At White St pier, the tutu themed Bash was kicked off as Conchsibitionist kneeled before BMF… ahem… our hares BMF and Conchsibitionist kneeled before our esteemed RA XSNRG. We then met two virgins, Just Cristoff-mon and Just Chuck, and were joined by three Columbian wanna-be virgins, their voluptuous leader proudly and loudly displaying a beer-filled coffee mug, begging to come with us. Sadly, without bikes, they were left behind in the vast and desolate beaches of Key West.
A beer near was found soon, and from there two different stories. Some say a homeless man stole the pre-set beer, others say the hash just missed it. But shortly after, as the hash bore down on our hares, an impromptu beer stop suddenly appeared in front of Manhoes. Wait… don’t we know the people who live at Manhoes? And aren’t they hashers? Hmm, apparently the “I’m sick” excuse used earlier wasn’t coordinated with the roommate, who called out Little Slit That Could and Limp Locomotive as having left on the scooter earlier. Fail.
On on! Two shot stops followed, highlighted by the presence of two police cruisers at each shot stop. Finally, we arrive at the Coast Guard base on Trumbo for circle. There were a few charges, including the hares marking an “exchange bikes” stop too much like a “music” stop. The hares also paid for their shitty fucking trail. Then the virgins (four, we picked up a couple on the ride). First were the two who came via hashers; Just Cristoff-mon pleased the ladies, and Just Chuck led us through a pretty awesome traditional Hawaiian chant. And then the random virgins gave us all a show with Just Drunk Girl (sorry, couldn’t understand her slurring) standing with her bewbs pushed up and out of the bra, panties shoved to the side, and her boyfriend (NOT HUSBAND, NEVER GETTING MARRIED… that wasn’t slurred…) wearing her sun dress and nothing else. **Sigh** Too bad, because these clown babies would be textbook hashers if it were remotely possible for them to remember anything from the hash.
And finally to the good stuff… the naming of a hasher! And not just any harriette, but our beloved Just Maggie. She proudly dropped trau, flipped up her tutu, and sat on the ice. I make no promises of the accuracy of those statements. Except for the fact that she has had a fist up a penguin’s anus. I definitely heard that.
At the deliberations, Traveling Fister came first, then “Dead Head” related shit. Then Penguin Fister, which evolved into Terrapin Fister, and Flaming Fister and Dead Fire Fister. The Q&A was reviewed, more personal stories were discussed, and then XSNRG was struck by the lightening of Zeus. He randomly said Dead Travelin Fister, and clarity settled upon the KWH3. DTF.
Congrats, DEAD TRAVELIN FISTER!
On after at Backspace, with the patio reserved (cornhole!) and 2 for 1, followed by the obligatory Don’s (jenga!). What a shitty fucking night.
A beer near was found soon, and from there two different stories. Some say a homeless man stole the pre-set beer, others say the hash just missed it. But shortly after, as the hash bore down on our hares, an impromptu beer stop suddenly appeared in front of Manhoes. Wait… don’t we know the people who live at Manhoes? And aren’t they hashers? Hmm, apparently the “I’m sick” excuse used earlier wasn’t coordinated with the roommate, who called out Little Slit That Could and Limp Locomotive as having left on the scooter earlier. Fail.
On on! Two shot stops followed, highlighted by the presence of two police cruisers at each shot stop. Finally, we arrive at the Coast Guard base on Trumbo for circle. There were a few charges, including the hares marking an “exchange bikes” stop too much like a “music” stop. The hares also paid for their shitty fucking trail. Then the virgins (four, we picked up a couple on the ride). First were the two who came via hashers; Just Cristoff-mon pleased the ladies, and Just Chuck led us through a pretty awesome traditional Hawaiian chant. And then the random virgins gave us all a show with Just Drunk Girl (sorry, couldn’t understand her slurring) standing with her bewbs pushed up and out of the bra, panties shoved to the side, and her boyfriend (NOT HUSBAND, NEVER GETTING MARRIED… that wasn’t slurred…) wearing her sun dress and nothing else. **Sigh** Too bad, because these clown babies would be textbook hashers if it were remotely possible for them to remember anything from the hash.
And finally to the good stuff… the naming of a hasher! And not just any harriette, but our beloved Just Maggie. She proudly dropped trau, flipped up her tutu, and sat on the ice. I make no promises of the accuracy of those statements. Except for the fact that she has had a fist up a penguin’s anus. I definitely heard that.
At the deliberations, Traveling Fister came first, then “Dead Head” related shit. Then Penguin Fister, which evolved into Terrapin Fister, and Flaming Fister and Dead Fire Fister. The Q&A was reviewed, more personal stories were discussed, and then XSNRG was struck by the lightening of Zeus. He randomly said Dead Travelin Fister, and clarity settled upon the KWH3. DTF.
Congrats, DEAD TRAVELIN FISTER!
On after at Backspace, with the patio reserved (cornhole!) and 2 for 1, followed by the obligatory Don’s (jenga!). What a shitty fucking night.
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