On-On to the Olympics!!!
We had a large pack of 25 idiots chasing Just Kiel and Anal Sandwich all across the southern half of or lovely paradise isle on Saturday.
These dummies had chosen to host an Olympics themed run, and nobody chose to give me any photos, but there were several fantastic costumes! Fucking Low Prices came as a poorly endowed swimmer, complete with goggles and swim-cap. Turdinhand ran as his usual top-heavy self… (friends don’t let friends skip lag day!), Bloody Treasure Chest made a reappearance; we even had some nitwits drive down from Marathon, and a half dozen virgins!
The pack gathered at Marilyn ManHoe's Hash House, where the Hares waited 45 minutes before they finally took off… giving the pack ample opportunity to begin draining the Yuengling Keg. (Pleasure Me Orally’s virgin Just Jordan was excited to get r*nning, but Salty Green Rim Job was extremely unhappy that there was to be any physical exertion at all.)
We finally took off at a brisk pace, with half the pack running East, and the other half running West along Fogarty street… since these cunning harey linguists had split up and each gone a different route from the Box. True trail was discovered to cross over the Staples Bridge and we waved at the cops while Turdinhand failed to jump over trashcans as we made our way in an almost perfectly straight line down staples towards Shanna Key.
Unfortunately, as has become typical of our Hash, we got within spitting distance of Shanna Key only to find it was NOT the Beer stop (WTF?). Fartacus became enraged and starting running in circles trying to find where trail went. Ribbed for His Pleasure took off on a scouting mission requested by the Tyrant, but he never returned. And the pack grew thirsty and antsy while dancing around traffic on 1st street.
Finally, Pullin’ Out began to walk down Flagler towards downtown… and everyone else followed. Trail was found again a few blocks down the way, and all the lost flyers were discovered wrestling with a homeless Cuban on the White Street Pier. Apparently, this lucky fella had found a cooler of beer in the ocean and seemed to think it was his! Well, Ribbed for His Pleasure conned him out of his misbegotten treasure, and so we all could imbibe sweet delicious 95 degree Budweiser. Except for the unlucky few who grabbed the HUGE Foster “Premium” cans and quickly learned that shitty Australian brew tastes like baby vomit when it is heated. (Dis)honor to Anal Sandwich for putting the beerstop in the tepid ocean FOUR HOURS before the run started…
From there we cut across the island to Don’s Place, where the hares had stiffed the bartendress… luckily she gave us four beers on credit. (Hares, make sure you go pay her back!) And we took a quiet sojourn to play cornhole and foosball until ManHoe demanded we move on.
Here is where Just Jordan almost gave herself a hernia by heroically giving the heavyweight Turdinhand a piggy-back ride for several blocks, and where the Hash degenerated into a bunch of hot/tired people desperately wanting to get back to the pool at the on-home site.
On-Home was a blast; we killed the keg while singing raunchy songs in the pool. Virgins were welcomed, awards were presented, and much pizza was consumed. We saw the obligatory naked Ribbed for His Pleasure, but not a single harriette chose to show boobs. So overall, the trail must have been a failure. We also named our brother hashers, so say goodbye to Just Sonny who has become Toto McScroto, and Just Kiel who forever-more is to be referenced as Snoop Dingleberry. The Tyrant then graciously gave away free hash clothing to the masses, T-shirts for most... although Turdinhand was very excited about his new Hash-miniskirt.
Drinking continued until almost 3am, when Marilyn ManHoe finally kicked Snoop Dingleberry, Fartacus, and a few other idiots out of his house and went to bed (unfortunately alone).
Honor to the Hash Gods, and see you all at the campout on in two weeks!!!
We had a large pack of 25 idiots chasing Just Kiel and Anal Sandwich all across the southern half of or lovely paradise isle on Saturday.
These dummies had chosen to host an Olympics themed run, and nobody chose to give me any photos, but there were several fantastic costumes! Fucking Low Prices came as a poorly endowed swimmer, complete with goggles and swim-cap. Turdinhand ran as his usual top-heavy self… (friends don’t let friends skip lag day!), Bloody Treasure Chest made a reappearance; we even had some nitwits drive down from Marathon, and a half dozen virgins!
The pack gathered at Marilyn ManHoe's Hash House, where the Hares waited 45 minutes before they finally took off… giving the pack ample opportunity to begin draining the Yuengling Keg. (Pleasure Me Orally’s virgin Just Jordan was excited to get r*nning, but Salty Green Rim Job was extremely unhappy that there was to be any physical exertion at all.)
We finally took off at a brisk pace, with half the pack running East, and the other half running West along Fogarty street… since these cunning harey linguists had split up and each gone a different route from the Box. True trail was discovered to cross over the Staples Bridge and we waved at the cops while Turdinhand failed to jump over trashcans as we made our way in an almost perfectly straight line down staples towards Shanna Key.
Unfortunately, as has become typical of our Hash, we got within spitting distance of Shanna Key only to find it was NOT the Beer stop (WTF?). Fartacus became enraged and starting running in circles trying to find where trail went. Ribbed for His Pleasure took off on a scouting mission requested by the Tyrant, but he never returned. And the pack grew thirsty and antsy while dancing around traffic on 1st street.
Finally, Pullin’ Out began to walk down Flagler towards downtown… and everyone else followed. Trail was found again a few blocks down the way, and all the lost flyers were discovered wrestling with a homeless Cuban on the White Street Pier. Apparently, this lucky fella had found a cooler of beer in the ocean and seemed to think it was his! Well, Ribbed for His Pleasure conned him out of his misbegotten treasure, and so we all could imbibe sweet delicious 95 degree Budweiser. Except for the unlucky few who grabbed the HUGE Foster “Premium” cans and quickly learned that shitty Australian brew tastes like baby vomit when it is heated. (Dis)honor to Anal Sandwich for putting the beerstop in the tepid ocean FOUR HOURS before the run started…
From there we cut across the island to Don’s Place, where the hares had stiffed the bartendress… luckily she gave us four beers on credit. (Hares, make sure you go pay her back!) And we took a quiet sojourn to play cornhole and foosball until ManHoe demanded we move on.
Here is where Just Jordan almost gave herself a hernia by heroically giving the heavyweight Turdinhand a piggy-back ride for several blocks, and where the Hash degenerated into a bunch of hot/tired people desperately wanting to get back to the pool at the on-home site.
On-Home was a blast; we killed the keg while singing raunchy songs in the pool. Virgins were welcomed, awards were presented, and much pizza was consumed. We saw the obligatory naked Ribbed for His Pleasure, but not a single harriette chose to show boobs. So overall, the trail must have been a failure. We also named our brother hashers, so say goodbye to Just Sonny who has become Toto McScroto, and Just Kiel who forever-more is to be referenced as Snoop Dingleberry. The Tyrant then graciously gave away free hash clothing to the masses, T-shirts for most... although Turdinhand was very excited about his new Hash-miniskirt.
Drinking continued until almost 3am, when Marilyn ManHoe finally kicked Snoop Dingleberry, Fartacus, and a few other idiots out of his house and went to bed (unfortunately alone).
Honor to the Hash Gods, and see you all at the campout on in two weeks!!!
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