Hares: Death Cab For Booty and Ring of Fire

This week we found out that DC4B is an ambitious hare. Perhaps too ambitious. In a financial squeeze, she set out to lay a trail whereby she might break even instead of going into debt. How is this done? Buy cheap shit at Costco, the Dollar store, and the Spec’s cash discount. It also helps if almost all your beer is donated leftovers. It’s been done before! One might also save on flour by laying a mercifully short trail in the peak of summer. But that didn’t happen. Evidently, laying trail with Ring of Fire is such a pleasure, the miles just melt away behind you with minimal effort. Trail, in fact, was more than 7 miles of pavement with a bit of shiggy for good measure. Many of the marks were mere sprinkles dusted from a moving car in the middle of the road. Last minute trail changes and FRB zenning caused many hounds to do parts of trail backwards and retrace their steps to trustworthy flour. To their credit, the hares managed mobile beer and water checks, that all might hydrate properly.

Some nice initial shiggy yielded an arrow across the bayou, and the pack resorted to crossing a high speed bridge without shoulder nor sidewalk to trace the bayou’s opposite bank. Going the wrong way through Fonde park yielded a view check at the Orange Show. Was it worth it? Hey, I’ll take a gander at some upcycled carney horror house some day when it’s not 100 degrees, thanks. Dollops led under 45 and through a fancy neighborhood, and it had a hill! Then back along the bayou through a shitty neighborhood. Seriously, why do people toss all their garbage where they hang out? After proceeding through Gragg Park and across a creek then through the ghetto then pounding pavement back to the start, exhausted and sweating hashers were treated to cake (more flour left unused) and of course regular snacks and beers. At least there was shade now.

CIRCLE

Duly Erected Religious Advisor Platterpuss gathered his congregation with a tune about how he doesn’t want to join the army. Guess it’s an army of none. Naturally the hares drank first for their travesty of a trail. Do be honest, they got off pretty lucky. This was certainly not a Little Pussy situation, though. Naturally part of it is being so good looking. But no one died and there was beer. Nonetheless, they were not iced and scarcely drank at all. Virgins followed, many of them sponsored by the hares. Why would you inflict such punishment on your own, unknowing companions? The highlight among the reboots was Just Chris who was injured but somehow also fighting crime? Visitors featured Solar and What’s His Name. Seriously, his name is What’s His Name. What could be confusing about that? It’s like a Mobius strip. The lone transplant was Itchy Twitchy Twat from Austin, where all wonderful things come from. The RA himself earned his 250 run dog tag. Birthdays included the hare Ring of Fire, GPS‘s twin kiddos, Grind Slut‘s 24^th hashiversary (3 weeks in a row and counting), Zoltan‘s 20^th hashiversary, and Just Quinn. With usual business wrapped up, the floor was open to accusations!

Of course things started with the hares, as Ring of Fire declined to demonstrate how to wash a car at the start of trail. Anything look like that just got to be names Lucille! Whale’s Vagina drank for his kickass pedo trail treasure: a Kid’s Day hat and unsettling paper mask. Where are we, Super Happy Fun Land? He drank again as part of the three amigos with Barbie and Roadkill for accepting the DFL shuttle from the hares at the end of trail. An outright lie, also a comfy ride. Arriving at the boob check on trail, Just Tiffany kept her shirt on, offering only to show her girls to the other Just Tiffany. When offered the opportunity to flash ATV at circle, she declined again. Perhaps she needs only a pint full of lager. Just Jake drank for wearing his shorts on backwards for the whole of trail, or for doing a really faithful Kriss Kross impression. Obviously, he shits on the fly. Some old people, and also Slumbag drank next for having an oldest hash shirt contest. Remarkably, Hooter Bill was not the winner. During the next down down, noted terrorist pantsed Rancid Asshole decided to pants Roadkill in front of everyone. It’s a marvel more chucks were not upped at that point. Circle devolved into some seriously ultralame bullshit at that point. At this point, late arrival Back Seat Yogurt arrived in the circle (where there was no more beer) after running all of trail by himself. After Just Jake sprung a bloody nose because he saw a hot girl in an anime, it was time so swing low and GTFO.

ON ON ON

The on after was at Urban Cocksucker‘s The Den on the campus of UH. Did you know he’ll kick you out if you try to karaoke Muskrat Love more than two times?

ANNOUNCEMENTS

• Mosquito trail wednesday, courtesy of Booby Trap

• Kickball vs. HARRA on Friday. Prepare to kick ass.

• Cycho hash on Saturday

THIS WEEK IN HASHTORY

• 1993 – Founding of Tirana, Albania Hash House Harriers

• 1994 – Satisfied with his shirt collection, Hooter Bill never clothes shops again

• 2012 – Rancid Asshole loses Blow Hole’s bra.