Do you ever go into work on a Thursday/Friday and look at the Big Hump page and wonder before you click on the hash link if you missed a good one? Well you did. The RA blessed the hash with a moderate 35 degree hash temperature and merry ole St. Incky Claus blessed the hash with beer and cookies, so the hashers came out.
I walked up to the circle with a cooler of frozen PBR Light and Coors and proceeded to warm my stomach for the upcumming hash. There were lots of hashers dressed in their finest Christmas attire. Lock Nut Monster had balls on his head(who said head and all that shit), Rhotan had no pants on his legs, and Orgy The Cum Faced Reindeer had white stuff all over her face. The hares were then blessed and out and we re-circled back up after a mitten filled grope shot. Just Shubra came into the circle to be named and like always, it was a cluster fuck. No one could hear her and her answers were lame, but finally we got some good dirt on her. We found out that when she worked for the South Carolina Legislature or somewhere, she fucked her boyfriend on the head(who said head and all that shit) legislator's desk. She also loves horses, has never had crabs, and anal?
Some close names were Cuntgressional Session, Stuff Her Ballot Box, House Minority Slut, I Heart Horse Cock, and Shubra's Crab Shack. Eventually though, the pack yelled out for Oval Orifice! In the name of Gispert, and all the great hashers before you, you shall forever be known as...I forgot. The forgetting of the hash name after such a long build-up is my second favorite hash tradition*.
The pack downed it's remaining beer and set off after the hares. The scent of cookies was in the air and it was not very long before the pack was backed up. Some shiggy and a small creek crossing usually won't slow down hashers this much, but when the fear of getting your shoes wet in the first 2 minutes of a 30 degree hash is a reality, they take it carefully.
On up a hill and by endless houses we ran, but one thing seemed to be missing. There were no fucking Christmas lights on any of the houses. We stumbled into some midget shiggy and abandoned railroad tracks** before hitting the Beer halt. Although I am not particularly fast, I was still able to get there in time to get a backwash swig of Coors Light. So that was cool. After the beer was drank, we ran through some more eye gouging shiggy before making to the greatest Fourth of July/Christmas decorated house in St. Louis, The Stink Palm residence. We we rewarded for our hashing efforts with cookies and beer and prizes for whoever could find the ornaments in the pile of leaves. After two beers, four cookies, and accidentally pissing on the front of my shirt, we took off again. We ran a little bit more before getting to Christmas Lane where almost every house looks like Santa came on it***. We ate more cookies, drank more beer, and had some great photo ops with air filled Christmas characters.
We made it back to circle, well most of us anyway, and began handing out down downs for both naughty and nice behavior. Cranium bands were blessed by four lovely hariettes and were awarded to Jailbait(10), Bend Over Granny(25), I Like Big Bush & I Cannot Lie(25), and Fuck Me Rudolph(100).
Hashshit's most consecutive winner Hymen Humter stepped forward when Hashshit awards were opened. He didn't have a nomination, but luckily the pack did. Hymen Hunter for not having a nomination! The Hares for not having Christmas lights through half of the trail! Jailbait for insinuating that his cranium band didn't smell good! And somebody else for something else! When the dust cleared, a trial by down down was declared between Hymen Hunter and Jailbait. And guess who won?
Jailbait!! But it was determined that his spillage was too great and the the hashshit finally left Hymen Hunter's hand and was passed on.
Announcements were made and we swang low. All in all, just another shitty fucking awesome trail! Oh yeah, and the virgin told a funny joke but I can't remember what it was. On-On!
Gladdy's trash will go here.