Trail #1677 The Trail of Doom
Hares: nnMel and nnBilly
Hounds: CIA, BW, NBA, Dip
This is a long-overdue trash, mainly because the crappiness of this trail left me befuddled, speechless, and more or less in a state of coma. Picture me, if you will, after the hash, huddled on my couch, whimpering, staring dully off into space, mouth slack with drool dripping down the corners of my mouth....wait, that's how I normally look after a hash. Anyway, back to the crappy trail....
With the certainty of heavy thunderstorms and the high possibility of a 'nader, most caring, considerate and sentient hares would say, nope, we care about the hounds' safety, we love our hounds, and only want what's best for their well-being. But, NO! Not these hares! These hares guilt-tripped the hounds by sending pix beforehand of the tiny sliver of sky that showed a smidgen of sun, called us pussies (that's actually a compliment, btw), and insisted that their trail was amazing and we would be wimps if we didn't show up.
So, let's talk about the hares' real purpose in hash-shaming us into showing up. They seemed to want to be named. So, due the the absolutely shittiness and life-threatening nature of this trail, it is now my life goal to bestow upon them the most obnoxious hash names ever. This is my rallying cry, half-minds. Join me in my quest. This must be done.
Post script: I am especially motivated to cum up with horrid names for them. Those wankers cost me $22. I refuse to take any responsibility for this. The responsibility belongs to nnBilly and nnMel. I returned a library book two days after that shitty trail, and the library made me pay for the book because it was wet. This was due to my throwing my soaking wet backpack on the passenger seat of my car, not remembering the damn book was there, thus soaking it and ruining it. Now, now, you might say that I could have done one or two things differently to avoid this. I say, NO. It was totally these two wankers' fault. You will not convince me otherwise.
A nice mid-week hash hared by TAH3's own, Sir Dip, which means there were too many intersections. The hash started and ended at Jersey's Bar and Grill but took the hounds near the mecca of necta...the beer distributor. Sorry, hashers...no beer for you. Lots of interesting things were found and one lesson learned...do not eat gravy found on trail. Circle was an exciting time with a round of dead bugs. My advice to Puff; If you show up to a hash, just bring your raincoat because you are getting doused in beer. Dip has a spreadsheet and he isn't afraid to use it. It was a special occasion as Bdub tied the knot with his 100th hash. Get a life, get a life, get a life, life, life. TAH3 also completed a naming of a former noname. Welcome to a questionable life, BOB FM!
Hare- “Sir” Dip
nnRobin (BOB FM BentOverButtFuckMachine)
TAH3 was blessed to have an out of towner co-hare with one of it's own. It was proof that, no matter where you're from, you lay a shitty trail. The location of this hash was the Sedgwick County Swamp, formerly known as SG County Park. The ground was moist with recent, heavy rains and the tears of unsuspecting bystanders. It was a disappointingly shiggy-free trail but had exquisite flour markings. Having the Beer-Near halfway up the side of a large hill, almost discouraged the hounds from partaking. Circle was completed on a solid, dry slab of concrete. It didn't stay dry for long as a series of dead bugs, flying dead bugs, and a towering dead bug quickly saturated the ground with golden nectar that was not quite on target. Anything to clear Dip's spreadsheet. It is worth mentioning here that TAH3 respects the law and only 3.2% beer was consumed during this hash. ONON
Hares- LittleRedDipShit & Josting4Tampons (Dallas)
NBA, Tina, WetPussyFlassher
The inaugural hash under new mismanagement couldn't have started any better, the end however... Not so much. TAH3 celebrated the end of the school year the only way we know how, by drinking of the nectar and hashing through old Town dressed as naughty school girls. As usual Puff was late, but made it for chalk talk. Fortunately for him it was late, which was a prelude to how the three hares laid trail. I'm recommending three new renames... Sleepy, Dopey, and Doc. These three are responsible for educating our youth for gods sake. There was a beer near at Rain. For $2, they served you turpentine in a martini glass. I hope everyone remembered to hold their pinkies out. The highlight of the evening was Sir Dip's life-like breasts that gave this writer mixed feelings about himself. Butthole Whisperer completed his first circle as newly erected RA and to celebrate, he decided to have it last for three hours. At least I think it ended... It may still be going on. On-On
Hares: Dipstick and BP
Hounds: Puff, PQuad, PPL, Poopy, PBR, Sinnabar, Tina, NBA, ADD, Shit, Princess Peckerhontas, PCP, Stumpy, Anything Goes, Butthole Whisperer, ButtHerFinger, Cuddle Puncher, Hummer, Black Snake Chicken Chugger, Halliday In My Pussy, Which Way Is In?, nnCollin, Snatchajawea, Amanta Feel and Fuck, nnryan, VH1,CIA, Cotton Pickin' Fucker, nnSavannah, nnIsis, nnRachel
One would think that participating in more than 1,000 hashes might merit one some respect. One would then be wrong. But it does merit one helleva hash event and party. Gathering in the covered pavilion area of Pawnee Prairie Park, the pack was ready for a fabulous trail. Man, were they disappointed. The hares took off to the north of the park through the expanse of tall grass. So far, so good. Unfortunately, that's where the trail took a tragic turn for the worse. Tragic in the sense that we were led through man- and woman-eating poison ivy, which was apparently biogenetically engineered to reach out and voraciously attack the body parts of the naive and trusting wankers. It was determined that this was the main reason for the hares choosing this particular route, since the park paths would have protected us from the dreaded ivy. After trail forced us to wade through the creek at several locations, slip and slide in the mud, and curse the diabolical hares, the pack eventually made it to the beer near. After refreshing ourselves with libations, trail took us back to the south through the woods, where we somehow managed to stumble back to the on-in.
Circle went on forever, with the pack feeling they had to be hospitable to the visitors and feign kindness and respect to "He Who Needs To Get A Life". But when all was said and done, everyone was exhausted, tipsy and in desperate need of showers. And all was right with the world. On on.
Trail # 1306 Pub Crawl for 1000th Eve
Hare: Little Red Dipshit
Hounds: Whoa, who knows!
What can one say about a pub crawl? I sure don't know because I think I consumed too many tasty beverages. We started at a bar, then we went to another one, then maybe another one. Many hashers took part, large quantities of beverages were consumed, and plenty of wankers did things that they probably would not have done had they been sober. All this done just to get lubed up before the Big Event. On on!
Trail #1305 - BP's Death March
Hounds: Dip, NBA, Puff, Tina, Butthole Whisperer, CIA, nnAmanda, nnCollin, Anything Goes, PQuad, ButtHerFinger, nnKim
The pack is beginning to believe that BP has it in for us. This trail is just one more piece of evidence that she's trying to kill us off by way of crappy trails. The pack gathered at Fat Ernie's in the Dirty South, a brand-newly-opened beer dive on S. Hydraulic, and the hare led us all-the-fuck over and around the side streets of that gawd-forsaken area. We were mostly successful in following trail until we reached the bike path by the river, where the marks disappeared. This seems to be the Bermuda Triangle of Ta-Town. We would have given up at this point, but we could sense that the beer near was somewhere near, and when beer is involved, this pack does not give up. Besides, nnCollin knew where the BN was, so we followed him (although he neglected to mention that he knew where he was going nor did he know how to use his whistle at this point). The beer was found on a lovely broken-glass-and-dead-fish-strewn sandbar in the middle of the river. Beverages were thankfully consumed, and the pack was on its way to locate trail. We ended up being led through a field of cockleburs that covered our legs, feet and other body parts. I believe we are still discovering hiding places for the little buggers. Thinking we were close to the end, we stumbled, weeping from exhaustion, down Hydraulic for another mile. The hare pulled up to this hasher and offered a ride when the on-in was 50 feet away. Sheesh. Beer and food were consumed, songs were sung, and all was right with the world. Except for the memories of the shitty trail. On on.
Trail # 1304
Hounds: Who the Hell Knows At This Late Date, oh, let's see, I'll give it a shot: Puff, Anything Goes, Tina, Phi Pee Licker, Sgt. Semen Sucker, NBA, Butthole Whisperer, Amanta, nndaughter and friend, Sinnabar, ButtHerFinger, nnKim, PBR, LSD, BP, nnCollin
Dip chose the original setting of Mort's in Old Town to begin trail. He took the pack all-the-hell-over the previously uncharted Old Town region. The hounds marveled at the scenery, the architecture and the originality of the trail. Beer Near was located at Rain, Dip's favorite bar because of cheap well drinks on certain nights. Beverages were consumed and friends were made among the regular bar patrons, especially with the tranny at the next table. Trail then continued on to the south over by the Arena and then eventually (trouser)snaked back to the on-in which turned out to be the Brickyard, an impromptu last-minute decision by the hare. Delighting our neighbors on the patio with our lovely singing voices, and even lovelier songs, we endured circle with the highlight being helping nnKim with breaking in her new running shoes as only hashers know how. Dip's lovely wife, LSD, actually sat through a real circle and was rewarded with a tandem dead-bug, thanks to screw-ups by her husband. Sadly, we may never see LSD at a circle again.... On on!
Hounds: Puff, Shit, nnRachel, PCP, PQuad, Poopy
This time we gathered at the student parking lot of North High School, hoping there might be some underage recruits that we could share beverages with. Sadly, none showed up.
The hare took off in a circuitous route to the north and then doubled back to the south, eventually ending up at the Riverside Pervert Park (a.k.a. Oak Park) at our "usual" spot. Once the hounds were in, they all exclaimed how wonderful the trail was, and moreover, would the hare please, please, please impart some wisdom to the pack on how to lay such an amazing trail. Chips were chewed, beverages were downed, and the packed dispersed, still in awe of the fabulous trail. On on!
Hare: Tina Eat the Piss
Hounds: Cumbag Shitpants, Poopy the Slayer, Piss Car Poor, NBA, BP, nnCollin, PPL, Sgt. Semen Sucker, Butt Tickling Ken, Dipstick, BDub, Butt Her Finger, nnKim
Our beloved hare, Tina, is finally close to perfecting his technique of dead-laying trail. Soon he will have it down so well that he doesn't have to bother with trail at all; he will have trained some child or a trained monkey to lay trail for the payment of a Coke or a banana.
Starting from Whiskey Dick's on Seneca by the Kellogg overpass, the pack took off and were halted by a nearly inscrutable check about a half block from the start. The hare tested the limits of the meaning of 359 degrees and took us back almost to where we started to find the next mark. Trail then took us to the east toward West High School (passing a woman who desperately needed a beer and started running barefooted after the FRB). We eventually found a mysterious Llama Near, which turned out to just be Tina. For some unknown reason, we were required to wait under a bridge with the hare until he enigmatically decided to lead us to the beer near which was waiting for us under the next bridge to the north.
After re-hydrating, the pack took off along the river (with the hare tagging along with us) and we followed marks through Delano and then under yet another overpass where the inscrutable mark BB promised us some sort of undrinkable liquid. Fortunately for us, the hare forgot to stash the beverage, thus saving us from the experience. We then found ourselves back at Whiskey Dick's, and after several pitchers of golden nectar, we bid a fond "Fuck Off" to our baby boy, Cumbag Shitpants, who decided to grow up and abandon his Mother Hash. Sniff, sniff, waaaah! On on!
Hash Trash - A recap of bygone hashes.