Hash Trash #1135

Hares:  Fossil and At Your Cervix

The hares call it a “dirt road style” trail. I prefer to call it a “this shit is going to take at least seven showers to wash off and my car will never smell the same again” trail. My brain hurts so this recap will be short and sweet.  Fossil and Cervix spent three days hosing down five miles of trail so we could all test the effectiveness of our washing machines. Ankle deep mud was quickly replaced by knee deep mud. Lots of knee deep mud. Throw in a few Kilimanjaro-esque ascents, several hundred golf balls, a juggling act, a controlled hunt, mud going in places it should never go and top it all off with more mud. In other words, this trail was awesome! It really could only have improved with a beer check but we’ll let that slide this once. In the spirit of years gone by there was no circle so all the stupid shit witnessed on trail is going to your graves with you.

Things overheard in the Palace of Mud Wonders:

OK, I’m gonna take my pants off. I’ll give you five minutes and then I’m going to start running.

I guarantee if you keep going in that direction you’re going to be shot by a bow and arrow.

Oh shit. We’re not following Film, are we?

I’m not putting that in your mouth!

Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!

Maybe that’s not sap…

My balls are pulling my pants down.

Did he offer you a beer? No, he just offered me a BJ.


OnOn to getting friendly with your rubber ducky,




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