Hare : Tighty Whitey
Where: Pig and Duke Neighbourhood Pub, 1312 – 12 Ave. SW
Religious Advisor: Roaring Nancy
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:
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.
Hares : Masterbeater and Strap On Cramp On
Where: Black Swan Ale House, 10455 Southport Rd SW
Religious Advisor: Lost In Space
MASTER BEATER BRINGS ALONG A STRAP ON TO HARE AT THE HASH
SUMMARY OPINION – A tremendous trail laid by the hares, on a tremendously great night, at a tremendous bar, spoiled only by a TERRIBLE performance by the choir and Religious Adviser!
That’s all you really need to know from my own point of view, but I’m going to tell you more anyway.
The run was on Chinese New Year. It had absolutely nothing to do with China, the New Year, or monkeys. It didn’t even run past a Chinese restaurant. I guess you could say it was unintentionally the anti Chinese New Year run?
On a balmy February evening (yes it really was!), a large group of Hashers and Harriettes circled up at the Black Swan for Strap On Cramp On’s maiden voyage as hare (Master Beater alongside in the role of bitch/hare consultant).
All hashers that is except Sucks Everything, who despite numerous calls and texts to King Shit, could not find the trail, hash, or re-group. He cut his losses and made the On-In thank goodness.
Ahhhh… the bliss of scratchy gravel on ice, the slosh of snow melt obliterating chalk marks, the sounds of On-On… and the endless bitching of a hash being put to work to find their regroup beer! ______ was set straight by Lost in Space after the run though. If she had any thoughts that she would be acknowledged for her level of bitching, she has a long way to go to catch up to a fair-weathered Baby!
Frogodile Hunter is to be commended above all others for holding the best form of double flip-offs to the hare’s each time she came back by from a check back. She was focused and the result was evident – her fingers were as strongly presented at the end as they were at the start. You’d honestly think all that time on an island in the Pacific would mellow a person?
I think the muggles living in the apartment complexes off of Southland Trail really enjoyed the horns, calls, and excitement in their otherwise mundane lives. Or not. We didn’t really think to ask now that I review that in my head.
The choir of Hardly, King Shit, and Skewbic Hair sang “Shitty Trail” which only goes to show that their willingness to pick on a new hare as sweet and innocent as our Strap On Cramp On, lends credence that the rumours are likely true that they kick little puppies and step on cute kittens as well. The hares were appalled there was no protest from those gathered. E tu “walkers”?
Somehow the onesie of shame was exchanged from Strap On to Master Beater. No reason given but when the Religious Adviser is Lost In Space, reasoning flies out the window faster than a mylar balloon with the windows of the car down.
The rest of the night the Lost one redeemed himself by dealing out the religion to those that really needed it.
Hung Loose was hit for not only failing to call Strap On by her proper name, but then failing to even get her street name correct!
Poor Baby was so distraught and flustered at being called “chunky” by Rubbermade, he forgot totally he is from Brunei, and commented “you shouldn’t call Chinese chunky”. Ummmm… she actually didn’t Baby…
Princess Monkey Spanker was brought up for being French Canadian, and therefore having limited English comprehension. She very curtly replied she is French/Canadian… in perfect English. Well, she’s got that part down pat.
Tight Lips brought back a long lost friend, the monkey found at the Crantucky run for the Year of the Monkey Chinese New Year.
New Boot – Sophia was brought along by Comes and Goes, waded through pools of water, skittered across endless sidewalks glazed with ice, really bad attempts at jokes by hashers, and finally brought up to the front of the room for a welcome refreshment. And then told to go sit down. That’s kind of it Sophia – it doesn’t get any better I’m sorry to say!
Sneevil saw a sign. Not of the second coming of Christ, but of the second coming of Dr Fill’s hair! Not only that, she found a way for him to communicate with the forces that could resurrect that which he considered lost forever. She brought back the sign to the bar for him to jot down the number. She’s so considerate and caring!
There was more. I never remember and I’m damn sure I don’t want to ask Lost in Space!
I can tell you if you weren’t there, it was a good night to be out, and a great night spent with the Calgary kennel!
The bar kitchen ran out of mini-yorkies, and the poor waitress paid the price trying to keep up with the beer when the owner doubted the need for 2 wait staff. It was heard from a hasher that the owner’s lone comment to the waitress in his own defense was, “I thought they were a running club!?!” No – A Drinking Club with a Running Problem good sir! It’s a critical mistake to make.
Again with this! King Shit apparently thinks he has a trademark on the usage of this phrase! He’s STILL trying to lure me into using HIS words!
<<your hashname here>>