Blows, Just Cassie, DMB & PMS @ South County
Hash Trash: Wednesday is a...baseball day?
"The Big Hump has never canceled a hash — not for an emergency, and
certainly not for weather." So you can imagine how shocked I was as I
pulled my cooler out of my junk filled trunk(you fuckin' know it baby!)
and heard Mother Mary Nipple tell me the hash was off tonight. Why you
might ask? Because of the Cards game in New York. I had mixed emotions
about this. On one hand, I was looking forward to running in the dark.
On the other hand, they have beer AND wings at Buffalo Wild Wings. Sold!
Several of us drank a beer in the parking lot anyway, you know, 'cause why
not? Blows directed people on the car trail to BWW's.
On-On to the bar!
The bar was filled with a sea of red. Over in the corner was a curly
haired PMS bouncing from table to table yelling, "This seat's taken!"
"Are you sitting there?" and my favorite, "I'm gonna bust your lip if you
sit there old lady!" Half of the hashers got the message of the
alternate run sight and were dressed in jeans and nice shirts. Others
were not so fortunate. Many wings and beers were down downed, but not
even the awesome might of the rally cap could bring the Cardinals back
from a 4 run lead. Oh well, one more night of being nervous and yelling
at Scott Spezio to shave that fucking shit off his face.
After the game, it was decided to stick to the club's roots(see paragraph
1 above) and set a trail for the drunkards to follow. Everyone circled up
and a chalk talk was given to our two virgins, Just Scott and Just Wyatt.
Our three lovely hares, Purple Muffin Stuffin' - Do My Butt - and Just
Cassie, got on their knees...to be blessed...with white stuff...by Postage
And they're off! Where would the trail lead us? In and out of a drain
pipe? Over train tracks? Through a gutter? How about around the back of
Buffalo Wild Wings. Just another shitty trail. We then circled back up
and everyone got covered up for a long cold drunken circle. Down Downs
were handed out for every conceivable reason - wearing cranium gear in
the circle, using towels as beer coolies, being born. Just Scott gave the
hariettes a flash and many songs were sung. Dapper Sapper won hashshit
for something, but I can't remember what for. Probably for not keeping
that sweet porno-stache he sported at Dorsett. Since no headbands were
brought, Hog Tool had to wait until next Wednesday to sniff the stank on
his 10th run. Finally the hashers swang low, although most were probably
sucked up by then, and the hash got a piece. The End.