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Saturday 06/12/2010 #867

GladHeAteHer and Plot My G Spot @ 3rd Annual Hobo Hash

Hash Trash:

The Third Anal Hobo Hash started on what looked to be a gorgeous June Saturday. The USA tied England in the World Cup match, Dewey Sexual System and Fuck Me Rudolph were drunk after an afternoon at Shenanigans, and the town folk in Edwardsville were gearing up for their World Famous Route 66 Festival. High hopes, indeed. Apparently Stink Palm woke up on the wrong side of the bed that morning, because he asked that all of these things be ruined (except the drunk hashers part) with a storm that knocked down trees, flooded streets and ruined any chance of GladHeAteHer and Plot My G Spot getting pre-laid. Nice job, fuckface.

The pack circled up outside of the bar formerly known as Rusty's, AKA Douchebag Central. With the weather and rumors of beer flowing at
Forest Park, I wasn't sure what to expect. Luckily, 11 brave soldiers decided to brave the rain and join Dirty Jeans and Fingerbone Robinson on one most excellent adventure through Edwardsville. Since we weren't starting at the watershed, one could only hope of a beer stop nearby. After chalk talk, in which we learned of a new marking: HJS (Hobo Jungle Stop, not Hand Job Stop; confusing right?) the hares were away. Stink tried to kill time, but really had nothing to say, so Garage A Tois decided to speed up time a little and the pack was away.

The hobo hounds were making good time, even with all the chick checks. Diggity Diggity tried to explain to her virgin that by flashing she really didn't have to run that much, but Just Andrea A. was having none of that. Besides, there seemed to be more hoboettes on trail this time, so we managed to keep it together. After a few side streets and turns, we stumbled upon an entrance to the rails. HJS! Hand jobs for every...er, sorry, BEER! Beers were downed and mud was smeared before the pack was again, on the search for beer.

We seemed to be on trail only for a short time when we noticed that we were closer and closer to the watershed. A chick check was placed right next to a field where some young children were playing ball so we hopped a creek and entered into some wooded areas. A nicely placed HH (this means YOU Whiney!) was at the end of a familiar street, and it wasn't long before we were drinking Stag and Busch in The Robinson's backyard. Shot By A Whore used some chalk to illustrate sexual poses on the driveway. Lazy Ass and Strap On-Strap Off spoke to the neighbors and somehow a kitchen door ended up on top of the monkey bars.

We were finally ON-IN to the the end. Three more visitors, Ho Hum, Halley's Comet and Tig Ol' Bitties arrived. It was time to crown the Hobo King and Queen, which went to Stink and Diggity, respectively. They were given Busch and Stag crowns, a sash and a beautiful goblet from which to drink the night away. Hashshit was awarded (again) to Tig, who didn't have it, so was given a new one with quite a nice welcome message on it from Dewey. The on-after would be at Cleo's and then back to the Robinson's for more drinking and hopefully some chow.

If you are ever at Cleo's, get the bucket. Don't ask what's in it, just pay the 10 bucks and get ready to have your ass handed to you. Just Rebecca, Garage, Diggity, Dewey, So-So, and G Spot had to actually wrestle the god damn thing out of Rudy's hands. Lazy and Tig stole it away for a sip, before realizing, hey, there's got to be more. In true hobo fashion the majority of booze came from the pail with 50 straws in it, most of which were in every dirty hobo's mouth.

Back on the homefront, Gladdy prepared a quite fabulous meal of 24 hot dogs, 4 burgers and a plate of pizza rolls. There was beer, too, oh my was there beer. Cards were played, beer-a-mids were built and Ho Hum exhausted himself playing Wii and had to nap on the floor with a child's blanket. In the morning, the door was recovered and a breakfast fit for any Hobo King or Queen was served. All in all, it was another shitty trail.

Go Fuck Yourself,
Dewey S. System

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