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Nananananana Nananana Na!  Superhero Hash!

9/29/2012

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On the last Saturday of the month of September (which is the 29th for those of you more simple minded folk) we donned our best fake muscle, billowing capes and random face paint at the White Street pier for the Superhero Hash.

The brave and foolish Tiny Dick Connoisseur and Just Adriana decided it would be good for them to hare. Let just say things didn’t start off too super for our Superhero duo. First off, where was the on start beer? Second off, where was all the on start beer!?!?! Shame hares, shame. Many a spandex clad superheros were in attendance. We had a hand full of Batmen (men and women alike), a pair of Quailmen and a Ghostbuster. I know what you’re thinking, Ghostbusters don’t have super powers. Turns out this Ghostbusters super power was being able to shed his jumpsuit and magically turn into a much paler, and much less endowed, Borat. Oh how the women didn’t swoon at Ribbed for His Pleasure and his not so super Super Power.

And as we always do, we jogged. Trail took us on a ziggy zaggy path up towards Shanna Key.
It seems to be a habit for EVERY F@!KING hare to tease us with an awesome stop here. Screw
you all!
The beer check was mercifully nearby though right next to the high school. I found this
be a poorly conceived beer check since there were no good nearby bushes for hasher to relieve
themselves in.

Then we jogged more, towards the heart of downtown. This part of trail was boring. I blinked
and there I was and the next beer check at Pocket Park. I liked this beer check though since there were many shadowy places that hash could cause trouble in. And we did. And it was great!

Again the next part of the trail was very unmemorable. I blame this on several things. A. NO
ON-START BEER! B. Lack of shiggy. On a side note, Pullin’ Out, we need KWH3 shiggy socks! So, where was I? Oh yes, yada yada yada trail ends at the parking lot next to Finnegan’s. Seriously hares! The parking garage was 500 feet away and a much better On-Home. So we
moved circle to the garage.

Once at the garage the hares pull out three coolers! Finally, the golden nectar of our Beer Lord! And as we all know, SHAME to the hares for not providing enough beer. We ran out in ten minutes. So much ice! Not enough beer. Guidelines were demonstrated, virgins were introduced. Erections were then held. During Erections, Salty Green Rim Job was expunged and Pullin’ Out drunkenly grunted something incomprehensible and got the job has our new Haberdasher!  And I, the esteemed Snoop Dingleberry was voted in as your Hash Scribe!

We swung low, drank many more a ....wait, oh yeah that’s right we couldn’t drink more beer
since the hares didn’t get enough. Wankers!  The we all pissed off for Island Dog as the On-On-On and hit the town for dancing on bartops while dressed as retarded superheroes, and 4" Spike randomly started lifting people into the air.

Honor to the Hash. Honor to our awesome superheroness!

Snoop Dingle B.

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11 Comments

Offensive T-shirt Hash

9/15/2012

 
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Well, we hashed again.  Trail started at the Bocce Ball courts by White Street Pier, with all participants sporting offensive T-shirts.  We had seven virgins (which became annoying at the end) and as a great surprise, the trail laid by Ms. Squirts a-lot and The Queen’s Enema was actually pretty decent!

We started by hitting the beach and heading east before zigzagging all over the south end of New Town.  There was a beer stop or two and then we arrived at the construction zone for the new High School, and as we crawled under the fence to sprint across it…  Turdinhand was busy trying to convince the crazy old woman who lived next door not to call the cops on us.

The pack drunkenly stumbled along trail until we found a True trail mark pointing straight north from South Roosevelt and across to the Palm Avenue Causeway.  Squirts A Lot insists she marked trail for us to do a short 15 foot swim and get out on some pier, but the true hasher’s of the group were unable to see her pitiful marking and we swam that half-mile of tepid water filled with the guts of cleaned fish and were welcomed by a security guard by the bridge.

One of the virgins was friends with Jack the security guard, and so he told us to get lost before the cops came.  So, we ran across the bridge to the west side of the channel where the hare’s had left us another beerstop and quickly drank all 40 cans of brew.  Some people tried to swim that last bit, and were run over by a charter fishing boat that angrily refused to give way to swimmers.

The Tyrant pushed for the crew to leave quickly, before the police found us and because it was starting to get a little dark…  so the pack started jogging west again on trail.  We quickly found the arrows pointing us into the Peary Court housing area, and were hopping fences and evading military police.  Several of us became covered in shaggy and chiggers, while bounding between fences and from backyard to backyard.

Now in the pitch dark, trail eventually exited Perry court and we became lost in mid-town before finally arriving back at the base of the Aids Pier where the hares appeased us with massive amounts of beer and even provided snacks and cakes!  This should be a lesson to you Key West idiots that if you can keep all the beer stops cheap (as in, NOT at a bar) there’s cash leftover for food!!

Religion was a beauty, the Tyrant refreshed the pack with the legend of the LA “Guidelines” and many breasticles were seen.  All 32 of the virgins were welcomed, and business was attended to.  The pack named two of our long time fellows, and it is with great honor and pride we welcomed The Gilded GILF and Flaming Mother-Fucker to our family.  Religion then swung low, and we all headed out on the town wearing our terribly offensive t-shirts.  Snoop Dingleberry drunkenly promised to write the hash trash, but he must have gotten beat up on a street corner because the Tyrant never heard from him again.

Hopefully all you clowns make it out to the next run!!  On-On!!


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Another Higgs Beach Pick-Up Hash (But with more boobs)

9/10/2012

 
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On this great day of our beer lord, September 10, 2012 a pick up hash of epic titties took place. Harriers and Harriets alike congregated next to the pavilion behind Salute in hopes of flowing nectar, a true and straight trail and shenanigans aplenty. As tradition has dictated (which by the way I think is silly since he is the Tyrant and and can just point to someone and say go) our venerable Tyrant held a rock-paper-sissies tourney to determine the first hare. The Virgin won. So, Just Matt volunteered to keep the Virgin from making a complete mockery of trail. Release the hounds!

We were off headed in the direction of Cuba. After 20ish minutes we discovered the obviously trembling hare's emergency beer pack. The hounds rejoiced and consumed the beer lord's nectar. As we were about to resume the hunt, Fartacus mentioned that there was a beer drinking fundraiser for school children at the Bottle Cap. Our Tyrant then asked if the school children would be there......... Then things went to shit. Tip for future hares. DON'T LAY TRAIL IN CIRCLES. We are but a simple minded beer drinking drunk bunch. Circles are confusing.

Seeing as more nectar needed to be found the decision was made to head on-home. Nursin' an STD was then dubbed the new hare and we made our way back to Higg's Beach. Honor to STD and The Queen's Enema for their lovely portraits of vaginas they drew for us as on-ons during the trail home.

Need less to say when we arrived on-home, the hare was nowhere to be found. We then moved our merry group behind the civil war fort thingy for religion. Oh and the hare found us 20 or so minutes later. We then greeted new hashers to out ranks!  Welcome Jingleballs and his counterpart Just Renee, and also to the visitor from LAH3: Meal Ready to Eat. Honor to MRE for showing us the fine LAH3 guidelines that helped get us more drunk and let us see the wonderful mammaries of many Harriettes (FIVE wonderful pairs of breasts, people!!!). Shame to Jingleballs for coming from a shitty hash in the middle of the ocean on some island no one has ever heard and not knowing a single song. The Virgin Just John was then brought into the circle. He made a slightly humorous yet not memorable joke, preformed his down-down and them promptly relieved himself of of his sacred nectar. Shame on Just John for wasting perfectly good beer.

We then sang many a joyous song, swung low, and rendezvoused for martini Monday at Virgilio's where we found Pleasure Me Orally and Salty Green Rim-Job who had SKIPPED THE HASH!!  Oh, and Jingleballs got shit on by a bird and I finally, thanks to MRE, got to see Miss Squirts-a-Lot's epic boobies.

Honor to MRE for teaching us of "The Guidelines"!!!  She is ALWAYS welcome back at our trails!  Honor to all the harriette's who blessed us with their "presence".  Honor to our Hash!

            On-On!
            Snoop Dingleberry

POST EDIT:  It appears we had a SPYING BLOGGER in our midst!  Who took photos without permission and wrote terrible accusations against us!  We'll make her do a DownDown when she returns.  ;-)  To see it, go to: http://thebabblingconch.blogspot.com/2012/09/first-key-west-hash-oy.html

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GI Joe Hash

9/2/2012

 
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On a Sunday (Hash delayed due to Brewfest), dressed in various sorts of camouflage and GI-Joe paraphernalia, the pack gathered in Just Tyler’s secluded and near-impossible-to-find backyard at 805 Georgia Street.  We had a few flip-flop wearing visitors from Austin, TX who were very disappointed by the fact we charged more than one dollar as the run fee, which must be common out in the lone star state. (note to self:  move to Texas for cheap beer and large beer drinking women)

Just Tyler and Bloody Treasure Chest made a horrible attempt at a chalk-talk before the Tyrant told them to piss off and start setting the trail so he could un-confuse the hounds and visitors.  We began by sprinting South along Georgia street before encountering our first check.  Here Ribbed for His Pleasure went off in search of trail and was not seen again until the On-Home site, while the rest of the pack followed the virgin Just Adrianna as she bounced down trail.

Happily, the hares devised to utilize a lot of Virgin checks, and a special event “Hero Check” that required 10 push-ups or 10 jumping jacks prior to passing on.  Normally, the Tyrant would outlaw any such egregious demonstration of physical superiority…  however it quickly became apparent that girls doing jumping jacks is a FANTASTIC hash idea.  This may become a Key West staple.

The pack eventually wound our way down towards Casa Marina where we found a hidden stash of ice cold nectar to consume.  Too much, in fact.  Luckily, the visiting hasher from Austin had brought his Unmentionable’s purse on trail, so we filled it with the extras and continued on.  Halfway to the next beer stop, as we gingerly passed a drunk KWPD officer patrolling the streets and driving around with his car door open…  Nursing an STD showed up with his lover still handcuffed to his wrist (since they forgot to return to the Tyrant at the Tarpon Belly campout so he could release them).

Trail roamed onto Duval street, where the pack enthusiastically did push-ups with the drag queens in front of 801 Bourbon Street and then turning East towards the Big Ten Pub.  On-Home was reached and religion was held in the parking lot of the pub, where we welcomed our virgin Adriana and her 6 month old breasts to our clan.  We ended up only having one of the Austin Tourists make it through to the on-home site (THERE ARE NO SERIOUS HASHERS FROM TEXAS, apparently).  And we made our server “Just Rand” do a down-down with us before we Swang Low and walked inside to consume vast quantities of wings and coronas.

On-On-On involved a short meandering to Tattoos and Scars before your loving Tyrant hired a cab and brought the entire Hash for a private viewing back at 801 Bourbon Street, where several “ladies” joined us and several hasher’s got lucky.  The party eventually rolled across the street to Bourbon Street Pub where Fartacus was extremely uncomfortable while he got pawed by naked young men.  Some Hashers were seen moseying into the back where a private, clothing optional, boys only pool party was being thrown…  which inspired several of you harriers and harriettes to ride back uptown to Manhoe’s house where we ate Dion’s chicken while sitting in the pool and sipping Yuengling until 4am when the party finally wound down to a halt.  Honor to the Key West Hash, and honor to boobs at religion!  Respect for a well laid trail, and the rest of you idiots should take note how Bloody and Tyler did not lose the pack even once!  Great Times, and see you all at the next event!!

ON-ON!!!


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