Post by virgindick on May 19, 2009 13:45:34 GMT -5
Hash Trash
Toga Hash
May 16, 2009
I love it when the Hash is close to my house as nfhn Becky and Lickety’s bitch’s Miami H3 Toga Hash was on Saturday. The start was in a small and surprisingly popular local park (Coral Pine), but when I arrived there were still some parking spaces. After noticing Banana Hammock (as if anyone could miss him) locking his bike to something, I pulled in next a really pretty girl sitting cross-legged in the back of her “truck” wearing running shoes. I asked if she were a hasher and found out she was Virgin Claudia (friend to Just Pluck Me), and that she had a toga in hand but was kind of waiting to see if everyone was really going to “Toga, Toga!” before putting it on. Me too.
The hares arrived around then and soon we (the Hash) and the other park patrons overflowed the parking lot. No problem, plenty of on street parking. Everyone came in some sort of Toga, and soon nfhn Becky was enthusiastically wrapping me (tightly, my dear) in the piece of cloth I had brought along. She didn’t even need the safety pins. Penal was next, even though Viva Las Labias was already in her shiny aqua sheaf and sunshine headdress, he demanded to be wrapped by nfhn Becky, and soon he was a sartorial wonder in a deep red (maroon) toga. Cold Porter was a late arrival, but came in a more authentic (eBay) toga, complete with Caesarian wig and laurel wreath. Lickety’s bitch was most comical in his cargo shorts and yellow patterned sheet, especially when he stood with fellow hare (nfhn Becky) who was best dressed in a shimmering white something that seemed to move with her better than the togas the rest of us were wearing.
Ever so sensuous, Lickety Slit came to drive the beer truck, and tried to pass off her bikini and beach cover up as a toga, which seemed to work to everyone’s satisfaction. I met nfnh Vaso, and took a minute to get his email address to add to my list. Smell My Tulips, a wonderful Wild Card hasher would had been away quite a while, returned, in toga, with two virgin friends, who ended up running in toga’s with street shoes, and still seemed to enjoy themselves. Tulips noticed that there were mainly new faces, and bemoaned (oh yes, we love the moaning) the fact, wondering out loud about Belly Dancer and others. There were two other Virgins, actual females, and dressed in skimpy enough white togas (and thong). Pussicane drove up with Wimp in tow, though I questioned his toga (looked more like a blue table cloth), I left him alone after he agreed to be the Dolphin chef (I’ve got a freezer full of frozen dolphin I caught last week) at the upcoming Arduous (Are Jewish) Hash and Pool Party on May 30. Just Pluck had a real toga of about the same color to contrast with Wimp pretty poor attempt. Ok, he claimed no lots of work and no sleep, but is that really an excuse? We did a group shot before leaving on trail, and it is in the group of photos you can view at
picasaweb.google.com/MiamiH3/MH328_BJYourWayAndLicketySbitch_TogaHash?feat=email#5337864632921310146 .
On On
So, after a few beers, we went on trail through the park to the almost obligatory opening check back, and the hares were loose and we were circle jerking around the park. Fortunately Viva and Penal were sweeping and nobody got lost. Eventually we got out and chased the trail through a couple of more falses. I wasn’t the FRB, that’s for sure, as a couple nfhn guys were out there rivaling Cold Porter and Banana Hammock, and nfhn vaso found a few plops out there in the lead as well. We ran through some pretty decent shiggy, and walked through it when it got “deep.” You know this where it gets foggy for me, as I hardly ever look up to see where I am in the real world. I guess I like just being a hound (ok, alpha male hound) nose to the trail, and undistracted by the world going on around me. I know we ran some pretty nice neighborhoods and covered a bit more shiggy, and didn’t cross US1.
We came to a “Shot Check” and actually gathered up while nfhn Becky explained that she was pouring blowjobs (I just found out that the word blowjob is in spell check) and just how to properly drink a “blowjob.” Just Pluck Me gave a demo, and did a pretty good job, and Lickety’s bitch (from his knees) and Viva followed with a little spillage, but I got high praise (and an nice buzz) for mine. One by one the whole group sucked down their alcohol and, did I mention, the whipped cream topping? Only a couple of hashers puked (this word is NOT in spell check), and one was a nfhn and the other a Virgin, so I guess that explains it. Banana Hammock went back for seconds while the rest of us moved on.
As promised, we didn’t cross US1, but we got a full dose of it anyway as we ran up South Dixie Highway from one drive thru to the next. All along the road the adoring civilians were honking, waving with thumbs up and yelling toga, toga, as we weaved from street to drive thru, from BK to Wachovia. I tried to trade with two of those cheering, ice cream for beer, but all they had was ice cream so I stayed on trail. Viva and Penal did a great job of sweeping up the stragglers and keeping us from being totally lost and spread across Miami. Finally someone yelled Beer Near and I picked up my pace, so not to be left out (as if). We stopped in the short shiggy for the beer check, and took another picture, emphasizing the nature of the Hash (trespassing and Viva’s ass). The pack was still intact, and we all drank beer.
The hares left shortly and again fooled us with a long false and some help from “secret” hare Wimp, but I never could figure out what his secret was. We all made the end of the trail, and though it was a dreaded A to B trail, it worked out perfectly, even to having a sober chauffer (although still being a teenager – son of the Lickety’s - he did complain about driving me with my open container on my lips) to drive us back to our cars. I got mine before the circle and was ready for it to start when I got back. Apparently most of the remaining hashers had already been swimming and so I agitated to get the circle started and then volunteered to run the circle myself, forgetting in my alcoholic haze (first rule, eer tradition in hashing is always blame it the alcohol) that R.A. Penal Knieval always runs the Miami H3 circles. That why he is the R.A., but I wasn’t really sober and forgot, and then couldn’t weasel out of it. So I ran a great circle, and had a lot of fun trying to remember the order of the circle after telling the hares every shitty detail of their very shitty trail. They were well honored and made to drink for their shitty trail. The virgins were all introduced and Viva Las Labias showed them just how to drink a down down, which most learned with out problem. The Virgin’s (not Virgin Dick) thong was much more enticing now that she had been swimming. They all drank appropriately. We even had a Radom Guy (excellent hash name) who drank with us, though I’m still not sure who he was or how he got there). Returning Hashers, this time lumped in with the returning hash were the most fun, with Banana Hammock doing a full “Buttplug” and the virgin showing her g-string thong, followed by a short but mesmerizing belly dance by Tulips. By this time everyone was playing, so we made a few good accusations, and a lot of pretty stupid accusations as well, but still managed to drink enough beer so it hardly mattered. The Hash was ready to go but for the promise of naming the Hare.
Penal Kneival took over and ran a spirited naming circle, full of interesting questions and splendidly detailed answers which brought us naming the Hare, after her favorite activity as BJ My Way (remembering all the drive thru’s on trail. So that the Hash declares that we should all be Getting a Piece, which maybe someone did.
Did I mention the dogs? They were everywhere, buit somehow managed not to get in the way. As the thong (that means group, you perverts) thinned, we made it to the inside to hear Lickety Slit sing, and the newly named hare, BJ My Way, found her way to my lap, which I enjoyed while trying desperately not nod out and drool on her neck. Cold Porter had a Saab story, as his transmission went out and he had to have a tow truck haul him all the way back to Plantation. And I felt lucky to just get home in one piece.
There was continued madness and wild behavior going on inside, but the civilians started showing up, and since I still don’t eat any meat if I can help it (everyone else seemed to truly enjoy the grilled burgers and dogs) I headed home, lucky to get there in one piece.
So that’s about all I remember or will write about. If you want to “add on” feel free, as I know I missed a lot and forgot the rest. For sure, check out the pictures if you get a chance.
See you trail (Thursday, May 21 at Duffy’s on Red Road).
On On
VD
Toga Hash
May 16, 2009
I love it when the Hash is close to my house as nfhn Becky and Lickety’s bitch’s Miami H3 Toga Hash was on Saturday. The start was in a small and surprisingly popular local park (Coral Pine), but when I arrived there were still some parking spaces. After noticing Banana Hammock (as if anyone could miss him) locking his bike to something, I pulled in next a really pretty girl sitting cross-legged in the back of her “truck” wearing running shoes. I asked if she were a hasher and found out she was Virgin Claudia (friend to Just Pluck Me), and that she had a toga in hand but was kind of waiting to see if everyone was really going to “Toga, Toga!” before putting it on. Me too.
The hares arrived around then and soon we (the Hash) and the other park patrons overflowed the parking lot. No problem, plenty of on street parking. Everyone came in some sort of Toga, and soon nfhn Becky was enthusiastically wrapping me (tightly, my dear) in the piece of cloth I had brought along. She didn’t even need the safety pins. Penal was next, even though Viva Las Labias was already in her shiny aqua sheaf and sunshine headdress, he demanded to be wrapped by nfhn Becky, and soon he was a sartorial wonder in a deep red (maroon) toga. Cold Porter was a late arrival, but came in a more authentic (eBay) toga, complete with Caesarian wig and laurel wreath. Lickety’s bitch was most comical in his cargo shorts and yellow patterned sheet, especially when he stood with fellow hare (nfhn Becky) who was best dressed in a shimmering white something that seemed to move with her better than the togas the rest of us were wearing.
Ever so sensuous, Lickety Slit came to drive the beer truck, and tried to pass off her bikini and beach cover up as a toga, which seemed to work to everyone’s satisfaction. I met nfnh Vaso, and took a minute to get his email address to add to my list. Smell My Tulips, a wonderful Wild Card hasher would had been away quite a while, returned, in toga, with two virgin friends, who ended up running in toga’s with street shoes, and still seemed to enjoy themselves. Tulips noticed that there were mainly new faces, and bemoaned (oh yes, we love the moaning) the fact, wondering out loud about Belly Dancer and others. There were two other Virgins, actual females, and dressed in skimpy enough white togas (and thong). Pussicane drove up with Wimp in tow, though I questioned his toga (looked more like a blue table cloth), I left him alone after he agreed to be the Dolphin chef (I’ve got a freezer full of frozen dolphin I caught last week) at the upcoming Arduous (Are Jewish) Hash and Pool Party on May 30. Just Pluck had a real toga of about the same color to contrast with Wimp pretty poor attempt. Ok, he claimed no lots of work and no sleep, but is that really an excuse? We did a group shot before leaving on trail, and it is in the group of photos you can view at
picasaweb.google.com/MiamiH3/MH328_BJYourWayAndLicketySbitch_TogaHash?feat=email#5337864632921310146 .
On On
So, after a few beers, we went on trail through the park to the almost obligatory opening check back, and the hares were loose and we were circle jerking around the park. Fortunately Viva and Penal were sweeping and nobody got lost. Eventually we got out and chased the trail through a couple of more falses. I wasn’t the FRB, that’s for sure, as a couple nfhn guys were out there rivaling Cold Porter and Banana Hammock, and nfhn vaso found a few plops out there in the lead as well. We ran through some pretty decent shiggy, and walked through it when it got “deep.” You know this where it gets foggy for me, as I hardly ever look up to see where I am in the real world. I guess I like just being a hound (ok, alpha male hound) nose to the trail, and undistracted by the world going on around me. I know we ran some pretty nice neighborhoods and covered a bit more shiggy, and didn’t cross US1.
We came to a “Shot Check” and actually gathered up while nfhn Becky explained that she was pouring blowjobs (I just found out that the word blowjob is in spell check) and just how to properly drink a “blowjob.” Just Pluck Me gave a demo, and did a pretty good job, and Lickety’s bitch (from his knees) and Viva followed with a little spillage, but I got high praise (and an nice buzz) for mine. One by one the whole group sucked down their alcohol and, did I mention, the whipped cream topping? Only a couple of hashers puked (this word is NOT in spell check), and one was a nfhn and the other a Virgin, so I guess that explains it. Banana Hammock went back for seconds while the rest of us moved on.
As promised, we didn’t cross US1, but we got a full dose of it anyway as we ran up South Dixie Highway from one drive thru to the next. All along the road the adoring civilians were honking, waving with thumbs up and yelling toga, toga, as we weaved from street to drive thru, from BK to Wachovia. I tried to trade with two of those cheering, ice cream for beer, but all they had was ice cream so I stayed on trail. Viva and Penal did a great job of sweeping up the stragglers and keeping us from being totally lost and spread across Miami. Finally someone yelled Beer Near and I picked up my pace, so not to be left out (as if). We stopped in the short shiggy for the beer check, and took another picture, emphasizing the nature of the Hash (trespassing and Viva’s ass). The pack was still intact, and we all drank beer.
The hares left shortly and again fooled us with a long false and some help from “secret” hare Wimp, but I never could figure out what his secret was. We all made the end of the trail, and though it was a dreaded A to B trail, it worked out perfectly, even to having a sober chauffer (although still being a teenager – son of the Lickety’s - he did complain about driving me with my open container on my lips) to drive us back to our cars. I got mine before the circle and was ready for it to start when I got back. Apparently most of the remaining hashers had already been swimming and so I agitated to get the circle started and then volunteered to run the circle myself, forgetting in my alcoholic haze (first rule, eer tradition in hashing is always blame it the alcohol) that R.A. Penal Knieval always runs the Miami H3 circles. That why he is the R.A., but I wasn’t really sober and forgot, and then couldn’t weasel out of it. So I ran a great circle, and had a lot of fun trying to remember the order of the circle after telling the hares every shitty detail of their very shitty trail. They were well honored and made to drink for their shitty trail. The virgins were all introduced and Viva Las Labias showed them just how to drink a down down, which most learned with out problem. The Virgin’s (not Virgin Dick) thong was much more enticing now that she had been swimming. They all drank appropriately. We even had a Radom Guy (excellent hash name) who drank with us, though I’m still not sure who he was or how he got there). Returning Hashers, this time lumped in with the returning hash were the most fun, with Banana Hammock doing a full “Buttplug” and the virgin showing her g-string thong, followed by a short but mesmerizing belly dance by Tulips. By this time everyone was playing, so we made a few good accusations, and a lot of pretty stupid accusations as well, but still managed to drink enough beer so it hardly mattered. The Hash was ready to go but for the promise of naming the Hare.
Penal Kneival took over and ran a spirited naming circle, full of interesting questions and splendidly detailed answers which brought us naming the Hare, after her favorite activity as BJ My Way (remembering all the drive thru’s on trail. So that the Hash declares that we should all be Getting a Piece, which maybe someone did.
Did I mention the dogs? They were everywhere, buit somehow managed not to get in the way. As the thong (that means group, you perverts) thinned, we made it to the inside to hear Lickety Slit sing, and the newly named hare, BJ My Way, found her way to my lap, which I enjoyed while trying desperately not nod out and drool on her neck. Cold Porter had a Saab story, as his transmission went out and he had to have a tow truck haul him all the way back to Plantation. And I felt lucky to just get home in one piece.
There was continued madness and wild behavior going on inside, but the civilians started showing up, and since I still don’t eat any meat if I can help it (everyone else seemed to truly enjoy the grilled burgers and dogs) I headed home, lucky to get there in one piece.
So that’s about all I remember or will write about. If you want to “add on” feel free, as I know I missed a lot and forgot the rest. For sure, check out the pictures if you get a chance.
See you trail (Thursday, May 21 at Duffy’s on Red Road).
On On
VD