<![CDATA[Key West Hash House Harriers - Hash Trash]]>Wed, 31 Jan 2018 07:36:23 -0800Weebly<![CDATA[Hash Trash - Hash #518 ]]>Thu, 13 Oct 2016 17:24:12 GMThttp://keywesthash.com/hash-trash/hash-trash-hash-518Picture
Well, there I was.  Prelubing at the hash bar (formerly known as the Cork and Stogie), with 3 Hour Whore and her virgin (hahaha, I couldn't keep a straight face when I typed that) when I casually asked the co-hare if he was ready for tonight.  To which Just Tim replied with an emotional, "No!  I have no idea what the f*ck is going on."  I stared blankly at him for a moment in disbelief, but then I remembered he was coharing with Shiggy Shave-Her.  I patted him on the shoulder in a gesture of commiseration and quickly moved away to grab a beer and sit outside on the porch to watch the shitshow begin.  

The boys left to grab food as 3 Hour Whore and I discussed feet, beer, and boy-free diets (with cheat days) to kill some time. Gradually we made our way over to on-start, where the hares were leaving the sacred nectar for us to enjoy pre-trail.  The pack slowly gathered with lots of hasher dogs frolicking on the beach and pissing on all raised objects more than an inch from ground level. The dogs were peeing, not the hashers.  7pm rolled around and I stood up to do chalk talk.....but we had no hares and no chalk.  So I cracked another beer and waited for those wankers to show up.......finally they did, 10 to 15 minutes late in true hasher form. Shiggy laid some marks that we haven't seen in a while/other kennels use just to confuse everyone, we had chalk talk, and I released those befuddling hares as quickly as possible before they could screw up anything else.  We did chalk talk again for some latecomers, and then we were off!

First intersection was a disaster.  There wasn't even a check, it was just that very few attending this particular trail last night have been hashing long enough or have travel hashed enough to know how dollops work instead of our regular arrows. So from that point forward every dollop became a 369 degree check unless a senior hasher or myself was at the head of the pack.  Which typically wasn't me because we had a ton of straggling virgins and I was herding those wankers like cats in a field of mice and laser pointers. I'm tired all over again just thinking about it. Just Mark kept thinking paint marks were trail marks and ran a half mile down Truman before he realized he was alone and circled back to rejoin the pack on Windsor where we were shouting and blowing whistles at him. At some point, some asshole had left crushed drywall all over the trail which looks EXACTLY like freakin flour at night on the road unless you touch it, so we were running all over the place.  The hares had beverage checks instead of beer checks, meaning one of the checks ended up being a Jim Beam Honey bottle that we had to kill before moving on. As a tribute to Carolina Trash H3 (my second loves), Rumply Foreskin did it on-the-toe style by tapping the next person who had to drink on the toe with the bottle. NOTE:  It is absolutely awful to run after slugging Jim Beam Honey - at one point while running I yelled, "This is awful, I don't know whether I want to puke or poop!", which apparently a tiny old muggle lady heard while quietly rocking on her porch as we ran by.  I heard the faint whispers of "Oh my Lord!" echo back to me, but alas, I was already past and apologies are like assholes on a hash, they all stink and mean jack shit. Shortly after a water check (whaaaat?), some of the virgins disappeared and after a momentary search by the hashers revealed that there was DRAMA ON TRAIL, we firked off and left them. The hares left a boob check near the new city hall building on White and United, but apparently a shitty security guard was so offended by this that he walked all the way down to the sidewalk and did his best to rub one out on the boobs. I mean rub the boobs out.  I mean rub out the boobs. So as a gesture of pure defiance and refusal to obey The Man, multiple senior female hashers hauled their tits out and put them on proud display. Seriously, fuck that guy.  The next beer check revealed that our hares must be fairies, because they bought us fairy-sized beer.  Really guys, where the hell do you even buy 8oz Bud Light.  Why was that even invented?  What is the meaning of it all? After some drinking and discussion of accusations in circle, we were off again, finally getting to the end of the trail........where in her excitement to be FRB, 3 Hour Whore promptly ate shit (I'm not gonna lie, I'd been waiting for it all night because it happens EVERY trail) and tore her elbow off.  Don't worry kids, she still drank for Blood on Trail and got FRB and properly chained and waterboarded like a goddamned champ in circle. After some minor accusations and viewing some virginal body parts (if that guy's part was virgin, I'm banging the Thor version of Chris Hemsworth), we headed to on-after at Cork and Stogie to rehash the night.  


Dead Travelin Fister 

Teeny tiny fairy beer.
<![CDATA[Hash # 507- Shitters Full Hash]]>Sat, 21 May 2016 14:56:21 GMThttp://keywesthash.com/hash-trash/hash-507-shitters-full-hash
Hash #407

Hares: SeaBear SLayer and 7 Shooters Up the Ass

As we meet for the on start we quickly notice that we are not alone. We had no fear in sharing our debaucherous traditions with a bocce ball tournament and all of the race-ist finishers from the Keys 100.  Due to our RA, X.S.N.R.G, finding himself under a plethora of virgins, he was unable to lead the Key West kennel in Chalk talk.  The fearless Bad Tranny Training quickly stepped in and blessed the hairs.

As the hares set off for one of the sweatiest trails to be ran, BTT informed our visiting hashers and sole virgin on what the local trail marks mean.

After a few short moments, the pack down downed their beverages and were OFF!

Those tricky hares laid a true trail leading over one of the busiest (white st) streets of Key West, just to leave a trail mark on the opposite side of the street!  The pack was quickly confused, but not to worry the hairs had hidden beer about 500 feet from the confusion.  After the sacred nectar was consumed the pack was off again.  Only one hare, Wanna Key Your Anus, jumped the fence that was true trail. A true hasher indeed.  Then the hares lead the pack through mid town into new town.  On the way Thumb In Clooney found the largest charcoal BBQ that the hash has ever laid eyes on.  He obviously had to take this as trail treasure.  Then after of miles of whichey ways, checks, and YBFs, the hares saved the pack by leaving everyone's favorite mark B N.  In a sktchy alley on third and seidenburg the pack consumed all of the sacred nectar that was provided.  The hares then laid trail that lead back to the bocce ball tournament. BTT was willing to lead circle since our RA was probably balls deep in those virgins.  After meeting our out-of-towners and our virgin, we heard all of the stories from trail.  Then, a few members from MisManagement and Named Key West hashers decided to give Just Eustice a true name.  After many questions were asked and not so many of them got answered, we deliberated.  Names like Can’t Flush This and Aids Blow were thrown out there.  It came to a very close vote, but now our brother will go by Shitters Full.  On-On

-SeaBear Slayer KWH3
<![CDATA[Hash #506 – Best Second Beer Stop Ever Hash!]]>Wed, 18 May 2016 01:55:46 GMThttp://keywesthash.com/hash-trash/hash-506-best-second-beer-stop-ever-hash
Hash #506 – Best Second Beer Stop Ever Hash!

Hare: 4 inch Spike

Biermeister: HNIC

ON-Start was on top of the Parking Garage at Marriott Beachside.  Thank you autocorrect for letting me know how to spell Marriott. So there we were.  Key West Hashers were practically outnumbered by visiting hashers.  At least we had a kick ass view of the ocean up on top of the garage.  The lot of us decided we’d have a Key West Finest walking hash from the get go, much to the amusement to 4 inch laying live trail.  

So off 4 inch went to start laying trail….most notably taking the elevator…cause fuck running down the garage or taking the stairs!

The few beers deep pack may have lost track of time on top of the garage and figured we might want to get going to get more beer and see where this walking adventure of a trail would take us! The 8 of us crammed our asses in the elevator as well to find out “Hey! Look at all the mirrors!!!! Look up….I see cleavage!!!!”  Then there was a lovely game of what button to we push on the elevator,”Let’s try this one!” Only to find the doors behind us opening into the lobby and almost having some muggle in the lobby trying to intercept the pack!  “Quick! Push another button!!!!” sending us the ground floor of the garage!  “Quick! Send the elevator to the 3rd floor of the garage that’ll throw them off and scatter!!!!”  Yeah, hadn’t even left the garage yet and we’re already evading muggles! Fucken drunk wankers!

After the escape from the Marriot Garage we starting heading towards Cow Key Bridge passing by midget stop signs and a few local street residents just to find a true trail taking us under the bridge.  Dodging sleeping bags and a sleeping resident we found ourselves heading north on US-1 over the bridge to find out we weren’t done with our under the bridge adventure.  We saw two muggle chicks completely enthralled with their waverrunner rides driven by their assumed boyfriends. My guess is that ride was similar to other rides in their relationship.  Slow and disappointing.  Our pack made our way to median of US-1 and had to play frogger to get to the bike trail on the other side of the highway.

While making our way down the bike path we discovered the municipal mark of 42 + 0 to the enlightenment and dismay to a few of the hashers in the pack. A dick check produced a show for some unsuspecting muggles in the area.  A whichy way was then seen separating the pack into 3 groups, the third group decided to take the shiggy filled middle ground….of mowed greenery in the middle.  After a dauntless whichy way we regrouped to see an inter-tit-section. US-1 muggle motorists were also made aware of its presence as well.

Officially, making our way onto the mean multilingual streets of Stock Rock.  XS managed to find trail treasure of a ball he lost, I mean, found.  A golf ball to be specific.  This ball was then lobbed at my ass as I was trying to take a picture for hash trash evidence.  Wanker.

As we found ourselves deeper in unknown territory on Stock Rock the pack felt the need to cool off out of sun under the shade of a tree that was nice enough to provide some green AC. After a brief AC break we discovered the people of Stock Rock are exceptionally protective of their security with a reinforced entry measures of their 50s era fallout trailer.  It’s the first place I’m going should shit go down! 

Having found myself DFL after another inter-tit-section, finding out Sprechen Sie Douch will be in drag pole dancing in near future with Horenament, and needing to pee like a race horse in the Kentucky Derby I watched as the pack had to dodge a series of white cars.  I was beginning to think there may be a white car cult on Stock Rock…. We found another whichy-way.  This took us right past the Beer Rat Mobile!  Still not sure about that cult though. XS still playing vigorously with his ball dropped it in the parking lot lake.  This lake lead us to the Cuban Sharknado Vessel dry docked on the side of the road/lake.  Having felt like the pack was doing their own walking hash version of the 90 mile wet foot/dry foot trail we began questioning the locality of the next beer stop.  We knew we were on trial because we came across a literal COCK check.  I was only able to capture 1 of the 4 cocks that flashed us sadly.  They were some big cocks!  Likes Twice the Seamen also tried to get his hands on some!

A moment later we heard the laughter of our Hare and BierMeister while they were watching this all go down with the cocks.  We FINALLY had our first beer check at Bernstein Park!  At least half the pack raced their asses to bathroom before grabbing a beer, myself included to hear, “Hey, Lift me up so I can get on top of it!” coming from the men’s room. WTF?!?  Then as I was leaving the ladies room I see a muggle leaving the men’s room looking like some strange shit went down in there.  I quickly fled the area with numerous questions and possible scenarios filling my head. Glory Hole?  Where are all of our wankers?

We drank our sweet nectar while watching our fearless hare leave to continue to lay live trail through who knows what the hell you’re gonna see on Stock Island. The pack departed soon after to see a very sketchy heavily reinforced excessively windowed building that just screamed, SUSPECT!  Then on to Second Hand Sam’s where the moon came briefly out for us to see.

En route to the second beer check we discovered yet another inter-tit-section yet again on US1 followed by a dick check and two muggle chicks that would not look back at the group of wankers who had dog piled onto the giant wooden adirondack chair.  Thank you again auto correct.  The best thing happened next.  We saw a Beer Near and the guys waiting for us!!! 

This is the part where the pack, the hare, and biermeister all  decided…yeah, we’re hungry and on-after is going to be here. We circled and found out we had two of our male hashers “helping each other out” in that bathroom cause they “Couldn’t get in”.  I may have paraphrased that a bit.  We had a fabulous fast circle to appease the hungry pack and on-aftered at Hurricane Hole!


Schoolhouse Cocks


<![CDATA[Military Muster – Blame it on the DEA – Conch Republic Days]]>Wed, 18 May 2016 01:52:40 GMThttp://keywesthash.com/hash-trash/military-muster-blame-it-on-the-dea-conch-republic-days
Military Muster – Blame it on the DEA – Conch Republic Days

Monday, April 25th was the Military Muster for Conch Republic Days and the 69th Pirate Brigade of KWH3 was ready with Conchs in hand!     We gathered at the Cork and Stogie for brief palate conditioning with some sweet nectar then one last practice outside entertaining the masses on upper Duval Street!

Dressed in the finest pirate gear we marched down to the Gardens Hotel!  The CR Military was waiting to be entertained.  We, as good citizens of the CR, partook in the raffles benefiting some crib midgets in the Keys aka our future CR Military and possible future hashers.  We watched the CR Military give respect to those that laid the foundation for the weeks festivities.  After having been entertained by their musical ensembles it was our turn to close out the gathering.  The hashers, having had ample time to continue wetting their palate pre-performance, were well lubricated to entertain the gathering!  After our one of a kind performance we gathered at DJ’s for some delicious lobster rolls!

Slide show!

<![CDATA[# 503 - Musick's Little Prick Conch Hash]]>Wed, 18 May 2016 01:49:37 GMThttp://keywesthash.com/hash-trash/-503-musicks-little-prick-conch-hash
Mu-sick’s Little Prick Conch Hash

At VERY VERY last minute Mu-sick volunteered himself to hare our regularly scheduled Saturday hash.

In the spirt of Conch Republic Days our theme was Conchs!  The pseudo mom of KWH3 and Mu-sick’s amazing wife, Thar She Blows!, told Mu-sick if we could get 6 wanks together for on-start we could run the hash! Of course Mu-sick was up for the challenge!  

6 last minute wanks later….:insert “apparently that’s all it took” joke here:….made the on-start! We were shown the mark of a CB 7 so the pack instantaneously became wary of the trail to be but were told by Musick it was going to be a short trail and that made things a bit better for the moment with the dreaded CB looming ahead.  So off goes Mu-sick to live lay trail for the rest of us already thirsty wankers!

The group made their way from the Shanna Key parking lot heading towards N.Roosevelt via 1st Street…one EFFING CB 3 later we’re pounding pavement still through the neighborhood.  Thirstier and thirstier we got! Praying to the Holy G for sweet nectar we got back on N.Roosevelt and the pack basically said “FUCK IT!  VFW BEER STOP IT IS!”  This amazing suggestion came from none other than Bleeds Once A Month! After a beer-o-lite recharge we were off again continuing down N. Roosevelt and back into the neighborhood, over the bridge and past the old tyrant’s house, we wound up crossing Flagler to notice a VERY faint Beer Check on one of the concrete posts aiming at a house we didn’t know who lived in….who the mystery hasher is still yet to be known….Down about another ½ mile we see a mark to go into a shady trail right next to water.  Ok we got this…except THE WHOLE PACK got cactied AND found a CB 7 waiting for us at the end!  Bleeds and XS had the unique experience of getting handsy with one particular cactus as well!  

So the pack once again finds themselves on Flagler heading down 5th street seeing an intersection that could lead us into known shiggy filled dead end or around the block to our old GMs house…..FINALLY having our first beer check!  Short trail my ass!   We also picked up a few late comers and had our Hare at the stop waiting for us!!!  The group who followed trail proceeded to voice their colorful opinions on Mu-sick Prickly CB 7 and miraculously there was one yuengling left. J  

After the pack hurried Mu-sick off we were in quick pursuit!  Heading towards the GIANT CONCH at the high school we stopped to snap a few photos of the frbs and the whole pack on our way to the on end!

The On-End was at Mu-sick and Thar’s house.  We had our circle followed by a fabulous practice of Blame it On the DEA for Conch Republic Days!


<![CDATA[Hash #494 - Pirate Invasion with Jolly Roger H3!]]>Fri, 12 Feb 2016 15:46:46 GMThttp://keywesthash.com/hash-trash/hash-494-pirate-invasion-with-jolly-roger-h3
A very small portion of the group....
I'm still recovering from this one.  

That's right.  Four days later, and I may still be drunk.  This hash trash will likely be as much of a cluster as the hash itself was.  

Anyhow...... there we were.  Our previously safe and clean southernmost harbor was invaded by the dirty ship containing the Jolly Roger H3 and friends.  As it issued forth its unclean emissions, challenges were shouted far and wide across phones and internet to the Key West H3 and we reported to Mallory Square for battle.  Some of us were slightly tardy/'tarded because of an apparent scout party or two landing the night before from Tampa. Speaking of which, I'm still not sure what happened that night, but some of us may or may not have woken up with titty sprinkles on our faces.  I know I personally was sore in all the right places from dancing for hours at the Green Parrot.  That's all, I swear.  

Back to the story......the hares (Dead Travelin Fister, 4" Spike, and Menage A Neuf) showed up finally after fighting their way through some shitty festival traffic with roughly 20 cases of beer in two huge rented coolers.  There was much rejoicing and haberdashery sales and trading.  Finally circle started and the hares were blessed.  
And we were off!  Right away, the hares realized they were way too hungover for this shit. As we sprint- walked away from the pack, freeballing trail the whole time, we discussed the meaning of life and pirates and how many 369 degree checks would slow down the pack enough that we would not immediately get debriefed. Thru parking lots and busy streets, we soldiered on, shouting at innocent passersby and then finally and sweatily meeting up with our Beermeister HNIC at the park on Poorhouse Lane. There we awaited the pack's arrival. 4" Spike and Menage A Neuf decided to be swinger pirates in true hasher fashion and jumped on the playground swings.  As the pack arrived, some bitching ensued due to the length of trail before a beer check, but I still DGAF, you pansies. It was one mile.  

We were approached by some muggles while in the park and may have recruited some new virgins, but it is yet to be seen. As the pack straggled in, the hares took off lazily again, this time heading past the graveyard thru Old Town and to the beach at Salute's. As we ran on, we ran across a long-dead and baked iguana corpse, which I obviously marked with a true trail mark.  Additionally, after multiple package and tit checks at every hash, we decided to spice things up a bit and have some leapfrog and imaginary sword fight checks as well. It is important to mention we left two of these directly in front of Salute's on the Beach much to the diners' amusement.  The next beer check was just past that so that we could all enjoy the sight of the rest of the pack acting like a bunch of idiots in a public venue.  The crowds roared their approval. And then I saw it. The dead iguana was now in attendance at the end of a long dog leash, pulled by none other than XSNRG.  A dark sense of foreboding briefly clouded my vision, but I figured what the hell and took off again with the other hares to continue towards the Southernmost Point Buoy for the requested photo op.  As we made it to the buoy, the kindness of about fifty tourists allowed us to crowd up and around it for a photo. I'm sure we are all the stars of several chinese tourists' vacation photos. 

And then, the trouble started.

As I ran ahead of the pack, comfortably close enough to hear their ramblings and songs, I suddenly heard the shrill screams of a young female tourist floating sweetly through the air from the back of a trolley.  Since XSNRG was almost directly behind me, I immediately knew what was happening.  "IS THAT AN IGUANA?!!!", she shrieked, barely pausing for air.  "IS IT ALIVE?"  XSNRG replied with some kind of sarcastic retort and there was a minor back and forth.  And then it happened, the most glorious response I have ever heard given to a muggle mid-trail from one of our Jolly Roger visitors.  


As the pack howled with laughter and I almost tripped over the curb in my mirth, I thought to myself, "Self. This is when the aliens show up."  And so I picked up the pace, leading the pack On-In behind the bank on Simonton Street. I proved to have some powerful ESPN as we circled up, since the aliens showed up withing five minutes of our arrival and the dulcet tones of Kumbaya were offered up immediately.  Luckily HNIC took the reins and spoke with the officer.  The conversation went something like this.  

HNIC: Sorry officer, we'll only be here briefly to meet up and then start a pub crawl.

Alien: Sir, that's not why I'm here. We were called with reports of a live iguana on a leash being dragged by one of the members of your group.

HNIC: Oh. Well actually--

Alien: Even though iguanas aren't protected, you need to release the iguana immediately or someone is going to jail.

HNIC:  Oh ok.  Sure, we'll let it go. (at this point I'm dying as there is very obviously a very dead iguana with no eyes hanging out near the beer coolers).

Iguanas aside now, we continued with circle, properly awarding or accusing deserving wankers.  Some amazing beer boarding took place with the FRB and FBI, thanks were given to the hares for their sh!tty trail, and most importantly, we thanked Jolly Roger H3 for invading our island. 

But we weren't done yet, oh no.  Now the pub crawl began!  Our first stop was the Cork and Stogie, where the loving owner Dave Sr. made us a pretty sign and gifted us with the best craft beer $3 can buy. I'd have been happy just drinking there all day, but the demands of you wankers kept us moving.  On to the Salty Angler, where hash friend and owner Amy had $3 beers, ciders, and margaritas (which started doom for certain hashers, ahem Menage a Neuf). Then it was Bourbon Street where in true hasher style, everyone got naked and played volleyball in the pool and some people acquired a new husband or two.
At this point, we had three more bars to hit, but our happily wasted Jolly Roger brethren had to head back to their ship.  So Key West H3 and a couple of the land lubber Jolly Rogers bravely continued the pub crawl down Duval. At some point, Just Chris paid for us all to be fed to continue our carousing.  I can't tell you on a public website much more of what happened, other than it ended mightily and in the nude at the Garden of Eden. And there was much naked swordfighting. 

But I had a blast this day, and hope everyone else did too!! 


<![CDATA[Hash #487  Color Orgy and Patch Hash!]]>Sun, 22 Nov 2015 01:13:02 GMThttp://keywesthash.com/hash-trash/hash-487-color-orgy-and-patch-hash
So there I was. Hung over and barely moving in a dark room in a friends house, having drank enough the night before to floor a herd of old Catholic Irishmen.  Full blackout status had been achieved; ie, no memories at all after about 10pm the previous night.  And then, out of love and a deep sense of self-sacrifice, I dragged Shiggy Shave Her out of a Muggle's house to the on-start of Menage A Neuf's and Bottom of the Ninth's reportedly "epic" trail.  All we had been told was that some sort of color orgy would be taking place, but no one really knew any details other than to bring a white t-shirt. Obviously an orgy was really the only promise we needed.  

I parked my car and changed clothes, much to the delight of the neighbors on the stairwell across the street.  Tits out for the boys indeed; I really hope they were over 18.  Neuf and Bottom drove up toting a very small amount of the sacred nectar and paint. Confused but uncaring, I stumbled across the parking lot to bitch and whine while 3 Hour Whore took one of my tshirts and immediately slashed it into some sort of fashionable clothing shirt type thing that I wouldn't be able to muster the skill up to do if you gave me a hundred dollars cash on the spot. Hashers slowly started to pile into the parking lot, grabbing brews and chatting. We circled up and the hares were blessed.  Once they were gone, confusion started again over the meaning of a few new marks during chalk talk and the bag of paint, but in true hasher style we decided to deal with it later and took off at an exhilarating slow walk (except Thumb In Clooney and Missed Her Bullseye and screw those overachievers. But one of them would pay later.....).  

The trail was a basic shitty trail, with a few twists.  As we approached a playground filled with the angelic noises of small children playing angelically with their angelic parents, we realized our first orgy was upon us.  Sweet!  3 Hour Whore took the reins and started spraying people with red and green paint, because we strangely found red and green paint on the street at the check.  But apparently that was happenstance, as I called Bottom and found that we were to just liberally apply paint to each other in whatever colors we desired.  To make it more interesting, we decided to forego the use of hands to apply said paint, other than the first person to apply the colors of paint to the rest of the kennel. Tits, butts, hips, crotches, and shoulders were used to squish paint all over each other and I'm not telling who popped a chubby.  And then we were off again!  

Several more orgies and some trail treasure later, we broke into two groups.  The front group apparently missed an impromptu shot check (dammit!) provided by some Muggles that Begging Brother Banger knew and made it to the patch check (where there were no patches) after waiting for 25 minutes for the rest of the pack.  We eventually reunited and it felt so good that we celebrated by spreading more disease - I mean paint - upon each other with various parts that you generally need to show a licensed professional on a dolly after you're traumatized enough times.  Then there was a shot check and some of us were officially f*cked.  Missed Her Bullseye was apparently possessed by a demon and proceeded to chug most of a bottle of whiskey by himself, with a little help from some wankers and a lot of help from Shiggy. Much like a gremlin you shouldn't feed/water after midnight, MHB then proceeded to spank all the harriettes with hands or a two-by-four or whatever he could find on the side of the road. By this time I was feeling a little better so I took a small sip of that life-changing whiskey that really just made me want to vomit so I left the boys to it. As we completed the trail, all hell broke loose and we probably experienced one of the shittiest circles I have ever been a part of, much to many people's amusement. XSNRG valiantly tried and failed to outshout Missed Her Bullseye, who was busy careening around circle after his FRB beer-boarding, whilst mooning and flipping off neighbors that were happy to watch the shitshow via binoculars. I valiantly tried not to puke (and won), Shiggy valiantly started drinking again like a pro (and got drunk again like a pro). 4'' Spike was giggling and throwing Shiggy's face in his crotch, per usual - see pic above for documentation. HNIC frolicked under a rainbow umbrella while everyone ducked and rolled away from the pointy parts.  Begging Brother Banging's friend Just Chris (the one with the package, ladies) tried to get his patch by begging Neuf to let him use his mouth while Thumb In Clooney took Neuf's glittery money shot on his ass to receive his patch.  Eventually we gave up trying to be anything other than completely ridiculous after a picture was taken missing half the wankers that were on trail, and we joined up for the On-After at the Green Parrot.  I tiredly but proudly DD'd for a few folks and immediately passed out in my bed, collapsing in a very unladylike, but very hasherlike heap.  

On-On, mothertruckers.  


Dead Travelin Fister

<![CDATA[Hash #481 - Pick up Hash/Naming Hash]]>Fri, 16 Oct 2015 15:34:38 GMThttp://keywesthash.com/hash-trash/hash-481-pick-up-hashnaming-hashSo there we were.....meeting up for a pick-up hash in the parking lot behind the courthouse.  For a bunch of wankers, this seems a dangerous place to meet but whatever.  Almost 20 of us showed up for this weekday hash since none of us give a damn about our jobs/some just don't have jobs because Key West. As we gathered and took turns peeing in bushes we received some side-eye from the tourists walking by. Shiggy Shave-Her was somehow on time for once, so we had plenty of time to quaff the sacred nectar before he took off.  Good job bud.  The hash shit was bestowed upon Queef for Cuz for some sort of violation I don't recall.  After some blessings, Shiggy was off with the pack in pursuit!  

We hung a left out of the parking lot and followed trail down Whitehead to Front Street.  Here there was some confusion as some hashers that were in the know about where trail was going short-cut trail up Duval Street.  The rest of us went down Front and then over to Greene Street where we cut in front of the Conch Farm and down the docks.  First beer check was by the ferry, where manatees danced in the water on the other side of the cursed Tortuga IV party boat and we watched the sunset.  We nailed a beautiful roller coaster pic or two, thanks to some helpful tourists. Thank god Neuf was wearing a neon shirt or he would have disappeared into the ground.  (pics coming soon)  Off we went again.....following trail down and around with a few checks and YBFs in play.  We eventually wound around by Poorhouse Lane, where some confusion took place over some old Beer Check marks by the park.  But there was no beer to be had so we moved on quickly.  Somewhere along the Mu-Sick picked up a crazy hasher from Guam - he was just nonchalantly hanging out in his yard and saw us run by, at which point he asked if we were a hash.  Woo-hoo!  A new KW hasher!  One of us! One of us!  Off we went again, cutting back across the island and over through Bahama Village.  Once we got to the soccer field, we saw there was a game going on and immediately started catcalling the cute lil soccer players in their short little shorts. I blew my highly annoying Fox whistle (gift from 7 Shooters) to add some healthy confusion to their game.  Then we picked up a good muggle friend on a bike, Angie, who while somewhat confused by our debaucherous activities, followed us blindly to the On-In......her mistake. 

When we reached the field at Truman Annex a mad sprint ensued to both avoid being FRB and DFL.  Sadly, BMF wasn't paying attention, so he got the waterboarding an overachieving FRB deserves. After that I looked around and realized that we had quite a few extraordinarily inebriated hashers present.  The new guy was running around alternately humping/groping/pantsing people. Just Chase was drunk, unaware of what was coming for him.  A few others were hootin' and hollerin' once we circled up.  Accusations flew, dealing with old marks, a few new-shoe wearing dummies who got to quaff the nectar from their already sweat-filled footwear, and some false free-beer claims on trail.  

And then a naming!  

Just Chase, the long suffering unnamed hasher, finally got to insert his narrow butt into an ice-filled cooler and wait as we named hashers came up with a name for him.  The following were possibilities based on his Inquisition:

Pastor Peach Prime (and variations)
Old Peach Pits (my personal favorite and I still laugh every time I say it.)
Captain Save A Bitch
Tarzan Teaser
and Rotten Monkey Business

But his official name is now:


Welcome to the hash world VMA, now you're stuck with us forever!!! 

Dead Travelin Fister
<![CDATA[Hash #478 - It was a Bash! 9/19/15]]>Wed, 30 Sep 2015 18:32:40 GMThttp://keywesthash.com/hash-trash/september-30th-2015Picture
Hares: Conchcebitionist and BMF 

So there we were. Coconut Mallory was flooded with hashers on bikes, much to the joy of the bartenders and the detriment of the poor fella just trying to play some acoustic cover songs.  But once I heard something of the noxious Darius Rucker (Bootie and the Hofish) genre, I ceased to care.  Much beer and cider was consumed, stories were bullshitted, and familiar, long-unseen faces (Rumply Foreskin, Tiny Testes, Reverse Rumspringa) were welcomed back to the pack with open arms.  We filled our vessels with sacred nectar and off we went.  

Menage A Neuf, Shiggy Shave-Her, and myself (Dead Travelin Fister), were off like a shot, madly pursuing our hares and the wagon of delicious refreshments.  From Coconut Mallory, we rode that seawall hard like proper harriers until we got to our first beer check.  Our activities must have been heralded far and wide, as we were accompanied by a motorcyclist who was so excited that he decided to go 70 mph down South Roosevelt and bring some law enforcement officers with him.  None of them actually made it to the beer check, but it was a valiant effort and his testicles were much admired from a distance at which we would not take any attention from the po-po.  We gave the hares some time to be off again and resumed the chase.  We looped around Bertha and onto Atlantic, where HNIC in his untethered joy at seeing the first Beer Near promptly dove off his bike while it was still moving and slid across the asphalt.  "Blood on trail!!!", the pack cried, memorizing the event for circle later.  The rest of us rode over or around him (after some initial concern that he was still breathing of course) through the woods to the end of the pier.  Second beer check!  Some of us played in the ocean while quenching our thirsts, some of us were so sweet (Shiggy) we got our flesh devoured by the swamp mosquitos. A few gathered some sunset pictures for facebook to remind the rest of the world that we live where they vacation.  Group pictures were taken after some technology fumbling.  And then we were off again!  Trail was fairly simple and we meandered around until the third check in front of the Lime Tree on Flagler.  The homeless people admired our stock (both the beer and the flesh). Eventually we made our way to the On-In and descended upon the house of Seven Shooters, our fearless GM.  We found a hasher there who didn't bash with us - Schoolhouse Cocks - who promptly stripped nekkid and jumped in the pool for penance.  Circle came and went - a bad joke was told and an appendage was displayed, fairly minor accusations were laid out and down-downs assigned.  Wings were ordered, and the poor delivery guy didn't get a response at the front door so he made the horrible mistake of walking into the backyard......and I'm sure he will have vivid nightmares from the images burned into his brain for the rest of his life.  

All in all, it was a great night and a shitty trail.  What more can a girl ask for!?!?!?!

Love, DTF

<![CDATA[Hash #477, NFL theme, August 22nd, 2015]]>Tue, 25 Aug 2015 20:37:52 GMThttp://keywesthash.com/hash-trash/hash-477-nfl-theme-august-22nd-2015Picture
Hares:  Menage A Neuf, Bottom of the Ninth
BeerMeister: 4" Spike

So there we were, sweating in the hot summer sun like a bunch of nuns at a cucumber stall in the farmer's market. A few of us had even decided to wear clothes having to do with the NFL theme. Our group this day was made up of a motley crew of hashers, from visitors to virgins to hashers returning from far-away kennels in Europe. Once all had gathered (after some confused effort in using Google Maps took place) and caught up a bit, haberdash was sold, and Missed Her Bullseye disappeared and missed the hash as well. An elaborate chalk talk included the very unusual presence of a leap-frog amongst some groans and squeals of delight.  And we were off!  

Almost immediately, the unnamed Treasure Coast visitor and virgin took off at the head of the pack.  No idea where they went, because I never saw them again on-trail after the first block or at any beer checks. Soooo I hope they had a nice vacay.......  um, on-on?  Shiggy Shave-Her, Mu-Sick, Just John (who was named this night), and myself led the pack around Roosevelt to Flagler and then around some zigs and zags.  Shiggy went off trail somewhere and Just John and I suddenly found ourselves at the back of the pack after a large amount of short-cutting by the rest of the pack took place.....naughty naughty.  In my angst, I stole a child's tiny rainbow hula hoop off the sidewalk and it sits in my car even now. Taught that crotchfruit to put its toys away. We finally got over to our first beer check after at least a mile and a half or so which is a long time without alcohol for us island miscreants.  With our thirsts temporarily abated and the harriettes' bras full of ice, we pushed on, stealing shopping carts and running from a swarm of bees that XSNRG decided to stir up outside of a trailer park along the way.    

We leapfrogged around town collecting hash treasure in our new shopping cart and swapping clothes as indicated at the checks.  Something bad must've almost happened to the hares when they got back around to Roosevelt because suddenly we were presented with a metric crap-ton of boob and package checks on the busiest road on the island. As Mu-Sick was alone in front of us, I have no idea how he accomplished these checks, but I know my own tits were out while running down the boulevard for a good thirty minutes.  Judging by the catcalls, no one was sad. After a shot check and nearly 5 miles of trail, we finally made it on-home.  Once the rest of the pack caught up, our glorious visitors Boobilocks and Locked Up Abroad from St Pete/Naked Pirate/Bay to Beaches H3 bought us all McDonalds (I mean, fries and nuggets are pretty much orange food).  XSNRG brought us a huge dead stinking iguana which he plopped into circle when no one was expecting it. After much eating (mcd's) and vomiting (iguana), a very brief circle was held so we could get to the on-after which included a pool that closed at 10pm (but much to our chagrin had really closed already due to lightning, so all our rushing was for naught).  Accusations were briefer than 4" Spike's underwear, he being one of the accused for being at Wendy's getting food instead of at a beer check on time.  And then.....a NAMING!  Just John's skinny butt was formally folded and inserted directly into a cooler filled with cold water and a little ice (it was hot). Throughout the Inquisition we discovered a few unknown facts and many long boring stories about Just John, including the fact that he is not on the Ashley Madison list. The most amusing two or three stories led to the voting for his name:  Get the F*ck Off (GTFO). Runners up for his name were: Grounded, Ice Bawls, Inverted Packer, Only in College, and No Fly Lush.  For On-After, we moved to the pool at the Gates hotel where we ate delicious food from the Blind Pig and Shiggy inserted his balls into various pictures when he thought no one was looking.  


-Dead Travelin Fister