Post date: Oct 19, 2011 3:15:01 AM
"Spring is here, trees are budding, birds are tweeting, bees are
buzzing, daylight is saving, Jesus is back from the grave to walk the
earth and feast on the brains of sinners, Jews are doing something I
don't fully understand that involves lamb's blood, stale bread and
dead Egyptians, and chocolate rabbits are laying marshmallow eggs all
OVER the damn place. It's like a goddamn fertility/rebirth symbolism
jamboree out here!
And if there's one thing hashes respond well to it's sexual innuendo.
Like a mighty Kodiak, the CUH3 has bestirred itself from it's long
winter torpor. The simile was to extend to being lean, and hungry,
and ready for action, with pop culture references to Timothy
Treadwell, but I think we all know where I'm going with this mixed
metaphor, so I'll cut to the chase.
- The weather is awesome
- We haven't done this since November
- Your schedule will only get shittier
- We need to have a hash, and you need to come."
Though bad weather was in the report, the hash started under blue skies, as
our RA I Am Cumstain prevailed upon Zeus the All-Father to stay his
thund'rous bolt, most likely through sexual favors most deviant. (Those
Greeks, I'll tell ya...).
The hash was lightly attended, but the die hard usual gang of idiots showed
up, ready for trail, shiggy and beer. The co-hare aspect got scrapped in
order to have a sizeable enough pack to run with, and Stain set off.
Preeeeeeeee-dictably. (Sigh)
Yes, our hash has a new catchphrase, and a new named hasher. Congrats and
welcome to Pre-Dick-table, nee Just Rick. Rick earned his Nom d'Hash from
from his more or less constant repetition of that word during the hash,
which would have been insufferable, if he hadn't been calling every twist
and turn of the first two miles or so like he was Nick Cage in that bad
Phillip K Dick movie no one saw. Maybe you and Stain should take a little
time off, until your minds unmeld. Anyway, aside from being his new
trademark, his name also calls out his Prefontaine like levels of Race-ism,
and dickish complaining during the hash.
Of course that trick only lasted him so long, as the pack got turned around
and fragmented at 110th and Madison. Having already mapped out the trail
with Stain, your correspondent felt obliged to act as though he didn't know
where the hash was going, obligingly running down dead trails at checks.
After jogging off towards Marcus Garvey, and deciding the pack wasn't taking
my bait, I swung around to head them off and... that's it, until the on in.
Apparently they figured I went off on true trail after losing sight of me,
and circled the roundabout like so many turds in a bowl, looking for a
nonexistent trail.
I on the other hand, giving our pack a completely undue amount of credit,
figured they'd got out ahead of me, and it wasn't until sprinting to "catch
up" for about 10 blocks that I remembered who I was dealing with, and rather
than run back and find them, started leaving a pack trail of my own in case
they ever made it that far. I have a name to uphold here.
Anyway, Harlem has a saying: One skinny honky running down the block and
throwing shit all over the streets, shame on you, two skinny honkies running
down the block throwing shit all over the place, what the fuck? Sure
enough, after the shock of seeing Stain bolt through, the locals were full
of questions which they passed on to me. Questions like "Why the flour?"
"Why the flour?" "Yea but why the flour?" I should add that these
questions were usually posed in rapid succession before I had a chance to
say much more than, "Well, we're a club and..." One guy asked if I was that
was Yayo I was tossing around like Rip Taylor at a confetti festival. I
offered him a snoot, but he turned me down. Clean living I guess.
Eventually the whole pack gathered at Bruckner's bar in the South Bronx,
pretty much as far south as it gets, but a really cool place. Stain was
called out for a predictable trail, I was called out for abandoning the pack
for beer (As though that's even a slightly questionable decision). After
necking my beer, and a few others besides, I was off leading the pack on the
second leg.
That leg was a pretty straightahead one, heading back to campus through
Harlem, and arriving at the second On-in, Stain's friend Nooshin's
apartment. We had a virgin show up post hash, Just Yeppi, who recorded the
circle for posterity and potential blackmail in case any of us ever go into
politics (start working on that slush fund now, Bug). Stain decided to add
Non-Traditional to our hash name to give us the much more satisfying CUNTH
for an acronym. We may not be the first hash NYC's ever seen, and we
definitely won't be the last but, by God, we're the CUNTH. After a few
embarrassing brain farts on songs caused by not having hashed in months, the
circle was concluded to everyone's satisfaction. Except perhaps
Pre-Dick-table, who was covered in suds and flour after the initiation.
Then we waited about an hour for some fat bastard from Koronet to show up
with our pizza. We tipped heavily.
In future news, the hash is going to have its next, and probably last for a
little while, hash on Saturday, May 22nd. Details are still being worked
out, but expect a pickup hash, with the hare chosen by drawn straws,
starting somewhere around campus. Most of the hashers are heading out Real
World-ward, at least for the summer, so come down for one last hurrah!
Yours in (predictable) Tardiness
Type A-hole