#1800 – Fiestavus 5!

Hares:  Pussy Checker, Master Chucker, Menage Myself, Snatchatarrius, Smooth Stroker, Nibble My Tits

At the request of the H4 grammar Nazis, this entire trash has been written in Comic Sans. According to Amnesty International, this is a low grade form of deliberate ocular agony and typographical terrorism. What did you expect, they’re NAZIS!

Yea, after weeks of listserv haranguing and facebook invite management, Fiestavus 5 was finally upon us. A stormy morning gave way to a classically hot and humid afternoon, in the storied wilds of Spring, Texas. A large pack, including nearly two dozen virgins, and a lovely ASSortment of roller derby girls convened in the parking lot of Club Tranz (Open all nite! VIP entrance! Wanna buy some meth?) next to Cypress Creek. At last the hares arrived, arrayed in cartoonishly Mexican raiments, promising a shiggified, shaded, muddy, sexy, profitable, air-conditioned trail. Keep in mind that the hares are known to lie. Chalk talk was held after the arrival of SPF 50 and duly elected Religious Advisor Ramrod, who were seen pushing their truck over a bridge and into a nearby alley. Evidently it gave up the ghost, by the will of a most benevolent G, only a quarter of a mile from the start. Although the exact mechanical malfunction could not be readily determined, it has been speculated that a daring and dangerous attempt at road head lead to a blown gasket. And with that, the pack was off.Shiggy was plunged into directly. Dense foliage forced the pack to nearly single file, causing a variety of log jams on true trail as the pack negotiated the obstacles. It was so bad, Heartache had to complain about how slow all the young people were going. Only the most zealous of zenners sought alternate routes through branch and vine, and many of their efforts were stymied by their r@cist ambition. Trail then flirted with the briefest bit of pavement, skirting an apartment complex. The hares had mentioned that there were prizes to be found on trail but did not mention what they were. Among these apartments some members of the pack thought they had discovered some. Specifically, Whale’s Vagina found and wore an inflatable pool floaty and a single ear of shucked corn (pronounced in Spanish as helotes or Sinaloa dildo). Likewise Jizz Hands found a plush dog toy, which many harriettes assumed was simply a squirrel he murdered on trail. Never know when you’ll get hungry out there. Also Heartache complained that he didn’t find any prizes.

Then it was time for the famous Summer Beer Check. Summer beer is an interesting concoction which a) does not taste like beer, b) is pink, and c) could get you good and drunk on a hot day if you weren’t in a hurry. Nonetheless, many hounds complained of sore tummies later on trail, Heartache certainly among them. Now the pack followed the flagging tape down some very muddy tracks. Many spills were taken and many egos shaken as the hounds trudged onward, eager for shade and beer. At last the Cerveza Proxima mark was spied. Arriving at the On In, the pack found gorged themselves on tacos, a traditional pool ending, and vegetarian jerky, which is somhow a real thing.


Well, trail was strongly advertised, well laid and attended, with good food and beer at the end, so circle should have been awesome, right? Wrong! No fault ascribed to the RA, but people would not be quiet enough to hear down downs and songs. Seriously, there is an entire trail – and the rest of your lives – to chit chat about your pointless life and boring interests! Just zip it for forty minutes at circle, or at least keep it to an imperceptible murmur. Shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up, shut the FUCK up. If your neighbor in circle is using their outside voice, H4 Mismanagement hereby authorizes you to slap them upside the head, or downside the ass, as appropriate. If this strategy proves ineffective, silencing technology may have to be escalated beyond icings and the cone of silence. Duct tape and gag balls anyone? Actually, that might be entertaining. Okay, despite all that bullshit, some things were actually recorded at circle.  

Ramrod corralled the pack with a prayer for the inebriated. After dispensing with the pitiable hares, virgins were called in. As their numbers were so great, there was no time to introduce them one by one. Instead, on the count of three, they shouted their name and favorite sexual position. It was hard to hear exactly, but at least one of them yelled “Mexican Halloween!” There was likewise a similar number of reboots, including the return of Dick the Boy Wonder, returned from his Asian voyage of matrimony. Sorry ladies..and Rancid Asshole. Birthdays, analversaries, and celebrations followed. Platterpuss received his security badge at NASA (Nepalese-American Stickball Association) thus confirming that he is, in fact working again. Every week this guy celebrates his new job, which is probably appropriate. Tale of Two Titties celebrated her naming month, an occasion that will no longer be recognized as worthy. Meatbox also drank for her fourth hashiversary. Somebody must have mentioned their spouse because the lot drank to the tune of I Love My Wife. At last all the bullshit was done with and accusations could begin.

Accusations began with derby girl Candy Coated who asked to be carried over the muddier sections of trial. Hey if you get to touch her ass in the process, that’s a fair trade. SPF 50 was next, for his broken truck. Now there’s nothing wrong with a malfunctioning car, but he forgot to ghost ride his whip! Thank goodness he had help from brother hashers. Just Bernie drank for being too damn polite to do anything stupid enough to earn him a name. Nobody even mentioned his dreamy smile and jehri-curl mop.  

The preponderance of pups at circle brought the dog owners in next. Big surprise, they drank the doggy song. Unless something funny happens, dog socials shall never be mentioned in the trash henceforth. McPisser also drank for having wiener breath, which should be an accusation at every circle, even if he’s not there. The notes are scant but apparently Unlaiden Swallows exchanged sex for pancakes, not waffles. Hash appropriate behavior? In likely the highlight of circle, Just Amanda was called in for growing weary of her sweaty running wear and changing into a revealing tribalish tunic. Also she was drinking an adios motherfucker (AMF) and was throwing up blue. True story. A naming of Sinead O’Boner (owing to her daring hairstyle) was attempted, but this was interrupted by a sudden water balloon war. Seriously. Notes were smeared and many hounds got soaked. Funny thing about water ballooning a man. It makes you sick the first time, then it gets easier until you start to need it. Wretched business, that.

After that hullaballoo(n?) a virgin was called in for wearing a shirt proclaiming him to be a geek, and thus Geek‘s biggest fan. But that’s not possible, because his biggest fan is actually one of these guys. Spin Cycle was accused of throwing like a girl during the water balloon fight (meh), and causing her top to drop, exposing breast (heh!). After denying circle a repeat showing (in view of her father in law), she was eventually topped (you know, like pantsed?) by Hole In One. Let this be a lesson to you more modest harriettes, if you don’t whip ’em out, H1N will get you eventually. Goddamn, can we give her a medal? The hares drank next for failing to bring 1800 tequila to trail #1800. At this point, shots were fired, and many tried to dunk Ramrod in the pool. For her efforts attempting to help, Roll Model took a splash in the tub herself.

Accusations began to veer into lame and ultra lame. Dogs and cats living together, pandemonium! Whale Tail, evidently unfamiliar with jello shots, didn’t know quite how to consume hers, and was content with giving it a rim job. After Missed Her Magoo drank for visibly taking a dump in the woods during circle (quite a commentary on the proceedings), it was time to swing low and GTFO.