Home
Hareline Hash Stats Past Hashes
Contact Us
Hareline Hash Stats Past Hashes About ⇻ Mismanagement About ⇻ What is Hashing? Contact Us

Saturday 06/13/2009 #790

Pu$$y Fart's Ballbreaker Trail @ Fenton -- First Ballbreaker since October 2005!

Hash Trash:

Big Hump HHH trash for #790

The Ball Buster version 2009

 

It was a sultry, lazy summer Saturday afternoon in June, when the Big Hump gathered in Sikeston….or somewhere.  The sometimes an(u)al Ball Buster trail, whereby only the toughest of the tough hashers show up to theoretically have their balls proverbially busted on a LOOOOOOONG trail set by the esteemed PUSSY FART.  This time she had help with the crazy ultra-dude NORMAN BATES.  We all showed up at the Fart's house somewhere in the south of Missouri where the streets are all curvy and hilly and people STILL live in the flood plains for some reason.

 

We were promised a shiggy-fied supertrail with 3 or 4 beer stops.  Bug spray was passed around and we were all instructed to insert dryer sheets in our shorts.  I'm still unclear on the purpose of that …was it to cut down on poison ivy, ticks, skeeters, chiggers, soccer moms, or just sticky, sweaty nether regions with static cling?????  Apparently dryer sheets definitely have an effect of making hashers poop on trail, as there was plenty of that going on.  I dunno…I just thought it was weird enough to mention.

 

The trail was all pre-laid, and our last instructions before sucking it up and craniuming out was from FARTFIGNUGEN who said, "Don't try to swim the river, it came up 4 feet yesterday and it's too dangerous.  Wait for the boat."   (More on that to come.)

 

47 miles later, we came to the first beer stop …a "floating" marina / bar / dock / Jeff Co fixture.  The Meramac River was definitely high as this place was barely above water.  But it was cool and as we enjoyed a bottle of water and a cold Bud, a creeping suspicion that cramping, crying, limping, walking, and dehydration would dominate the rest of the afternoon.  Pussy Fart claimed this beer stop was only a little over 3 miles into the trail, but it took us almost an hour to get there.  Even us slow pokes can run more than 3 miles in an hour, but who was I to quibble.

 

On out we were again, pavement pounding through more neighborhoods with hilly streets -- WHERE'S THE EFFIN SHIGGY???  So far, the most distinctive thing about this trail was the blow jobs laid down about 1/4 mile from checks.  Hehehee …SOOOOO glad I'm not a front runner.  Up a big hill to beer stop # 2.  JAILBATE says "a quarter mile to a BJ …so demoralizing."  I hear ya Jailbate …I hear ya.  At beer stop #2, water and G2 seemed more appealing than beer …WHHHAAAAAAA?????  Is this a hash?  Some of us forced down a beer anyway and then the Fart's offered the pack a compromise.  If we ran the rest of the trail "clothing optional" they would go in front of us and sweep the rest of the checks to make it a little easier.  Well, since we only had 3 harriettes running trail, the nude ratio seemed more un-appealing than continuing to let Jailbate and LOCK NUT MONSTER solve the super long checks, so we opted for the status quo.  Hehehe…fast fuckers, serves you right.

 

More pavement pounding hills, more sweating, more cursing, grunting and cramping.  EAT A BLOODY BITCH, in town for this trail, says "I prepared for this by losing trail in Sin City on Memorial Day and ended up running 18 miles."  As my brain tried to wrap itself around the concept of possibly running 18 miles, I noticed that the long BJ's had the effect of spreading out the pack and making some atypical hashers FRB's if they guessed right.  Case in point ..suddenly I was actually FRB when we finally went back into the woods.  And then I guessed wrong at a check.  A 1/4 mile later, I see a BJ on a fallen log and back check to crawl -- yes, literally CRAWL -- up a big hill to someone's yard for beer stop #3.  Exhaustion was setting in as the hashers ALL opted for water and G2 instead of beer, maybe waiting for the Riders of Rohan to bring news from the North. (bonus reference for LOTR fans).  Well, Fart, MUDPACKER and ELBOW DEEP were opting for beer still, but they were auto hashing.  Fuckers.

 

Oh god…we gotta cranium out for another segment.  "Come on legs…you can do it…don't give up now" I was thinking to myself.  Geezus …are my balls busted yet?  PMS's apparently were, as she joined the auto hashers for the finish, but we still had ICHY and MOTHER TERESA representin' the ball-less ball busters.  (I'm assuming neither of them have balls.)  Norman says at this point the worst part was over, but we still have some shiggy, a river crossing and the big hill back to the Fart's to go.  I got another turn at one of those super long BJ's from a check…finally seeing it at the bottom of a big hill.  Running back up the hill to the check was the end of me, running was no longer an option, my feet, legs and hips were done.  Luckily the rest of the trail was walking conducive anyway.  Past some goats and sheep, which RUDY tormented by talking dirty to, trying and succeeded in getting a "rise" out of them, traipsing through some wooded meadows of poison ivy and finally getting to the river.  This is where we were supposed to hash halt and ride a boat across.

 

Where's the boat?

 

Well, Fart is trying to row it across.   Seriously?   If I hadn't been so wiped, it would've been funny.  3 trolling motor batteries failed to get the boat across, so Fart resorted to paddling an aluminum john boat across to ferry the pack.  As we pushed the first load back into the current, the boat was drafting water up to the gunwales, with 2 hashers paddling furiously to make progress against the current.  I was happy to NOT be in the first load, as I thought this might very likely have a tragically bad ending.  Swimming, although we were warned against it, seemed like a better option.  Cramping was likely though, so everyone but LNM waited our turn.  He went ahead and swam it anyway.

 

Once safely ferried across the river, we had just one more big hill to go …but LIZZARDO to the rescue!!  He had went ahead and brought a car down as some of us chose to autohash the last 1/2 mile up hill.  THANK FRIKKIN GOD!!!

 

4.5 hours later, we were a whipped bunch of ballbusted puppies.  Garden hose showers were taken and dry clothes were donned.  We circled up in the drive way …in chairs.  One of the few times I was happy to have sitting in circle allowed.  A couple 69 cranium bands and a 400 for PMS were juiced and tied on.  Two hash shits were awarded, one to Fartfignugen for the boat rowing and one to COCK RING for admitting that he had showed up and waited in Belleville the previous night for a Bell Scott hash…failing to notice that the web site had info more than a year old.  Yeah, um, you missed that particular hash dude.


Then the Fart's fed us all, and fed us well.  Grilled chicken tits, some kind of cole slaw salad and many other carb-loaded goodies were consumed, along with finally more beers.

 

Some of the memorable quotes:

Pussy Fart: "I think Fart's had one too many beer stops."

STINK PALM: "I think my groin muscle is cramping..how does that happen?"

Random dude in a car: "What's up with all the goofy socks?"

ICHY: "Don't knock the mullet …mullets are cool."

WHINY BITCH: "I didn't have to use leaves, I found a stream close by."

 

I gotta hand it to ya Pussy Fart and Norman, that was a killer trail.  My balls are still intact, but man am I whipped.  All in all, it was a shitty fuckin long trail.

 

Disrespectfully Submitted,

Ricky’s Crab Shack

IWOOAIW20YAIJWPTO

.

Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomic
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net


Big Hump Hash House Harriers - St. Louis, Missouri - Established 1999