#1774 – The Trail’s Under Where?

Hare : Tighty Whitey
WhereKing’s Head Pub, 9116 Macleod Trail South
Big Rock: Accept no substitutes
Attendance: 24


See photos from the Run!

“Head, Who Said Head”?! – Kings Head Pub

November 24, 2014

Oh what a rough night for our choir!  While Shakesbeer’s New Orleans Saints were falling apart late on Monday night football as a backdrop, the Hash choir melted down early until they hit the one play Daisy Duke could execute.  All too frequently we have seen choral failures, but on this night, the choir was similar to a solid play-off caliber dream team showing up and having an awful night.  The talented Rubbermade had lost her rhythm, Melody (whoever the hell she is), and tone.   The Rockies crooner was flabbergasted, and poor (insert name here) was barely accounted for.  Daisy Duke clutched onto his one go-to song, a great one to be sure, “She’s the meanest” and ran his John Cornish-esque song into the Hash line over and over again.  Although not a music critic alive could have handled five minutes of the stumbling songsters, the Hash being the Hash, thrived on tunes sung so badly only a Hash could endear themselves.

While Daisy Duke was plunging his song into the line – Skewbic Hair an hour earlier attempted to break a tree’s spirit and will by plunging right into it.  On balance, I’d call it a stalemate.  While the tree didn’t move, Skewbic displayed his grit and toughness by assaulting the offending tree with a full frontal assault, bravely not using his hands to brace himself.  No comment from Skewbic on what the tree did to bring on his wrath, and no comment from the tree.  Would seem the two are keeping the cause and effect of the incident a private matter.

Dementia was dealing her Religion to the hash – unfortunately, it’s not only a very black religion, many suspect she has created her own practice.

A rare treat, as Dementia yielded the floor to Cocktail – who took the stage in explaining Menage a Trois’s lost virginity resulting in Lord Beaverbrook school being named – a story telling that had many more than Not Too Deep squealing for more.

Dark religion exercised by Dementia reversed the well placed blame upon Dreamin Semen competitively hashing, and accused poor, poor Master Beater once again of an undeserved Hash Shit offense of Competitive Hasher Jealousy.  Did anyone spring to his defense?  No.  Dementia’s grip on the hash is ironclad.

Pink Meat went back on trail to find King Shit’s lost camera, and ended up with the Head Shit for her effort.  There was probably a reason, but Dementia being Dementia, seems to have forgotten!….

Lay-em in snow was so happy to get rid of his hash shit, he may have dribbled, Luna style.

When all hope of justice seemed lost, King Shit was given the pitcher of holy water to down for his offense of carelessly leaving incriminating pictoral evidence of the hash on trail.  Dementia required redemption, and she received it!

Shitty Trail (I think that’s what it was… could have been Squirrel’s Tail, or Itty, Bitty Male, hard to tell…) was “sung” to the nonplussed Tighty Whitey for a live hare trail that wasn’t, but was a well-marked, measured, geometrically accurate, and timed to end exactly on time at the regroup, with the walkers and running hashers arriving at the Regroup precisely at the same time. Even the oft wandering Lofty Prancer was able to FRB this trail from start to end, exclaiming happily to the Hash “I’ve got this”!  Good for you Lofty, good for you.

Tightey’s wastefulness of tossing entire pieces of chalk on the ground, denying needy children in Ethiopia of their own chalk was harshly dealt with down downs by RA Dementia.

Charlene was nursemade to Erectionally Challenged’s horizontally challenged blunder.  Dementia went above and beyond her call of duty, and dutifully delivered the down-down, making a house call to VC (and to the mystery of the Hash, to an apparently healthy Charlene?)

Running Dry gave the entire hash quite a start when she exclaimed her hair was coming apart, only to realize her hair was actually there… prescription drugs, hallucinogens?  No one really knows…


Heard from the gallery –

Not Too Deep – “oh!  I really miss (unnamed Hasher)!…  I think he had a drinking problem and that’s why he is not at the Hash anymore”

Cocktail – “No… he doesn’t have a drinking problem… he’s not here – WE have the drinking problem!”


Also heard, the best priced ticket in town $50 for debauchery and Holiday feasting and fun – the Hash Christmas Party.  Time is running out for pre-sale tickets.  Support the Hash, support your habits.


Master Beater


#1773 – Pyro Burns the Hash

Hare : Pyro
Where: Silver Point Pub
Big Rock: if your throat is dry…
Attendance: 37

See photos from the Run!

It was a cold night, but not too cold.  It was a run through the streets and alleys of Silver Spring, but not too long.  A few checks, but not too many.  In fact it was shaping up to be a perfectly easy going, tuck it in and kiss it good night, stroll of a hash run… and then, within a block of the regroup, Pyro burned the entire hash.  Save for a determined Hardly and a handful of walkers.  No beer for the rest of the Hash despite all of their frantic searching for true trail.  Not only was Hardly rewarded with the entire cache of Regroup beer, but again by Religious Advisor for the night, Doctor Phil!

Before we get to that though, let’s go to the beginning, which started as always, with introductions of the stranger types among us –archive Goldilocks, new boots, and visiting Dreamin Semen and Edmonton Hasher, Rumple Foreskin.

Although several in the hash were uncertain, suspecting that Rumple Foreskin could actually be a masquerading Dreary, having shaven his head and face.  Alas, after talking to him long enough, most of us were mostly convinced.  The fact that he brought an unopened bottle of Bailey’s for Rubbermade seemed to confirm his identity – no one is that generous in the Calgary kennel!

It’s reported that the other visiting Beijing Hasher, Dreamin Semen, is here to stay…  Personally after hearing about him pirouetting in the streets with Roaring Nancy, I’m thinking he will be too much competition for Lofty Prancer, who will likely snuff out the aspiring twinkle toed semen.  Time will tell.

Something was muttered in the circle about bringing a new toy to the Christmas Party, after which Not Too Deep exclaimed either she needed to check her arsenal or arsehole for a good one.  No one wanted to clarify, as with Not Too Deep – ask her and she’ll tell ya everything!  Some things are best left for only Cocktail to know, see, and deal with!

After an enduring (not endearing) session of announcements stating that we now have a sewing club and with the addition of yet another charitable cause, have become a Rotary Club, the Hash was off and running the Silver Spring streets, with COP luminescing in the background.

Ice and snow all over the place, and no one went down (that was reported)?  In the dead of Summer on a clear day, Maple, Granny Panties, and Beetlejuice can do in their ankles, yet in treacherous Calgary conditions, nary a scratch!

The trail was so well marked that it had coaxed everyone into the belief this would be the easiest hash ever.  Yet Pyro is Pyro, and his trail was once again, not as it seemed.  Dry throated, exhausted, and demoralized in spirit, the Hash trudged to the bar without ever finding the regroup.

Doctor Phil tried to set the Hash right, with as much Religion as he could muster in one night – He cast away the thought of a minor choir effort, and went for the best all-harrierette choir he could think of, Running Dry, Party Pumper, Comes From Behind… and King Shit.

Shakesbeer was shamed for his Fonzie looking leather jacket, and Can You Hear Me Now for an outfit that desperately cries of dressing all Skater Girl in the hope he will someday bump into Avril Lavigne and she will somehow be impressed.

Rubbermade, fresh from her voyage at sea, apparently sees herself as a refined woman of the World, complete with her cup of tea… and a shot.  It is Rubbermade, and the poor girl, try as she might, can’t break the habit of throwing down the booze and insisting that Dreamin Semen must simply remove his pants.  So much for refinement.

Buried Pleasure was downed for taking calls while on trail – apparently she has much more important people to talk to than the Hash!

Master Beater was very wrongly and viciously accused of Lollygagging on trail, but the hash looked on as an innocent Beater was even further derided with a song declaring racist Canadian hatred toward their neighbors to the South.  The poor guy, I hope the Hash felt really, really bad about that!

Snevil was recognized for an all-important 5-69 run on top of Not Too Deep’s 1-69, of which there was no end to the guessing by hashers as to the number of years it must have taken her to reach that number!

It was Karaoke night again at the Silver Point Pub and Eatery, and as we rounded out the last of the songs while finishing the last of the swill, you could practically feel the envy that the regular crooners in the joint vibrated with as they watched us belt out “he sucks the horse’s penis”

Master Beater