Courtesy of: Notorious Goose Grinder, Booby Trap, , Suture, Platterpuss, & Ass Swipe

Finally, an excuse to cross-dress! For the hounds at least. For the harriettes, it was an excuse to wear more red than would have been considered tasteful for a 1930s candystriper. Yes, it was that special time of year when the hash would sashay its way through town in an unadvertised attention whore parade. This was no easy task for the hares, however. When trail was first announced, a whopping five hares were involved. As the days passed, however, the onerous expectations for such a laborious trail weighed to heavily upon Notorious Goose Grinder and Booby Trap, and they were forced to bow out. This placed the burden of haring squarely upon the broad, muscular shoulders of Comma Suture. Also, the quarreling lovers Ass Swipe and Platterpuss. This year, they started the trail at Houston’s X-dressing headquarters, Griff’s irish pub.

Initial reactions to trail were less than positive, as it was promised to be Heartache-free. The intractability of flour and frigid temperatures sent him home early, nonetheless. After milling about and dynamic stretching (i.e. hackey-sack) for an extended period of time to allow for admiration of everyone’s lovely gowns and a live-hare head start, the pack was off chasing pink flour through the Montrose district. Heyyyyyy! The trail was a strict pavement-pounder, providing scant opportunity to ruin one’s dress but ample opportunity to confuse and titillate passing onlookers. After a strenuous couple of miles, the beer check was found at Little Woodrow’s. From there it was more leisurely strolling until a particularly troublesome check was found. Following agonizing minutes of mindless wandering, true trail was found in a three-point turn direction from the check’s location. After flirting with the notion of heading downtown, flour guided the pack further north to the Beer Mile location, where the precious BN was spied en route to ON IN. Praise G in Heaven, for there were canned beer, salty snacks, and dry clothes!

CIRCLE

With vessels charged and dispositions mellowed, duly erected Religious Advisor Ramrod corralled his congregation with some help from Mr. Banglestein. No big surprises here, the hares drank first. They were followed by an awesome octet of virgins:

• Just Travis, brought by CSI, likes pigs

• Just Michelle, with “Backwards Cowboy”

• Just Melinda, her son made her come

• Just Matt, with Just Megan, likes whales

• Just Anna-Claudia, with Virgin Mary, likes golden lion tamarinds

• Just Nancy, with Virgin Mary, likes virgin daiquiris

• Just Chris, whose father was a rugger

• and Just Catherine, whose dog is allergic to peanut butter

After a huge fuck-off list like that, the reboots had no chance of topping it. The highlight of their lot was the excuse of Just Allison and Suckajawea, whose could not bear to miss live telecasts of professional American football. Somebody teach these ladies how to operate a DVR. The only visitor was Outside Cat, a self-avowed ginger come down from Dallas. The lovely transplant was Virgin Mary, as in Just Mary, not the other lovely transplant Virgin Mary. Everybody clear? Good. Anyway, Virgin Mary hails from that open-air loony bin of a state, Florida, where they don’t drink their down downs, they chug ’em. A trio of birthdays followed: Just Phom, Hindlegs, and Twinkle Toes all turned legal for Saudi-Arabian pornography. Awards were distributed to 1 Eyed Snake Charmer and Whale’s Vagina (25 runs), and Jizz Hands for his 50^th. They were all encouraged to get a life. At last usual business was complete and accusations could begin.

Hasty clothes-changer Whale’s Vagina drank first for being inexperienced at bedressed urination, and forgetting to pull up his skirt while peeing. He stayed in circle for his kickass Optimus Prime mask that he FOUND on trail and definitely didn’t beat up a little kid for. Details on what songs were sang are scant, as the substitute On Sec merely doodled genitalia in the Official On Sec Notebook. Jizz Hands enjoyed the next down down, for getting a little too into character and squealing like a girl. Defloured live hare Comma Suture drank next for wearing her mother’s Spanx^TM. ICP then drank for having smoothly shaven legs. It must have been an epidemic of underwear theivery, if walkin’ round in women’s underwear is to be believed. Blow Hole and Whale Tale, who are apparently twins, demanded a down down with Just Matt, who they claimed as a missing triplet of clan Cheney. Unlaiden Swallows was naturally distraught at being kicked out of the family. With no tiime to spare for ultra-lame territory, Can’t Hack the Sack was recognized for her sage, Rice-steeped advice for those seeking pee pee privacy, “just have some class and go in the dumpster!” Some things you only learn from experience.

The day would not have been complete without a naming. Native New Yawker Just Bernie was back from his business travels, but was not sporting any comely ladies’ wear. He replied that he wears dresses on a regular basis, but treated the RDR as opposite day and opted to wear traditional men’s athletic sportswear instead. The hash perceived this casual transvestism as ostensible proof of habitual homosexual intercourse, and bestowed upon him the name of Takes It In The Bronx. Cuntratulations! Keep the other suggestions of Wonderbro and Queens (of the Bone Age) stowed for later use. There was only beer left for one more accusation: Thrilligan’s Three Hour Whore drank for trying to sell his “hands-free” finger paintings. After a hot mess like that, it was time to swing low and GTFO.

RELIGIOUS ADVISOR’S CORNER

There is some confusion about Walkin’ Round In Women’s Underwear. Let it be printed here that all might forget the words no more forever.

To the tune of Walkin’ In A Winter Wonderland

Lacy things, wife is missin’ / Didn’t ask for her permission

I’m wearing her clothes, silk panty hose / Walkin’ round in women’s underwear

At the store, there’s a teddy / Little straps like spaghetti

It holds me so tight, like handcuffs at night / Walkin’ round in women’s underwear

At the office, there’s a guy named Melvin / He pretends that I am Murphy Brown

He says “r u ready?”, I say “whoa, man” / Let’s wait until the wife is outta town

Later on, if you wanna, we can dress like Madonna

Put on some eye shade, and join the parade / Walkin’ round in women’s underwear!

ON AFTER

The On On On was at, of all places, Griff’s. Reconnaissance was limited but initial reports indicate that Comma Suture and Whale’s Vagina whooped some asses in corn hole. That means precisely what you think it means.

ANNOUNCEMENTS

• Want to make a lot of money, win the respect of your peers, and have intercourse with attractive members of the opposite sex? Give up on your dreams. Celebrate by haring March 3.