Hares: Beats My Meat and Really? F*ck! with help from outgoing Mismanagement

The day began partly cloudy and nice, as the pack descended on scenic Friendswood, for the annual Erections hash. Our hares, Beats My Meat and Really? F*ck! laid the trail, that promised fun, and adventure. The storm clouds began rolling in just as the chalk talk started, lowering the temperature to a comfortable level. With a lengthy chalk talk over, the pack took to the trail by storm. Except for a small problem: the pack was unable to find the trail start! For better (or worse) a thunderstorm descended on us in full fury as we went back to get help on the actual start of the trail.

Whatever pack that was together at the start, quickly became fragmented. It took great effort to find the trail marks, as the flour got wet, and was kind of hard to find, when looking for it (speaking of which, I never saw any promised TP trail marks…). But like any “good” hasher, we persevered and were able to find trail, and even got the entire pack together.

Footing was treacherous near Clear Creek, as one slip on the mud, would probably send you sliding right into the drink (where you might actually be drier). We trudged through the mud, splashed through the puddles, and were thankful that it wasn’t hot. The lightning, however, left a not so good feeling.

In one of the areas that we literally *lost* the trail, Your scribe, Will He Peter, and McPisser engaged in a little light hearted dive/slide on the standing water in the grass. Some, like myself, glided through the water gracefully, wheras Mc Pisser literally belly-flopped. WHP, for the record, did get a nice distance, well better than McP anyway…

After that little interlude, we did find trail after a long check, and followed the trail, right back to the START! Mass confusion arose, as we had trouble finding which way to go. Eventually we found a trail (walker’s trail) and headed over to the beer near, which was at the hares’ house. The food was hot, the beer cold, and the hashers were all wet.

Beats My Meat rolled out some of his homebrew (really good), and a leftover keg of trouble, I mean St. Arnold’s Spring Bock, from the previous week’s campout.

Mama’s Boy called his last circle to order, and brought out last year’s Mismanagement for the last time. The new Mismanagement 2009-10 was introduced. The poor bastards that were elected were:

Joint Masters: Lube Job and Estrus
Hash Cash: Pull the Plug and Beats My Meat
On-Sec: Really! F*ck? and Platterpuss
Religious Advisor: Butt Pirate

Butt Pirate assumed control of what would be a raucous circle. Two namings happened: Just Eric became Baryshnocock for has dancing abilities, and for apparently being in the pool (the water was cold, apparently). And Just Sam, for his resemblance to Jared from Subway, became Five Dollar Foot Long (and I now have that song in my head).

Circle over, those still standing found their way to the Fox and Hound for the on on on, where there was more food and beer, and other extracurricular activities, which will live on in unrecorded Houston hash posterity…

Let’s just say, it was a good thing that the following day was a holiday (for some of us at least)…

Your Scribe,
Platterpuss