Stinko De Mayo Trail
In honor of Mexico’s Independence Day, I Feel Tower, Dos HiXXies, and Disco A$$ laid a trail that was eerily similar to a bunch of Mexicans trying to sneak over the border to freedom in the United States. You could say it was a Latino version of “Deliverance”, by nights end. This trail gave a whole new meaning to “Dirty Sanchez”. Ok, not really, I guess it just emphasized the same old meaning.
As DMB pointed out, if you had more than 3 teeth in your head (yes, I said it), you were going to have trouble getting to this Hash or getting home (thanks Drop Dead Hummers for getting me there—yes, that’s what she said!)…..DMB also tried to outsmart the Federales by wearing a shirt that said, “US Border Patrol”. No such luck!
A dead trail usually means that you can con the opposite sex hares into showing you true trail. I Feel is no different. The problem with this trail is that even the short cuts, really didn’t help any. You were gonna get wet up to your hoochie and you were going to get muddy up to your hew ha, even when he pointed you in the right direction. Very few blow jobs on this trail, except apparently the one in Famous’ car. We were on dry pavement for about 30 feet before we hit water and a chick check. Just Michelle, having stayed fully clothed for that 30 feet, was itching to show some skin, so that is what she did. Off the hounds go to find trail. We were in water for the next 3 counties. It was kinda funny watching So So following McWizz thru the water. McWizz would be knee deep in water and So So would be under water! It’s also amazing how comments like Ricky’s “you want me to check you for ticks and leaches” or “what’s that fish smell?” or “I see a beaver in the woods”, just NEVER seem to get old. I did tell 2nd Cumming to stopping pointing all the poison ivy out to me, because there was no other choice, but to grab onto it (that’s what she said) and I just didn’t want to know what kind of pain I was going to be in later. At times the water was only ankle or so deep, so songs like “Row, Row, Row your boat” were sung, but as the creek rose, verse of “The Hares Still Suck” broke out. When every verse of “Jesus Saves” was finished, we knew we had been in the water too long. At least on the float trip, we have a keg floating with us—keep that in mind for next time, Hares!
We finally got to the beer stop which was as hard (that’s what she said) to get to as the pictures make it look like! In fact, Lock Nut got there first and waited Rambo style with mud on his face for the rest of us. He heard others calling “on on” and responded, but those wankers were above him and never did make it to the first beer stop. Mmmmmmmm warm Mexican beer. Earlier on trail, So So made the comment that when she died, she wanted every Hasher to come to her funeral wearing shirts that say, “Strap On Strap Off”. With the beer stop being at the top of a sink hole very similar to the one in Texas, she wasn’t sure, if any Hasher would be left alive to go to her funeral. Tired, wet, mud up to our a$$es, and beer—who could ask for anything more, except for free prostate exams offered by DMB—covered in mud up to her elbows! That’s when every Hasher who was there and has had a broken body part in the last year, decided that it would be a good time to slide down the mud hill into about 2 feet of water. Although Snatchsquatch led the brigade, Lock Nut and Meta weren’t far behind (dumb asses!). And Just Michelle hadn’t shown us her boob for about 30 minutes, so it was about time she took off her shirt and slid down the hill. Burning A$$hole tried to slalom down the other side of the mud mountain, only to revisit why he got his name. Fefe just stood there with a stupid grin on his face, knowing that he wouldn’t see this much water/rain for the next 4 months, while he plays war in the desert. After losing shoes and Pulls Rank to the sucking mud, it felt good to back in the water! Shiggy Stomper did make the comment, “Those under water rocks sure are cock biters”. So maybe it wasn’t good for all body parts to be back in the water. Finally, thru a drainage ditch and out of the creek into pouring rain. What a trail! But it wasn’t far to our next beer stop, where several Hashers were awaiting us: Duzzy, Lucy, Just Joe, Just Nick, Stink Palm (with one hand on his ball and the other wrapped around his duck), Bama, and a satiated Famous. When you’re not up to your neck in creek water it gets pretty cold, so off the pack went to the finish. Glady gave into the wishes of the pack and decides to circle up inside the bar (but only after he maked everyone shot gun a beer). After most of the pack was inside getting warm, Glady decides that he would rather circle up outside (he’s new at this, ain’t he!).
The bar had turned up the heat and provided towels for us to dry off with. DMB’s nipples didn’t seem to get the memo (I think they were too busy enjoying the free chicken). Nurse showed up looking clean and warm and beautiful as ever. Follow the Urine Trail showed up just looking clean and warm. Sexorcist stood in the corner traumatized, suffering from flashback of his days in Nam. I Feel tried to hand out “Stencho deMayo” patches, but most of the pack said, “patches, we don’t need no stinkin patches” (I’ve been waiting all trash to get to write that!!!). However, we took them and will display them proudly!
And what would a Saturday Hash be, without some display of homosexuality (while proclaiming, “I’m not gay”). Without naming names, I got to see one Hasher’s weiner (and I’m not talking about the two little dogs Numb Buns brought on trail) get hard, while another male Hasher was stroking it. Oh, did I forget to mention, that Skunk Chaser was in town from KC?
Disrespectfully submitted by,
Shhhhh! Wanna know who was on the receiving end of the hand job? Just figure out the one attendee, whose name is NOT mentioned in this trash.
Now answer me this…..how many of you men reread this trash, in a panic, looking for your name?!? Hehehehehehehehe
So i prolly shoulda asked someone to help remind me that i was supposed to be home by 9. I didn't do that, so here i sit on my couch writing my wonderful hashing friends.
My toe is mostly numb but gives a stabbing pain when i bump it. My legs are covered in scrapes and bumps that i'm sure will turn beautiful red, violet and blue in time. The largest bump is already changing color. My cranium also has many scrapes. My car remote no longer works. My socks are in a trash can at the second beer stop. My pedometer died. My id and my cash is still wet. I pulled a splinter from under my fingernail the size of a volkswagon. I have one set of clothes that smells like a swamp and one set that smells like cigarettes. My underware had a dollar in it. I still have sand under my toenails. My duck made it home safe. My basketball did not. In other words, i went hashing today. Thank you hares.
Even with all that adventure, what i will remember most is that i asked every woman in the bar to dance and not one civilian would. It's like i was 15 again and no girls would dance with the big goon. (yes i was a big goon at 15 too) but thats ok because i did earn the aforementioned dollar dancing on the bar for all to enjoy. I also had more than one intimate moment with a certain square pole which may or may not have my dna on it. And i will never divulge who exactly i was thinking of at those moments. What i can say is i haven't felt that way about an inanimate object since i was 15. Maybe that's why noone would dance with me! Back then and tonight! I gave it away to the pole and didn't save enough for the ladies. That must be it. Too much playing with the pole, isn't that just the story of my life.
Thanks to all who did dance with me. Ladies, fondly remember each dance and i will do the same. Gentlemen, act like nothing happened and i will do the same. Pole, there are no words to express what i feel for you.(ha! I said 'i feel', freudian?) But if i could find the words i could never speak them aloud for i am betrothed to another and she must never know. What we had was fleeting as all that burns so hot must be. And i know that you will survive well because so many suitors are lined up to stand under your roof. Each lusting for a chance to lean on your ebony sides. OH, the thought gives me shudders! Their rough and caloused hands brutally grabbing you again and again. Not like the soft but strong touch of your beloved Stinky hanging on only hard enough to thrust with pelvic adoration. No, they could never reach you the way that i have. Not with all their fingers and toes together could they touch you the way that i touch you. They do not relish your knots. They do not feel each grain from top to bottom. They do not see your stain and wish that the whole world were painted that color. No, only i do these things. But alas i must depart, ever so sadly. Goodby Pole. (tear)
Back to the couch. Yes the couch is where i spend th night when i have failed in my responsibility as a husband to do what i said i was going to do. Namely, be home by 9. Don't worry though, because the couch is surprizingly comfortable and has all the amenities of a decent hotel room, without the dried semen.
Happy Mothers Day to all you Mothers! (and even you Mother F*ckers)