Hares: NBA and PBR
Hounds: Dip, Tina, PPL, PQuad, Cuddle Puncher, Puff, Anything Goes, Dipshit at ONIN

Both our elected and ad hoc trash writer were hares on Saturday so you're stuck with the C team. I'll do my best . . .

The pack met at Merle's on Saturday for what was sure to be an epic trail. Beautiful weather, beautiful hashers, what could go wrong? An Otis Redding song came on as soon as PBR walked trough the door but it turned out not to be a good omen; in fact, it was about the coolest thing that happened all day. If you had missed Hare's Away you probably would have thought you were on a Hummer Gay'mes trail. It had all the essential components including contradictory arrows, splits that led nowhere, and being the length of a 10k--the racist P4 being the only hound who has trained for that level of athleticism.

Just like an HG trail, we were lost pretty much right away after taking off from Merle's. And then again in Riverside Park. Cuddles was about to give up and head for the helado truck when someone noticed a tiny blop of flour and we located the first BN under a piñata. We soldiered on down and around the river and located the second BN in a large patch of poison ivy that the hares claimed not to have even noticed. By then, we figured we were almost done. It had been a good 4 miles and we were ready for chips and singing. But no, there was one more BN to be found (easily, I might add, as they seemed to give up on using any marks other than arrows) on the gorgeous and memorable white sand beach of Wichita.

We trudged back to PBR's for circle where we celebrated the second anniversary of Puff's 500th anniversary and presented him with a rad hash mug. Then back to Merle's for food and more beer! Some hashers were tired from the hours-long trail but NBA wasn't about to let any drunk sweaty people in her new car and we had to walk.

Hare: Poopy the Fruitdick Slayer/ Pee Phi Licker
Hounds: Power Bottom Redding, Tina Eat the Piss, No Blow Angel, Cuddle Puncher, Boathouse Pussy, nnRussell, Anything Goes, Deb's Dipstick (for the first 10 mintues of trail (about half), Puff the Magic Ass Grabber


How do we measure the shittiness of a trail?  By mileage?  By how long respectable hashers remain on trail before abandoning and going straight for ONIN? By the irredeemable choice of Old Chicago at dinner time as the Beer Near?  Any of these criteria taken separately would give us shitty trail.  Taken all together we have something new, something beyond simply shitty: number three, Butt Pee.
Hared portentously by both Pee Phi and Poopy, the hounds set out from Public at the Brickyard in order to test the accuracy of the heat advisory issued by the National Weather Service.  After five or six city blocks, we found ourselves at the Beer Near, by far the longest stretch on trail.  The hounds sat so long waiting for their beers, they finally completed the final phase in setting up TAH3, LLC.  We launched our long awaited all and sundry website, buildyourwhistle.com and hope to see a bump in hash cash any second now.  Dip was so taken with the concept that he left trail entirely to present the idea to a venture capital firm while Puff was so offended by the idea of technology of any sort that he skipped the Beer Near entirely.

After finally drinking our beers and reclaiming photo identification, we got back on trail.  Most of the hounds were still thirsty from the Beer Near and shortcut to ONIN at the Brickyard where NBA regaled us with stories of her best friend, known only as 'The Sinking'.  Puff escaped mere moments before a deadbug and the rest of us drank beer and rejoiced.

ONON

Hare: Hummer Gay'mes
Hounds: Pee Phi Licker, NBA, Dip, Poopy, Cuddle Puncher, Tina, PBR, Puff, Used to be Good, nnRussell, nnErin, 
There is not much to say about this trail.  Hummer Gay'mes hared, starting from the Monarch in our beloved Delano area.  Chalk talk was particularly brief and quiet, with Cuddle Puncher insisting he was able to hear every bit of it from the roundabout.  Trail was short and easy to the Beer Near hidden in a clump of trees, where Dip and nnErin discussed aerodynamics and follicle wind drag.  After the Beer Near, trail was short and easy back to ONIN at the Monarch, where we circled up.  Somehow Puff earned a deadbug, which he suffered in great humility.  Pee Phi Licker professed her undying admiration and respect for Hummer's trail, defending it fiercely from any who wished to express even constructive criticism to Hummer.  Used To Be Good joined us once again from Denver and nnErin returned to remind herself how her nightmares got started.  
ONON

Trail #1204
Hare: Tina Eat the Piss
Hounds:  Dip, Puff, Pee Phi Licker, PBR, Hummer Gay'mes, Cuddle Puncher, nnJocelyn

Tina Eat the Piss proved once again that he loves to lay shitty trail.  We started out from Casa de Piss and had a fairly easy time of things until finding several true trail arrows that did not lead to any further markings, so the hounds fanned out and dodged trains and children on bicycles until trail was found once again.

In a lonely stand of firs, the hounds discovered the first Beer Near and officially drank the unofficial official beer of the United States of America.  We then made our way across a dust bowl which appeared to be the vast majority of our shiggy for the day, and like the Joads before us, we made our way toward the promise of plenty and found the second Beer Near under a bridge.  More American beer was consumed and a message of peace and goodwill to diabetics everywhere was discovered.  The hounds immediately regretted leaving the Beer Near, as it was the only shelter from the gale force winds we then encountered.  The headwinds caused the hounds to grit their teeth and power through, while Dip's flames were fanned so high, we were lucky we didn't all get burned.

The majority of hounds shortcut to ONIN under the Broadway Street bridge with the exception of Cuddle Puncher and Hummer Gay'mes, who insisted on staying on trail throughout.  Circle was merry, with Puff and Cuddles suffering the obligatory deadbug for Dip's triumphant return to RA duties.  We welcomed a virgin, nnJocelyn, and we hope and pray the shittiness of the trail does not discourage her return.  

ONON

Trail #1203
Hare:  Cuddle Puncher
Hounds:  Tina, Poopy, Cumbag, NBA, PeePee, Power Bottom, Hummer, Anything Goes, Amanta, Puff, and Tequila at the on-in (lazy wanker)

It's tough to lay a shittier trail than the one that Tina and NBA laid last week, but Cuddle Puncher actually succeeded.  In fact, the bar has been set to about the lowest level it's ever been.  Where to begin, where to begin.......

Let's just be clear at the offset -- the temperature was a hideous 100 degrees here in Doodah, so we thought maybe the trail would be a reasonable length.  But no such luck.  Trail ended up being about 3 to 4 miles with all the false trails and checks.   Young Grasshopper started out strong with just the right amount of splits and intersections....until we got to his diabolical Check Back 4.  It went downhill from there, with his marks becoming fewer and more hidden than ever.  Oh, but then, he picked it back up, and the pack thought, well, maybe he's redeeming himself.  But then we get to the beer near a good 2 miles away.  The hare had stashed the beer in a drainage pipe under I-135 by the ditch.  But evidently, Cuddle decided we hadn't suffered enough so he laid a true trail arrow straight across the nasty-ass green ditch water (had he given us any clue that we needed a shag bag beforehand?  Nooooo).  Following the white flour marks, we came upon a true trail flour arrow heading up the ditch to street level.  There was one plop of flour after that, but then....nothing.  We scoured the shiggy (weeds and shit) for about 20 minutes.  Most of the pack gave up and headed back to the on-in, having found the true trail arrow leading away from the beer near.  What we had missed down on the rocks by the algae stream was the tiny BN chalk marks on three veerrrrrrrry small rocks, nay, pebbles, that the hare thought were sufficient for these half-minds to see.  It was only after much back-tracking that Tina actually discovered the stash in the drainage ditch ACROSS the slimy water that the hare forced us to cross.  The only wankers left looking for the beer were Tina, Cumbag, and NBA.  The rest had given up and had decided that there was beer waiting for them at the on-in.  As the three REAL hashers (that is, those willing to do whatever it took to find the beer near) slurped down the Pabst Blue Ribbon, along came Amanta, who had had to follow the crappy trail by herself, and wasn't just a real happy hasher at this point. Her mood improved tremendously once she got a PBR.  To look on the bright side, these four hashers had a twelve-pack to split before heading back.  The mood was much better on the way back.

Back to the on-in which was at Joe's.  We sat on the patio, drank beer, ate tacos, had a circle conducted by the hare.  The circle was every bit as lame as the trail, but there was much rejoicing.  On on!

Hares: NBA and Tina Eat the Piss
Hounds: PBR, Boathouse Pussy, Cumbag Shitpants, Puff (for a little while), Beastie, Boobs in my Mouth, PQuad, Dipshit, Cuddle Puncher, Hummer Gay'mes, Used to be Good, nnAmy, nnErica, nnJustin, nnDJ, (woops forgot{Poopy the Fruit Dick Slayer})

The 1202nd running of the Tornado Alley Hash House Harriers exemplified the concept of 'shitty trail'.  To kick things off, we gathered at the makeshift model runway behind the Arena Bar & Grill to show off the best in the season's hash fashion.  The hares took off and in a vain attempt to slow down the hounds, ratted us out to Arena management for sipping our oat sodas in a commercial parking lot.  We grumbled, cursed the jealous and unfashionable bar manager and moved our vehicles the legally mandated twelve feet away.
 
After losing ourselves several times due to lack of markings, we determined that Tina didn't realize he was supposed to use chalk to mark his trail, so we had to follow the stench of his authentic dumpster wig.  His stench led us away from the purported first Beer Near and across the river where we blended in so thoroughly with the Riverfesters that Beastiality Before Boys feared half the kennel had been lured away by Jagermeistered and beGodsmacked revelers as children to the Pied Piper.  Fortunately, our strength of will held and we made it back across the river to the purported second Beer Near where NBA was spotted and nearly depantsed.  She only got away because the thirsty Hounds saw the huge BN marking and lost all interest in her pants.  Alas, it was not meant to be, for NBA had already consumed all of the beer and only just got away after downing the last one.
 
A somewhat nonplussed crowd gathered at the dry Beer Near for a rest.  We then made our slow, thirsty crawl through the Wichita desert in search of On In.  At a trainyard, several hashers were so thirsty they saw mirages of On In scrawled on box cars, but persistence paid off and we finally circled up at a garishly decorated way station.
 
Songs were sung and beer was consumed.  Boathouse Pussy felt it was a good idea to only show up for circle and our very gracious substitute RA, Cuddle Puncher, obliged her participatory spirit with a deadbug, a flying deadbug and a towering deadbug.  We had many virgins among us, all of whom got to cum and drink after one of the shittiest trails imaginable, the lucky bitches and bastards.
 
All in all, it was a pretty tame hash. ONON

Hares:  Anything Goes and Hummer Gay'mes
Hounds:  Cuddles, PPL, PBR, NBA, Puff, BP, Cumbag Shitpants, Tina, nnTim, nnErin

This trail came to be known as Tornado Alley's Groundhog Day, since all the hashers experienced such a strong sense of deja vu that when our substitute RA welcomed us one and all to the 1201st running, every bitch and bastard cried "surely, this is 1199!".  The case was compelling.  We started from the Shamrock Lounge.  The hares were Hummer Gay'mes and Anything Goes.  The trail was shitty.  On In was Hummer's house.  The only missing elements were lightning and tornadic activity.
Similarities aside, there was a trail longer than garage length this time around.  However, there was so much "unneedless" shortcutting there wasn't much need for a trail.  Trail criss-crossed the sub-Delano district and made some use of the railroad, and in truly uncharacteristic fashion, Hummer dropped so much hash that NBA feared there had been an anthrax attack on the kennel.  She then made several desperate phone calls to our friends at emergency services who were apparently busy drinking at the Riverfest Block Party.  Beer Near was at Power Bottom's Pump Palace where he regaled the crowd with songs of blood and danger.

We made a bee-line for Hummer's abode and circled up in her back yard.  Tina suffered two dead bugs and vowed to stop drinking Hydrochloric Blue Ribbon forevermore.  There was much singing and rejoicing as we welcomed a virgin to the circle, whose parents met in a kennel long ago in a land far, far away.  After experiencing her first hash, the virgin nnErin has cut off all ties with her parental units and is considering committing herself to a mental health facility.

All in all, it was a pretty tame hash.

Hares:  Dip and PQuad
Hounds:  PPL, NBA, Tina, PBR, Poopy, Tequila, Aggie, BOYA, nnTim, Cuddles, Hummer, nnNatalie, nnSammie

1200, schmelvehundred.  This was the 101 Dalmations hash!  So many spots!  It was blinding!  As we gathered at the Canada Goose parking lot of Sedgwick County Park, Dip veeerrrrrrryyy  slowly realized that he was the only wanker not wearing a spotted wifebeater.  It was so sad for him, since he had stupidly left his hideous spotted shirt up in Larryville in an unsuccessful attempt to see some female boobs at a clothing swap check on trail.  Being the sensitive, considerate souls that we are, we all wore our spotted shirts to this hash so that Dip could vicariously appreciate the joys of wearing a nasty-ass spotted shirt.  We were joined by two virgins, one of whom serves us regularly at are favorite downtown watering hole.  

The hares took off to the northeast in the park, taking us south along the tame trails to the other side of the section to the only beer near, stashed by a lone evergreen in the middle of a field.  We then followed trail in a lovely geometrically-square fashion, over by the baseball fields, but we kept on the concrete path through the woods most of the way.  Shiggy?  What's that?  On-in was found in a lovely little church-like setting in a clearing close to 21st Street.  The RA was practically salivating at the thought of all the dead-bugs he was going to inflict upon us because of the spotted shirts, but he was prevented from his evil plan by the venerable hash tradition of "when one hare drinks, alllllll hares drink".  

Circle ensued, and the usual accusations were made, much beer was consumed.  Dip managed to get a couple of unfounded dead bugs during the circle to satisfy his dead-bug blood lust.  There was much rejoicing.  On-after was at Larry Bud's where the hounds bad-mouthed the lame-ass wankers who did not join them.  On on!