Hash Trash #1001
| Baltimore-Annapolis Hash House Harriers From the land of pleasant shiggy |
TRASH: Run #1001 June 17, 2007 Hares: Ranger Dick & At Your Cervix |
TO: Wankers, Wankerettes, et al
FROM: Too Sexy
DATE: 17 June 2007
SUBJ: 1001 BAH3 Hash (subtitled "Possum, Police, and Pizza")
Whoa. The trash for a new millenium. No pressure.
I should have known that this day was in for a buzz kill when the SexyMobile got bathed in possum parts on I-95 southbound. Wasn't speeding. Wasn't tailgating. Just keeping up with the flow of traffic and jibber-jabbering with Pony Boy and Three Trick Pony who, conveniently, were in said wheels with me so I didn't have to waste any precious weekend minutes with my usual banter on the cell phone.
Some vehicle in front of us swerved gently left to avoid something in the road. I did the same. Then, the vehicle in front kicked up a near fully intact possum carcass that was then ground under the left hand side of my carriage. Not having much experience in this department, I was surprised at how much noise was made. It sort of reminded me of the end of the Sopranos when Phil Leotardo got whacked and then had his head run over. Ahhhhh, cable. Ya gotta love it.
We got to the On On in plenty of time. As did the authorities. Despite about everything being done except getting fitted for orange jump suits (which actually makes for a nice hash theme; say running around the prison complexes in Jessup), we were finally on our way around 3:30PM. I don't know what the eagles did. I didn't do the long one (almost sounds like the tale of a prison bitch). As I hadn't gotten much exercise the prior week (re: earlier trash on the BAH3 1000th and having elected to take the "nuclear option" WRT opening keg selection), so I ran the walkers trail. Pavement. Saw a deer. Despite running, I still came in third. [ed. note- WHERE were you? There's no "placing" in the hash!] F. Back to the On In for a nice cool bottle of water. Ahhhh. That was refreshing. So was the second. And third. [ed. note- there was so much water at the end because there was NONE on trail] Those cheese balls were tangy.
All the folks that had extra calories to burn (I don't, ya see, as my doctor says I have a low threshold for fitness) returned and we packed up shop and moved to some dude's house in College Pork where we did our deal in his driveway in the back of his house. Sorry. I forget his name. Smegmoid? Drippy Dudely? [ed. note- The Incredible Edible Schmegg from EWH3] He was very gracious. I know one of our guys wrote down a ton of what happened and who got sited for what. It was very thorough and well organized. I lost it. So, here's the summary: the hares drank; there were violations and the violators drank; there were some visitors and they drank; then, there was singing (Motor Mouth, the ring leader) and drinking. Then, the pizza arrived. It was all eaten.
Oh, yeah. This was the last stop (of eight) on the inaugural Tour-de- hash.
The beer was Fordham lager (there might have been another; I stopped at this one). Yummy.
Lots of pictures were taken with Pony's camera. See his album for the graphic novel of the 1001th.
All for now. Stop back next week when we all get fingerprinted, figure out who gets the top bunk, and learn how to set trail in a prison yard that has to be hashed in 60 minutes. I'm starting to feel some Paris Hilton empathy coming on.
Don't forget about all the cool events coming up.
On, On,
TS