A Drinking Club with a Running Problem
The hash gathered at the Chanticleer in downtown Ithaca yesterday for a raucous romp around the city.
Our hares, Dances with Head, and Nut Roper were a little loaded since they finished setting trail a couple hours ahead of schedule, and decided to have a “hare beer near”. Master Baster was fucking with Nut Roper, trying to get him even more drunk, so he could take advantage of him later. Just Brian made his 2nd hash appearance, and expressed his regret at not having been at another hash sooner, due to work requiring him to be in Detroit… Spike was taking hash cash gleefully, having been pleasantly surprised that the hares had set trail, Spike was expecting a relay hash. Women There was there, as were Pussy Pong, and Porcelain Goddess. And of course your hash scribe, Lord Bürpenstain, was there was well…
After a chalk talk that was actually about chalk rather than flour, the hash went searching for trail, which was soon found. The hash got very frustrated in the early part of the trail, since the hares can’t count, and some Y’s in the trail didn’t seem to indicate the correct directions to search, either that, or we were drunk… There was one very frustrating check, that took several minutes to solve in the middle of that park on west Buffalo street. Eventually, the hash overcame all obstacles between them and the beer, which was on tap at castaways… I had a gluten free mixed drink, it has alcohol, but it just isn’t beer… There was pooch hanging out at the bar, who befriended Nut Roper. We wondered what kind of dog he was… He looked like a small Irish Wolf Hound, but the bar tender informed us that he was a labradoodle (chocolate lab, standard poodle mix). Before leaving the bar, WT told us he had seen trail vandalism in progress on what was likely the next leg of trail.
Leaving Castaways the hares were very tricky. They led the hash across snow, that was devoid of foot prints, having taken alternative routes to get to where they put the marks. We went along the inlet, behind the new fitness center, and across more snow where my frbing ass face planted in a most spectacular fashion, when the snow suddenly got much deeper than I expected, for the viewing pleasure of the entire hash… We wound our way up the inlet, past a pair of mobile residences made from nylon, past many mobile residences made from aluminum, and across the flood control channel to the back end of wegmans, and then along 6 mile creek. Leaving one check Women There, and myself were shouting “on-on-on” and then “beer near” and for some reason about half the hash decided to run the other way, and past a false trail mark… It seems that the trail vandalism had been performed by capt. Slimy, and led to an extra beer near on WT and Slimy’s back porch. But this beer near would only be enjoyed by Spike, DWH, PP, WT and myself. We figured we would catch up to the hash at the next beer near.
So off we went following trail to try to find the next beer near, which we knew would not be far, for we had been running for a while when we hit the vandalized trail. But then we found Nut Roper (the hare) running by himself. He told us the hash was lost, rather than at the next beer near. So we figured we should check the chanti for them. On the way there we found them. They had been running aimlessly looking for beer the whole time we had been enjoying a beer near. We led them to where the trail vandalism ended, and on our way from there to the next beer we encountered a sign from the beer gods. A salt stain on the sidewalk in the shape of the letter B, or perhaps it was the virgin Mary’s boobs, we weren’t sure, but we knew it was special… And then the hash hopped over a fence into my back yard, where there was more beer. We discussed the virtues of nerd sex, and it was agreed that nerd sex is the best sex. But being so nerdy that you forgo sex to participate in any kind of role playing games is very bad, and that if one is going to do so much of something that it would cause flunking out of college, it should be drinking and screwing.
Then we ran some more. We went up the south hill, and then down the south hill, and then across 6 mile creek and up the east hill. While crossing 6 mile creek, there was some talk of a view that was missed behind me, so I decided to give those behind me a view. The hash was mooned… The trail ended at an apartment above the chapter house, where there was much beer, and evidence of Master Baster’s nerdyness (liquor bottles had been labeled elixir +3 and so on…). Porcelain goddess received some beads from the male hashers present when she showed us her thong during a discussion of what an athletic supporter was.
We held a circle, and welcomed virgin bobbit roommate Just Greg. Just Greg enjoyed our festivities so much that he is pondering taking up running. We also punished the hares, those who crashed (me), the bleabs and blabs (Pussy Pong and Porcelain Goddess). We made those where were recently engaged drink (Congrats DWH and PP), Nut Roper made the mistake of setting trail with Dances, so he had to drink too. Nut Roper got an up-up, Just Brian Got a side-side. The FRBs (Master Baster, and yours truly) drank with the DFL (PP). We made other people drink for other stuff too, but I don’t remember what things those were, or who drank for them.
The hash went in peace, and got a piece. And then the hash drank more, had a ass pastyness comparison (despite her name, PG’s ass complexion is darker than that of the the Bürp), played some Foosball, and a game of flip cup… The festivities were ongoing when I had to leave, hope you all had a blast…
On-on,
Lord Burpenstain