Hash Trash #1142 – The Rumson Reenactment

Any account of BAH3 1142 must include an accounting of the unfortunate happenings of the previous night, the “Rumson reenactment” of a particular debacle in new jersey where the chief activities seem to have been drinking a butt ton of beer, and finding as many ways as possible to show your naughty bits to everyone. Hosted by the ultra gracious Velevet Vulva and At Your Cervix, it was a classy affair attended by Hash glitteratti such as Fey Ley, Mayoral Fixation and Cumrade Pissonya, Saintly Suds and EZ Lipps, Cyrus Rumskull or someone like that, Just Dan and his fiancee Laura, who obviously has no common sense, or just bad judgement in men, Bobbin for Buttplugs, Pro Boner, Amazon, Lil Flour, others.  Our quiet, intelligent discussions were punctuated only by the gentle clink of our martini glasses and uniformed waiters offering sophisticated little canapes.

Then Velvet gave us a tour of the house and showed us where exactly she and Cervix last had sex, and what tools they used, and things went downhill from there, as subsequently this urbane affair was taken hostage by a strange wanker from Atlanta, a hasher named Cockpit, the Incredible Edible Schmeg’s apparent female alter ego. If he stuck lit things up his ass, SHE stuck lit things up her ass; if he showed off his coconut thong, SHE tried to show off her coconut thong except she didn’t have one, or any other underclothes, as it turns out. If Velvet reenacted the infamous Rumson naked- tits- squashed- against- the- window scene, SHE reenacted the scene even though she wasn’t at the original. She wrestled half naked on the kitchen flooor with Film@11 and Miracki Freedom in vegetable oil she put down on the linoleum, mounting Miracki and subjecting her to vicious Tit Slaps. But that came after she drank all the beer and downed all the H1N1 vaccines Velvet prepared, gigantic syringes of jello shots, quite awesome and tasty, as part of a faux trail, which turned out to be a walk across the street to the pizza joint and drinking in the 7-11 parking lot. In the end she was tossed  for dancing on the piano and generally being too rowdy. yes. i spake the truth, stranger. now that’s a challenge with a house full of drunken hashers. In other words, invite this wanker to your event and sell tickets. just wrap everything in plastic and put down a tarp first.

so the next day was the real trail, set by Cervix, a pavementy affair suitable for a bunch of hungover drunks. Since its been almost a week i don’t remember who the hell was there though  ZZ Bottom III showed up and ran in a t-shirt and an Aunt Jemima bandana. In addition to the Wankers that crawled over from Velvet and Cervix’s house, we had a few long time no seers such as the irish accented Blackhole.   Interestingly the mob did NOT inlcude our visitor Cockpit, since she showed up 20 minutes after the start, and at the wrong place. However, plenty of others were there to step up and take her place in the annals of idiocy and we were treated to a series of terribly mean spirited False Trails and an otherwise tasty romp through Crofton and across the freeway.   What you couldn’t find a tunnel for us to crawl through?  Bobbin circled us up in a parking lot near a swamp to get some Religion. General jocularity ensued. Wankers were violated. Friends were toasted. in the end, our love for each other was reaffirmed and we departed, teary-eyed, our fingertips touching till he last minute as we separated, hopeful for the future. or something like that.

so on on to 1143!

AnyCock’ll Do Me