Hares : Snow Job
Where: JJ’s Neighbourhood Pub
Religious Advisor: Rubber Made
NOW THAT’S WHAT I CALL A HAIRJOB!
No one likes a good old fashioned spanking better than me. That’s just fact. But the type of spanking that Snowjob and not quite a hare of mystery, Skewbic Hair laid on… that just wasn’t the kind of spanking I enjoy at all (more on that later).
A big turnout on a not so cold, if you compare it to a really, really cold place, and a not so warm if you compare to a… cold place sort of night. The hash was finally relieved of the endless litany of announcements in the circle… that is until Doctor Phil had to go and announce the Red Dress Run that will be in SEPTEMBER! Chrissakes Doctor Phil – I’ll care about September when my eye lids aren’t frozen shut, like maybe… June.
We had some visitors from Germany – Dutch Oven and Dirt Cheap. Really nice people – because of them we have Running Dry… (They introduced her to Hashing)
Lost In Space issued a edict of sorts by stating “Lead, Follow, or Get out of my way”, and then moving along at his normal plodding snail’s pace
Spittin Balls started to talk to Mucky Dip, who had no time for his shit, and ran away from him in mid-sentence
So back to the run – we’re following these marks you see, and every so often HairJob lays some red ribbons that send you into a slippery pit (insert inappropriate comment). Except this one aint fun. It has 3 ribbons attached to a tree limb, and means a crawl on a snow greased, icy wall. There was absolutely nothing on the run description that stated crampons and ice axes would be needed. I protest.
After a point, I find myself standing there, just Maple and me… and we have that “wha’ happened?” expression. Nary a sound could be heard, save for the whooshing of the traffic on Bow Trail and the screech of some excited magpie, revved up at the idea we could be left for dead and there are a tasty set of eyeballs to pluck on. A few calls for RU, a couple wrong attempts, and then Maple says, “I know this neighborhood, they went this way”. 2 blocks later, he stops, looks at me and says “Nope – we’re F&^ked”. Spanked by HairJob. The shame – no regroup beer, cutting our way back to the bar to face the hashers’ coming in who comment flatly “Oh good you are alive”
I would love to tell you stories from the regroup. Related in a manner you can almost taste the beer… But I can not – therefore it didn’t happen, and there is nothing to tell.
The incredibly enchanting Rubbermade handed out down down beers with the grace of a Munich bar maid. So much so, I was entranced and had no idea who was in the front of the room, why they were there, and barely remember the songs that Baby and I crooned so soothingly. I only know we did a damn good job, because Running Dry offered that she wanted to enter me on “The Voice”.
Auntie Frank, being a man of action, made the Religious Adviser’s table a boob check. Unfortunately for all of us, this only drew out Hasher boobs – no Harriettes boobs were viewed. Perhaps establish the boob check mark a little later when our Harrierettes are a bit drunker?
Beer flowed like water, and the room was really rocking away – the Calgary hash was there, and everyone came to play. Daisy Duke showed his flexibility in his interactive drill of The Mighty Duke of Daisy, Twisted Sister and Hardley threw the bottom of their half yards for 2100 runs (combined) high in the air, Skewbic Hare waved his own half yard around almost as impressively, though he fought for control near the climax, with the half yard spewing forth all over his chin and chest. 700 runs, you’d think the guy could be better at swallowing. Shakesbeer received an awful nice piece of Hasherdashery for 150 runs, Blue Balls for another big pile of runs, both were downed by Rubbermade. The awards were presented by awardanator Daisy Dukes right on time… around 3 months late – he was downed and made an example of – no effort (no matter how weak) will go unrewarded in this hash!
Sneevil and Twisted Sister were called up… for being… great? Apparently Rubbermade owes one or both money – what a blatant grovel.
The HairJob duo was downed for their trail and sang a tribute song that was matched to what the trail did to a select 2 of us.
Pick Meat wandered up for a down down for wandering off from the circle and into the bar at the very start of the run to drink with the visitors.
Can You Hear Me Now is now sporting a very creepy rendition of a giant Papa Smurf.. . one of those people who imitates those he admires. CYHMN admires the one-girl, 250 guys reverse mormon polygamist thing more than Papa Smurf methinks.
Sneevil, and King shit were all back in black, but other than that, I have no clue.
Running Dry came up with the visiting hashers from Germany.
Tightey Whitey was given back the hash shit he left behind, now if he’d give Rubbermade her phone back. Fair’s fair after all.
Frigid Beaver took a booty call call on her phone while on trail from her sugar daddy. (I dearly hope it was her sugar daddy, and not her REAL daddy… Gross!)
King Shit and Gomer Pyles droned incessantly about bunny certificates during the run. No one knows what a bunny certificate is, no one wants to know… except apparently ShitPyles
Sir Cums Alot was asked by Skewbic Hair to read his GPS. GPS is of course code for Great Penis of Skewbic – poor guy had no idea
Sweaty Wanus was wandering around, as was Krusty
There were others that came and went, and were forgotten by the choir, and are lost forever in the memory of the cell phone that Rubbermade donated to the bar.
The most moving moment of the night was the muggle bar tendress who panicked when Rubbermade called “On the Piss” and desperately pleaded for “The Sexual Life of a Camel”. She got her wish, the hash improving yet another’s life. I will admit, and I’m not embarrassed to say it… I shed a tear.
<<your hashname here>>
(I left this because King Shit actually has this on the page pre-staged for a scribe in case you can’t think of anything more to say, and so you can remember you should use your hash name and not your muggle name. Thank you King Shit!)