January 15, 2008. Do My Butt's date of birth. Thus, Do My Butt's Birthday Trail.
I originally wanted to write the hash in the form of a re-working of a song from DMB's most favorite musician, but then I realized how difficult an undertaking that would be, and decided just to write a straight trash instead. I'm not nearly as original or talented (or dedicated) as G-Spot when it comes to writing the trash, unfortunately. But, if I had gone with my first idea, the song would have been called "What A Shitty Lay" (set to the tune of "What Would You Say". Of course, that's the only part I actually had written out, so you can see what I mean when I say I'm not really that dedicated. Although it's a clever title, no?
Alright, bitches, here we go.
So, first thing is that we circle in a park with a big tank in it. That's pretty cool,
After an illustrious chalk talk, the hare set off to lay trail. Or at least, that's what she
was supposed to do. I guess, though, when it's your birthday, you can do whatever the fuck you want, even if it means replacing the standard marking flour with some sort of super secret Ovaltine magical decoder flour that creates marks that one has to use one's natural gift of clairvoyance to actually recognize. At first the group of us, after hitting a distinct
Oh. Sexorcist has a phone. Excellent. Sexorcist saves us again. DMB tells Sexorcist the way to catch trail, claiming that her marks must have been "driven over" after laying them. Yeah. Well, we mistook a lot of driven-over trash, such as cigarette packs, napkins, fast food bags, and styrofoam cups for marks, so if the actual trail marks had been "driven over", I'd imagine we'd have noticed them, too.
5 minutes later, we joined everyone at the beer stop, but sadly missed the guest appearance by
Finally, the BS ended, with Postage leading me away from the pack with a shortcut in hopes that we would both be FRBs, cause I have always wanted to be FRB.
Another 5 minutes later, we're back at the park, where I take the first of many pees
behind the afore-mentioned tank. It's only after the 3rd time that I realize I'm peeing on sand. Sand that probably someone's kids are going to roll around in the next time they come to the park to climb on the tank. And that makes me sad. Because I won't be there to see that.
Circle time!!! A bunch of people get called in for doing stupid things and the virgin tells a joke that I remember laughing at but I don't actually remember. And then backsliders (of which there were MANY) are called into circle to drink. And then...oh. Hey, it's the Po-Po again. Now, the funniest part about this is that EVERYONE took a step to the right, got REALLY quiet, put their heads down, and covered their booze, like we were all 16 years old or something. I mean, it was hilarious. Apparently the Po-Po had recieved "several calls" about our band of merry-makers. I'm really curious to find out what those calls sounded like:
911: "Yes, what is your emergency?"
Caller #1: "There's a group of people running down my street."
911: "They are running down your street? Are they violent or causing a disturbance?"
Caller #1: "Well, they are running. And they have flashlights and whistles and they are yelling 'On'-something every once in a while."
911: "OK. We'll have a officer come and check it out."
911: "Yes, what is your emergency?"
Caller #2: "Hello? There's a group of people across the street drinking."
911: "They are drinking? Are they being loud or causing a disturbance?"
Caller #2: "Well, they are drinking. And I think maybe writing on a building."
911: "OK. We'll have an officer come and check it out."
Luckily PMS used her Mickey Mouse Marathon Medal to mesmerize the
Now that disorder was restored, we could proceed with Hashshit nominations. All I remember is DMB winning it for about 3,483 different nominations (one nomination for every dot she didn't lay). Then, she had to drink out of a large moon cup. Nasty.
We swung low and we were off to Crest Bowl, but not before Ricky's Crab Shack banged my window (that's what she said) then started wailing and holding his leg as I started to pull out of the lot (that's what she said). While I sat in Park watching the faker for what seemed to be FOR-EVS, he finally went on so long with the act that Nurse Hashshit rushed over to his side, honestly believing I'd ran him over. Nerds.
The rest of the evening was awash in everyone making fun of my sweater and tall shoes, Princess not pulling his pants down for a change, Burning Asshole actually singing to the theme from Smokey and the Bandit, Flossit and I trying to figure out why the bartender could never remember what bill we originally gave her, 2 Fuck reminicing about me pouring beer in my hood, Cliff talking about coloring his hair, Dos listening to Cliff talk about coloring his hair, PMS playing her FAV game ever, Bama taking things slow and easy for the evening, and a lot of really, really, really bad karaoke.
All in all, just another shitty trail.
Happy Birthday. Do My Butt.
That's what she said,
Strap On (clap clap) Strap Off