Hares : Lying Sack of Shit and Granny Panties
Where: The Trop Bar and Grille, 1501 – 34th Ave SW
Religious Advisor: King Shit
Shit and panties. This is usually not a good combination, especially once everything cools down. But tonight was the exception that proves the rule. Horn dogs Love birds, Granny Panties and Lying Sack of Shit, sacrificed valuable canoodling time to hare a trail more twisted than Running Dry‘s backcountry yoga selfies.
The trail was generously with marked with hearts, broken hearts, circled hearts and hearts pierced by arrows. There was a regroup, with plenty of adult beverages… AND there was a jello shot stop! Unfortunately the trail was marked in daylight so most of the heart-shaped clues were invisible (more on this later).
After we returned to The Trop, King Shit, serving as R.A. appointed Hardly, Dr. Fill and Snevil as the choir.
The hares got the first down-downs. Then came the new boots: April and Maz the “Asian Guy”.
Abandoned Pussy got a down-down for her dog Pika, who’d been whining for King Shit‘s beautiful boy Vinnie. The hash’s consensus is that Pika is more of a squealer than a moaner.
Twisty and Party Pumper disappeared together on trail and were not seen at regroup. They were called up in front of the hash for a tongue lashing and not given down-down beer.
Can You Hear Me Now was thanked for helping with the run photography. As you know, he has an uncanny resemblance to Jaques Cousteau (or is that Papa Smurf?) and Mr Cousteau is famous for his underwater photography. There were some mighty big puddles on trail and plenty of ice(bergs).
…and then Can You Hear Me Now broke his beer glass, for the first hash shit of the night.
Knight Stalker got a down-down for “forgetting” her jacket just as the run started. Can You Hear Me Now had selflessly wandered off with her to “help” (Is that what the kids are calling it these days?)
THREE half-yards were downed this week:
- Can You Hear Me Now for 150 runs
- Snow Job for 150 runs
- Baby for 750 runs
Dementia and Shakesbeer got down downs for their awesome Valentine’s Day costumes.
Shane was singled out for proudly (oh-so-proudly!) carrying his hash shit. He was proud as a peacock. He strutted about with it clutched in his hubristic hands. He waved it in poor PMS‘s face and tried to get her to hold it… or at least to touch it. Shane needs a name. A name to be proud of.
Camshaft got a pewter tankard for 100 runs with the Calgary hash. Camshaft’s 100th run was over a year ago in December 2014. Camshaft doesn’t like to rush these things.
Rubber Maid got the second hash shit for phone sex on trail. Eavesdroppers overheard only snatches. There was something about vodka and books and “are you comfortable?” The choir sang a hasty song about woodpeckers. It didn’t last nearly long enough. Ms. Maid left cranky and unsatisfied.
A night trail needs to be set in the dark or hashers won’t see most of your marks. Your R.A. had learned this “the hard way” and felt compelled to pass such a valuable lesson on to the hares. So Granny Panties and Lying Sack of Shit each got their very own hash shit… Purely for educational purposes of course.