Hashmas 2011

Run #1343
Date: December 26, 2011
Hare: Oozing
Location: La Salette Shrine, Attleboro, MA
Weather: 40's, Clear
Present: Dr WHO, Basket Boom Boom, Butler Hit It, Hairy Krishna, Flobanger, Donkey Punch, Pubic Housing, Amish It Head, Luxury Box, Pissonya, Pat My Retard, WIPOS, Visitor Juicy Lucy
Hashit: Amish It Head

The Run: The hare told us to "believe." Believe in snow. Believe in a good trail. Believe that the hash wouldn't act like a bunch of jackasses. And you know what? None of that came true - not one single bit. I think that's the moral of the story to tell kids, don't believe you'll only be disappointed. So there I was, busy ogling half nekkid chicks on the internet wearing santa suits and doing dirty things to elves when I looked at the clock and realized I was late to the hash. I hurried up to La Salette believing that the pack would have waited the 6.9minutes I was late. It didn't happen.

Trail went out north towards the little pond and then curved right towards the old folks home. I believed that some grandma would take me into her care and give me fresh baked cookies and cold egg nog. It didn't happen. I made it back onto 118 and saw the pack, actually I saw Pissonya and Pat My Retard. I was tempted to hang with the chicks and let the rest of the group do their thing. But I believed there would be marks on the ground, and good trail ahead, so I pressed on. It didn't happen. Heading south on 118 I caught up to Donkey Punch and Dr WHO, who I thought would know where trail was. Who knew where trail was? Not WHO. Not Donkey either, but I believed that being in a bigger pack with more eyes than just my own would provide better luck. It didn't happen.

Heading west through the parking lot WHO, Donkey and I caught up to Juicy Lucy - a visitor. I believed that there was no way that the group of people I was surrounded by could get any worse. Then WIPOS hopped out of his car and Basket came running from around the corner. The pack made their way down Attleboro Springs Rd and into the woods, casually strolling along the well manicured paths. We passed signs for a reflection area. I reflected to myself that the hash had to get better from here on out. I believed it would get better from here on out. It didn't happen.

Trail casually made it round towards the apartment complex and took a slight northern turn towards the gas line path. After an easy creek crossing the hare had slim pickings of beer, but mass quantity of Rajbhog snacks. Surprisingly, the Rajbhog the hare brought was the best Rajbhog the RIH3 had ever had. You could really taste the Rajbhog. There we stood enjoying the 4 beers the hare brought and the spicy Rajbhog waiting for the stragglers to arrive when a local and his son walked towards us. His wife had been alarmed at a kilt-wearing, santa hat sportin- man that had short cut through their yard. We knew only one person was stupid enough to do that???..Basket. I believed that as soon as Basket arrived this guy would kick his ass. It didn't happen. Actually, we gave him a beer and all the Rajbhog he dared to eat.

After the beer was gone and our bellies were full of Rajbhog the pack made their way east back towards the car. The circle ensued. Donkey whipped out his fancy hashin' checklist that listed names and other details of the run's events so the scribe wouldn't need to remember. I believed that the hash would be smart enough to not need an aid like this. Then I remembered that the hash has a good day if they remember to wipe their ass in the morning. There were some rules set on write-ups. Pissonya passed around some tasty cookies. We got disappointed that Flobanger showed up to join his lady friend (I believed I would take her home, but it didn't happen). Somehow I, Amish, got the hashit. That's the reason I writing this crap right now. Did you learn your lesson? Did you believe the writeup would be better than this? I bet you did, and now you're disappointed, aren't you? This just runs the circle of this write up -believe in stuff and get disappointed. Just like this trail. Happy Boxing Day, wankers!