From the wily Panic Button of H5, who re-hashes trail on February the First, departing from A Lot on Cornell’s North Campus:
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Better Late Than Never (slogan copyright Planned Parenthood, Inc)
Well sorry its taken me about as long as a herd of turtles on ecstasy to cross a mile of shag carpeting to get around to writing this piece of trash, but I had to down 3 bottles of tasty New York Wine to remember it all…I think they call that state-dependent memory (there are a lot of folks dependent on the state nowadays, eh?)
A stalwart group of wankers converged on the campus de Cornell including Superflaggot, Just Jess, Siren, Panic, HIC, & Spike (who recently returned from Sundance….I haven’t seen one of those since my dad’s plymouth died ten years ago!) to chase the elusive Baster through the wilds of Ithaca. HIC bravely declared “I’m not getting my shoes wet!!!” as the lively hare heeded her demands and plowed directly through snow. After waiting the requisite 39.67 seconds, the pack gave chase.
After chasing our tails (and those of the lovely harriettes) we worked our way out of the woods and into a golf course….reminds of the last time I went golfing…
We were walking up the first fairway when I noticed a woman on a nearby fairway being given first aid. One of my buddies asked what had happened and he was informed that the woman had been stung by a bee and was having an adverse reaction.
“Where was she stung?” he asked.
“Between the first and second hole,” was the reply, to which he said;.
“Wow! She must have been standing right over the hive.”
We pretended to XC ski across the golf course and met a small little brown fella that clearly likes it doggystyle. Get yer mind outta the gutter, I think it was a terrier.
After some leg tearing shiggy, we made out way down a treacherous hill that was more disconcerting than reading the alcohol content of your beer while visiting one of your many wives in Utah. At the bottom I found a bag hanging from a tree with a wee bit o’ flour in it. I dipped my finger in and took a lick (pause to allow the double entendre to sink in) and determined it was 1) FRESH and 2) held no hallucinogenic properties.
The trail took us along a scenic route with a sweet little waterfall and great bridge to bound across. We lost marks for a bit, and I chose a well executed longcut to help train for my ultra-marathon later in the year (could I borrow a napkin? I seem to be dripping some sarcasm). We got back on marks and I caught up with pack at the foot of some tempting wooden stairs. Superflaggot must have been a bloodhound in a former life, because I heard him yell “HARE!” and KABLAMO….Baster shot out of the bushes and was up the hill as fast and slick as I got rid of that last 3lb beef & cheese double fried burrito from taco bell.
We followed him up the hill and into a Norman Rockwell postcard. Kids were playing, folks were skiing, sledding, and running around sober. Clearly we needed to get out of here as soon as possible. We bit on a false heading up the hill and was rewarded by a great view of the park. Trail led past some great scenic views and a group of students doing their best penguin impressions on snowshoes.
The trail wound around and ended in the famous Cornell Fightin’ Grapes lacrosse stadium. A decidely awesome and quasi-legal place for down-downs. HIC had run off to a prior engagement, and the remaining pack held a small but enthusiastic circle in the bowels of the stadium. We wrapped it all up with an informative tour of the Cornell Campus.
Oh, and Just Jess tackled a snowman. Bitch.
Thanks IH3 for all your awesome Hashpitality, & Floss for letting us invade his abode all weekend. Cum on down and see us here in Penn’s Woods!!
Peace and Chicken Grease,
Panic
P.S. STINKO is almost Full!!! Rego now or forever hold your insanity.