Post by virgindick on Jan 24, 2006 13:20:35 GMT -5
Hash Trash XXX
January 24, 2006
(All the usual disclaimers, including no claims at accuracy or veracity. If you weren’t there, then what do you know? If you were, then what do I care?)
Who would have figured that we’d have 33 hashers on a Monday night, but that was the conservative count made by Itsy Bitsy at last night’s XXX naming hash; shitty trail laid by NFHN Dan, Lindsay, and Robin. But I’m ahead (who said head?) of myself.
As I predicted at Saturday’s hash, Princess Layyaa’s son has taken control of her Hummer, and so once again I did the driving from western Broward County to the hash start, conveniently located behind the Publix across Sunrise from the Hollywood Hustler store (we’ve just got to take a hash in there soon). The large group was quickly gathering as we arrived, drinking and clamoring to buy the really excellent (and cute), orange “Ménages a Trios” T-shirt, being modeled by the hares. Little Lindsay was wearing a tiny form fitting sleeveless version (nice nips), while Robin had the one with long sleeves. Only Dan was wearing the same style that we all bought, the XXX Hash T- shirt. The “Twenty toes up, ten toes down” logo on the front was there to remind just how weird the hares might be. I got one shirt for Pelvis (home on her own) and one for me too. They are great shirts, and you’ll be seeing them all around, as the large group that hovered behind Publix was really a good mix of hashers from all three of our SoFL counties. Glasshole, Byko Dyko, Dirty Butt Kiss, Anal Inspector and X-El Presidente were among those from Palm Beach, and Stray Dog came from where ever he cums from. There were others from far away, but it was just too big a crowd for me to wrap my already dwindling short-term memory around, so if you were there, I know it and just forgot.
While the hares continued with the commercial part of the hash, This Old cock cornered me to get his name on the Monday night hare list for April 3. Look for that one out near Weston. I grabbed a cold one (beer, you idiot) and tried to figure out what Two (or is it Too) Long Dick’s story was. He babbled on in his best Arkansas accent about the Red Dress run, so naturally I (the Virgin Dick) confused him with the New Orleans no name Leanne that had emailed the web site about holding a Red Dress in conjunction with Now Art Café. I’d been riding with the Princess, remember, and I was already slightly confused, so I made her talk with him to get it straight. (Two Long Dick’s-straight, get it?). I don’t know how they came out, but S & Menator promised to let me wear his red dress for the cuming run. He says it’s really sexy, and his taste is so … eclectic (weird) that I’m sure I’ll really enjoy the Red Dress on Feb. 11.
We also took a few minutes talking up Sunday’s Marathon Beer Stop (and now Bike-o). ‘Tuna and Stop the Bus are lending their house and, since Shell Shocked will only be there in spirit, coordinating the event. It looks like it will be the usual rewarding morning drunk, followed by what promises to be a super Bike-o trail (if I do say so myself, since if I can still ride after running 26.2 miles, I’m setting the trail). We’re looking for a number of Palm Beach bike-o hashers to join us at the beer check, hopefully around 7:30 or 8 am, or at least before I run through (wishfully projected around 8:15 or 8:30 am).
Meanwhile, back at the naming hash …
NFHN Dan was laying out the marks, with co-hare Lindsay nodding in agreement while Robin continued to take money and sell shirts. Nothing much unusual about the marks, except that he pointed the True Trail mark in one direction and ran off with his cumly co-hares in another direction all together. Cold Porter made a mess, but was able to change the arrow to reflect the real True Trail, and so for once he didn’t start out as FRB. Dirty Butt Kiss led the pack early, but I was so far behind I’m not sure where he headed.
I really wish I remembered more about the trail, but you know I’d been drinking, and with three hares, there were a lot of false trails, most of which I personally pursued. Still it was pretty much a shitty urban trail, with some minor shiggy thrown in. There was one fence climb, and I have a small puncture wound to prove it. After a while I heard Cold Porter’s whistle from the grass down near a canal or something, and while running a parallel route on pavement was amazed that my favorite psyko, Byko Dyko, was yelling challenging competitive statements at our strongest FRB. From there Byko, Pedal File, and Virgin Dick (me) played the “run fast” game, until we came up to a set of railroad tracks. We were ready to see if the trail crossed the tracks, but a train came by, so we relaxed before following the trail across the tracks and up the road on the other side. I did a little of my patented traffic directing to Pedal Files amusement, but then he lost me. Just when I thought I was getting totally off trail, I thought I saw the walkers, Princess Layyaa (still recovering from her head injury), Rapist, Paid to Peep and Weathered cock (I think FOSOL was there too, but it was dark, you know, and I’d forgotten my flashlight and flashers). Even from a distance I could hear WC chatting them all up, and figured finding trail myself was better than listening to Nerd prattle. I saw Teflon Willie going by and soon was back on trail again. I knew Itsy was out there trying to “win” the hash, but found out that it was Cum Again that was FRB (or was that Saturday’s hash). It all gets so confusing.
I know there was a beer check in there somewhere, with plenty of beer, but I’m not sure Where or When (an oldie but goodie for you moldy goldy fans). Soon enough it was back to the on in for the circle.
Teflon Willie took charge and ran what he hoped would be a short enough circle to allow time for our nearly impossible triple naming. Since we had been talking about these names for a few weeks now, we thought maybe we’d be successful, but didn’t count on the Publix Wackenhut patrol boy telling us to “quite down” because the neighbors were complaining. Smiling as always, your favorite “I fought the law, and I won” candidate (VD) told him we’d leave in 15 minutes and, guess what? He left. The circle continued despite many interruptions and a number of accusations, especially against the hares. We were getting started on the naming part, with Willie just finishing the traditional questioning of the “to be named,” when a more official cop type car (Ft. Lauderdale police) pulled through. Always pleasant Eat-a-Puss talked with the local patrol, and they too left us to our own devices. But by then we had had enough, and headed for the On- After, scheduled at nearby Shuck and Dive.
This is where it gets Sticky (or maybe this is where it gets to Sticky). Almost everyone made it up the road to Shuck and Dive. Unfortunately they refused to give us separate food checks, and declined to put us all on one check, and then divide it afterward so that we could use our credit cards. Hey, they didn’t even have pitchers anyway, and though we were talking about serving 25-30 people food and beer, they decided to focus on the 3 customers they had before we got there. Despite pleas by Silver Hummer and Sticky Thumbs to stay and eat (I think they already had ordered, the call of the day was to leave and head elsewhere. Needless to say we lost a lot of the pack at that point. Teflon couldn’t take it and headed home. Sticky and Hummer went off to Kingshead (a great choice if it had been closer than ten miles south) and though ASA (we have to get her a “real” hash name) ticked off a list of better possibilities, most headed north to the Ale House on US1.
Lickerbriefs brought a CD of the Mango Strut, and since I had my laptop I went into download so that I could pass the cd to Anal Inspector on the spot. We tried to rally the naming circle, and sent the co- hares off into to a corner while discussed all the possible combinations and permutations that we could do with three hares to name. Sucks on the Beach sent the notes on the “dirt’ given by the hares about each other, which This Old Dick actually tried to read to us. There were some great naming suggestions, and then there were some suggestions by Anal Inspector, Too Long Dicks and others. Fortunately we kept drinking and in the end, decided that now and forever, in the annals of the history of the hash, for ages and ages, we would name the three XXX co-hares…next Monday night. Cum prepared.
I made it home.
On On
The Virgin Dick
January 24, 2006
(All the usual disclaimers, including no claims at accuracy or veracity. If you weren’t there, then what do you know? If you were, then what do I care?)
Who would have figured that we’d have 33 hashers on a Monday night, but that was the conservative count made by Itsy Bitsy at last night’s XXX naming hash; shitty trail laid by NFHN Dan, Lindsay, and Robin. But I’m ahead (who said head?) of myself.
As I predicted at Saturday’s hash, Princess Layyaa’s son has taken control of her Hummer, and so once again I did the driving from western Broward County to the hash start, conveniently located behind the Publix across Sunrise from the Hollywood Hustler store (we’ve just got to take a hash in there soon). The large group was quickly gathering as we arrived, drinking and clamoring to buy the really excellent (and cute), orange “Ménages a Trios” T-shirt, being modeled by the hares. Little Lindsay was wearing a tiny form fitting sleeveless version (nice nips), while Robin had the one with long sleeves. Only Dan was wearing the same style that we all bought, the XXX Hash T- shirt. The “Twenty toes up, ten toes down” logo on the front was there to remind just how weird the hares might be. I got one shirt for Pelvis (home on her own) and one for me too. They are great shirts, and you’ll be seeing them all around, as the large group that hovered behind Publix was really a good mix of hashers from all three of our SoFL counties. Glasshole, Byko Dyko, Dirty Butt Kiss, Anal Inspector and X-El Presidente were among those from Palm Beach, and Stray Dog came from where ever he cums from. There were others from far away, but it was just too big a crowd for me to wrap my already dwindling short-term memory around, so if you were there, I know it and just forgot.
While the hares continued with the commercial part of the hash, This Old cock cornered me to get his name on the Monday night hare list for April 3. Look for that one out near Weston. I grabbed a cold one (beer, you idiot) and tried to figure out what Two (or is it Too) Long Dick’s story was. He babbled on in his best Arkansas accent about the Red Dress run, so naturally I (the Virgin Dick) confused him with the New Orleans no name Leanne that had emailed the web site about holding a Red Dress in conjunction with Now Art Café. I’d been riding with the Princess, remember, and I was already slightly confused, so I made her talk with him to get it straight. (Two Long Dick’s-straight, get it?). I don’t know how they came out, but S & Menator promised to let me wear his red dress for the cuming run. He says it’s really sexy, and his taste is so … eclectic (weird) that I’m sure I’ll really enjoy the Red Dress on Feb. 11.
We also took a few minutes talking up Sunday’s Marathon Beer Stop (and now Bike-o). ‘Tuna and Stop the Bus are lending their house and, since Shell Shocked will only be there in spirit, coordinating the event. It looks like it will be the usual rewarding morning drunk, followed by what promises to be a super Bike-o trail (if I do say so myself, since if I can still ride after running 26.2 miles, I’m setting the trail). We’re looking for a number of Palm Beach bike-o hashers to join us at the beer check, hopefully around 7:30 or 8 am, or at least before I run through (wishfully projected around 8:15 or 8:30 am).
Meanwhile, back at the naming hash …
NFHN Dan was laying out the marks, with co-hare Lindsay nodding in agreement while Robin continued to take money and sell shirts. Nothing much unusual about the marks, except that he pointed the True Trail mark in one direction and ran off with his cumly co-hares in another direction all together. Cold Porter made a mess, but was able to change the arrow to reflect the real True Trail, and so for once he didn’t start out as FRB. Dirty Butt Kiss led the pack early, but I was so far behind I’m not sure where he headed.
I really wish I remembered more about the trail, but you know I’d been drinking, and with three hares, there were a lot of false trails, most of which I personally pursued. Still it was pretty much a shitty urban trail, with some minor shiggy thrown in. There was one fence climb, and I have a small puncture wound to prove it. After a while I heard Cold Porter’s whistle from the grass down near a canal or something, and while running a parallel route on pavement was amazed that my favorite psyko, Byko Dyko, was yelling challenging competitive statements at our strongest FRB. From there Byko, Pedal File, and Virgin Dick (me) played the “run fast” game, until we came up to a set of railroad tracks. We were ready to see if the trail crossed the tracks, but a train came by, so we relaxed before following the trail across the tracks and up the road on the other side. I did a little of my patented traffic directing to Pedal Files amusement, but then he lost me. Just when I thought I was getting totally off trail, I thought I saw the walkers, Princess Layyaa (still recovering from her head injury), Rapist, Paid to Peep and Weathered cock (I think FOSOL was there too, but it was dark, you know, and I’d forgotten my flashlight and flashers). Even from a distance I could hear WC chatting them all up, and figured finding trail myself was better than listening to Nerd prattle. I saw Teflon Willie going by and soon was back on trail again. I knew Itsy was out there trying to “win” the hash, but found out that it was Cum Again that was FRB (or was that Saturday’s hash). It all gets so confusing.
I know there was a beer check in there somewhere, with plenty of beer, but I’m not sure Where or When (an oldie but goodie for you moldy goldy fans). Soon enough it was back to the on in for the circle.
Teflon Willie took charge and ran what he hoped would be a short enough circle to allow time for our nearly impossible triple naming. Since we had been talking about these names for a few weeks now, we thought maybe we’d be successful, but didn’t count on the Publix Wackenhut patrol boy telling us to “quite down” because the neighbors were complaining. Smiling as always, your favorite “I fought the law, and I won” candidate (VD) told him we’d leave in 15 minutes and, guess what? He left. The circle continued despite many interruptions and a number of accusations, especially against the hares. We were getting started on the naming part, with Willie just finishing the traditional questioning of the “to be named,” when a more official cop type car (Ft. Lauderdale police) pulled through. Always pleasant Eat-a-Puss talked with the local patrol, and they too left us to our own devices. But by then we had had enough, and headed for the On- After, scheduled at nearby Shuck and Dive.
This is where it gets Sticky (or maybe this is where it gets to Sticky). Almost everyone made it up the road to Shuck and Dive. Unfortunately they refused to give us separate food checks, and declined to put us all on one check, and then divide it afterward so that we could use our credit cards. Hey, they didn’t even have pitchers anyway, and though we were talking about serving 25-30 people food and beer, they decided to focus on the 3 customers they had before we got there. Despite pleas by Silver Hummer and Sticky Thumbs to stay and eat (I think they already had ordered, the call of the day was to leave and head elsewhere. Needless to say we lost a lot of the pack at that point. Teflon couldn’t take it and headed home. Sticky and Hummer went off to Kingshead (a great choice if it had been closer than ten miles south) and though ASA (we have to get her a “real” hash name) ticked off a list of better possibilities, most headed north to the Ale House on US1.
Lickerbriefs brought a CD of the Mango Strut, and since I had my laptop I went into download so that I could pass the cd to Anal Inspector on the spot. We tried to rally the naming circle, and sent the co- hares off into to a corner while discussed all the possible combinations and permutations that we could do with three hares to name. Sucks on the Beach sent the notes on the “dirt’ given by the hares about each other, which This Old Dick actually tried to read to us. There were some great naming suggestions, and then there were some suggestions by Anal Inspector, Too Long Dicks and others. Fortunately we kept drinking and in the end, decided that now and forever, in the annals of the history of the hash, for ages and ages, we would name the three XXX co-hares…next Monday night. Cum prepared.
I made it home.
On On
The Virgin Dick
