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Hash Trash

Hangover Hash Trash BH3 - 1 January 2003

Wordy, yet delightful... read on if you have the time.
If you missed the trail, the food, the beer, the long wait for the shag wagon, the champagne (which I DID miss!) and the naming and accusations, then you missed a really good time. Of course, you probably did NOT miss some much-needed rest in your warm, cozy bed because that's probably where YOU spent New Year's Day by skipping the hash! (Lazy – or in GQ’s case, ill – wanker butts.)
Despite having "the WORST f*#*ing directions (some nameless hasher) has EVER seen", about 30 or so hashers successfully made it to the start pretty much on time. It started in Arvada at the Van Bibber Open Space park just below the really big "building [that] doesn't even LOOK like a church!!!" (despite the really big white cross on the top). It was really cold at the start, and some hashers who had done a TEMPO RUN in the morning had really cold nipples and other parts due to the cold wind blowing on their sweaty bodies.
The esteemed Hares were me (Pump Me Harder), Knees Up, and the terrific chef Sloppy Droppings. A turkey trail, beer check, and eagle trail were provided. Promised at the Chalk Talk: brevity in blow jobs, some checks, some falses, some arrows, and for the eagles something really special that we called a "Stimulating Crotch Experience." More later on that.
The hounds took off down a few false trails along the valley, only to be led uphill (with hares like that, who would have guessed) toward the west. Birdman was not fooled! He sniffed out true trail right away. A few fast checks, a circle jerk, and many arrows later, the pack reached the beer check. Even Speedbump, who purposely tried to bypass the true trail arrows in search of the perfect shortcut, was forced to come 'round to a construction site for beers on the baseboards. There was much mirth and madness at the beer check, as hashers dashed into Lowlife's sister's house to use the facilities and grab water. This was a huge coincidental advantage to the hares, who almost tortured the hounds with a trail that had no beer check.... but as the hares wanted to live to see the rest of '03, they decided a spontaneous beer check was better than NO beer check. Sloppy Droppings served up the brew, then it was on-out for a Turkey-Eagle split.
Many a hound suddenly wanked out, passing up GUARANTEED stimulating crotch experiences, opting instead for the suburban turkey trail. Those who were obviously in need of such stimulation followed Eagle all the way to familiar Wimp territory and re-lived a brief Bada In Arvada moment as they came upon an impassable drainage ditch. Impassible, that is, except for 2 crotch-stimulating options: Straddle a large pipe and hump their way across a 10-foot drop, or go down-down the ditch with knotted rope provided by the hares and plunge into cold water. The eagles divided evenly, half braving the water and half opting for the high and dry route. Pump Me Harder caught the eagles at their peak with her roving camera. Then it was on-up and across the grassland to another ditch. This time, there was much scrambling and a few hounds required the trusty rope to get on top again (Wimp!)
The last leg of eagle trail brought the hounds around to the front yard of Pump Me Harder, where Sloppy D waited with a bunch of champagne and a ton of food to reward the pack for their sweaty efforts. But WHERE was the shag wagon?? Pump Me Harder (me) drove up way later than expected and immediately got accused of being DFL. My sorry excuse? “I was waiting for the true DFL mom and her 10-year-old kid to get across the big pipe safely!!!” How noble of me. My reward? Not even a sip of champagne, as every bottle had been drained by the time I got there.
Knees Up rounded out the end of the pack by sweeping, enjoying being wet in the crotch not just once, but twice that day. Little Head led circle between the snowflakes and the shelter of Pump Me Harder's garage. Drunkeness and my own “private party” (chatting with ultra-runners about races!! If only ya’all knew!) prevented me from now being able to recall most of the accusations. About 5 hashers followed hash instructions to wear slippers at the end (I vainly hoped to keep dirt off my floors), and for their obedience, they earned a down-down. In the news: Lowlife’s accusation actually flew this time! (I forget what it was.) Someone had to do a “such a bitch” down down for whining about the directions to the start. (We love you anyway!:) And Podiaphyle got a fashion down down for his purple toenail polish.
And there was a naming! The man we used to know as “Just Jason” (spousal unit of the tempo-running Lubed and Ready) was asked to enter the circle. Little Head then asked for his “significant other” to come into the circle as well. In ran his really cute doggie “Zoe” which the pack thought was SO hilarious. Now there’s a man who loves animals! (Beastiality’s best boys…) Just Jason was also known to wear Bandaid pasties on his tender nipples a time or two, and so the name HAD to include something about titties, and of course his beloved Dog. And so, from this day forward he will be known to hashers as “Rin Tin Tits.”
Since it was cold outside and toasty inside, the party continued post-circle On-Into the house where almost all the rest of the yummy food was made all-gone by the hashers that remained. Happy New Year everyone!!!
On on from the scribes,
Pump Me Harder and Knees Up

It was an excellent trail, 1/2 hour to first beer check and ~1/2 hour to the on-in. The chick hares are to be commended. I was expecting a bit of frontal nudity but the snow squalls put a damper on that ;).
The 1/2 barrel I have been toting around since the Hash of Lights, Full Moon and New Years was put to rest. A job well done by the pack. I was starting to worry that the Denver hash was turning into a running club. I think Wimp actually drank his vascetomy down down beer and beat me to the last gulp ;). The 2003 hangover performance has given me hope.
On-on into 2003,
Celestial Gate
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