SFH3 Run #1725
: 08/03/2015
: Sports Basement Presidio
: Wet Nurse
: Do Her Well

To All:

It has come to my attention that you profligates have elected Just Stan as the most recent Trash author, which is ridiculous and frankly a little sad. I’m sure he was just gagging for it (ha), but he has only been to one hash, two if you count this week. Whereas I, Public Enema No. 2, have been hashing for over a year, which is seven years in dog years, and have participated in many hash enrichment activities, the most recent being the Beer Check at the San Francisco Marathon. In addition I am often tasked with occupying the attention of hashers who would otherwise get in trouble, mainly the walkers group, who would probably just end up in a bar somewhere without my assistance—which is fine by me, but some of you like to have them around. I digress.

Trail started at the Presidio Sports Basement, where the Drinking Group with a Spending Problem gathered themselves and swigged from bottles (quelle horreur) as they awaited the hares’ instructions. I, meanwhile, checked out the scents of thousands of dogs who were all on gluten-free, organic, biodynamically farmed chow. Just Stan stood in the background and farted.

Those who listened to chalk talk learned there would be four or five turkeys on trail, which was a lie because I only got to bark at pigeons and seagulls all evening. I strolled gracefully along with Muff Daddy, Backside Banger, No Shit and others. Just Stan took two massive dumps on trail (which I have no problem with) and left several huge dingleberries on his backside (which I do). Backside Banger, haring from behind as he prefers, got to see all of this. He also watched the pack arc in a large circle around Chrissy Field until they all returned one by one to the Sports Basement (some more successfully than others). Wet Nurse, meanwhile, having successfully secured herself first dibs on all the shopping, loaded her cart full, pointedly ignoring any and all dog treats she might have chosen for purchase. Shameful. 

As we gathered for circle, Just Stan, having behaved boorishly all night, began to bark at me and caused such a scene. Of course we were called up, and Stinky Floss immediately destroyed ALL of the dignity I had remaining by parading me like a whore in front of Just Stan’s flaring nostrils. I peed on him a little, not that he noticed. I am expecting belly rubs and scratches for WEEKS to come from Stinky Floss as well as the rest of you who laughed at me. I know who you are.

Other activities included celebrating the birthdays of Just Scott and Drunken Honuts, the latter of whom had been memorialized, large dick and all, in chalk on the sidewalk in front of the store. You had to go around the back to see Just Scott’s version. Not escaping were Shaft and Fucker, who had “forgotten” last week that they had birthdays but did not realize other people have longer memories than they do.

The remaining racists (one subject Just Stan and I do agree on) were called up, including No Shit, Dick Simmons, Sister Fister and Zippercised. Sister Fister being a good hasher and only casual racist did not wear her marathon T-shirt despite being cajoled by No Shit to dress in uniform. No Shit, usually you want to persuade women to take their clothing off.

Oh Shit, on the other hand, came clad in a fresh, unmolested, vomit-/poop-/piss-free pair of shoes. They were also beer-free until the RAs got ahold of him and helped him to two servings of down-downs in his sneakers, just the way he likes it. They served as an admirable vessel, not spilling a drop until he quaffed the entire load in one go.  Delicious.

Dildo Baggins is now a Master of Feces, the highest distinction a human can dare to dream of. The exam was very difficult and it took him two times to pass. I’ve been there.

Finally, Do Her Well was exhausted from her weekend at the Lazy Bear retreat. I heard some mutterings that she didn’t have the equipment for the job, which is odd because I’m pretty sure only Just Doesn’t Get It has seen inside her closet.

In long-term news, the Anti-Ranger R*n is fast approaching. Given that I do understand Australian (it was my minor in college), I will impart the news to you that $20 at the Tourist Club on August 23rd at 1 PM will get you a walkers, turkey, and/or eagle trail as well as a fabulous lunch, great scenery, possible tazings, and Beer.


Public Enema No. 2