Hounds: Tina, PP, Amanta, nnAdam, CIA, BDub, Poopy, PCP, maybe others; those attending but not running: BP, Biscuit, PBR, NBA, Cumbag
ASS’s viewing on 12/26 was 1257
Amanata, AnyThing, NBA, BBBD, UFO, Snif, Cuddles, Hummer, Dip, NurseMe, Polly, CumBag, Poopy, plus others
RIP ASS our official, irreplaceable, unforgettable Tornado Alley H3 Mathematician ONON
Hash December 22
Hound: Cuddle Puncher
Hares: Dipstick, Dipshit, Gooey Spinjob, Poopy the Fruit Dick Slayer, Cumbag Shitpants, Puff the Magic Ass Grabber, No Blow Angel, Hummer Gay’mes.
In true Christmas spirit, our hare picked a snowy day to hash. What a guy. The hounds prepared for the day's cold events by pounding beers and scarfing down Dipstick's homemade cookies behind the Vag-abond. Who knew Dip was so domestic? He'll make someone a wonderful wife someday. Our wanker hare showed up in some delightful batman socks with small built in capes that dangle from the back of each calf. Before seeing the
batman symbol, the hounds assumed these were some kind of sexual hand-holds for Hummer Gay'mes. Unfortunately no, it was just a pair of socks that he found in the boys section, where he does all his shopping.
The hare, being the jolly and gay fellow he is, left the hounds with a snow angel near on a snowy embankment. Gooey Spinjob took great pride in crafting his snow angel, only to see an inconsiderate No Blow Angel create her snow angel directly on top of his. Not the first time we've witnessed NBA create what she considers a work of art on top of Gooey. It's just not normally within view of downtown Wichita. A motel that charges by the hour on South Broadway maybe, but not a hill at 1st and McLean.
As the shitty trail wore on, the frigid temperatures, deep snow, and period blood-colored hash finally took its toll on the hounds. There was a man down! Cumbag Shitpants, usually a shining example of athleticism and rugged good looks, took a tumble on the ice. Dipshit, in fear that his beloved Cumbag was injured, rushed to his side, eager to lock lips and breathe lifesaving air into Cumbag's lungs. Cumbag stood back up, pushed Shit away, gazed into the distance, and said, "No, I must continue on in the name of the hash." For his valiant performance under adverse conditions, Cumbag will forever be honored. For laying such a shitty and dangerous trail, Cuddles will die a sad and lonely man of AIDS in a filthy alley in Memphis.
The hare did perform one redeeming act—leaving an apple cider near, spiked with whiskey. The two FRBs had found the ACN and were posing in threatening body language at the rest of the pack. In a preventative measure, to selflessly protect the warm and alcoholic cider from the clutches of the FRBs, the non-racist rest of the pack launched an onslaught of snowballs. The FRBs were pelted, as they deserved, and the rest of the pack took the cider that was rightfully theirs.
From the ACN, our clever hare led us astray. There was a split, from which we saw his oafish snow tracks. It was unmistakable—with the long drag marks typical of his lame leg he suffers from childhood polio. Puff was dispatched as reconnaissance, by which he made a very thorough circle of an elementary school and came up with no hash. As we followed the most-likely trail, we came across something suspicious. The tracks seemed to be laid backwards from the split. The hounds went on full alert, suspecting we were being surveilled and possibly stepping into an ambush. The pack was on edge, pushed to the breaking point with the snow angels and whiskey, when Hummer Gay’mes came forward with information that the ONIN was at her house.
The pack, being exceedingly lazy, decided to make a bee line for the ONIN, when we eventually came across the hare’s menarche-tinted flour again, and realized we were back on trail. A few blocks later we entered Hummer from
Hares: LSD and nnJoanna
Hounds: Dip, Puff, ASS, NBA, Tina, nnMarisa, Amanta, nnCharlie, Anything Goes, PoPo, nnAdam, CIA, BDub, Poopy, Cumbag, Biscuit, BP, Big Bad Booty Daddy, PCP,Hummer, Octoteste, Little Box of Hoarders, Puta & nnMatt
Hounds: NBA, Dipstick, PoPo, nnAdam, Cumbag, Tina, PBR, PPL, can't remember who else
Hounds: Puff, Cuddle Puncher, Hummer Gay'mes, Cumbag Shitpants, Dipstick, BrownNose WhiteSack
Six wankers braved the elements to run PCP’s inaugural trail, thus proving that hashers are the stupidest species on earth. But since both Wild Turkey and Warm Cider nears were promised and trail was co-led by the ever-knowledgeable NBA, what could go wrong?
Due to terrible weather, the hounds swore trail would be short before demanding an inordinate amount of time and taking off at a glacially slow pace. The air was cold and no one, aside from perhaps Brown Nose White Sack who had just his eyes and molester ‘stash visible, had bothered to check the weather, so the hounds drank their way through a most of a Growler and several flasks in an effort to stay warm. They set out with high hopes and bellies full of beer.
Trail started out innocently enough, crisscrossing through the ever-scenic Pawnee Prairie. Led by Cumbag and his trusty knife, Bear Grylls, Jr., the thirsty pack traversed the region for miles in search of the much-anticipated Wild Turkey Near. But instead of the WTN, trail led the hounds to a Bewildered Hares Near, where PCP and NBA stood mumbling something about a missing bridge. Cuddles made a gallant attempt to rid NBA of her pants, but quickly gave up when he realized she wasn’t going to stop him.
The hounds took pity on the bewildered hares, though, and gave them another shot at trail. While waiting for trail to restart, the hounds tried distracting themselves from the cold by focusing instead on the icicles forming on both Cuddles’ and PBR’s beards.
Continuing. The Wild Turkey Near was eventually found, Hummer scratched out trail and forced all hounds to bypass the Warm Cider Near, Dip’s spandex caused a car accident, and circle was historically short and cold.
All in all, an OK trail for a frigid day. On After at Paula’s for free sliders and chips, which almost made trail worth it.
Hare: Tina Eat the Piss
Hounds: Dip, Puff, CIA, BDub, Hummer, Cuddles, Cumbag, PoPo, nnAdam, PBR, NBA, ASS
Meeting at Barleycorn's on Douglas, the hare started off with chalk talk in which he introduced to us a new mark. This mark came to him in a dream, as the story goes. A nightmare would be more like it. It was a circle with the male and female marks pointing the ways that the two genders were to follow trail. It's a good thing we don't have any transgendered hashers among us; otherwise those wankers wouldn't have had a clue which way to go.
Trail led us to the north through a plethora of alleys and dark, unlit areas, eventually leading us to the beer near which we located in a very questionable area not far from a number of homeless shelters. The beer near was found behind a warehouse which had put out welcoming signs inviting us to make ourselves at home. Which we did.
Trail then led us to the Y, where we found the gender-confused mark, leading the male members to go around the building, and the female wankers to go through the lobby. We convened at the street corner (re-group which Cuddles blew straight through). Trail was found going west and then back south, and eventually back to the on-in.
A number of transgressions were noted and celebrated, with the RA deciding that indoor rules did apply in the seedy environs of Barleycorn's, and a dead bug was granted to Cuddles for his racist behavior. A select group of wankers went to Rain for food and $1.00 wells, and there was much rejoicing. On on!
Hare: Hummer Gay'mes
Hounds: Anything Goes, Cuddle Puncher, Cumbag Shitpants, Dipstick, NBA, Poopy the Slayer, Puff the Magic Ass Grabber, PBR, PCP, Tina Eat the Piss, Wet Pussy Flasher, nnLisa, nnAdam
Starting from the Oasis on West Maple, our solo hare (having been abandoned at the last minute by the advertised co-hare because he doesn't "like her haring style") led trail through the lovely parking lots and past industrial buildings in the environs of south West Street. Risking life and limb, we dodged traffic and followed trail across busy highways and off- and on- ramps by Kellogg. The hare took us on a scenic tour of exceptionally unexceptional industrial buildings, replete with chain link fences, bland, square pre-fab buildings, and lots and lots of concrete. Mercifully, we found the beer near in the only green spot to be found in the area, bounded by 235 to the west and a semi-okay-looking drainage pond protected by yet another chain link fence to the north.
Enough about the crappy trail; it's time to document the actual crappy trail. Trail was lost several times after the beer near due to a diabolical YBF that forced us to backtrack about a half mile to search for trail again. It didn't help the slower hashers that the FRBs somehow missed the lesson on how to mark trail for the DFLs. It also didn't help that, even though the FRBs had whistles around their necks, they either haven't quite figured out what the whistles are for, or perhaps the complexity of the whistle design is too much for these half-minds to figure out.
Somehow, all members of the pack made it back to the start (amazingly, since we weren't forewarned about the dangers that awaited us on trail). Circle ensued on the patio with proper celebrations of accomplishments, but not nearly enough dead bugs for Puff or the hare. We had the important task of a naming so the accusations needed to be cut a bit short. NnLisa had the privilege and great pleasure of being questioned for the purpose of naming. She provided us with an abundance of material, perhaps too much. It was tough deciding on a name, but, after rock, paper, scissoring a few times, we decided that from now and forever more, or until she does something even more memorable, nnLisa will be known in the hashing community as PoPo (Puke or Pass Out). On on!