SF Hash Trash
December 5, 2005 *un #1179
Wet Nurse Still Wearing Snoball Dress!!
A beer check at Titless’ house. Brilliant move for hare Guzzler. Although the trail wasn’t all that inventive (read as: boring), the pack got to look in on Evil Knievel and see to it that he was on the mend. Titless - good news!! – a meeting was held by the Breasts Receivable Accounts team, or “BRA”, and it was decided that your account would not continue to accrue until you are fully recovered. After that, BRA will continue to demand tits. (next week’s accounting lesson: Accounts In A
Rear).
I’ll give you a second to roll your eyes……ok –
Banana in Public actually dressed up his look with a tie. Yet there was something different about him…..was is it his hair? Maybe he shaved? Finally an alert and very perceptive Straight to Hell exclaimed, “Hey wait a
minute – Banana doesn’t wear glasses – it’s Circle Jerk!” And Circle Jerk joined the pack in his newfound hash “dress casual” look.
Fortuitous for Titless that Wet Nurse and Do Me Decimal were on hand when he spun out on his motorcycle last week. Did you also hear that Wet Nurse was present and helped Holy Hawker when she cut her foot on glass at the
Snoball? Coincidence that she, a) was there for both, and, b) happens to have “Nurse” in her name? Either way, I think the message is very clear.
Avoid Wet Nurse at all costs!
Finally the pack was off, with a buck fifty in hand for the on in. The highlight of the *un occurred as we
sauntered across a baseball diamond. Suddenly, Verdes Huevos rounds 2nd base! Then third! Wait - he’s heading for home, as Hoseblower covers the plate. In a spectacular textbook slide, Verdes was called safe. But is he moving? Someone get Wet Nurse! “Nooooooooooooooooooo!!” yelled Verdes, as he jumped up and continued on…
The “Titless” check was a brilliant touch. He had slings and
casts and scars and a good story, and all the harriettes swarmed him with affection, although Mom seemed to be leering from the back of the house at all the tramps fawning all over her boy. Most of the pack then jumped on the 48 for the “bus ride from hell” back to the start. As everyone waited anxiously in the cold for the next bus, Backwash and Candy Ass posed as lesbians as I pointed out that December is “lesbians ride for free” month. They almost believed me. Not that they could ride for free, but that they may actually be lesbians. Anyway, we asked Mr. Caltrans Crabs if he has to pay for muni. “Of course I do! I’m a regular citizen just like everyone else!” And he pulled out this pass. But I got a quick glimpse of it as he showed it to the bus driver. Here’s what it said:
“Hi. I am a spokesman for Caltrans. I’ll give you a couple of seconds to look impressed……excellent. Now, if you would be so kind as to FUCK OFF and let me by, we can both get on with our evenings. Oh, and have a nice day.”
I am so not joking about that. Matter of fact, the pass even has a name. “Fast Pass Plus” I think.
What happened next I can’t even bring myself to write about, it’s still too painful. Here is an account from “embedded” hasher Mr. Bone Jangles:
Okay...so trail was not exactly that wild, except for the times we played leap frog across the highway and I ended up in th emiddle of a homeless camp bbq when looking for trail. Now that was fun. Gotta love roasted squirrel in winter. The beer check was uninspected and therefore quite cool. Good to see that Titless (or Road Rash as I'll be calling him now) was up and walking. I actually didn't realize he was there until 3 minutes before we left. Anyway, some of us decided to take the bus back to the start, and so we marched on. A 5 minute wait brought us the promise of not being completely drained of energy at the start by doing Eagle Trail. On the bus we got, dollar bills, coins and Fast Passes in hand. I got on, went toward the back of the bus (Ha Ha you bastard...yeah, a dark dude getting on the back of the bus. imagine that) and did an instant
180. "Get in the front, there's a young one back there" I said, and so we did. We started talking and chanting as Hashers tend to do, when all of a sudden the bus got a little shaky. This woman comes toward us, telling us we have to stop talking or get off the bus, waving a half eaten drum stick. "Ya'll talk hecka loud. You're disturbing my daughter by yelling and cursing. Ya'll need to get off the bus right now!". Being his true charming self, Beastie Boy comes back with "What the hell are you talking about? You don't own this bus. We paid our fare and we're staying. No one os cursing, lady". She walks back and some stypid reason I decide to follow her back toward the lion's den. She was still angry and Beastie kept looking at her and talking. In an effort to calm her down, I offered her a pizza with everything on it and got her attention. To be honest, her daughter was awfully cute, as her mother was force-feeding her Doritos chips and
Half & Half Cream filled baby bottle. We talked for a bit more and explained that this is a usual thing for her and I'll work on calming Hashers down to accomodate her and her daughter. Gave her a little hug and almost got stuck in one of many of her folds. Thank goodness for quick reflexes. Anyway, got bacl with Hashers, kept talking level low and as soon as she got off the bus we cheered and sang a song. Ass Hole, Ass Hole, A soldier I will be....To Piss, To Piss, Two Pistols on my knee....For Cunt, For Cunt, For Country and our Queen....Ass Hole, Ass Hole, Ass Hole, Ass hole, A Soldier I will be.
Finally, it was the down-down of the year that everyone looks forward to all year. The post SNOBALL down downs. Oh, did I say “look forward to”? I meant the one that puts fear into the bravest of souls. It should have been one collective down-down for everyone. But there are always a couple of “standouts”, aren’t there? Overachievers, as it were. Somehow, Do Me Decimal and I will try to put together an account of that night, but for now, we were happy to bring up Nutlicker for special mention. Nutlicker won the Whoracle/Hand Job for Humanity “Where’s my shit?!” award for the evening. She sent out an email to the list asking if anyone knew where her trench coat was. Congratulations,
Nutlicker! And don’t take this too lightly, it is a VERY prestigious award. Remember that one night Hand Job lost not one, but TWO coats. You are in the company of genius. The winner of the finals for 2005 is still to be announced, however. Hoseblower, still looking for his Dubrovnik t-shirt, is in the running as well. And New Year’s is still to come…..
Of course, Who’s Your Daddy, Stroke & Blow, and Men’s Whorehouse drank for organizing the disaster called Snoball. Don’t get me wrong, they rocked the party, it was hugely successful. Disaster came in the form of the “gatorade” that we took on the trolley with us. But that’s a story for later, after I get my brain cells jump started again.
Just Eric carried a DirecTV dish around with him through the whole “un, and drank accordingly. I think it just became the new hash shit. Fingerling drank for dispensing his philosophy on girls. Apparently he has a girlfriend. Asked how he knows she is his girlfriend at such a young age, he indicated, “Because she said she was”, thereby concluding the last uncomplicated male/female interaction for both of them…
Wet Nurse drank for meeting Titless’ mom. In her Snoball dress. The next morning. We sang Happy Birthday to Fuck Buddy. Her sweatshirt said “Federal Law Enforcement Training Center” on it. I don’t even think I can comment on that, it just seems to be funny all on its own.
Muff Snatcher