ReHash #182


Before I tell the story of this weeks hash, I need to give a little background – to set the scene as it were. Bam Bam, Captain Weenie, Hotter Legs and I had all met at the Rongo last week for a disorganizational meeting to discuss the details of the festival hash. It took us two hours and three beers each to make three decisions: we decided that the hash would be Sunday at 3 (that was a more difficult decision than it would seem), we decided that Captain Weenie would set up a hash getto early on Friday, and we decided that Captain Weenie and I would set the hash on Saturday during a break in the bands. We also unanimously voted on Wet and Sticky for the new hash beer. You would think that with so few decisions to make, and so much time spent discussing them, that at least ONE of those plans would come to pass. This was not to be.

Failure number one: Wet and Sticky and I had arranged to meet on Friday 2 ish to buy beer on the way to the festival. At 4:30 when we finally got our act together and we arrived to pick up the keg it turned out that Pete’s does not take checksso the beer went on my credit card. So much for the new Hash Beer.

Failure number two: Wet and Sticky and I arrived at the festival and were in the process of seeking out the hash getto that Weenie was supposed to have established early that morning when we ran into Weenie and Hotter Legs…looking for a place to set up camp. The camping area was a sea of tents with not a single space for one little tent much less a getto. So we established ourselves in the middle of the desert – previously thought of as a baseball diamond.

Failure number three: We were supposed to mark the getto with proudly flying Pissburgh togas – but while I did BRING togas to fly, neither Weenie nor I were able to find a pole to fly them from. I, apparently, was heard complaining about this problem by saying that I was unable to "erect a pole". I think that my inability to "erect a pole" is not nearly as bad as Weenies inability to even FIND his pole. The hash getto was marked by flinging the togas over the keg – which was not terribly effective since the keg was hidden behind a tent.

Failure number four: Saturday morning came and there was no sign of Weenie to set the hash with me. Afternoon came and there was STILL no sign of Weenie. We had to buy flour, set the hash, and buy more beer (since we were well on our way to finishing the keg). All this and DONNA THE BUFFALo WAS PLAYING AT 6!!!!! I am sure my panic was understandable when at 4 there was still no sign of Weenie. So I grabbed Wet and Sticky (who had already failed once as hash beer) to help me set the hash. What with the dread of missing a band, we set the shortest hash in hashing history. We ran into Weenie and friends as we were setting out and Weenie showed not the slightest signs of remorse at being such a useless co-hare.

Failure number five: Saturday night when I told Weenie that we had no beer for the hash and that we couldn’t buy it on Sunday morning…he told me to talk to hash beer…who told me that he STILL only had a check book…so Heinous and I bought beer and did a little four wheelin’ with a shopping cart to get the beer across the road to his car. Wet and Sticky got a pretty slow start to his new responsibility.

Failure number six: Sunday morning Weenie and I were going to set the within the festival phase of the hash… go ahead and guess whether or not this ever happened.

The hash began when Bam Bam, Wet and Sticky, Heinous, Weenie, Hotter Legs, Beth, Alice and the visitors Johnny Moronic and Cave Man and myself met up at the getto. Prickless, Toothy, Jushad, and Hot Lips, who were at the festival, were conspicuously absent from the festivities as were Skull and Tweedle Me. Caveman had just seen Skull and Tweedle me recovering from their long night of partying with the Rochester hash by dancing wildly to a band – so the hash ran around the festival to the bandwhich had stopped playing so we ran BACK to the getto where we found them. Once they were discovered, we all ran to the entrance annoying festival goers and knocking over small children in our dash to pick up the non-festival hashers. At the entrance we found Road Kill, Bubbles, Rrraaallpphh, a friend of Bubbles and Rrrallpph whose name I forget, Chris, and two newcomers. The hash was interrupted at this point to do some kitty negotiating by Bubbles. friend with the owner of the kitty. Once the business had been completed Bam Bam gave a very abbreviated introduction to hashing which included a warning by Wet and Sticky and I that most of the hash marks may have washed away in the rain and they may actually have to trust the hares for directions – a scary proposition if ever I have heard one!

We had also not bothered to set the beginning of the hash, instead opting to set the first hash mark outside the Sur Save (where we had bought the flour) half a mile down the road. So we had to tell the hash which way to go AND point out the first check point which had been reduced to a small, gluelike blob in the rain. Eventually a trail was discovered by Bubbles that led to what had been a T with one arm leading into a false in the woods. I, of course, having the power to give false advice, sent the entire hash into the woods to the false. They re- emerged for a short dance check to be bop along with the band we could hear playing in the distance. We eventually made our way to a check point by the creek. One set of hashers ran up the road a ways but the false was clearly visible from a distance so most of the pack turned around – Weenie and Hotter Legs decided they needed to check it out for real so they continued up the road. Caveman and Heinous ran across the street right passed a clear false and meandered about looking lost. Caveman, an intelligent hasher, headed back to the check, but Heinous isnt one to worry about hash marks or the rest of the hash being nearby. He continued down the road in a total hash mark vacuum to the ON IN (which he knew about because he had put the beer there). The rest of the pack headed to the stream for a hash rest.

At the hash rest Bruce and I were once again the uncontested chicken fighting champions, annihilating Skull and Tweedle Me. Bubbles and I carried Road Kill across the little swimming hole getting him totally wet (except his hair) but saving his precious shoes. We meandered up the stream a bit, passed through the festival swimming hole and rounded a corner to see Heinous perched on a rock looking like he was meditating. He short cutted a 25 minute long hash. As I was running towards him in an attempt to toss him from his rock I slipped on the creek slime and had my first hash crash. Hash crash number two came when Bubbles and I were making a sneak approach to smear creek slime on Road Kill. I managed to get myself up and help Bubbles smear green goo all over the hashit. We celebrated the end of the shortest hash in history by drinking bad warm beer and skipping about in the rain.

Nobody was organized enough to have brought paper to the on in (we were barely organized enough to have remembered beer), so we had an open mike accusation session. In the name of equality, Beth drank this week for getting married to Mike, who had had to drink last week for the same grave sin. I had to drink for a little aquatic incident that occurred at Mike and Beths wedding – Toothy, Prickless, and I found a canoe on the lake where the wedding was held, so we went out in it. The three of us are all able to negotiate white water canoeing but were unable to stay afloat on a perfectly flat lake. Formal dresses were not made for swimming, nor are nice shoes. Alice (a virgin visitor) was named Moshing Alice for her reckless dancing style. "Malice" retaliated by making Bam Bam drink for excessive preparedness. The three of us had woken up that morning feeling as if we had drank too much and not slept at all. Malice and I were groggily discussing finding coffee when Bam Bam grinned from his tent and starting shaking his ibuprofen bottle. We all partook of that glorious chemical before beginning our search for that other drug of champions, caffeine. Malice, Bam Bam and I all drank for starting the days festivities and 10 and guzzling down four beers before noon. If we were going to feel that bad, we may as well be drunk. Skull and Tweedle me were not far behind, showing up at a band at 11 with their first beer. Bam Bam drank for not being at Rochester where Skull was made to drink in his absence. I drank for my inability to "erect a pole" and Weenie drank with me for not being able to even find one. Weenie and Hotter Legs gave me a mystery down down that they claimed would be made clear to me at the getto.

There is apparently an anatomically correct male cookie out there that I have yet to see, but that I was awarded. Wet and Sticky drank for forgetting the Horses Ass and for becoming hash beer, even though he did not actually buy a single beer for this hash. Heinous drank for short cutting the shortest hash ever and I drank for my dual hash crashes. Road Kill gave the hashit (which is once again clean thanks to Road Kill leaving it in the rain all week) to Heinous for having put so much effort into rubbing a dead fish all over it last week. Based on Heinous’ last hashit experience I predict he hurried home and folded and refolded the hashit until it was the perfect size to fit tidily inside the toilet seat with the words perfectly centered and the whole thing is carefully and tidily arranged in a prominently visible location. A hashit should really not be folded. It ought to be stuffed, tossed, flung, crumpled or even mangled, but never folded.

When we ran out of beer we all made our way back into the festival where Hotter Legs had been good enough to bring Weenie’s grill and some chicken. Malice added to the dinner some nail polish which I proceeded to smear across the feet (largely in the toenail direction) of the various male hashers present. The rest of the activities of the evening remain an alcohol induced blur thanks to the open mike ON IN format. I remember Road Kill giving me a piggy back ride up to the dance tent where Prickless, Malice and I tried (unsuccessfully) a second hand dance move with the aid of Bam Bam and Heinous to support us. We all danced our hashing hearts out for the rest of the evening while trying to sober up for the drive home.

The next hash will be set by Wet and Sticky and Dishonourable at some unknown location. We will give Wet and Sticky a second shot at being hash beer and hope for the best.

Hairy Vetch