The RA must have really done a great job going down on Mother Nature because it was a great fucking day. Thanks PMS! Because of this, and a nagging feeling to get shitty drunk, Plot My G-Spot and I decided to partake in some debaucherous hash activities this past Saturday. We stopped by the gas station before showing up because the Beermeister inside me was screaming at me to be prepared. Luckily I did, because when we showed up, we had the only beer. Three Inch King and Ho Hum we particularly pleased. As the hares laid a chalk talk, late cummers poured in one a time. Free Mustache Rides, 2:19 From Chicago, and Postage Tramp(The reigning King of the Hobos) were among the violators. The hares gave directions for the walkers and were off before a grope shot or role call could be taken. After the juiced up hash demanded entertainment, Purple Muffin' Stuffin and Norman Bates led us in a complicated version of Father Abraham that more closely resembled high school gym warm ups than thrusting boning movements. The pack and the walkers were away. Even though us walkers crawled on for two miles, we were still able to beat the runners. Upon entry into a park by the Meremac, we were greeted by sweaty hares threatening us with a deer antler and offering us beers. One by one, knee high wet hashers rolled in and shared tales with us about creeks, truckers, and endless shiggy. Army of Dark Whores got the full creek treatment as he took one too many steps to the left. 2:19 was warned as well, but really wanted to get wet.
The walkers were told to take the runners trail back and got a 10 minute cranium start. We were distracted by a plow in the middle of the forest and the runners caught up with us. We we then presented with two options as walkers. Try to make it across 270 on foot, or enter into a 1/2 mile long 7 foot tall tunnel of darkness. We decided on the tunnel. Things were going great until we hit a check check. That's when things went really great as G-Spot broke her streak of 142 hashes without flashing and let the girls loose. Good bless warm weather and dark tunnels 50 feet under the interstate!! We emerged safely in another forest and made out way through some backyards to the start. We were dead fucking last, but also had the key to the car with the beer in it. And when you have that, you're never really last. PMS started circle and pulled in Postage Tramp and myself for extended necessary and unnecessary down downs. Disco Ass was awarded a bag for some reason and drank out of it. Hash shit nominations were doled out and PMS won for Doo My Butt like behavior. Luckily when one RA drinks, all RAs drink. Announcements were long and all completely forgotten and we swang low before adjourning to Growlers Pub. There, we learned that Lucy needs to steal me a watch and that I firmly believe that if I had a time machine, I would go back in time and bring back hairy pussies. I love beer. On-On!
Your trusted scribe,