Wednesday 06/02/2010 #865
Witty Titty Carrot Committee and Waldo's Pimp @ ???
Hash Trash: TrashMuch beloved old-school hashers Witty Titty Carrot
Committee and Waldo’s Pimp hosted a hash. Here’s how it went.
We met at
an elementary school, where Bend Over Granny violated his court-ordered “not
within 100 yards of” rule. His ankle bracelet flashed some lights, but didn’t
make any noise.
It was thought that the angry-looking soccer moms weren’t
going to appreciate us flaunting our independence by drinking brews right in
front of them, so we moved circle to a more mosquito-infested area.
wore a baby-pink shirt, and presided over circle.
Witty and Waldo were
blessed, took off and we questioned Just Rebecca. I heard, “blah blah blah blah
singer in a folky band blah blah blah.” I hope to see this band someday. Also,
she did something with the male parts of corn, annnnd shit. It’s been over a
week. I forget. But there was some good stuff there.
So we get moving on
trail and are immediately cookie-deep in shiggy of the wet persuasion. I hope
nobody slips... Or gets cut... Or runs fast without looking and smacks their
cranium into a concrete tunnel... No time for that because before you know it,
we are being instructed by trail to go ahead and shimmy on down past the sign
that says “NO SWIMMING! RAW SEWAGE! STAY AWAY!” Mudpacker was actually going to
give me a piggyback ride, until I noticed that it was still deep enough for me
to get my cookie wet, so the non-death-wish portion of us tried to keep up on
dry land, and brave the poison ivy instead of the poop. We all met at the beer
stop and drank crappy beer.
On out to find the 2nd promised beer stop. We
get cruisin’, and eventually find some landscaping stones... Follow trail up the
stones until we are quickly about a full story from the ground, with prickly
bushes below and a tall, flimsy fence separating us from the safety of the
parking lot on the other side. There was nothing, however, separating us from
from the gal that was mad at us for simply following true trail. Maybe it was
the Bud Ice can in my hand (“We’re a running club, I swear!”). Maybe it was Hit
By a Car sniffing her crotch (“IS THIS YOUR DOG?????”). Maybe it was Shot By a
Whore calling her “Lady” (“Listen, LADY...”). Whatever it was, she was none too
pleased, and threatened to call the 5-0. And she made good on that threat
because after Hummers forced me through and told me to quit trying to reason
with her, we find the end, keep up with true trail, and see the occifer cruising
around looking confused. That’s when we really turn into a running club. Luckily
we had the charm of Cum It Out and Running Nose to talk to the nice occifer, and
he went away. Garage A Trois still thought we should run in a zig-zag, just in
By now it’s dark, and the newer hashers have no idea what the hell
is going on, but they know they’ll be back. We FINALLY find the 2nd beer stop
and dive into the stash and some folks get ready to ride back in Lazy Ass’s
cheater shaggin wagon. Then, to everyone’s delight, we see a half-nekkid Diggity
Diggity sprinting towards us. I just thought she was being racist, but she had a
serious message to deliver. Bend Over Granny ran cranium first into a concrete
tunnel and was bleeding like it was the end of the month, but from his face.
Soooo the most responsible of the hashers Lazy (only because he was the only one
with a vehicle), OCD (she is good at taking care of shit) and Diggity (she knew
where he was) jumped in the Megavan and went to get him. Of the handful of words
that Diggity could muster after her half-mile sprint, “blood” was about 1/3 of
Most of the slow-ass eagles hadn’t made it back yet, so we waited
around for about one minute before we decided we need to get back with the
quickness, so Waldo took off laying the trail back. The eagles showed up while
we were packing up and whatever. We took trail back to Witty and Dancing Queen’s lovely
backyard where dirty hashers took Mexican showers in their kids’ baby pool, and
commenced in an informal hula hoop contest. I’m proud to announce that I won
that contest, and my prize was a Watermelon flavored cocksicle, which I guess
I’ll use for practice.
Circle commences. Ummmmm. Some awful songs were
sung for all of Witty and DQ’s neighbors to hear. Boobs from the 2nd story
made me feel like I was at Mardi Gras. Beer ran out. Dewey went for beer, but
couldn’t find any. Diggity drove Cum It Out for beer and found some. We drank
it. Hashshit went to Bend Over Granny for NOT BENDING OVER (high-five to Witty
for that nomination!!) Big Bush stepped up and consumed the plungerita for
Granny. Announcements included that Granny would be at the on-after and would
appreciate some boobs in his face after his ordeal. I didn’t get to the on-after
because I suck, so I hope that’s what happened there.
Damage was wearing 2 pairs of shorts. I just wanted an excuse to say
Death Sewage River of Poop
Death Ledge of
Cranky Homeowners Mad About Nothing?
Death Tunnel of Potential Actual
Death Circle of No Beer
Death Hashshit of Watermelon
It was a most shitty trail.
Do My Butt
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Big Hump Hash House Harriers - St. Louis, Missouri - Established 1999