Hash Trash #956

Baltimore-Annapolis
Hash House Harriers

From the land of pleasant shiggy

TRASH: Run #956
August 6, 2006
Hares: Peace O'Chum and Just Jill


Cervix, Honey, and Box, feel free to scroll down about halfway through the trash… wankers.

3-> Felch

No! No!

Nah… in the magnimonious words of Johnnie C: in the infinite wisdom of the hash, Just Jill (a former member of the Irish Surfing Team!) will forever be known at BAH3 and in the wooooorld of hashdom as – GaeLick. What with all the shirt swapping would she ship off in search of Tits Ahoy? Find some Plundered Chest? Why she wore Black and Tan is still a bit of mystery, although the Firebush apparently does match the noggin. And yes, she would be turned on in a bus full of lesbians (who wouldn't?). Y'all who decided to do something other than hash missed a great tattoo show! And then we figured that after such a wonderous trail, we should offer the nameless hare our greatest gift – her very own shitty name. She would only come for one… one name that is… STELLLLLA!!! !! And so she was named. An older bitch then turned up missing… Perhaps searching for STUFYI or the missing Brew family. Some accusations were made, mainly to get something in the Jersey pack's mouth, although Cervix offered something other than beer. Had some visitors and long time no seers including Mr. Chihuahua 's Wild Ride from SLO , CA (my, what a lovely state… and such fresh air too!). So trail sucked, mostly due to being laid backasswards. Mostly nags though. Did you know NJ has more horses per square mile than any other state. Like their state, they were small but loud (and stinky). Circle was short… Listening to the Jersey clique was long. The rest of us managed to make it, despite being within a half mile of DCEC. `til next week, we hope. FYUSTI felt he needed to continue the liart all the way on back… not surprisingly, it was the last we heard from him. And then off back to the start… or end… whichever… Mmmm… beer.Note to Patrol Sock – it doesn't work. "Can you scratch this? I've got a cast… Lower… lower… lower…" what a tired old line. Either that or he was scamming on all the bikini clad high school chicks coming down to the river. After getting our dainty toes moist crossing the ole river, and pulling Just Kerri out (how the hell do you almost drown in a foot of water?), we spied a Johnnie in the sky, carefully perched as a pack lookout. Why Jessica didn't think to ask about the missing beer is beyond me. Just Jessica thoughtfully decided to report the bridge outage to the hares via Slit's cell (tech on trail ya wanks), but all we could here was the hare's laughter. We were right – Pulling Peter did a short hop of a mile or 2 and found the missing hare's arrow, hiding on a washed out bridge (we tried to warn Kerri, but she must have thought it really DID cross). We figured the latter 2 were expendable, and if we sent STUFYI across, then surely trail WOULDN'T be there. STUFYI, EMC, and Spunk went. Nah, not really. After some careful scouting, as well as some recurrent flashbacks of a certain Father's Day trail, we sent our bravest, most courageous harriers to cross the river. Worse yet, we'd lost the trail. Sigh. Why can't there be a stripper convention or picnic on the river? Damn! Stupid fishers…. Soon, a vast river appeared, with lots of topless… hairy men. Up and down the trails we roamed, some fast, some slow, some face planting on "hidden" tree stumps (it was only 3 feet wide Kerri). We must search them out! Crying No No!, onward we trudged after pulling Just Kerri out of a ditch. Alas and alack there weren't no beer! WTF? Could it be? Had the hares denied us our entire reason for being. Ahhhh, sweet nectar of the gods (much better than sweaty nectar of the gods), bring forth your heady goodness. And follow that we did right into a lovely beer check. The rest of us said whatever, we see flour right here on the backsides of all the trees… we'll follow that! with cries of On On! Cervix At Service, Box Seat Back, and Divine Honeysuckle struck off in search of the "true" trail. 3 dissenters decided they would be "traditional" and actually follow the trail… something about a beer check… At this point a vote was taken – follow the trail or trail the follow? Patapsco State Park… how could we forget that was right there? Onward through field and dale, to a minor forest trail. Of course! If she hadn't almost decapitated herself, we wouldn't have stifled our laughter. It was a big fence she managed to clothesline herself with. Seriously. Ahh – the spring loaded, no way they'll ever see it, it's almost invisible "Big Ass 3 Mile Wire Fence managed to snare at least one Just Kerri. But beware, for the farmer has laid some clever traps to waylay (who wouldn't want to be waaaaay laid?) any lusty young lads or lasses. After some more searching, off into the farmer's field, to find the farmer's daughter. Yeah… this was gonna be fun. Felch and ECDC ran uphill… they found some flour… and a true trail arrow leading back to the check… Soon a check was to be had. OK, we're in a lovely park… why the hell are we on a road? And then we were off… Off to the road! After a clarification intro from Felch (No flour… bad… No flour with ECDC or STFUYI VERY VERY VERY bad), just so Virgins Missy, Eric, and Carlin had some clue of WTF was up, we had a special ceremony from the RA's anointed altar boy, STUFYI, who led us in a lovely prayer, approved by Johnnie C due to the terminating disclaimer clause. Very nice Chum. To summarize: "Flour… good." Once we managed to corral them "ladies", we were given an exquisitely detailed intro to hashing and trail following from Chummy. More anon. Guess the hen party was more fun than our circle. Despite all our best efforts to be punctual, we were thwarted by a pack of Just lazy slackers, including Carol, Kerri, Ann, led by the usually reliable Hot UC. Right. Mmmmm… fuzzy fun. Our lovely hares, virgin hare Just Jill and born again virgin Peace O' Chum (virgin enough for us), were decked out in most fantabulous (ßcan you believe spell check allows this word?) porno ear wear. And because of his love, he gave us a lovely park to hash from in E-city. All kinds of swill. More importantly he loved beer. In the 1790s, Banneker also helped survey and lay out the land for Washington , D.C. , which became the nation's capital. Today, he is best known for publishing six almanacs, called "Benjamin Banneker's Almanac," between 1792 and 1797. For several years he published an almanac of these calculations. Born a free black man in the British Colony of Maryland in 1731, he received some formal education, but he mostly borrowed books and taught himself science and mathematics. Benjamin Banneker was a self-educated scientist at a time when most African Americans were slaves. Do you know who Benjamin Banneker was and what he did?

For you slackers who suck and wish to hash it forward…

Do you know who Benjamin Banneker was and what he did? Benjamin Banneker was a self-educated scientist at a time when most African Americans were slaves. Born a free black man in the British Colony of Maryland in 1731, he received some formal education, but he mostly borrowed books and taught himself science and mathematics. For several years he published an almanac of these calculations. Today, he is best known for publishing six almanacs, called "Benjamin Banneker's Almanac," between 1792 and 1797. In the 1790s, Banneker also helped survey and lay out the land for Washington , D.C. , which became the nation's capital. More importantly he loved beer. All kinds of swill. And because of his love, he gave us a lovely park to hash from in E-city. Our lovely hares, virgin hare Just Jill and born again virgin Peace O' Chum (virgin enough for us), were decked out in most fantabulous (ßcan you believe spell check allows this word?) porno ear wear. Mmmmm… fuzzy fun. Right. Despite all our best efforts to be punctual, we were thwarted by a pack of Just lazy slackers, including Carol, Kerri, Ann, led by the usually reliable Hot UC. Guess the hen party was more fun than our circle. More anon. Once we managed to corral them "ladies", we were given an exquisitely detailed intro to hashing and trail following from Chummy. To summarize: "Flour… good." Very nice Chum. After a clarification intro from Felch (No flour… bad… No flour with ECDC or STFUYI VERY VERY VERY bad), just so Virgins Missy, Eric, and Carlin had some clue of WTF was up, we had a special ceremony from the RA's anointed altar boy, STUFYI, who led us in a lovely prayer, approved by Johnnie C due to the terminating disclaimer clause. And then we were off… Off to the road! OK, we're in a lovely park… why the hell are we on a road? Soon a check was to be had. Felch and ECDC ran uphill… they found some flour… and a true trail arrow leading back to the check… Yeah… this was gonna be fun. After some more searching, off into the farmer's field, to find the farmer's daughter. But beware, for the farmer has laid some clever traps to waylay (who wouldn't want to be waaaaay laid?) any lusty young lads or lasses. Ahh – the spring loaded, no way they'll ever see it, it's almost invisible "Big Ass 3 Mile Wire Fence managed to snare at least one Just Kerri. Seriously. It was a big fence she managed to clothesline herself with. If she hadn't almost decapitated herself, we wouldn't have stifled our laughter. Onward through field and dale, to a minor forest trail. Of course! Patapsco State Park… how could we forget that was right there? At this point a vote was taken – follow the trail or trail the follow? 3 dissenters decided they would be "traditional" and actually follow the trail… something about a beer check… with cries of On On! Cervix At Service, Box Seat Back, and Divine Honeysuckle struck off in search of the "true" trail. The rest of us said whatever, we see flour right here on the backsides of all the trees… we'll follow that! And follow that we did right into a lovely beer check. Ahhhh, sweet nectar of the gods (much better than sweaty nectar of the gods), bring forth your heady goodness. Alas and alack there weren't no beer! WTF? Could it be? Had the hares denied us our entire reason for being. We must search them out! Crying No No!, onward we trudged after pulling Just Kerri out of a ditch. Up and down the trails we roamed, some fast, some slow, some face planting on "hidden" tree stumps (it was only 3 feet wide Kerri). Soon, a vast river appeared, with lots of topless… hairy men. Damn! Stupid fishers…. Why can't there be a stripper convention or picnic on the river? Sigh. Worse yet, we'd lost the trail. After some careful scouting, as well as some recurrent flashbacks of a certain Father's Day trail, we sent our bravest, most courageous harriers to cross the river. Nah, not really. STUFYI, EMC, and Spunk went. We figured the latter 2 were expendable, and if we sent STUFYI across, then surely trail WOULDN'T be there. We were right – Pulling Peter did a short hop of a mile or 2 and found the missing hare's arrow, hiding on a washed out bridge (we tried to warn Kerri, but she must have thought it really DID cross). Just Jessica thoughtfully decided to report the bridge outage to the hares via Slit's cell (tech on trail ya wanks), but all we could here was the hare's laughter. Why Jessica didn't think to ask about the missing beer is beyond me. After getting our dainty toes moist crossing the ole river, and pulling Just Kerri out (how the hell do you almost drown in a foot of water?), we spied a Johnnie in the sky, carefully perched as a pack lookout. Either that or he was scamming on all the bikini clad high school chicks coming down to the river. "Can you scratch this? I've got a cast… Lower… lower… lower…" what a tired old line. Note to Patrol Sock – it doesn't work. Mmmm… beer. And then off back to the start… or end… whichever… FYUSTI felt he needed to continue the liart all the way on back… not surprisingly, it was the last we heard from him. `til next week, we hope. The rest of us managed to make it, despite being within a half mile of DCEC. Circle was short… Listening to the Jersey clique was long. Like their state, they were small but loud (and stinky). Did you know NJ has more horses per square mile than any other state. Mostly nags though. So trail sucked, mostly due to being laid backasswards. Had some visitors and long time no seers including Mr. Chihuahua 's Wild Ride from SLO , CA (my, what a lovely state… and such fresh air too!). Some accusations were made, mainly to get something in the Jersey pack's mouth, although Cervix offered something other than beer. An older bitch then turned up missing… Perhaps searching for STUFYI or the missing Brew family. She would only come for one… one name that is… STELLLLLA!!! !! And so she was named. And then we figured that after such a wonderous trail, we should offer the nameless hare our greatest gift – her very own shitty name. Y'all who decided to do something other than hash missed a great tattoo show! And yes, she would be turned on in a bus full of lesbians (who wouldn't?). Why she wore Black and Tan is still a bit of mystery, although the Firebush apparently does match the noggin. What with all the shirt swapping would she ship off in search of Tits Ahoy? Find some Plundered Chest? Nah… in the magnimonious words of Johnnie C: in the infinite wisdom of the hash, Just Jill (a former member of the Irish Surfing Team!) will forever be known at BAH3 and in the wooooorld of hashdom as – GaeLick.

On On!

3-> Felch