Several Hashers were sporting snow shoes including Tasty, PnP and Golden Snowball. Since the snow in the woods was over the knees of your average sized hasher, any ass-istance was helpful. The temperature was seasonal as well and therefore a thermos of homemade hot & Tasty beverage was joyfully passed around to keep everyone’s core temp up. A young lady who appeared properly dressed for hashing but not for sledding stopped to ask us if we were in charge of the park area. We told her that we were barely in charge of our own selves.
The first leg of trail took us across the road and looped us around until we came directly back to the parking lot from which we started. During this loop the hares had laid a 69 check in which a piggy back r*ce up a steep, snow covered slope was rewarded with shots. Your scribe believes that Hot Lips and Smashballs were the winners but might have to fact check that info. Goldie crashed into a leg snare of broken branches under the snow. BN1 was provided by Fleshlight and Golden Snowball from SOH4. It seems there was a leftover keg of Genny light (how does that happen?) from a Hash Olympics event that was poorly attended due to wankerism in Syracuse. What weather? What work? Well, it’s always a good idea to have a back-up genny in this kind of weather. Beer Prepared! It was at this beer near that Tasty’s hash mug was finally returned to her after a week of acceptable hash behavior. Said vessel had been left behind at Screw Year at Chez Floss. On Monday, it went for a sauna. On Tuesday, it got into a sex swing. Wednesday, it got ballsacked. Thursday was an orgy day, Friday was a drug-fueled party. Saturday Tasty’s mug watched porn. All of this good behavior was documented in our super-secret facebook group (send us a request if you’re not a member yet). And this day, Sunday, was a hashing day. The mug went hashing in Baster’s pants for the first leg of trail and was quite warm when it was handed over. In addition to then having to drink out of this filthy, filthy mug it was deemed that Tasty must do a keg stand as punishment for her transgressions. Let this be a lesson to all – if you forget your mug somewhere, it will have more fun than you do before it comes back.
During the second leg of trail, the pack moved out across the ice skating rink and entered the bushy trails that criss-cross behind Rice Hill. While the FRBs were floundering about finding Rs and Xs and such, some harriettes were shortcutting their way downhill to the next BN. I can’t remember which came first, the check that Fleshlight turned into a tit check when no one was looking or the BN, but Baster was able to convince the virgins to go check out trail. They enthusiastically agreed even though they were not entirely sure what the marks meant. One of them called out ‘On 3’ so we figured we’d better follow her.
At BN2 we were near the bottom of Rice Hill overlooking Rt 89. By this point, the snowshoes were proving themselves as a very useful tool and those wearing them were quite pleased with themselves. However, Tasty discovered that snowpants were imperative. It looked like she had pissed herself, her crotch was so wet. Snow from the shoes had been kicking up into her nether regions and instantly melting due to the single layer of fabric that was her running tights. This was a day of many learning experiences for Tasty. Now, cold to her very core, she implored a warm harrier to be her crotch-warmer. No one wants frost-bitten labia! Baster, being the irresponsible RA that he is and believing in Safety Third, laid himself down in the snow and allowed Tasty to carefully (due to snowshoes!) mount him cowgirl-style. Taking the cue quickly, Packin’ Penis sat between his legs and a human centipede grew out from there with TYCA, Head, Kicky and Goldie making up the segments. Drinking up our beers and finding trail again, we find that once again the hares have laid a 69 check for us that everyone must participate in. Paired up for the race were Smashy and Ookie, who took turns carrying each other fireman-style, Fleshlight and Goldie who are totally adorable and Baster and Tasty who got a late start. Many others also paired up because this was a attendance required check but my mammory fails me as to who was paired with whom. So, illiterary license dicktates that I should just make up teams as to who I think they ought to be. So, the other totally made up teams were (on top/on bottom);
~Head to Toe In Utero/Assful of Whiteman (aka The Longest Names Ever)
~Hot Lips/Major Pecker (aka M.A.S.H-up)
~Packin’ Penis/Kickstand (with an unconventional style of r*cing- she was clinging to his leg but unfortunately they came in DNF)
~Thank you Come again!/Butt Floss (an admirable effort but Floss was further hindered by having to push a carpet cleaner and they finished DFL)
~Virgin Daisy/Virgin Jane Doe (aka Two Virgins, aka John & Yoko – They nearly finished first due to their excitement but were overtaken at the last second)
And cumming in first place, earning their shots of sweet sweet likker were Smashy and Ookie, who took turns topping each other so to take advantage of each other. Um. Each other’s strength, that is.
From here, we were ON-IN up the sledding area of Rice Hill. Being careful to not get run over by exuberant children, the hash trudged up the hill to have circle in the parking lot. The keg had been carefully hidden with snow, sleds and garbage and appeared unmolested when we returned to it. Everyone got themselves situated as best they could, forming seats with sleds, standing or sitting on friends (Sorry for the wet lap, Kicky!) to keep warm. When all the proper down-downs had been administered, some harriers took to the slope on an assortment of sleds and some harriers heated up in the warming hut. Some canned beer was carried into the warming hut after the muggles left and darkness had all but fallen. It was decided that we could not party forever in the warming hut and after everyone had changed into dry clothes (that didn’t necessarily belong to them), several hungry drunk people decided that food was imperative. Harriers and Harriettes piled into cars and drove to Little Venice for some carb loading. After filling up on delicious Italian food, we convinced Floss that it was a really smart idea to go to his house and drink the rest of the beer in his hot tub. And that, friends, is where my story ends because what happens in the hot tub stays in the hot tub. Also, no one ever remembers what happened in the hot tub.
On-to warmer weather-On!
Tasty