Friends,
Our dear friend Shuttlecock (Jon) was lost yesteday, August 12th, 2013. He was riding his bicycle in Memorial Park when he was hit by a car. Please keep him and his family in your prayers. Services will be announced.
Here’s a pic from the pick-up hash in his memory.
onon
mcp
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. Continue reading
Courtesy of: Dickrectionally Challenged, Horsefli Drivebi, Spin Cycle, and Just James
How do you like your Campbells? Here at the H4 Diner (owned by Bob Wyer!) they are only served scrambled. This was the fourth one, another promise of shiggy trail and pool ending. After navigating the I-45 parking lot, imprecise Google d’erections, and sporadic sky sprinkles, hashers arrived in Pasadena prepared for a testing trail. They had boob checks and package checks to look forward to, and a beer relatively near mark to fear. Once everyone had enough time to build up a good sweat standing on hot asphalt, the hares released the pack. Flour led directly through the location adjacent to the start where many hounds relieved their bladders before trail. A piss-poor trail right away! Trail made a quick circle jerk back to the parking lot, where HD was waiting patiently and hornily next to the first boob check. Here, surprisingly, many harriettes proved themselves not to be prudes and lifted shirts with a modicum of modesty.
Flour progressed down a sunny, grassy easement thence across a dry skeeter breeder to the first beer check. From there, toilet paper led the pack through some proper shiggy, strewn as it was with strong vines, sharp thorns, and razor grass. Winding through the cattails and across some disquietingly warm, but gator free, water, flour led to the second beer check. Lagging hounds were treated to walkers’ brew: water. Some communal check solving admitted the pack across a power line easement and finally to the neighborhood of the Campbell HQ. Tracing gluten down the concrete ditch, hashers at last arrived at the beer. Here there was nourishing food, cold drinks, a shower and of course the pool. How big was the pool? Well it wasn’t big enough to satisfy everyone, but you could say it was comfortably adequate. Once everyone had a chance to pee in the pool (disquietingly warm water again…) it was time for circle! Continue reading
Courtesy of: CIA, Finger In The Dyke, and Platterpuss
Heard this one before? Texas is hot in the summer. Backyard pools can be a source of cooling comfort, especially after running a shiggified trail ‘neath an intemperate sun. Such was the promise effectively made by the hares this week. Virgins, reboots, visitors, and hounds who should have known better converged near the Ho parking lot in Memorial Park prepared for an afternoon of hashing and maybe a few rounds of Marco Polo. Chalk talk revealed a trail laid in traditional flour, as well as orange chalk, pink chalk, orange tape, yellow tape, chinese cigar wrappers, bespoke socks, and Ironman 2 dvd liners. There were so many pastel skin tones on trail, hounds might have been at a hash or Jason Collins’ engagement party. Loosed to the woods, the pack meandered through shiggy and drainage culverts leading to a long straightaway down the railroad tracks, past a bitchin’ piece of brush clearing equipment, thence across I-10. Once here, hounds ranged for minutes looking for the next dollop or tape or chevron, searching tracks and local appurtenances. Continue reading
By Booby Trap
Courtesy of: I Fucked Your Dad, Androgymouth, and Just Sean
I Fucked Your Dad fucked your dad. Yours, sometime last year. Because she CARES about Father’s Day, you insufferable ingrate. Who is your dad to resist the double onslaught of that face and ass? To celebrate, she enlisted her pal Just Sean to help her lay a trail, and Androgymouth to talk to the cops, his favorite pastime. Their trail began at 8th Wonder Brewery with a few pitchers of locally produced pilsners. Their trail ended at some sort of cooperatively owned and maintained home. In between, there was a beer check, whiskey check, and several miles of extra-hot pre-summer pavement. To encourage attendance, they promised prizes for the best dad outfit, daddy’s little girl costume, and best father’s day gift found on trail. What could go wrong? Not that much, to be perfectly honest. Although trail was awful long for the temperature. Hashing through the hood proved interesting, as usual. Father’s day gifts were scarce until a trash pile of discarded toys yielded a trail treasure gold mine.
CIRCLE
Once most of the pack had arrived at the On In and supped on ales and cleansed on hoses, newly erected Religious Advisor Platterpuss convened circle to the tune of the Engineer Song. As he is a new RA and it has a lot of words, Platterpuss cleverly inscribed them on a quarterback’s play-calling armband for assistance. Sir, Colin Kaepernick you are not. Once the hares had been duly fêted and flagellated for their shitty trail, it was time to meet the virgins: Just Sean (w/ Speed Bumps, favorite farm animal a tiger? He must have been farming on Neverland Ranch), Just Will (w/ Androgymouth, favorite sex position is spooning, which is NOT sex!), and Just Mackenzie (w/ Androgymouth, favorite sexual animal is the horse, that rules out a lot of the hounds) comprised their number. Visitors featured the likes of Homodynamics from EatMe (who could recall no songs!) and Just Jody (who is an attractive harriette!). Reboots were numerous and bear no further mention. Birthdays were equally profligate, including Spot On The Mat, Barbie, Amazing Technicolor Vagina, Red Light Special, Whale’s Vagina, and Chopped Liver. Fuck them! At last usual business was complete and accusations could begin. Continue reading
generic sans-serif;”>Courtesy Of: Dick Head, mind Dickless Tracy, Silent Dick, and Dick The Boy Wonder
Do not adjust your computer screen! We interrupt the regular broadcast of your hash trash brought to you by Whale’s Vagina to bring you a way more awesome trash by Booby Trap!
In other words, Whale’s Vagina is a lazy bastard (probably because he’s from Austin or because he’s really old) so he delegated the task of writing hash trash to the very obedient Booby Trap.
TRAIL (aka the boring part)
Roughly 60 hounds gathered at Terry Hershey Park on a wet dreary day, eager to vote for Mismanagement and the best and worst of trails. They braved the torrential sprinkles to cast their ballots. All were quiet and serious, the gravity of their voting decisions weighing heavily on their little half minds. After official business was handled, the hares released the hounds. According to the racists who actually ran trail, it was mind-numbingly boring. How boring? More boring than spending your birthday with a Jehovah’s Witness (For those of you that don’t understand THAT joke, substitute “more boring than being a midget at a theme park”).
The crippled and lepers, however, found the walkers’ trail delightful. 101 Donations and Booby Trap squealed with glee each time a little bunny wabbit emerged from the brush (and they weren’t even faking it!) That’s enough about trail, because no one really gives a shit. Who reads these anyways? (No offense, Whale’s Vagina).
CIRCLE (aka the fun drinking part!)
Resident Uber Nerd, (I mean Religious Advisor) Ramrod, donned a sparkly purple turban and matching robe. All agreed it was hard to recognize him with clothes on. Before circle could begin, a charming father strolled through circle with his infant daughter in tow. The ooos and ahhs from the ladies were drowned out by Whale’s Vagina yelling “Hold me back! Hold me back!” (It’s just a song, eh?) The hares, Dickless Tracy, Dickhead, and Silent Dick, were called into circle. What a bunch of…lovely hares. After drinking for their S-H-I-T-T-Y trail, reboots were called forth. One after another trickled in, including all 3 hares, until half the bloody circle was dismantled! Introductions and lame excuses were given. The hares claimed they spent a year scouting today’s trail. Suggestion, maybe next time spend 2? Visitors, Massive Slut Slinger, Crouching Tiger Hidden Jacob, and The Artist Formally Known as Yellow Rain, were recognized next. There was some confusion among the royal couple as they debated if they should stand ass to ass or tip to tip. Birthdays were next, but the impromptu on sec was getting a beer (or flirting with a hound (or BOTH)) so uhhh…yeah…some old people got older…YAY? Continue reading
Courtesy of: H4 Mismanagement and Special Teams
FRIDAY
Despite the venue being so close to town and tapping kegs as early as 2PM, hashers trickled in slowly until about 6, when everything accelerated. They quickly acquired their gimmes: T shirt, pull top bag, waterproof neck bag, personalized camping utensils, ID badges, neck koozies, and of course, condoms. After stowing their gear and pitching their tents, it was just in time for Geek‘s get acquainted trail. This event served a double purpose: getting hashers acquainted with each other as well as the location. Beyond Chunderdome was held at Rio Bravo motocross park: a location suitable to the theme, as it incorporates motorcycles with unwashed degenerates prone to speaking in grunts and flatulence just like in those Mad Maxwell movies. A tasty keg of Karbach Hopadillo was tapped after trail. After circle, it was time for dinner and drinking games including beer bong and dodge beer, pool shenanigans and keg riding, and a song circle around the campfire. The highlight of the evening may have been Homoglobin‘s Barbie Jeep Power Wheels, pilfered from his children. Hashers large and small got good drunk driving practice driving the electric car of the future.
SATURDAY
Saturday began with some hangovers nursed by surprisingly delectable ziploc-bag omlettes. With some extra time before trail, Will He Peter and Whale’s Vagina hosted the 2013 Hash Olympiad. Teams competed in front of shaded spectators in a variety of events: egg toss, singles & doubles sack races, chubby bunny, and banana & taco cleaning. After lunch and more lollygagging around the pool, it was time for Saturday’s Ball Buster trail, hared by the infamous Little Pussy. Continue reading
Courtesy of: Hooter Bill, Finger in the Dyke, and Pull The Plug
TRAIL
To celebrate his birthday, Hooter Bill decided to phone it in. Why bother scouting your own trail when you can just lay more flour over a great trail from 7 days ago? It’s actually kind of brilliant, provided it doesn’t happen every week. After all, once hash cash is secured, complaints will be minimal as long as there’s beer at the end.
CIRCLE
Taking a cue from the hares, the On Sec decided to phone it in too. No notes, let’s go to the photographic evidence to spark some memories.
A naming for Just Edite was attempted. For speeding away from a stop light in her pickup truck, circle suggested Red Light Special. Pretty good, but not enough to satisfy the RA.
ON ON ON
The On On On was at Little Woodrow’s in Midtown. No, the other Little Woodrow’s in Midtown. Look for it in the off-broadway musical, The Best Little Woodrow’s in Texas.
ANNOUNCEMENTS
Mosquito drinking / choir practice Wednesday night, 7PM at The Dam
Campout pub crawl Thursday night, 6:30 at Hans’ Bier Haus
H4 Spring Campout “Beyond Chunderdome” taps kegs Friday at 3PM
Austin H3 Boat Party on Lake Travis July 20, only 70 regos available!
THIS WEEK IN HASHTORY
1983 – Founding of Calgary H3, trails laid in TimBits
2012 – Four Dicks Max evolves into 5 Dicks Max
2011 – After spending thousands of dollars, McPisser finally loses his virginity.
Courtesy of: Whale’s Vagina, Unlaiden Swallows, and Booby Trap
Ladies and gentlemen, presenting the best trail of the year. That’s a tall order for a trail without shiggy or boob checks. But it did have a whole roast pig, formally-costumed harriettes, cross-dressed hounds, coronation headgear, prize beers, pre-made Brass Monkeys and…ahem…slut juice. Whale’s Vagina unsettled in his old age, sought to reenact that culmination of the American high school experience, prom. He sought out the classiest harriettes for help, and also settled for the expert services of Unlaiden Swallows and Booby Trap. Trail was essentially an afterthought, as this occasion was clearly an excuse to hang out in funny costumes and get drunk. As such, trail was a pavement pounder, less than 4 miles, out to the beer (and AC) check at Taps for a pint of Lone Pint, and back. This did not stop a handful of r@cists from ranging and getting lost. Within an hour, nearly the whole pack had returned to the friendly confines of Happy Meal park. Here there were libations aplenty (yes, aplenty!) and homemade prom cake and homemade prom salsa. Hounds and harriettes worried about overheating on trail also took the opportunity to don their prom outfits. Curiously, of all the hounds who dressed up, more than half took the opportunity to cross dress instead.
CIRCLE
Much to the chagrin of a randy Whale’s Vagina, duly erected Religious Advisor Ramrod directed the pack to circle up across the parking lot away from a children’s birthday party. While waiting for the RA to get properly attired, Tender Vittles uh, entertained the assembly with a new song about wearing women’s clothing. Listen for it in the upcoming remake of Mrs. Doubtfire, starring Tyler Perry. Naturally the outstanding hares drank first for their outstanding trail. At this point, Geek intervened to take nominations for next year’s mismanagement positions. All in attendance described the process as efficient, intuitive, and orderly. They also described Busch Lite as sweet nectar, so who really knows? In traditional Geek fashion, he finished quickly and regular business resumed, starting with the virgins: Just Steve and Just Rob. They picked the same preference for sexual position, the Double Dutch Rudder. The reboots were too many to recount. We look forward to hashing with them anyways. Visitors featured the famous Hog Straddler, New York Yankee Vote For Pedro, and Texas Interhash royalty Yellow Rain & Crouching Tiger, Hidden Jacob. They performed their famous tip-touching song and dance. The lone transplant was Backseat Joystick from Vientiane, Laos. The On Sec is still researching jokes about Laos. Analversaries and celebrations included Snatch Trick who quit inspiring America’s youth, and Platterpuss‘s 5 year hashiversary. Dog tags were distributed to Duke of Puke (150), Unlaiden Swallows (100), and Hooter Bill, with a whopping 1669 trails. To put that number in perspective, that averages out to one trail a week for more than 32 years! Surely the following accusations would fail to impress more than that.
Re-minted Ironm@n Ass Swipe got things started by recognizing the Iron Hashers from the previous day’s 16 hours of Brass Monkey events. Whale Tail was then chastised not just for sitting in circle, but for doing so upon a pink yoga mat. Meatbox proceeded to demonstrate a proper downward dog. True fact: most men desire control, but yogis control desire. Hashers desire beer. The On Sec was called in next and note taking was supervised by some visitors. Their notes, verbatiim: And then Whale’s Vagina got fucked in the ass by a horny marmot. He nibbled on the balls and dove into his asshole thinking it was his burrow (some call them holes). At one point, the marmot was gonna eat his liver but then realised there was more nutrition in his semen filled stomach. Hmm, that would explain the marmot-breath.
At last, the time had come to annoint the prom royalty. The hares selected a top three in each category, and the circle voted for the winner. For prom king, Pull The Plug managed to top out Son of Pill Pusher and Just James. He received a kickass crown and a bomber of Miracle IPA. For prom queen, a feisty Amazing Technicolor Vagina bested the likes of Krazy Puppy and Buzzkill. She was rewarded with a terrific tiara and a bomber of Tramp Stamp Belgian IPA. Best cross-dressed came down to A Proper Woman‘s little black dress, Beezur Wilson and his momma EZ Chair‘s matching polka dots, and a victorious Tender Vittles for his charming yellow sundress and wig. As a tranny, he’ll need the Lubrication black ale and fancy vessel to drink it from. There was yet another stupid bimbo award for IFYD, who gloriously misinterpreted x-dressing as x-rated dressing, and all were fortunate for it. Her fortunes were rewarded with a bomber of New Belgium’s Lips of Faith.
The hares drank next for losing a super-sequined Brrrggghhh on an untraceable trail. During their ensuing down down, Booby Trap floured with a flourish, and then a spilled beer further ingrained her triumph into her hair. After a few hours of washing, most of the flour is gone from her follicles. There wasn’t enough beer for ultra-lame accusations (yay?) so Whore-o-Scope drank last for trying to open a beer on a dog’s asshole. True story. After that, it was time to swing low and GTFO. But not before enjoying a fresh roast pig (yay!), courtesy of Rancid Asshole and Grind Slut. Look for those three again at the upcoming Spring Campout! Also IFYD bought some beers for everyone on her own dime.
ON ON ON
The On On On was back at Taps, where drink will flow and blood was spilled. Seriously, it was a great time.
ANNOUNCEMENTS
What are you gonna do with your Memorial Day weekend? Full moon trail Friday! Galveston and EatMe trails Saturday! No hangover on Sunday!
Not too late to sign up for Spring campout, too late for gimmes tho 🙁
Never too late to nominate for mismanagement erections…
THIS WEEK IN HASHTORY
1989 – Founding of Bakersfield, CA H3
2003 – Founding of Pudong China Full Moon H3
1946 – After surviving WWII, Hooter Bill finally old enough to drink