Hare : Dementia
Where: The Blind Beggar
Big Rock: Taste that you can see
Religious Advisor: Masterbeater
Attendance: 35
From a trail no one can seem to find, to a trail no one could miss! Dementia was battling the demons every hare faces sooner or later, townies who rub out your marks. In response, she made LOTS of marks! The bar was one of my favourites, the weather ideal, the hash was charged up, and Auntie Frank got to run a trail he said reminded him of Cocky Whore – it was all good!
Out on trail, we learned how Chilliwacker keeps a man… sort of…or in spite of… apparently the way the Religious Advisor heard it, she told Brian “If you buy me a dog, I can forget you”. Or something roughly to that effect. Chilliwacker was also recognized for being such a buzzzzz kill on trail, with her talk of bees and…bees (no birds).
Red, Wiley, and Zoom – apparently to be an FRB on this night you had to wear red as Camshaft, Lyin Sack, and Auntie Frank did.
Mr “I run true trail, totally”, Hardley, was caught out skipping the hops on the hopscotch board that was on trail.
Men O Pause complained about how busy he was. “Busy, busy, busy…” With what? Well, “nothing” according to the Pause.
Dirty Girl ran her poor blind dog into a pole… sigh! Meanwhile, Tight Lips was guide dog for Mucky Dip much to the over-wrought with concern Skewbic Hare’s relief
No shit King Shit?! Really… Water instead of beer – King Shit will never make that mistake again. AND on a night he would have easily been relieved of said shit.
At the bar – Whale Wanker was recognized in absentia for the HHH “jersey” he made for the RA now a few years past. The Jersey still functions, and has gained character since then. A quick social, and then recognitions to Shakesbeer, Dastardly, and Thunder Tits for the beers they ensure are there for the hash all year.
Skewbic Hare was awarded a “make-up beer” for the penance he has had to pay missing the leftover hash beer.
Roaring Nancy almost annoyed no one at all – time for a beer to celebrate that!
Pink Meat’s still making up her own words, so we sang her one of her favourites so she could sing along
Pump n’ Schwing, Mucky Dip, Mmmm Lady Fingers, Running Dry, Buried Pleasure, Menage a trois, and Sneevil were asked what a 39 was. Much to the astonishment of the RA, none seemed to know the obvious reason… it’s a short person’s 69 of course!
Shakesbeer got the gears – No Hash Shit, Hat Shit, or any Shit! (Well except a King Shit – and no one wants to bring that home with them!!)
On On!
Master Beater