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-----Original Message-----
From: [mailto:[email protected]]
Sent: Sunday, January 02, 2005 1:06 PM
To: '[email protected]'
We arrived promptly at 1:20 for a 1pm start. January 1st, 2005, the 25th annual New Year's hangover hash! The start was at the Northwest Mall parking lot near 18th & 610. At first, It looked like more of PC hash than a hangover hash, someone note there were only 3 split-tails in the group.... Then (1:35) all hell broke loose, Gonad and his merry band of revelers showed up (Rubbin, Pumpme, Sex Comber, COD, Donut Holer), Heartache, Hooter Bill, Hairy Bellefonte, Dude Where's my Car, Finger, Fuck, RB & Stinky, and Michelle (don't remember if she has a hash name) who's first words as she was getting out of the car were "I've got to stop drinking, I've been drinking for the last 2-1/2 days!"....
All was right with world as the pack took off on trail, until I looked over at Mr T who was looking kind of woozy. I asked him if we could get him anything and he said he'd be alright. About 5 minutes later, he passed out. Donut holer kept him from hitting the ground. COD's breast kept him alive. He had his head buried in COD's breast. COD and a host of others, all held him until the ambulance showed up, he was in an out and really not looking good. They quickly got some O2 on him, which seemed to help a lot. Pump me rode with "T" to the hospital, followed by Cums Happily in Halfmoon's urban assault vehicle.
Shaken, but not stirred Halfmoon & Gonad drove Mr T's car to the OnOn and waited for the pack to arrive in between updates from PumpMe at the hospital. The OnOn was at Roadkill's house, off 18th, inside the loop.
The next excitement came when the hares (WHP, Dry Hose, and Road Kill) screwed up the keg. Or, should we say, trusted Tony K's, who screwed them. The tap didn't fit the St Arnolds amber Slim keg. Apparently Slims have a different tap size. Roadkill ran over to the brewery in a panic in search of the right tap. He return frustrated, "cut it" someone yelled. Someone trimmed the rubber fitting off the tap and we made it fit. YEAH!!! ...on the next fiasco and the naming of the run, the push button on the end of the hose would not shut off the flow of beer. You had to let the pressure in the keg run out before it quit flowing, then it just drip drip dripped. The hares were pronounced "Incontinent", and later forced to do a down down for such an egregious offense against beer.
Did Road kill get floured for first run? Yes he did! ...with 25 lb. bag, curtosy of Dry Hose, his trustworthy (HA!) co-hare.
Halfmoon brought back some loud-ass firecrackers back from New Year's Eve @ Crystal Beach and lit an entire pack a couple of times during the middle of a down down, including the hares, RoadKill, and Rain Bitch. Rain Bitch got so excited she started jumping which only stirred up the pack causing one or two to jump up near her privates... Fire! Bang! Fire Bang! ...next thing we knew, RB had a hole burned in her shorts and a 1 Degree burning on the upper thigh.
Lastly out of Halfmoon's bag were some big "rockets"! (Bottle Rockets are "illegal" in Texas, however, for $3, you can get a pack of 4 one-inch diameter big-ass "missles"). Gonad insisted his crotch could fire a shot over the neighbor's house. The circle huddled in the corner while Will He Peter lit the missle sticking out of Gonad's zipper..... There was a hiss, a fizz, a spark or two, and nothing. Gonad fizzled! The missle drupped, still in the zipper, never traveled an inch... The truth was told.... Michelle could only giggle! You had to see the look of astonishment and dejection on Gonad's face, "this never happens to me!". Stay tuned for the Picture of the Week! Un-phased, Gonad downed a viagra and insisted we give it another try! YES!! This time, the missle did shoot over the neighbor's house! Life was good.
My last memory of Road Kill's backyard is WHP telling me how great black-eyed peas were and trying to force me to eat them. ...if they're so great, how come you only see them once a year?!
We got the call from the hospital... MR T WAS OK!!!! They claimed it was just dehydration ?? And were releasing him to go home. A big group of us headed off for Kaneyama's Sushi on Westheimer, near Mr T's house.... Cums Happily and PumpMe dropped off Mr T and rendezvoused with the crowd now gorging themselves with the ocean's finest. We celebrated Mr T's safe return home.
The Incontinent Hash was over, we went home.
OnOn
Halfmoon
We took off down Hempstead Highway and ran FOREVER in what seemed like a
straight shot to St. Arnold's. Would they take us in after the 1:15 p.m.
cut off time? After all, we're hashers, they have to! So Heartache, Grind
Slut and Catamite started running there.
The rest of the pack decided to FOLLOW FLOUR, and headed into a neighborhood
in dire need of some gentrification. Balut, Stinky, Dude, Where's My Car?,
and Harry Bellyfonte and I ran until we ultimately got to a ditch in the
back of the neighborhood, passing along the way a pit bull puppy who wanted
to come run with us, and explaining to Hooter Bill that everytime we
whistled, we were on flour, which he was having trouble seeing.
The pack ultimately ended up in a warehouse district, and at that point,
Catamite came whizzing by. We went in separate directions checking off a
check, and Catamite paralleled the pack as he could hear the whistles. I
would have been in front if Catamite wouldn't have taken the short cut that
pays off when we ended up at the Frontage Road for I-610.
Flour was hard to see under the overpass, so Catamite takes a left, and I
take a right, ending back on trail. Stinky and Silent Dick are behind me as
I am whistling at every blob of infrequent flour (reference earlier note
about Hooter having trouble finding flour).
We got stuck by a train, but when it passed we went through the crossing
guard arms (is that what they're called?) and waved at the Choo Choo
Engineer. Too bad Choo Choo wasn't there. It would have had some poetic
irony to it.
The trail continued to the left, and if I didn't have so much trouble
finding flour, I would have, as Hooter Bill likes to say, "won the hash".
I've got to do pseudoephedrine before a run more often.
The trail went into a neighborhood, and within minutes, finished at
Roadkill, Too!'s house. As Halfmoon said, the beer dribbled, but hashers
fixed it, and we had a great circle that EZ Fag RA'd. He's RA'd the past 3
or 4 January 1st Hangover Hashes, and he did a fine job with the circle.
Will He Peter made some FINE blackeyed peas, and even had some vegetarian
blackeyed peas for the vegans in the hash, i.e., Hooter Bill. Screw you,
Halfmoon! Blackeyed peas taste great!
And screw you again, Halfmoon for almost burning the hairs of my dickey
die-dos! They'll never hang down to my knees again after yesterday!
And again, thanks to all who took care of Mr. T. yesterday.
Rain Bee-Yotch
