#1789 – Valentine’s Run

Hares : Bare Down There and Granny Panties
Where: Rose and Crown, 1503 – 4th Ave SW
Big Rock: for Lovers… Beer Lovers
Attendance: 29

Valentine's Day

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Hares Grannie Panties and Bare Down There really showed their stuff in setting the trail.  Love hearts adorned the sidewalks including 17th Avenue, and broken hearts greeted the would be FRB’s that ran the wrong way.   Hardley went wrong in a bad way, and was not seen until the On In.  Hashing is unforgiving at times, and poor Hardley was kicked to the curb after chasing (sorry – “running after”) a reportedly very cute runner that turned out not to be hasher.  So it goes.

A rat, squirrel, or some assumed to be, mammal roamed around the inside of the circle, adding an edgy element before the start.

Roaring Nancy celebrated his 200th run with a large-sized Down Down

American transplant Master Beater, acting as Religious Adviser, utilized his covert “monitoring network” (every American has one), to intercept Valentines messages sent from various Hashers and Harriettes to one another.

The messages as intercepted, though as gruesome and sickening as our kennel, read as follows:

Sex is bad
Sex is a sin
Sins are forgiven
So stick it in.

Roses are red, violets are blue.
If he’s busy on Valentines Day,
the side chick is you!

Wear nothing, not even your bikini
I’ve spilled some gin on my weenie.
I thought this uncouth,
So I’ve added vermouth,
Would you like me to slip you a martini?

Twinkle Twinkle little star.
You should know what you are.
And once you know what you are.
Mental hospital is not so far.

I love you baby,
It’s you I have really missed
But all that time you were away,
I was sleeping with your sis!

Roses are red
Carnations are white
I’ve been to the chemist
how about it tonight!

Roses r crap,
Violets are wanky,
Oooh I’ve just come,
Pass me a hanky.

Violets are blue,
Roses are thorny,
Be my Valentine,
Because I’m horny!

You were so distant
Now we’re as one
Thanks to some duct tape
And a glue gun

 Roses are red.
Sex is elementary.
Let’s call up a friend,
And try double entry!

 Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
Zippers are tough
But I have faith in you.

 Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
What I thought was vaseline,
Turned out to be glue!

I wish I was your mirror
Hanging on your wall
Cause every time you get undressed
Guess who’d see it all?

 I love you almighty
I wish your pyjamas were next to my nightie
Now don’t be mistaken
Don’t be misled,
I mean on a clothes line
And not in the bed!

 I wish I were a bar of soap, lying in your hand,
So every time you took a shower, I’d see the promised land…

On On!

Master Beater


#1788 – You Light Up My Night Run

Hares : Hardly, Twisted Sister and Snevil
Where: Nose Hill Park – 64 Ave Parking Lot, (64 Ave & 14th St NW)
On-InGame Time Sports Bar, 6219 Centre St. NW
Big Rock: Brilliant Choice!
Attendance: 28

Can Can

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Somewhere out there on Nosehill was a throbbing, glowing stick.  Find your way to the beer, follow your stick.  Many hashers are already accomplished at this, and showed off their talents following the glowers that Hardley dropped from behind.

Something seemed strangely sinister as running back from a check back, resulted in discovering trail that previously wasn’t Jack!

Methinks the Hash was had by a conniving live hare!  A hash of this sort has been recently very rare!

Off he went lickety split, me jumping around trying not to freeze off my stick.

Galloping and hiding, and doing in again,  me wondering why I didn’t at least bring gin

With relief we found it was soon over,  we are at peace drinking beer from a poor man’s Range Rover.  (It rhymed – leave me alone).

Religious Advisor Tighty Whitey handed out penalties and such, but I was drinking and can’t remember much.

So to those I left out, who want to wriggle and pout,  write the next scribe you lazy old sout!!

Master Beater


#1787 – The Anal Toboggan Run

Hare : Abandoned Pussy
Where: Rosemont Community Hall
On-In: The Local 390
Big Rock: Pizza and Beer… Who’da Thunk It?
Attendance: 25


See photos from the Run!

Frosty the Snowman would likely not have been impressed with the sledding exhibited at the Toboggan run on this particular night.  From accounts given, Spittin’ Balls could very well be Splittin Balls after his epic tumble down the hill, and Cocktail and King Shit almost became “Cockshit” when they collided so hard on the hill.

In the end there were no runs to the Emergency Room (that were noted), and the Hash survived its yearly attempt to commit suicide on the Calgary non-approved hills.

Religious Adviser Tighty Whitey brought up Twisted Sister and Hardly up as choir, they (willingly?)chose King Shit to help them

Some remnants of Dr Phil’s party weekend were downed.  While playing “Cards against Humanity”, Running Dry asked for a definition of “Jizz” (it was easier just to show her).  It was discovered that Menage a Trois likes “snorting cocaine off a clown’s boner”.  You just can’t make it up I guess.

Lay Em In Snow was awarded best sled prize, his childhood sled from 1869
Dastardly was recognized as having the worst sled prize (a cardboard box)

Dr Phil, Buried Pleasure, Sucks Everything were brought up to explain that
the Hash retired the old Hatshit after Bob’s 60th Bday bash in part because Sucks Everything was complaining how so many people wore helmets nowadays, saying “When we were kids we never had any of this” … Sucks was duly presented the new winter hat shit to wear(of course).

Abandoned Pussy was crying that her hash shit wasn’t given away…  so of course she got to keep it!
Roaring Nancy asked the RA 3 times during the run who was the RA for the night.  Tighty thought perhaps we should change his name to Al Zhimers since Dimentia is taken, and properly downed him for annoying the R.A.

Bare Down There was changing in Spitting Balls’ car before the run. We don’t know if that meant just putting clothes on, if there was a reason they fell off of her in the first… there was a lot of skin, feet on the rook, and tattoos flying around inside that car.  It sounded like a high school parking moment much more than a simple change.  More to come… or not…

Finally, Twisted Sister and Hardly drank their half yards in celebration of 1000 runs.  They are only the 5th and 6th (or 6th and 5th) in CH3 history to endure that many On-Ins!  Twisted Sister was kind enough to drink slow enough so that they finished together!  Way to go Twisty!
Master Beater

Frozen Face

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#1786 – Rubbie Buns

Hares : Dr. Fill and Special Guests
WhereLen’s Den, 801 16th Ave. NE
Big Rock: Aye Laddie!
Attendance: 39

Piper - Bobbin' Robbin

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Robbie Burns’ Run 2015

It was a musical night that Robbie Burns himself would have appreciated.  Ok, tolerated. Well, he certainly would have heard it from the grave. Between Bobbin McRobbin’s lovely Scottish bag pipe tunes and McCocktale’s many, many, many clever solo hash song renditions as hash choir member extraordinaire later in the evening, let’s just say that the hash is not lacking in men with talented pipes.

As 30 odd hashers (and I mean ODD) gathered outside of Len’s McDen to pay tribute to the dead Scottish poet, there were misty eyes as Bobbin McRobbin piped a few tunes to start off the evening.  Someone was even heard to have said to him “Nice pipes; you’re a really good blower”. There was Scotch a-plenty in the circle, and the night was not without the traditional haggis…even if it was canned haggis brought by Sucks McEverything who begged the bartender to warm it up for him. Clearly a proud moment that won’t soon be forgotten at the hash.

The Grand Mattress wowed everyone with her amazing knowledge of Gaelic in the circle…either that or she was just choking on her gum.  Abandoned McPussy also wowed the crowd with her stellar and most graceful highland dance.  Or was she just choking on something as well?  Hares Dr. McFill and Bobbin McRobbin showed us the special marks of the trail as Ms. McPussy, in her ever so subtle manner, practically dove under McRobbin’s kilt to see what a real Scot wears under there. She left the circle smiling. But then again, so did he.  Hmmm.

The run was cheap and dirty (very scotch-like), and the group descended on the neighbourhood in their finest kilts or at least their Value McVillage renditions thereof. A precious sight indeed.  However, this “innocent” pack committed many heinous crimes during the run that the luscious RA du Jour (that would be me, McRubbermade), heard mostly at the regroup while trying to drink her beer. Luckily she can do two things at once.

The best choir ever was called to assist the RA: Frigid McBeaver, McLay ‘Em in Snow, and of course, Hash Soloist McCocktale.  Here are the highlights and punishments of the evening:

  • Visitors/Archives/Guests were welcomed to the hash – Strawberry Secret and Bob-a-long who used to hash 100 years ago, Adam, spawn of Dementia and of course Bobbin McRobbin. Bob-a-long was later punished for just giving his name of “Bob” in the circle and not his hash name.  Turns out he is also brother to Dastardly – clearly another reason to be punished.
  • Incredible Camshaft went down on trail without servicing MMM McLady Fingers or McRubbermade.  Rumour has it he was looking for his lost rubber from last week’s run.
  • Thunder Tits parked the drinkstop right beside a fire hydrant, undoubtedly to have easy access to water if hashers got too hot and bothered while listening to McBobbin’s sexy bag pipe playing at the regroup
  • McHardly and Spitting McBalls promised Rubbermade a view of their Scottish packages which never came to fruition.  Hardly claimed it was because “it was a little too cold out” for a good showing, and Mr. Balls claimed he just wanted to stiff Rubbermade.
  • Abandoned McPussy stated that McSkewbic Hare (who was noted to have an eery likelness to Willie the Groundskeeper on the Simpsons) led her astray on the run for which McSkewby was promptly rewarded the hash shit. –
  • Ms. McPussy received the other hash shit for actually following McSkewby (duh!)
  • Mc Dementia for calling our beloved Dr. Fill a liar.  Several times, in fact.
  • Lof T McPrancer and McWhite Balls were punished for being McSteamies…their heads were literally steaming at the regroup.  Is this normal or were they just letting off some steam?? (ha, I crack me up)
  • McDementia claimed that Dr. McFill was a big liar and tricked her on trail.  Well, duh, have you met Dr. McFill? Everyone knows he fibs his way through most runs.
  • McRoaring Nancy was punished for being heard to say “Irishmen know that real men don’t wear dresses”.  At least that’s what was thought to have been said…who can understand the guy?
  • McBuried Pleasure was punished for actually complaining that her boobs were ‘too large’.  Really?  This is a problem?  Dr. McFill doesn’t seem to think so. Perhaps wearing the “hat” shit for a week or four will help her with her dilemma.

The Robbie Burns run was rounded out by a lovely highland dance to yet another riveting solo rendition from McCockTale of that favorite Scottish hash song: My Body Lies Over the Ocean.

I’m quite sure that Robbie Burns himself would have had a tear in his eye at this point. You know, the kind of tear that screams “Great Scot, make it stop!!”  I know I did.

On On!

Frigid Beaver dance

#1785 – The Krusty Cock Run

Hares : Krusty & Cock Tale
Where: Stonewall Pub
Big Rock: in the Stone Wall
Attendance: 32

Mmm! Krusty Cock
Mmm! Krusty Cock

See photos from the Run!

The circle was a muddled, confused mess again, minus our Hashmattress who was sitting at the wrong bar waiting for a hash that never showed…   There was already nervousness, the weather was mild, and the hares were Cocktail and Krusty.  One could only imagine the trail they talked themselves into setting in the mild weather.  Visions of 2 km check backs,  marathon distance, and other horrible ideas ran through the shifting circle.  In the end, a perfect length, and a very well set trail for the Krusty Cock combo, brought miles of smiles to the hashers.

Eventually the Rubber-mole drove cross –town to the right mole hill, and everyone could start the run together.

Master Beater believes the walkers of the Calgary kennel to be his adoring fans, and chose to thank them for their support during the hash.

The action heated up as Hot Cheeks tried to throw Frigid Beaver into a puddle, some contrived it to represent that Ms Cheeks does not like getting wet.

Auntie Frank disclosed during the run that his safe word is “Oh Baby More”, no word on what Baby thinks after this revelation.

Down downs were accounted for, and duly handed down by Religious Advisor Abandoned Pussy.

As she chose her choir, the Hash held their breath.  Sticky Lips, Pink Meat, and Frigid Beaver all together.  After the “fire truck” incident… Would they sing the “A Soldier” song?  Why yes they did, and yes they did without any mention of fire truck.  Probably a big relief to Can You Hear Me Now, who was likely troubled by the usage of fire truck, as much as the needs of Knightstalker!

Other down-downs:

1200 Runs for King Shit

Double 69’s:  Skewbic Hair with 669 and Blue Balls rapping out 1069

Sticky Lips and Pull My Woody for laying the wood to a deer in the headlights

Mmmm Lady Fingers lost spike on the trail

Tighty Whitey – On tap

Hardley was recognized for his beautiful snow angel making

Can You Hear Me Now and Auntie Frank, being left behind

Master Beater and King Shit for some trumped up charge of racing or such thing…

Hardley, Skewbic Hair, and Roaring Nancy closed out with a song no one really heard before, or at least remembered…



#1784 – Dr. Who Run

Hares : Mystery Hares
WhereBig Al’s, 1915 – 31ST SE
Big Rock: Bring some home to the Tardis tonight
Attendance: 29

Run 1785 photo

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The secret hare returns. I wonder about this recent fad and why hashers do not want to take ownership over their runs. Is it because they think it’s a shitty trail?
Well, whoever this hare was, they need not worry.

The trail was confusing enough to keep the pack together, but simple enough that we actually found the regroup.

Long enough to have hashers walking by the end, and short enough that Abandoned Pussy and a sick (but probably pregnant from a hot tub) Bare Down There made it to the regroup without shortcutting.

Scary enough that many community members came out to ask us if everything was okay and even scarier for the young hooligans who screamed and bolted when we ran towards them. Lucky for us they weren’t packin’. We were in the Northeast for goodness sakes!

To be honest, back at the bar, I didn’t hear shit. I guess the conversations of unions, teacher conventions and labour laws were way more exciting than what the RA had to say. But being the half-ass scriber that I am, I figured at least I will get her notes and copy from there.

Now I don’t know how much Dementia consumed at the regroup or whether her “condition” is affecting to her fine motor skills, but I can’t understand a fucking word on this paper, and I teach some kids with Grade 1 writing skills.

Your secret scriber  (secret, because I know it’s a shitty scribe)

Dementia's scribbling scrawl

#1783 – Shackie’s Shocking Trail

Hares : Shack Shock, Lof-T Prancer
WherePizza Bob’s, 2610 Kensington Road NW
Big Rock: Great with pizza!
Attendance: 25

See photos from the Run!

Shacky and Lof-T’s Shocking Prance

If you stayed in the bar, or just stayed away to watch the World Juniors, you missed a fun trail and hash set by Shack Shock and Lofty Prancer out of Pizza Bob’s.

Lof-T Prancer and Shack Shock were downed for their effort, after which Lofty was given a chair of distinction at the front of the room where the substitute R.A., Master Beater, could keep a watchful eye on him.  Seems the shifty Lofty has been up to some shifty stuff and keeping all of it from Beater… to be continued…

Dr Phil had outfitted for the occasion in his fine urban alpine tourist puffy coat, before changing into an equally trendy set of hiking boots (indoor use only), and puffy vest (for indoor fashion).  He was as “Midwest Urbane Hipster Meets the Mountain” as it gets, sans handlebar mustache.

Some gal who called herself Sticky Lips, (they tell me she is an archive) showed up and then yelled at the hash later when she found the words “fire truck” had been used replacing the proper words in her favorite song.  “But C&%$ is my favourite word!!!” exclaimed Ms. Lips.  Word to Knightstalker and Pink Meat… it might have slipped out that you two were responsible, and something might have been mentioned about handing down judgements…   might be a good idea to lay low for awhile?

The flask of Jaeger was passed and nothing but vapors remained, the conversations were jovial, even if the temperature was not.

Goes Both Ways explained that he was in street clothes, because Frigid Beaver was frigid.  I don’t know the price of eggs in China, nor am I a doctor, somehow I’m supposed to know why that makes Goes Both Ways unable to Hash… but I confess I don’t.

By now, Blue Balls had had enough of the pre-run shitshow, and made his point known in the circle.  No screwin’ around, this is full-on hashin’ folks!

Dementia, Tight Lips, Man o Pause, and Can You Hear Me Now were Front Running Bastards of the run.  I know…. There’s really no explaining, it’s… complicated.   Skewbic Hair, Hardley, and Daisy Dukes followed marks… and instead reverted to using their beer-dar to locate the re-group.  In the end all made the regroup at Shack Shocks Shiggy Shack Out Back, where Tight Lips sneered a harrierette sneer at the hashers collected around the regroup cooler, knocked down a second beer to their one, and was off on her way to the On In.  Dastardly ran directly to the regroup, and then directly home apparently – no one heard from him again.

Man O Pause showed minimal sympathy to the way ward hashers, asking where they were, and quickly pointing out that although he thought about the missing hashers, there was beer…. And, well…. There was beer. He was downed.

Roaring Nancy pulled the ole Disappearo/Reappearo, and offered no comment.  Aliens?

Can You Hear Me Now was penalized for hazing the less talented and slower Master Beater, by taunting him early in the run, and then driving the stake through his heart at the regroup.  What a heartless, competitive man he has become.

Hardley was brought forward with apologies that the self-centred hash had accepted his gifts of down-downs, beautiful Christmas songs, and grabs of his sack, yet no one had gifted poor Hardley only 3 nights prior to Christmas.  The wrong was righted, and we think he’ll come again.

King Shit was recognized for just being King Shit.  Which made him happy… until the Hash sang hurray to the horse’s ass… after which he was not!

Daisy Dukes proved his loyalty to the hash, imitating Dagwood Bumstead’s Daisy by waiting at each mark for the hash to catch up and exclaiming proudly, “On-on! On-on!”

In a tender, moving moment, the hash sent off Pyro for his annual migration to Singapore… with a heartfelt fuck off.

Russia didn’t win by the way – for those who didn’t come to the Hash, I could have told you that, and you could have saved all the time watching to find out!

In the end, Lof-T’s summary of what he had learned from the time-out given to him in the front of the room, is that Master Beater apparently is a good candidate as someone who likes to babysit.  Oh no – do not go there Lofty!  The rest of you think about it, if you haven’t already figured it out….


Master Beater

#1781 – Last Hash Run of the Year!

Hare: Dr. Fill
WhereShamrock Hotel, 2101 – 11 Street SE
Big Rock: One last time
Attendance: 16

See Photos from the Run!


Lost’s Episode

The hash, as told to me by a lost Lost in Space, the evening’s Religious Adviser:

Hardley was Choir Master – by all accounts, he sang poorly, which in the hash is of course good.  Tighty Whitey commented that the choir was like a bad MC at a wedding… it still manages to work.

Spitting Balls begged to keep the hash shit one more week as he wanted to dress it up more

Buried Pleasure snitched on Skewbic Hair for showing up early to the run – which Skewbic as a rule never allows to happen.

Rubbermade snitched on King Shit for complaining that someone stole the hash camera and took under the clothes pictures.  King Shit threatened to put the pics on the internet.

In turn, Rubbermade responded, “who cares? No one knows who it is”.  Rubbermade may have volunteered at that point to do a complete and thorough investigation.  I wasn’t there, but I know Rubbermade…

Dementia was called up… but no one remembers why

The rest is Lost in Space by Lost in Space.  Its swirling out there somewhere in the cosmos, but it has no hope of coming back to our Lost.


Master Beater