What? TAH3 #1144
When? Thursday, October 11 at 6:00 pm
Where? Old Chicago - Old Town
Hash Cash? $3
Trail Length: <1 Mile - This one's just a pub crawl.
OK wankers, how has your luck been lately? Cum dressed in your Gambling/Joker/Vegas/Douchebag best and try your luck at the TAH3, sequential digit pub crawl!
At each location, you will have the option of rolling a pair of dice, if you hit a 10, 11, or 12, the hash will buy your beer at that particular stop! If you, however, don't hit one of those three numbers, you're going to have to blow the GM. That's right...Wait? What?
Ok, never mind; I'm told that last part isn't actually true. Apparently there is no penalty for not hitting 10, 11, or 12, other than your cheap ass being responsible for your own drink.
May the odds be ever in your favor!
Hounds: Shit, PPL, NBA, LSD, ADHD, BOYAnus, nnJennifer, nnGunner, Midget Molester, Amanta, nnAntwone (Shit's friend who showed up at the Pumphouse)
The lucky wankers who showed up for the 10-11-12 pub crawl, hared by croupier Dip, were indeed lucky. Not only did they get to drink copious amounts of the golden elixir but they also didn't have to walk too far to find it. Trail started at Old Chicago in Old Town. The only game in town was a version of craps, invented by the Dipster, which required rolling a 10, 11 or 12 using Dip's large, fuzzy dice. No one was able to finance a trip to Vegas with this game, but a scant few rolled their hash cash back into their wallets.
Trail then led to the Pumphouse, where more beer was found. NBA got a little rowdy so PPL had to use her recently acquired CPI training to calm down the hysteric wench. Nn Gunner also gave us a look at the energy level that ADHD must have had at that age.
On on to Joe's Bar and Grill, where the wankers found cheap and plentiful quantities of beer. PPL became sloppy drunk, and committed beer abuse all over the table and NBA's delicate outfit. Unfortunately, TT did not show up for the crawl (in his birthday honor) to lap up the beer on the table.
Final stop on the crawl was Mort's for martinis. By this time, most of the wankers made it a true crawl by crawling back to their vehicles for a safe drive home. On on!