking off layers, or as 14K would say – taking a dump – not sure why the shoes would be off for that activity, but to each her own – I get it – did anyone notice if she had a pair of socks on when she came in?  Did she sacrifice a sock?). 

I remember crossing about 50 creeks and wondering why the hares generally picked nice deep gorges and the widest part of the creek to cross when they decided to cross.  I remember coming up to one particularly deep gorge (at least 5 feet deep with steep, slick walls – gonna be a grand canyon some day) where the hare had flour going across what I term a stick across the gorge.  I found out later that supposedly there was another stick you could hold onto to cross.  Beastie said it was there when she crossed, maybe she knocked it in after she crossed so we couldn’t tell anyone she was doing her business on trail?  I remember looking at Mother Pucker Peter Puffer and we both agreed that there was no way we were using the twig.  I eventually “broad” jumped (giggle, giggle) the gorge, and then caught granny as she did the same.  Granny Pucker is pretty spry!

 I remember doing some vertical cliff climbing then almost getting on my knees to crawl through some shiggy.   I remember coming out on Prince William Parkway and knowing I was across the street from my car with its seat warmer pre-set on high (and knew where finish was) and that we were at least a half hour behind the rest of the pack, but we hiked up our granny panties and forged on.  Did I mention that it was really cold, really, really windy and all around yucky out?  We are superstars. 

I remember some kids in a car honked at us – yeah granny still has it!  We actually thought it was hashers and since we were at an unmarked intersection (actually we never found an intersection, the trail just split in two) we followed the “hashers” up a giant hill, only to find out that it was actually just some kids appreciating our combined “hotness.” 

 I remember coming into finish after 8:30 only to find the long lost 14K and Dual Airbags already there, and circle half done.  Oh well.  At least we weren’t the last ones out there.  The hasher not to be named was out there Zen-ing the trail again and seemed to have his signals crossed, because he came in way after we did.   Circle finished up relatively quickly (our host and several hashers had an indoor soccer game that night), and it was onto the paid On-On – a 6-foot Italian sub in SFM’s kitchenette.  Great for you pork lovin’ meat eaters L  Oh well.  Anyone know where Big Dog DD was?  He rarely misses a paid On-On.  Thanks Granny Pucker for running with me – it was fun!

-CTD

February 10, 2008 Trail #1786

I had just about the most lovely weekend imaginable. On Saturday I went to MVH3. Trail was nice - however it was mostly road which was a surprise because the hares are all ultra marathoners and normal ultra marathoners don't like to road run.
I guess the operative word here is normal. Ultra runners are not normal.
Thus - the 5 mile, picturesque, hilly, road run. Then later on Sisters decided he needed to scream at me at the top of
his lungs because I finished the laundry. EGAADS. How dare I. Normally he brings laundry down and the maid finishes it. Otherwise it sits that way for days on end - unfinished and in the way of the garage door until the maid finishes it.

You have a maid??

No.

On Sunday I took Little Big Man for a driving lesson. 30 minutes into he decided that smart mouthing off to me instead of looking to his left as he pulled out from a stop sign was the proper way to drive. Apparently my telling him to remember to look left was a problem and he decided to "address it". If it weren't for the screeching the of the brakes and the honking and the 1 finger wave of the fellow that almost hit us, I would have told LBM - good lesson. Instead I decided that the lesson was over and so was LBM's ability to have long hair, a cell phone and any thoughts that he would get behind the wheel of a car any time soon. And maybe, just maybe he will be able to tell me if Irish Spring Soap really had the taste of the Irish Springs.

Just in case I wasn't sure what an ass Sister's can be, I soon found out when I wasn't finished writing down directions to start and he changed web pages. I had the nerve to set my pen down and walk away.
EGAADS.
The lesson here is when a man cant go to the hash - apparently it's OK to yell at everyone else who can.

I bet he wouldn't yell at the maid.

You have a maid?

No.

So then I get to trail. and every single person is asking me where SOT is. I could have said he had to work but since my function this weekend was the scream catcher, he could have fallen off a cliff, leapt off a bridge or gone to hell. I really didn't care where he went - the important part would have been - he left.
Hopefully he and the maid left together.

You have a maid?

No.
But I have high hopes for one right about now.

At start my beloved Spike convinces me that his trail is only 3.5 miles long. And because he had watched Mrs Robinson that very morning I decided to give him another chance.
Siiiggghhhhhhhhhhhh hhh.
My Pretty Boy Spike would not steer me wrong would he?
Siiiiighhhhhhhhhhhh hhhhh.
Well, he was partly right.
It was indeed 3.5 miles.
AT LEAST.
Normally you can gaurantee to be out 1.5 hours or more on one of his trails. And I knew it going in. But I got lucky. We were only our 1 hour and 21 minutes by my watch. Wow - trail was INDEED short. As soon as we crossed that foot bridge and entered Quantico training area I knew that we were about to know what poor Ned Beatty went thru
in Deliverance. I knew there was gonna be a pack of Lesbian Marines and they were gonna grab me and Linda Squared and make us shriek like the pigs we are. The only person the pack of lesbian marines would have left alone was Cuntry Knuckle.
And he would have been on the top of the hill smoking and smiling, smoking and smiling, then maybe smiling and smoking. His dreams would have come true. Nothing like the GHPC (Grey haired P*ssy Crew) squealing like pigs
right CK?
Well we got effed all right but not by Lesbian Marines. We got effed by the sun. Flour was there you just had to find it after 15 other people had passed over the flour on the leaves on the ground. And it was on some trees - the sapplings that had all those white dots on them and all the white dots looked like flour and we had a hard time seeing it because the sun made the dots and the flour the same damn color. It took us 25-30 minutes to get from the bridge to the actual trail where about 200 yards down where we spied a stick arrow that meant to go back in the woods.
Are you kidding me?
Go back in the woods we spent 30 minutes in where one of us would stand at the flour and the other 3 of us would fan out in every direction until found the next puff?
We hurredly nixed that idea.
One can only have so much fun before fun becomes a chore.
Much like my life.
Good thing because apparently the runners beer check had been picked up since everyone thought every one was in.
So not only are we not good enough to have been held hostage by that pack of lesbian marines but we aren't good enough to even partake in the 'runners' beer check.
Sigggghhhhhhhhhhhhh hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh .
So we took the only bottle of water left at the family beer check and left kool aid for Cuntry - he was only 50 yards behind us. And he needed a kool aid to kool himself down from his impure thoughts.
So we finally make it to the cars but little did we know we had to run another 1/2 mile to the finish.
Holy crap.
It was a great day and trail was nice.
All of it was nice.
Every square mile of training area 3 and training area 4 and almost on into training area 5 was nice.
Very lovely in fact.

Even Aunt Flow thought so.
She apparently came for another visit this month. The only thing that would have made my day is if Big Brenda had arrived for a weeks stay.
Then I would have known that I was indeed in hell.
And hells' overseer was in town to take Mrs Robinson for a spin.

on on
Duals
 

Aunt Flow’s in the House! Trail #1785

B*tch, b*tch, b*tch.
That's all some men ever do. I wish like h e double toothpicks that the earth would just make like a giant earth chocolate starfish - de pucker, then suck them in.

For instance, SFM came roaring into start in his car and pulled a pissy move. I don't know what kind of clam dug it's way up the SFM starfish hole but it apparently it was like a barnacle and dug in because he was pissy - he wordlessly dropped the books off and left. Then he came back. With a smile.
Just like that - at the drop of a hat. Molly made the comment that he went from PMS to PBS - just like that. Pre - MEN-stral Syndrome to Pure B*tch Syndrome. And just like I knew he pees like a girl. Any man than changes his mind and mood that fast MUST pee sitting down.

Tonight's run was the first annual PMS run. There were lost of firsts on trail as well. Aunt FLow, P Emmis, B.L. Oat and Cramps all thought that laying tampons like candy canes would be fun. Have you ever seen that before? And whoever came in with the most tampons would win the biggest, chocolatiest chocolate bar we could find.

Little did Aunt Flow know that B.L. Oat was gonna make most of the tampons look a tad used. They looked far too real.
Sticky, gooey red gel. They bloated up like 14K at a bar with 100 kinds of beer on tap.
As the hares took off Aunt Flow threw down one of the used tampons and A$$ Ogre though it would be funny to stomp on it. It stuck to his shoe land he couldn't shake it off. He had to - HEH GASP - touch it.
A man fetching a box of tampons at the store is basically giving up his man card.
A man touching a used tampon - well he might as well be SFM and pee sitting down.
I'd start shopping at Layne Briant or Talbots if I were as manly as them.

B.L Oat and Cramps had the first part of trail. It turns out that even if you go out the night before and walk trail you can still get lost when you're under the gun. These two hares ended up in one of the finer mobile home establishments in Hoodbridge. But unlike deer caught in headlights - they did not panic. Instead they decided to go for blood
because like any man says - anything that bleeds for 7 days and still lives is just not trustworthy.

And if we can bleed for 7 days then by God so can the men.

So thru the briars they went. And like SFM they changed their minds over and over while laying flour. Apparently they laid some on the left then zigged to the right. No - I don't like it on the right throw some on the left.
Are you kidding me?
No - put some back on the right.
I don't like it there either - lay some flour down the middle.
There - that looks nice.

I say it was "keeping the pack together" mastery disguised as madness.

While all this mastery was taking place, me and P Emmis were hauling my rather expansive arse down Capon Hill Road to where we picked up for long trail. Once we got there I d*mn near threw up all the cold air in my lungs. I hadn't run that fast since - well since I was a kid in grade school and got picked on because Big Brenda refused to sign the paper work that allowed to me watch that 1950's film about "menstration". Instead I had to go out on the playground with all the
boys. They made fun of me like you would not believe. I ran and ran and ran away from them but they wouldn't let up. That's when I learned that if you scream loudly and for a very long time they will stop dead, look at you like you were just dropped from Alien Spaceship and start quietly backing away.
They said I was being "b8tchy".

I called it mastery disguessed as madness.

And right there and then I learned a valuable lesson in how make men go away.

So we grab our stashed bags of flour and take off like bats out of hell. We lay our 9 little tampons at different parts of the trail. We hope like hell some homeless guy doesn't think one of the unused ones is a cigar. We zigged and zagged thru the woods all over the place and at exactly 30 minutes we were crossing back over Capon Hill and heading back to start for finish.
About 8 minutes later here come the first of the pack - SPike and Buffalo Chips.
Spike was worried to death about his mommy. Not once did he mention his girlfriend. I asked him if he picked up any tampons and he mention it was too hard to sniff them all and figure out which ones were mine.

Ah puppy love.
He does love me after all.

Then he asked again about his mommy and ruined all my hopes for our future. He would never leave his mommy.
I hope he takes Little Big Man under his wing and shows him the how to live at home for eternity guide.
Then came the rest of the pack.
Molly brought in some sort of abortion she found on trail. In it were about 9 used tampons all stuck together.

All I have to say is - whoever needs 9 tampons at one time needs to go have a few stitches tightened.

And because of that - Molly won the chocolate bar.

As we stood there during circle a fellow commuter pulled up and hollered ," On On you Zulu Warriors!"

We had no clue who it was but it just goes to show you that once a hasher - always a hasher.
Period or not.

on on
duals

 

Trail Trash #1783 With Dual Scribers

Hairy Palm-Palms:
Since Nasty and I got called out about five times last night for private parties we have decided to enlighten y’all as to what it was exactly that we were discussing.  You may think that we were commenting on TBOS’s beard (How gauche!) or Clitty Litter’s hat (Fabulous!) but really, we were just talking about the trail.  And what a trail it was, let me begin.  I arrived completely out of sorts, minus my regular ratty HASH shoes and my $$$ for trail.  While standing around, waiting for things to get started, I notice someone with limp wrists prancing and skipping his merry way to sign-in.  Who could it be but that friend of Dorothy, Nasty Bumpo?  Finally, hares were away, blessed for the first time ever at an OTH4 trail and everyone was standing around talking about the water-filled tunnel we were all sure we would be going through on trail.  After Father Abe, and another beer, the pack was off across a field pocked with Permanently Screwed’s balls.  Nasty couldn’t keep his
hands off them.  Across the road and into the woods like a row of ducklings we went.  After some confusion and searching for trail, I ran into a check four and was at the back of the pack.  Nasty, you ignorant slut, what in the hell was going on at the font of the pack at this point?

Nasty Bumpo:  
Before I explain proper hashing to your reprobates, I think I’ll note some differences of opinion I have regarding the start of trail.  There was never time for another beer.  I barely had time for a first beer because Hairy kept on asking about the tunnel.  Seriously, I understand why Mahotma said yes, there is just no shutting this kid up! How big is it? Will it make me wet?  Is it going to hurt?  And that was just after I explained why TBOS needed such a large glowing cock ring.  

Yea and so I remember the check back 4.  So inexpertly managed that while Hairy sat down to cry he asked Slit to go find true trail.  Which she did and took us straight to the long/walker split.  Things were sure to go downhill from here as many of the runners took the walkers trail.  Because, as you know, they’re training to be fat, old, and depressed.  I like PARTY?!?

Somehow I ended up leading the pack down a VERY long hill toward a creek bottom.  We passed a randomly placed true trail long arrow, and alarm bells went off in everyone’s mind.  Erm, half a mind.  However, as usual we skipped on towards Gomorrah because our brains were too cold and beer filled to process the information.  

Thus it was no surprise that we ran into a YBF at the top of the hill on the other side of the creek.  As I turned around and started calling out that we had to return to that pesky true trial arrow, She Fingered Me and One Pump Chump came shuffling up the hill after me asking why I was turning around.  Seriously?

On my return to the true trail arrow, I passed Hairy Palm Palms complaining about his shoes and probably disparaging retards.  This guy wants to run for public orifice?  ON second thought, the douche bag might fit right in.  Just remember, I have a wide stance.

Hairy Palm-Palms
Yes, I do have a wide stance.  I like to straddle the stiff middle of the American populace, one might say.  So there I was hanging back on the long downhill when none other than that cum-guzzler, Nasty, comes charging back up it like Teddy Roosevelt and San Juan Hill.  There was a turn at the true trail arrow and none other than 14K was following trail through the woods.  If you haven’t passed 14K on trail at some point, you probably have never done trail.  It is ritual of HASHing like making obligatory gay jokes about Nasty.  

So we twisted and turned through the woods, one of getting lost, then the other, the One Pump Chump, and we come back out onto the same road we had crossed like ducklings earlier in the trail.  From there we went straight up a cliff disguised as a grass-covered hill.  At the top of the hill was an intersection.  Nasty went right and Fingered went left.  I waited in the middle for somebody to say something.  Since that hippie-liberal-douche Nasty wasn’t saying anything at all, I knew trail must go that way.  It was the first intersection Nasty has ever taken properly.  The pack was caught up, huffing and puffing at the top of the Cliff of Despair at this point and we started a light jog in Nasty's direction.  We thought we heard someone calling out intersection up ahead so everyone stopped to see if we could shortcut to wherever true trail went.  Then the sweet call of BEER CHECK followed and a group sprint emerged.  Like flies to honey or Nasty to chocolate starfish, we
charged on in to Miller Lite and Killian's.

From there, things got a little crazy.  We went down a cleared path in the woods to an intersection that confused us all.  Some voices up ahead kept calling ON-ON but no one knew whom it could be.  Somebody in the pack thought that going back and trying to follow flour would be a good idea, but we are HASHers here people.  There is nothing wrong with following the voices of possible sirens ahead.  Instead of sirens we got Fingered Me and had found trail again which led us out of the woods and into a residential neighborhood.  At an intersection, I went straight and Nasty went right and I never saw the pack again.  Straight ahead was a BT, but Choo-Choo, right on my heels goes, it’s got to be right here around the corner.  I know where we are.  He must have since he got in to finish before me but I was stubborn, I was going to find trail and get in before everyone.  I cut right and hoped that trail turned to cut across my line.  It didn’t.  I was lost and alone.  After curling into a ball and sucking my thumb, in the distance I heard What’s a chocolate starfish?  It was Chasing the Beast, on trail.  I followed along, found the second beer check and ran in to finish.  There was a raging flamer there.  And a bonfire.  I’ll let the flamer tell you what happened with the rest of the pack from that confounded intersection.

Nasty Bumpo:
I leave it to the pubic, I mean public to decide whether I am a good FRB or just a god damn obnoxious FRB.  Just to put the lie to that whole never heard from again, bull shit, I’ll point out that I went LEFT at the intersection and straight up the former landfill hill after a short jog down a culter-sac and through a playground.  I found a true trail arrow and called it out.  I assume Hairy didn’t hear me because he was involved in a little self-fellatio on his BT slurping can get REALLY loud.  

As I was saying, I was on up the landfill hill and came out on the summit to be greeted by very little flour but a whole bunch of heavy equipment.  I believe I actually saw Jimmy Hoffa’s body up there.  Along with a baseball.  Yeah.  So I ran into an intersection and on my return from a BT I found One Pump Chump, She Fingered Me, and Slit Lightning lounging about hoping for someone to find trail for them.  So I led them around a pile of trash disguised as dirt and into an open field.  Across the field I spied a cooler.  A cooler and a Running Bare.  Beer Check numero dos, which was really just the leftovers of Beer Check NUMBA ONE, but still good.  

Running Bare had lots to say about the beauty of the night sky and it was left to one of the pack to mention that we were hashers and thus couldn’t concern ourselves with such things.  There was beer to be had and Hairy Palm-Palms still needed to get to cheerleader practice.  So, on we went.

Running Bare directed us on down the hill and against my better judgment I decided not to roll down.  After some hemming and hawing with Slit she led the way to a true trail arrow taking us back over some of the trail we’d already traversed.  Trail led us along a dirt road and out to Old Colchester where we met Spike and Choo-choo.  Based on how quickly they jumped out and the surprise registered on their faces I can only assume there was a little sex on trail by the short-cutters.  Which leads me to a question: when short-cutters have sex on trail do they shortcut right past the reach around?  Hairy, I assume you know the answer to that question.  

Anyway, we made our way into finish from there and there was much rejoicing as Permanently Screwed's bonfire was in full affect.  

Broke Back Mountaineers:
///--> Hairy Palm Palms & Nasty Bumpo ///-->