CUNTHHH trail # 25:

Post date: Jul 30, 2012 7:03:45 PM

“A lady came up to me one day and said 'Sir! You are drunk', to which

I replied 'I am drunk today madam, and tomorrow I shall be sober but

you will still be ugly.”

Captain Jack Swallows and Teacher’s Pet… bless their little pointed

heads as my mom would say. Very ambitious trail and a perfect day to

stretch a moderate trail into an obscene one that contained multiple

brilliant elements. Drink check on the grassy knoll of the Lincoln

Center that pretty much none of us knew existed while a festival of

some sort was going on? Music and jello shots! And rice crispy treats!

Getting to said check? No exclamation points, just advice: don’t

follow packs of virgins because it turns out that they have little to

no idea what’s going on and take off with just the mere suggestion of

a correct direction. I’m pretty sure that a new record was set for

losing trail. That being said, the virgins were very enthusiastic not

to mention nice to look at.

So we kicked things off at a wonderfully narrow bar on 55th called

McGee’s where we proceeded to take up every inconvenient spot possible

by the time 3:30 rolled around. Some of us ventured outside while no

fucks were given by the rest of the pack of hooligan runners. Those

standing outside got to experience the mass arrival of the virgins.

Flabonghissimo promised virgins, and virgins he delivered. Did they

create random arrows and yell that we were on trail when we actually

weren't remotely? Oh yeah, but at least they had the enthusiasm to

bother doing it. Jersey Asshole wielded the almighty handmade CUNTH3

flag/punishment funnel and managed not to lose it, break it or beat up

any passerby at any point so that was pretty special in and of itself.

After all, he's known for earning his name- especially when he's the

hare. Anyhoodle, after covering most of the west side it seemed like,

(Including the insides of a swanky westside hotel. Let's hope the

guard's paycheck reflects the speed he hustled his chubby frame around

the lobby, first trying to catch the FRB's and turn us back, then

locking the front door once he realized how many we were.) with most

of it in error, we made it to the aforementioned drink check on the

grassy knoll of the Lincoln Center for some jello shots and homemade

rice crispy treats. And a treat they were because Swallows is a dynamo

in the kitchen. And according to my mom, a dynamo in the.... this is

awkward. Leave my mom out of this. Anyway, after a decent amount of

time spent imbibing and lollygagging we were off through the crowds of

the happenings at/around Lincoln Center complete with an unsuccessful

attempt at shoving a fellow hasher into a fountain. Wasn't me, I just

watched with no intention of helping if it was a success. Type A being

type A, just dove in after mentioning how funny it would be, and

recieving empatic encouragement of the "Uh, yea. Sure would"

variety. Drew a lot of displeased attention from the dried up old art

crawlers and helicopter parents, but the authorities didn't seem to

mind, or at least not enough to keep up with him as he sprinted out of

there. Of course, we automatically took off in the wrong direction

once we were down the main steps out of the Center but then again it

definitely kept with the spirit of directional chaos that dominated

this hash of ours. From there it was east and into Central Park

(yaaaay!!!) where we happened upon Pimpy Longstocking and Bam Bam

Thank You Ma'am strolling instead of hashing with us winners. We were

of course trying to find trail when we came across them and for

another good ten minutes or so continued to look for said trail

because nobody listened when I pointed out that the trail hopefully

had to go straight through the packed meadow directly in front of us.

Could I have checked myself? Probably. Whatever, leave me alone you

jerk. So in a flash of brilliance on the part of the hares, the trail

did indeed head into the clothing deficient masses of the meadow!

Sadly, afterwards things digressed back into directional chaos to the

highest degree. This in turn resulted finally in a call to Teacher's

Pet requesting the location of the second drink check that we knew had

to be in the park somewhere.

Once there, we ("we" being everyone but Doggie Erectus, who ended up

missing the second check completely) were greeted by more awesomeness

at the hands of the hares- this time in the form of white sangria and

brownies. It. Was. HEAVEN. Just Mio and Just Ian were spotted lounging

in the grass a few feet away and were convinced to tag along to the

on-in. It was also about two hours after when we took off from

McGee's and some of us found out that there was still about a third of

the trail left to go and for all of us but this guy, many beers to

consume and songs to sing. After about 20 minutes the pack took off

again and headed out of the park, automatically not on trail but with

a few of us armed with the knowledge of our destination location. This

is around the time that Lazer Labia, Hard Licker and I became even

more awesome than everyone else. For a little back story, Whatacunt

was working where trail was laid and did a little re-route to her spot

so that she could be an impromptu stop on the trail. Sadly, our

collective inability to even care about anything but being at the

on-in led to a mass re-set of the route that didn't go past her since

nobody was looking for arrows. Luckily she called Lazer to ask where

we were so the three of us re-routed ourselves to her and the

delicious frozen juice pops. Ever had one of those after running for

hours in the (almost) summer heat? None of the justifiable comparisons

is remotely appropriate. From there, we made our way the few blocks to

the on-in, which was at the Times Square Hotel's second floor bar. It

was even smaller than the pre-lube but also contained only us which

was AWESOME. The usual variety of downdowns were given out, FRB's,

DFL's, truants, etc. The virgins were like a litter of newborn

puppies, cute, enthusiastic, noisy and underfoot. And shitting things

up everywhere. When the French bloc of virgins were called out, two

or three of them weren't paying attention and didn't come up, then

snapped to attention once they recognized the tune of "A Frenchman

went to the Lavatory" and actually managed to drown out the hash with

their patriotic bellowings. Needless to say the hashshit was broke

out for its first official penalty downdown which the virgins took in

stride. Flabonghissimo drank for his admirable pimping out of the

hash, up to and including making his sister cum! F'Orgy had a

down-down for turning his prediliection to stroll through Times square

looking for wayward virgins to good account by grabbing all the

clueless newboots the pack was flinging loose at a rate of one or two

a mile.

Best of All, Just Zara has been named and will forever (or until we

come up with something better) be known as Cum Test Dummy, after

confiding in the pack her flubbing of the Chemisty Department's year

end Cum-ulative test. Congrats and Welcome! Don't do anything we

wouldn't do, at least not without us!

Second Cumming (First Removed)