The Half-Assed Hash
Run #1494, Nov 17, 2014
Hares: Donkey Punch and Pubic Housing
Location: Tillinghast Pond, West Greenwich, RI
Weather: Holy Hellfire Shit Batman Rain on the Drive to the Start
Present: Dr. WHO, Fecal Vener (aka: Who Wants My Johnson), Sleeping Booty, POP, Just Kasey, Just Emily, Just Phoebe, OOzing, Alpacalips Now (aka: Next Week), Glutenless Maximus (aka: Cat Scratch Fever, Pussy Ivy), Just Lauren, Ass Quack,
In bed, home with a sniffle: Rusty
Two Timer: Just Phoebe
The Hash Weatherman said it would be a perfect night for the Hash. Very heavy rain was in our future and the possibility of major flooding. The drive down 95 was hellish for those WHO dared make the Hash. Why is it all the people that can't drive in the rain wind up driving in the rain anyway, slowing down the people that don't mind a little water on the road surface and limited visibility? As WHO, Fecal V, POP, Alpacalips, Glutenless M and I stood in the lot expecting the rain to continue, it stopped. WHO said it took him 1 1/2 hours from Providence, with traffic at a crawl. Pubic popped out of the woods in full-on hurricane gear and had everything but her feet completely dry. Someone was driving down the road and turned around just short of the lot. Knowing it was one of us, we flashed lights and eventually OOzing found the spot. We started out on trail.
The temperature was rising and one by one we took off layers as we made our way around the pond. The trail was marked in orange surveyor tape and flour. More flour and less tape would have made it easier to follow, but the Hares chose to stay on trail rather than bushwhack, so it just got confusing at the checks. Note to future Hares, pat flour on the sides of trees, even in windy snow and rain, and it will hold up well, especially if the surface is damp and misty. The flour forms a crusty paste that even stayed on rocks I placed under water. The trail led easterly from Plane Road on the Tillinghast Pond Loop, white blaze, until a check sent us southerly on the Flintlock Trail on yellow blaze. This was the most convoluted trail I've ever been on. It had more twists and turns than WHO has shoving his Flexible Video Endoscope up my butt. The ground was soggy and there were sprinkling of rain off the trees, but a warm breeze picked up and quickly brought the temperature close to 60 F.
At a check, Ass Quack, Alpacalips and his brother took the right trail uphill, while Glutenless, WHO, POP, Fecal and I went left. Our trail wound around many boulders and blow downs, winding our way up in the direction of OnOn's from the other group. As we were on trail too, I'd like to see how this was marked. At the top of the hill, the other group ran into us and AQ quickly ran past finding true trail going downhill and right towards the pond. The two Hares, Pubic and Donkey, were seen coming towards us and confirmed AQ's direction. We circled around the pond a bit, saw a BN and eventually AQ with a backpack of beer and orange food.
Singing was not very enthusiastic, but a few songs were sung and some not finished as we were more interested in drinking and feeding our faces. With the beer almost gone, we seemed to be ready to pack it in and move on, when a light was seen through the trees and a female voice called out. It was Just Emily and she was along the water's edge. We called to her to shortcut through the pond and she did take one step in. Just Kasey, Just Phoebe and Sleeping B thought it better to follow trail and they soon all joined the men with Pubic being our original token female. Now they had numbers, so the Pubic Hare song erupted and our enthusiasm was re-energized. There was just enough beer to satisfy them, so we continued our sausage songfest with the ladies. Eventually all things cum to an end, so we packed up and started back to the cars.
The circle was formed on the 'out trail'. OOzing insisted we keep comments to 10 words or less, and most obliged him. I may have added a few 'fucks' more than I would have, since Bondo was not available. The run was rated a negative zero and the Hares had there down-down desert. They sung "The Mayor of Bayswater", with Donkey singing his marriage-adjusted verse first. Two-timer Just Phoebe was roasted and after her down-down she sang "Donald, where's your trousers?". Next was Hashit, and since Bondo was not available, Donky was honorably brought into the circle. He suggested everyone WHO didn't go into the pond. There were many good suggestions, but none stuck. Then WHO brought up the point that I almost drove into the pond when I turned around. There was just 15 feet of, what appeared to be, a road over a berm, that, upon slowing down sufficiently, gave me a view of the water just inches from going in. And since I didn't drown or at least test the float-ability of Dog Meat's Fit, it deserved the Hashit. All agreed and that was that. I did my DD and sang "I don't want to join the Army."
Announcements were brought up and the selection of the Christmas Party date was discussed. It was agreed to make it the Sunday afternoon after Christmas, but soon changed when it was explained that WHO was on call and AQ and Crabby would not be back from Bmore until Sunday night. The Xmas Hash will be on Monday, December 29th, and I will lay a short trail before returning to my place for the festivities. As it turns out, the 29th is our 1500th Hash, so I hope to have an analversary tee shirt made for the blessed event. We will have a bonfire, potluck and Yank-me Swap. More information will be forthcuming. Discussion of our Dragon Boat practice will be available if anyone really wants it, but we're not paying again this year, as last year's 'bandit' decision was very successful. We came, we drank, we ate, we paddled if we wanted, and there's always teams looking for another paddler. OOzing started getting bored and started 'Swing Low' just as J Emily was going to show her breasts. We then traveled to Dan's Place, where the patrons were enjoying karaoke. The DJ brought his microphone over and was talking to us, expecting us to say something prophetic. Instead, WHO and I started singing 'Hello Penis My Old Friend". He was enjoying it, possibly missing the 'penis' bit, until we sang, 'wet dreams are creeping, I spurt my seeds while I am sleeping, with my penis firmly planted in my hand...", he quickly pulled back the mike and left us to our own desert. Then we ate and drank until it was time to go home.
That's all I got.