Post date: Oct 19, 2011 2:06:29 PM
"Ladies and gentlemen, here's what you don't understand about writing. It is
a misery. Thinking up things? Boy, that's fun. *Having* written? That is
the best. The part where you have to tell your fingers to tap the
appropriate keys... on the keyboard... uggggggh. Blech. You can keep it.
I don't care for it. But it needs to be done."
-Paul F. Tompkins
Sorry this is so late in coming out, but I threw out a rotator cuff patting
myself on the back over this last hash's attendance. 26! Holy shit! We're
actually legit! Maybe even too legit? But certainly too legit to quit,
perish the thought. Assuming this gets to be a regular thing, we may not
call out everybody who shows in the trashes, but for at least one last time,
here goes:
Trail was laid by Just Darlene (although that's not the name she ended the
night with), Lazer Labia, with Just Mary, Teacher's Pet, and Capt. Jack
Swallows providing much needed support for one hell of a hash.
We had a TON of visitors, Just Matt, Ow My Balls, Pimpy Long Stocking, Copa
Cum Bloody, MILF and Cookies, Bedmaster, Lunch, Doggie Erectus, Second
Cumming, and Doner Kebab were down from the greater New York Hashses,
Tubslut and Jerzey Asshole/Marie Antoinette, were down representing Jersey,
Hummer from Seoul's South Side Hash, and MVP (Most Visiting Pisspot (he's
true blue!)) Makes his own Gravy, from SLC's Wasatch Hash. Three virgins
rounded us out, Just Casey, Just Catherine, and Just Heather.
Other CUNTHHH'ers in attendance were Just Matt, June Bug, Hard Licker, and
Yours Truly, Type Ahole.
Pack kicked off the first hash of the school year with a start at the Alma
Mater, where Lazer gave a chalk talk that I didn't fully understand, and
took off. While we waited, we took advantage of the hugeness of the pack to
look the least ridiculous doing Father Abraham that we possibly ever have!
With four people, you're a couple of weird dicks. Once you've broken into
double digits, you're a certified pack of loonies, and people, especially
New Yorkers, know to respect that.
Anyway, trail was a mix of live and prelay. On our way out of campus and
down to Riverside park, we heard a girl tell her friends, "Oh my god, it's
the Harriers!" You're daaamn right it is.
Couple of checks slowed us down a bit, but Jersey Antoinette was on fire
with the checks, although he generally got no respect. I was the first
doubting Thomas, seeing him take off alone in a direction no one had seen
marks, through a 4-lane highway confluence, and over open grass. Turns out
he was on. After going around Grant's Tomb, and then down to street level,
the pack ran across the check that I hadn't understood, but Marie Asshole
was down at the bottom shaking his cock at us with the attitude of someone
who knows what he's doing, so I guess it was a dick check? Pack then went
down to the river, past the Fairway and up to the roof of Teacher's Pet's
apartment, where we had an old-time Boardwalk Empire style party, refreshing
ourselves with the banned demon drink, Four Loco. Flavors available were
blue and red.
Once everyone had shown up and gotten a drink under their belt the main
event began. In what I hope becomes a regular tradition, Lazer busted out
an ice block for Just Darlene to squat on as the pack grilled her as
thoroughly and intrusively as they could before breaking off and heading
exactly one half block east.
A straight line arrow about three yards from the corner, combined with the
conspicuous lack of turn arrows at the corner, somehow gave the pack the
idea that the trail lay across Amsterdam. Quarter of an hour later,
Bedmaster had found some marks to the south and we were off and into
Manhattan College neighborhood. After scooting around on the ledge, we
entered St. Nick's Park, where I managed to be looking the wrong direction
at the first of many boobie checks. A Lil' Dirty handled this one, and true
to the social contract, the menfolk found trail running downhill. A quick
dash north, and the pack left St. Nick's behind for Jackie Robinson Park,
where the pack found the Capt. Jack Swallows running the Schweddy Balls
check.
And a good thing too, because pretty much every male hasher had his own set
retract into his throat when he rounded the corner and came face to face
with half of the 30th precinct catching some late summer rays. As for the
harrietes, I don't know if boobs retract or ovaries jump when unwelcome
authority unexpectedly shows, but it must have been pretty confusing for the
cops to see close to 30 people round a corner, drop their jaws, immediately
hit the brakes, stance up, then decide not to bolt and proceed on to their
ice cream and water party. Maybe the first time in hash history a pack was
actually relieved to find out there was no actual alcohol at a check. I
made sure to share some of the creamy, ballsy goodness with the boys in
blue, as it never hurts to have friends in uniform (see the Cloister Fuck
hash). After we'd stuffed the cops mouths with our Schweddy Balls, we
headed up, where we hit another check, with a true trial and a YBF. Jersey
Ahole got the right trail, but once again was completely disregarded in
favor of the false trail. Eventually we figured it out running along to
Hibridge park, through the Sunken Playground (Actual name!) and into the
woods.
In a typically CUNTHHHy move, the last check was off in the scrub, in a spot
carpeted in rusted iron, used condoms and Hep C infected needles. Someone,
I think it was New York's Just Matt, ended up with a down down for shouting
"Who hashes in the woods!?" on the way to the last check. (*Never* travel
to Summit Just Matt!) Scrabbling up a rocky hillside with a nice view of
South Shore Bronx, the pack found Lazer manning the last check, this time
with Jello shots. After slamming the jello, pack found the on-in more or
less around the corner. Grills were set up and the finest dry aged hot dogs
were tossed on the barbie. Yucca (spelling?) was poured and circle was
called. Vrigins drank, Visitors drank, sang and joked. (Heard the one about
the hunter and his three ducks?) Truants tossed one back, Doggie Erectus
drank for tech on trail, Hummer got called in for something I can't recall.
Lazer drank for insane type A-ness, (laminated 'logistics' memos?), and
other assorted rowdiness which I can't recall, besides a flash, which I
missed, AGAIN! All of which brought Just Darlene in (when one hare
drinks...), who had to call stunt chugger just Catherine, which brought Just
Casey into the circle (When one virgin drinks! (Just Heather had wisely
dipped out for the evening by now)), basically, the virgins got HOUSED in
this circle like few I've seen, and still kept a pretty good sense of humor
about everything.
I can't remember what came next, erections or the naming, but lets just cut
straight to the good stuff shall we? After a quick confab the hash narrowed
the field down to just two names, the loser of which has been consigned to
History's Dustbin (which is what I've named the brain lesion I've gotten
from my drinking jags). Just Darlene, for her stated preference in sexual
positions, and history of pederasty, ended up "Minor 69-er!" I impressed
myself by coming up with a pretty good half assed hash song to the tune of
"My darling Clementine" while the pack marinated Minor in suds and ground up
drywall. Gypsum dust's good for the lungs right? Especially right before a
15k?
Finally, erections happened. Finally. Yep, two years and the almost
complete attrition of our misman on, the CUNTHHH has finally managed to
effect a peaceful transition of power. Meet the New Boss(es) and
Bossess(es):
Free His Willy ended up as hare raiser/hash flash, where we expect great
things, or at least for him to not to tarnish the legacy left by his
predecessor. My de facto RA position was made de jure in an unopposed walk
(I guess I really killed it that one circle with five of us out in Hoboken).
Supreme Power was seized in a bloodless coup by Generallissimo Lazer (I'm
pretty sure that's her rank, I'm almost 100% it's not Major). I won't use
the phrase Peter Principle since I'm almost certain it has another meaning
in the hash but Lazer is a textbook case of good work being rewarded with
more work. She did 90% of the work getting Hashlympics together, and then
followed it up by more than doubling down on our previous attendance record.
Also brought out visitors! Holy Shit! May she continue to be a river unto
our people long after she sickens of playing mommy to us bunch of drunken
infants. Viva! Viva!
Also Second Cumming, (First Removed) for the great crime of blowing off the
best hash of... the Hash itself so far, and being unable to defend herself,
ended up stuck with the shittiest job in the hash, that of Scribe. Gotta
tell you, it feels like I've been rescued out from beneath a burning
mattress. Enjoy!
Next hash is Oct. 22, which will be hared by Just Matt and myself. Details
to come.
Also a new Headquarters is being prepared for the C.U.N.T.H.H.H.,
provisionally called the C.U.N.T.H.H.H.H.Q., which will be an actual site
and everything, with links you can click to find out when the next hash is,
a song book, contact info for misman, and anything else you can think of.
Get at me (off thread) if you can think of anything else that belongs on a
hash page. Hope to have it unveiled by next weekend.
On-On,
Type A