Hared by Letch, viagra 100mg Old Faithful and Will he Peter

Run Stats:
Virgins – 8
ReBoots – 24
Visitors – 0
Total Hashers – 117

Quote of the run:
Unladen Swallow (formerly Just Sherrice) — “Just swallow it. That’s what I always do.”

The hounds are off towards downtown!

It was a sultry 100 degrees at the start of last Sunday’s run. A paltry, humid, sun beating down your neck kind of day that attracted 24 re-boots to return! Your hares Will He Peter, Old Faithful, Digital Input, and Letch laid down a nice urban trail through midtown and downtown, complete with the Great Disappearing Check/False Mark 2010. The entire pack kept mostly together through the first quarter, catching one another at checks, falses, and backchecks, but the hounds lost the scent right near the downtown Hilton. Some wanker decided the big fat flour “F” was too great a distraction from their loitering around a bus stop, and kicked out any sign of the mark. From there, most of the pack assumed the mark was a check, and proceeded to meander around Main Street, smelling the delicious turtle check to come.

But there was no flour. There was no back check. There was only the sounds of downtown and several Harriettes eagerly ogling the newest Forever 21 store in City Center. And yes ladies, it is awesome. Those of us with enough talent and brains to find the turtle check (a.k.a. to know downtown and that the hounds either chose The Brewery Tap, Saucer, or Warren’s), decided to hike down Main and see what we could find. While the FRB’s and r*nners lost themselves heading south, Sticky Lips caught wind of the ploy and shot off with Platerpuss’ new boots toward the Saucer.

And guess who was already there? A bunch of freakin’ shortcutting b*stards like Grind Slut and Ass Wipe, sipping their pre-ordered drinks in the shady lounging area outside. Honestly, if you’re going to go straight to the turtle check, at least buy us a pitcher! Ass Wipe appeased the hashing gods by blowing his whistle several times to alert the lost hounds to our location. We were all in luck as it was $3.00 Texas Pint Day at the Saucer and as Mama’s Boy put it, “Oh hell yeah.” Dickrectionally Challenged, back from the charmingly southern nuptials of his new daughter-in-law and the son he adopted from the wild, decided to also partake in Texas libations. We all noticed the bartender had a particularly sour look on his face either from Mama’s Boy or Dick’s man sweat, or from the fact that the Saucer was out of most St. Arnold’s beer. Either way, he stole McPisser’s change and the hash was not amused.

Spank Bank's "Singing in the Rain" rendition.

The turtle check slowly grew dark. The wind began to blow. Just Cathy entertained us with a rendition of “Singing in the Rain” and Loofah took pictures for his “private” collection. Then the storm clouds blew in and within seconds a goosh of rain drenched all the hashers and Old Faithful’s plans for the next leg. While some hashers weren’t pleased with merely running to the end (Dick Assley, new boots, et al.), most hung behind to watch the fools try and find trail in the rain. They returned 15 minutes later to meet up with the pack and jog straight down Main to our On-In.

You guessed it! Allen’s Landing! No dead bodies this time, though we did have a down-down for past eye witnesses. Instead, we ate delicious brisket, vegetarian lentil soup (Ass Wipe?), and Hooter Bill was too full for anything besides a little Lonsetar. Two kegs, one of Full Sail, and a bunch of dripping hashers later, Rain Bitch took full swing of the circle, echoing out amongst the hounds and hobos alike. A few worked up enough muster to grab themselves a plate of food and watch me try and wiggle my way from my drenched sports bra. It was also refreshing to see the entire hash partake in my quick change and chant for boobs. Thanks for paying attention everyone – now mind your own f*cking business!

Heartache and Pussy Checker stayed aloft while Rain handled accusations on/from Hairy Bellafonti, Pound Puppy, McPisser, and more. We were blessed with the presence of twins! Just Sherrice was ready to be named since her attendance last December, but since she hadn’t done anything stupid. We waited at the ready for any slightly dirty words. Just Cathy commented that she, “Threw up in her mouth a little” and Sherrice retorted with, “Just swallow. It’s what I always do”. And so Sherrice was named “UnLaden Swallow” for her average airspeed velocity if only dependant on the amount she will swallow that day.

Ass Wipe waxing poetical

On-on-on to the brewery tap for good beer, a good chess match, and a giant penis shirt from Hooter Bill. Manstration said it more poetically, but all in all, a great run!

On-On to Sunday!
EZ 2 PLZ