Post by virgindick on Feb 17, 2009 10:13:42 GMT -5
It was really cold at the Thursday night New & Improved Miami H3, but it was only getting chilly when I got to the start location at Hare/Wimp’s house in the Grove. I got a call from my civilian friend Billy about the a six minute long space station crossing, so I jump out of the car, scampered over to the already large throng, and made someone, Lickety’s bitch I think, tell which way was NW. We looked up and sure enough, the very bright image of the space station was speeding across the very clear night sky. Good omen for a great trail, I thought. Always hoping to give Epicenter anything (or everything) she wants, I offered, but all she wanted was to be paid $5 to cover the beer. Slightly disappointed but always hopeful, I paid and then went seeking beer. Tina the Transvestite Turtle pointed out where I would find the cooler, as did eager co-hare Just Dan. (He certainly won this season’s Stupid fucking faggy Shorts in Miami award!). Paid to Peep was working with Wimp to build what looked like a fire ring and piling wood for a fire, but didn't look like they needed any help from me.
I went back up to my car to add layers, get my cold weather beer drinking gloves, and put a secret smile to my face. Teflon Willie joined me, having done the drive down from Broward in anticipation of Wimp laying a really great trail. We noticed that Birthday celebrant, Lickety’s bitch, had left the interior lights in his truck on, and resolved to tell him (and actually did). Stop the Bus and Argentuna pulled up at the end of what was becoming a long line of parked cars and got out with Jerry’s Dog and Not My bitch in tow.
I was smiling now, and headed back to try to pay attention to Wimp’s explanation of his marks. I was pleased to find Pussicane and enjoy a big “warm hug in the cold” that really did warm me. I also got some extra warmth from Just Lisa (aaaah), who was already wearing her gloves, and from Just Becky, whose smile was as warm as her embrace. What a great time, and we hadn't even gotten out on trail!
I pretty much ignored Wimp explanation of the marks, though noticed he liked using the three line false instead of the classic “F.” He also had a T or E (some say Tough or Easy, he said Turkey or Eagle). He threatened to also use chalk but finally the hares, Wimp and soon to be named Just Dan went trail setting. We also did a nice Happy Birthday Lickety’s bitch before we started the chase.
So, on the trail after another beer, the trail headed pretty quickly toward the hood that backs up behind Grove, and I (we) did a short false past a very loud neighborhood dog (think Stenchy’s dog, but not quite that loud or annoying), as he stood on the corner and barked at every individual hasher as they came by in the usual ragged array. I had pretty much pushed myself to the back of the pack, what with finishing my beer(s) and running the whole false trail, so I picked out a stray grouping of hashers at the back of the pack and tried to cum up on them. Further ahead I knew there were a lot of faster hashers (FRB’s). In my state I only remember the fast hounds (the really funny Brit guy - Just Peter, the Just No Name (in the UF sweatshirt) with Just Becky and Just Eric (why doesn’t he have a hash name yet?) going by, first in one direction, and then I could hear the whistles and various On On’s from another erection and I would see the FRB’s passing me again going the other way. I guess I only thought I ran all the false trails. Still I did some good running segments and I really enjoyed chasing (it’s all about the chase, right?) cute little Just Monica, and trying to match her quick and steady pace. I was having a great time.
The trail meandered a bit, I think, and finally came out at the little bridge leading to Cocoplum Circle. From there it cut back through a gate in the fence, and dropped down to the canal (over which the aforementioned bridge transversed) and we had our beer check. It was an excellent location for the check, out of the traffic and close to the reflecting water’s edge, compact without being crowding. We were spied by some civilian walkers, that turned out to be the hasher (founder, I think, of the San Diego Hash), and his wife from UM that has shown up at a couple of previous events. The pack kept cuming. Tom Spanks and a no name (Just) sweetie were there. I started getting cold and whined for the Hares away. I made a deal with Wimp that I would see that the beer got to the trunk of his car and that I would get the his keys to circle without losing them, if he’d just leave. The hares left. I kept complaining around in the pack, and when ArgenTuna started agreeing with me about getting cold, we loaded up Wimp’s car and went on the chase again.
Wimp had promised us shiggy for the 2nd half and we went looking for it. We came up from under the other side of the bridge (nice touch), and headed out on the other side (and off the road) without crossing trail. Somehow I dropped back again. There was some groaning in the back of the pack about going straight back. Actually we didn’t really have that much choice until we came to the long forgotten E or T. I could see some of the hash had taken the T, but followed the E with Tuna, Stop and the Dogs (good name for a rock band) and others. We could see we were headed to the water. First we ran the dirt road, then cut through the shiggy toward the unoccupied boat dock. We paused and admired the scene at the dock, found trail again, and headed back toward the road, skirting along the manicured side of a property fence of some sort. We came up to a really nice wooden building that looked more like a retreat than a home. We were in a place called Kampong (that’s a Malay word for family compound), which was David Fairchild’s (Fairchild Gardens) home. Really beautiful and really cool.
When we came back out onto the road, and we could hear/see some T following hashers behind us and some in front. We were headed back now, close enough to almost smell the beer when I had a short verbal encounter with an overly aggressive driver. We jogged by a county mounty (sheriff) and said the afore mentioned aggressive driving a-hole jumped out of his car, I guess to complain to her, but she blew him right off as the rest of the hash paraded back to Wimp’s home and the circle (more beer).
GM Viva Las Labias was there as a very late cuming hasher, poorly disguised as a hare with bunny ears knit cap, but she and beer bitch, Ring of Fire had brought plenty of beer. Absent Penal, Ring of Fire ran the circle which was set up around an now roaring fire, The circle swung and swayed as the breeze blew the smoke at us seemingly no matter which side of the circle we tried. Ring of Fire was almost crying (smoke, remember) but ran a great circle. We went through all the usual accusations (with a lot of hashers drinking for fashion offenses) and some excellent individual acquisitions (does anybody ever remember any of them?).
At this point I suggested to hard working Viva (she had been pouring all the beers for the many down downs) that if we sat down close into the fire, we’d be below most of the smoke. She joined me, as did Pussicane and Wimp, and it worked. We stayed warmer and nearly smoke free as Ring of Fire lead us from the circle into a naming circle.
The naming circle was high, and highlighted by an incredible sting of inane questions ad answers from soon to be named Just Dan in the stupid fucking faggy shorts. Quickly it was agreed, since he had admitted to (disgustingly) peeing on some cargo in an airplane or something, he was named, now and forever, through ages and ages, and across at least 2123 Hashes worldwide, Piscargo. Great name! He drank! So we drank (some more) to the newly named hare (one hare drinks, all hares drink), and then, speaking for myself, drank some more.
I think there was pizza as no one seemed to want to leave. I did eventually (leave), and once again made it home unscathed and smiling ear to ear.
On On
Virgin dick
The above is only Trash, Hash Trash, you know, and is not necessarily factual or even meant to be. It is my cloudy remembrances, fantasies and hallucinations and should be taken as such. If anyone has comments or more to add, send it along and I will see that it gets added and out where other hashers can see it.
See you on trail ---VD
I went back up to my car to add layers, get my cold weather beer drinking gloves, and put a secret smile to my face. Teflon Willie joined me, having done the drive down from Broward in anticipation of Wimp laying a really great trail. We noticed that Birthday celebrant, Lickety’s bitch, had left the interior lights in his truck on, and resolved to tell him (and actually did). Stop the Bus and Argentuna pulled up at the end of what was becoming a long line of parked cars and got out with Jerry’s Dog and Not My bitch in tow.
I was smiling now, and headed back to try to pay attention to Wimp’s explanation of his marks. I was pleased to find Pussicane and enjoy a big “warm hug in the cold” that really did warm me. I also got some extra warmth from Just Lisa (aaaah), who was already wearing her gloves, and from Just Becky, whose smile was as warm as her embrace. What a great time, and we hadn't even gotten out on trail!
I pretty much ignored Wimp explanation of the marks, though noticed he liked using the three line false instead of the classic “F.” He also had a T or E (some say Tough or Easy, he said Turkey or Eagle). He threatened to also use chalk but finally the hares, Wimp and soon to be named Just Dan went trail setting. We also did a nice Happy Birthday Lickety’s bitch before we started the chase.
So, on the trail after another beer, the trail headed pretty quickly toward the hood that backs up behind Grove, and I (we) did a short false past a very loud neighborhood dog (think Stenchy’s dog, but not quite that loud or annoying), as he stood on the corner and barked at every individual hasher as they came by in the usual ragged array. I had pretty much pushed myself to the back of the pack, what with finishing my beer(s) and running the whole false trail, so I picked out a stray grouping of hashers at the back of the pack and tried to cum up on them. Further ahead I knew there were a lot of faster hashers (FRB’s). In my state I only remember the fast hounds (the really funny Brit guy - Just Peter, the Just No Name (in the UF sweatshirt) with Just Becky and Just Eric (why doesn’t he have a hash name yet?) going by, first in one direction, and then I could hear the whistles and various On On’s from another erection and I would see the FRB’s passing me again going the other way. I guess I only thought I ran all the false trails. Still I did some good running segments and I really enjoyed chasing (it’s all about the chase, right?) cute little Just Monica, and trying to match her quick and steady pace. I was having a great time.
The trail meandered a bit, I think, and finally came out at the little bridge leading to Cocoplum Circle. From there it cut back through a gate in the fence, and dropped down to the canal (over which the aforementioned bridge transversed) and we had our beer check. It was an excellent location for the check, out of the traffic and close to the reflecting water’s edge, compact without being crowding. We were spied by some civilian walkers, that turned out to be the hasher (founder, I think, of the San Diego Hash), and his wife from UM that has shown up at a couple of previous events. The pack kept cuming. Tom Spanks and a no name (Just) sweetie were there. I started getting cold and whined for the Hares away. I made a deal with Wimp that I would see that the beer got to the trunk of his car and that I would get the his keys to circle without losing them, if he’d just leave. The hares left. I kept complaining around in the pack, and when ArgenTuna started agreeing with me about getting cold, we loaded up Wimp’s car and went on the chase again.
Wimp had promised us shiggy for the 2nd half and we went looking for it. We came up from under the other side of the bridge (nice touch), and headed out on the other side (and off the road) without crossing trail. Somehow I dropped back again. There was some groaning in the back of the pack about going straight back. Actually we didn’t really have that much choice until we came to the long forgotten E or T. I could see some of the hash had taken the T, but followed the E with Tuna, Stop and the Dogs (good name for a rock band) and others. We could see we were headed to the water. First we ran the dirt road, then cut through the shiggy toward the unoccupied boat dock. We paused and admired the scene at the dock, found trail again, and headed back toward the road, skirting along the manicured side of a property fence of some sort. We came up to a really nice wooden building that looked more like a retreat than a home. We were in a place called Kampong (that’s a Malay word for family compound), which was David Fairchild’s (Fairchild Gardens) home. Really beautiful and really cool.
When we came back out onto the road, and we could hear/see some T following hashers behind us and some in front. We were headed back now, close enough to almost smell the beer when I had a short verbal encounter with an overly aggressive driver. We jogged by a county mounty (sheriff) and said the afore mentioned aggressive driving a-hole jumped out of his car, I guess to complain to her, but she blew him right off as the rest of the hash paraded back to Wimp’s home and the circle (more beer).
GM Viva Las Labias was there as a very late cuming hasher, poorly disguised as a hare with bunny ears knit cap, but she and beer bitch, Ring of Fire had brought plenty of beer. Absent Penal, Ring of Fire ran the circle which was set up around an now roaring fire, The circle swung and swayed as the breeze blew the smoke at us seemingly no matter which side of the circle we tried. Ring of Fire was almost crying (smoke, remember) but ran a great circle. We went through all the usual accusations (with a lot of hashers drinking for fashion offenses) and some excellent individual acquisitions (does anybody ever remember any of them?).
At this point I suggested to hard working Viva (she had been pouring all the beers for the many down downs) that if we sat down close into the fire, we’d be below most of the smoke. She joined me, as did Pussicane and Wimp, and it worked. We stayed warmer and nearly smoke free as Ring of Fire lead us from the circle into a naming circle.
The naming circle was high, and highlighted by an incredible sting of inane questions ad answers from soon to be named Just Dan in the stupid fucking faggy shorts. Quickly it was agreed, since he had admitted to (disgustingly) peeing on some cargo in an airplane or something, he was named, now and forever, through ages and ages, and across at least 2123 Hashes worldwide, Piscargo. Great name! He drank! So we drank (some more) to the newly named hare (one hare drinks, all hares drink), and then, speaking for myself, drank some more.
I think there was pizza as no one seemed to want to leave. I did eventually (leave), and once again made it home unscathed and smiling ear to ear.
On On
Virgin dick
The above is only Trash, Hash Trash, you know, and is not necessarily factual or even meant to be. It is my cloudy remembrances, fantasies and hallucinations and should be taken as such. If anyone has comments or more to add, send it along and I will see that it gets added and out where other hashers can see it.
See you on trail ---VD