And #4: Hot Undies Hash This Saturday at O’Toole’s!!

Directly from our very own AGM FML:

“Ok.  My trail for hot undies will be mostly live :) no shiggy and efficient as fuck to get us with the hot undiers. On out will be exactly 1230p so come early for free pre lube. Also I HAVE to have rsvps by friday if walks want the shirt with their $15″

Got that?  We’re Hashing.  In our Underpants (Yup, underpants are required, my Kilt wearing bretheren).  And drinking BEER!  Is this a great effing country or what?

On-Out NEEDS to be at 12:30 Sharp!  No time for BS-ing because the r*cists among us want to hit Rotten Groton’s Wack N Wabble trail that On-Outs at 3:00 HST.  So, quick math:  Hot Underpants Hash at 12:30 and we’re done by 1:30ish + One Hour Drive to Groten = We’ll sure as shite miss Pre-Lube and On-Out if we get caught with our Hot undies down.  Got it?

Hot Undies is important because, well, doesn’t the name Hot Undies say enough?  Also, the $15 goes toward helping the family and employees from Delaney’s Tap Room, which was tragically lost in a fire recently.  Gotta support the tasty beer-serving community so they may keep serving us.

On-Out!!   DYD

#3: A Shitty Pornstache Trail!

Hares Bleeding Gash (sporting a very porn-starry pornstache) and Back Tits McGee laid the most shittiest of live trails through the foreign land of Milford.  Lessons learned #1:  Gash is a big fat liar, claiming trail was four miles-ish.  If one were to wear tech on trail it would be obvious trail was at least seven miles long.  Maybe even eight.  Or 12.  Who the eff knows.
Lesson two:  Back Tits needs to learn the maniacal nature of trail laying.  When I, a possible tech on trail wearer, mentioned the length of the trail I had run he went immediately into Trail Defensive Mode.  “No, the trail was only X” he gloated.  Dumbass.  When the kennel runs further than true trail you should rejoice in the tortuous components of what you laid, not brow-beat Hashers for knowing exactly what the hell you had in mind.  Come to the evil side, Back Tits.  It’s more funner here.
On a critical note the Hare’s did a piss-poor job of marking two, TWO, of five effing booze checks.  Gash, Penis fly Trap and untold others raced back to find boosy treasures, but only the jager was found.
A shitty trail, nonetheless!  Other notes of interest:  Panda Sexpress pointed out to the ever-vigilant Hentai that Virgin Lara’s name was more similarl to maLARAis than the crazy-talk spewing from Hentai in Circle.  Just Sayin

#2: Erections! (I believe this simple headline to be strong enough to stand on its own)

Simple and to the point (although I would have been interested in some Kathering Harris-ish brouhaha ala Bush vs. Gore, but naked, of course).  Don’tYouDare CloseYourEyes has been voted your GM, Five Minute Layover (FML) your AGM and Mathole is you King of Hash Cash.  Hentai Me Down remains or trusty and crowd-controlling RA.  We are all quite humbled by your faith in our abilities, and are updating our personal LinkedIn pages accordingly.  On a celebratory note former GM Tap That Teacher has agreed to be our Ace In The Hole as needed.  Thank you, TTT!  Now, please let me point out that while TTT may be our Ace-In-The-Hole she is by no means our A-Hole.  I’ll take ownership of that title, thank you very much.
On a personal note, I would like to thank FML and Math quite generously.  I’m quite certain this is just the first of many Thank Yous for Saving My Ass.  Let’s get busy!!!

#1: Mis-Management Meeting and Pre-Hash-Cheeseburger-Deluxe-Orgy!

The half-wits, er, I mean Brain Trust met, and we agreed that throughout the next year New Haven Hash House Harriers (a.k.a. Poison Ivy League or the more devisive NHH3 vs. NH4) will strive to accomplish the following.  And by “strive to accomplish” I mean “eat your poop samiches while we bust our arses to keep our precious kennel happy.”
What’s that, Tap That Teacher?  Too bitter too early?  Dammit!  I’ll never understand the balance!!
I’m getting a bit ahead of myself, and it’s only glass #2 of tasty brown booze, so let me please recap:
A primary objective for our kennel during the next 12 months is to grow in size so that we consistently host a Hash of between 20 and (Egad!) 30 Hashers per any given Hash.  These are my words, not the words of the collective, so launch all bullshit missiles my way.  “Why?” you ask.  Because Hashing is effing awesome.  Also, there is strength in numbers, and a consistent base of 20 Hashers that weens down to a Peter Dinklage-sized fistful of Hashers in the nippley month of January has the power to bloom pretty great (and by great I mean bawdy) things in warmer months (and by warmer months I mean February).  Lastly, imagine the number of Virgins we’d have to dig through to get a dozen to cum back time and time again.  The mind spins.
This is the plan, boys and girls:  We’re celebrating Hashmat in February again.  Yup.  Feb-Ru-Snowy-Effing-Ary.  But this is by design, and not just because we want to laugh at shrinkage.  Our heritage, broken as it may be in certain areas, sez the second month is for festiveness.  Who am I to argue?  We’ll Hash like MoFos in the snow, and hope that our good friends at Skull and Boners H3 and Rotten Groton H3 will join our celebration once again.  In return, we’ll rally for an Inter-Hash with the same Kennels later in 2015.  Have faith, Hashers, have faith.
Also, we’re committing to $25 bucks cold cash to promote our awesomeness monthly.  Yes, you’ll all be sporting NHH3 and NH4 tattoos shortly out of a sense of pride, but how many people outside the Hash will be seeing your bare ass on a regular basis?  This question does not apply to Bleeding Gash for obvious  reasons.  The cash will provide support for web-presence at our site, NewHavenH3.com, Meetup, Facebook and HashSpace.com.  There are a few other ideas in the works, and we’ll announce as they cum to fruition.
Mis-Management meetings will be held about every two months or so, the next being in October, and in addition to your elected Mis-Managers we’ll invite a Hasher-At-Large for insight we may have missed.  At this time I can neither confirm nor deny we’ll take this Hasher-at-large’s ideas and call them our own.

Mis-Management, Erections, A Sh*tty Trail and, hold onto your hats, Hot Undies Hash!

Okay, I have a lot of information to pass long to sage and uninitiated Hashers alike, so hold the eff on because I’m going to write this damn near as quickly as I talk before Down Downs force me to start spewing the most absurd and unintelligible of bullshit tales.  To aid in the process the drinking companion tonight is a glass of cheap brown booze as opposed to the giant Bottle-O-Beer that rode shotgun last time I posted.  Let me just top off a second glass and we’ll be on our way!

NH4 Hashers celebrating the joy of shitty beer on trail.

NH4 Hashers celebrating the joy of shitty beer on trail.

WooHoo! We Got Erections!!!

 

True Fact:  National Archive Specialists attest Abraham Lincoln wore saucy diaphanous Slinky-Garments when taking Selfies prior to his demise.

True Fact: National Archive Specialists attest Abraham Lincoln wore saucy diaphanous Slinky-Garments when taking Selfies prior to his demise.

Hashers!  Make certain you wear baggy pants to the next Hash, because we’re gonna have Erections!  WooHoo!!  It’s about goddam time!  I’m telling you, it can not be September 13th soon enough!!!

 
Wait.  Hang on a sec.  Five Minute Layover is just handing me an instant message.  “No, you dumbass!” it sez, “Erections, as in Elections!  It’s our anal tradition to vote new miscreants into the roles of Mis-Management for the New Haven Hash House Harriers kennel so we may have fresh blood to torment at Circle!!”
 
“Oooohh,” sez me, nodding like a doddering old Hasher with a predilection for the simply-explained, while also enjoying the wordplay of her use of “anal” instead of “annual.”
 
Our next Hash is an important Hash, and not just because Hares Bleeding Gash and Back Tits McGee are laying live, but because we vote for those who will lead and be blamed for the direction our kennel goes over the next 12 months.  You’ve all hashed, or at least you’re reading this because someone you tollerate Hashes and encouraged you to read this.  And just like a-holes, you’ve all got an opinion on how you’d like this show run.  Make your feelings known by voting, and you can’t vote if you don’t cum (Did you see that?  I can do a little wordplay, too!).
 
This is important.  This is our Hash.  Please, take ownership.  You only gotta do this once a year, and then it’s an On-In Beerfest for the next 12 months.  Even if you only show up for a few Hashes a year, we want to hear from you.  En serio.
 
And now, the Juicy Hash Details!
 
On-Out is at 1:00 PM HST.  ONE O’CLOCK.  Don’t cum late (damn, this inuendo talk just spews once you’ve gone to the Dark Side).  Why 1:00?  It’s been explained that “one” of the Hares needs to be somewhere by 6:30 PM on the same day as Erections, so the Hashing world, being kind and compassionate, will accomodate.  Apparently, the Hare, who is not named Bleeding Gash, has “more important” places to be, and by “more important” I mean “Needs to be within 50 yards of the home transponder unit else the ankle bracelet alarms and Federales are summoned for yet another parole violation and requisite beat down.”
 
Also, On-Out is behind the Milford Library.  Trail is A to A.  Maybe 4 miles, maybe 6.  There’s talk of 20 percent Shiggy, but Hares are known to be full of shite.  Beer on trail, debauchery, and oodles of cursing at the goddam Hares!   Oh, and lies will be told, too, and TTT will most likely Shortcut!  Or, she’ll simply auto-Hash with her Cop buddies.
 
Not strollerable, not dogable, but most certainly Hashable! 
 
Hash Cash $5.00, cheap, and for godsake, wear new shoes.
 
Again, we care about you and what you idealize in our Hash.  Show up and be known.  Whether you win the vote or not, I assure you your voice will be heard.  FML has been wonderful with her postings on the gigs up for Erection, but there’s so much more history to be gleened at Half-Mind.com.
 
All Wisenheimerish aside, I thank you.  Genuinely.
 
On on, and On-out,
 
Don’t You Dare Close Your Eyes

 

Chickens Choked, Names Named and Sh*t Talked

Bambi's Bitch is aided on an epic Hash trail by Back Tits McGee

Bambi’s Bitch is aided on an epic Hash trail by Back Tits McGee

 The Choked Chicken Hash this past Saturday was the Most Choking of Chicken Hashes, EVER!!  WooHoo!  Of course, I write this as the triumphant co-Hare, and as current moderator of this blog, you’ll just have to keep enduring my seemingly-neverending spew of bullshit.  Hares Don’t You Dare Close Your Eyes, Something, Something, Something, Something (DYD to close friends and vile enemies alike) and Just Linda laid a fiendishly clever trail (did I mention DYD is writing this?), taking the Kennel from the bowels of O’Toole’s Irish Pub to the first serious booze check, an On The Foot (Or Off The Foot, if you go that way) a mere few blocks away.

W. T. F.  Pausing from an overly-emoting dramatic effect.  Where is our Goddam Booze?!?!  The Kennel howled, and the dead-trail-laying hares jumped to respond.  The cleverly-disguised-but-quite-nasty-booze-concoction and oh-so-tasty-and-very-cold-40-of-Coors-Light had disappeared from the OTF!  Again, WTF?!  (Which was a frequent question for this particular Hash).  DYD and JL rushed to the the scene in the ever-reliable JL-Mobile to find Smashmouth wording the diatribe he’s be posting online later and Bambi’s Bitch (scuttling under an “inconvenient” obstacle in the photo above) poking through the nearby dumpster with a parking sign.  All Hashers watched Bambi do this, and I don’t think there was one among us who had the wherewithall to imagine where BB found such an unusual tool for poking.

Lost booze was found in the poked dumpster, but some bastard had drunked (because “drunked” is the correct past tense of “drank or drunk” when we’re speaking of 40s) and our once-refreshing beverage was nothing more than an empty vessel to be traded for $.05 at the Packy.  

As important as it was to find the OTF Booze was the need to find the first two of five Choked Chickens on trail.  First Choked Chicken wearer to cross the Chicken Road at On-In was to be awarded a bottle sweet Kentuck Bourbon.

Next Stop:  Beer Quest 25 after a well-placed Song Check in front of casual diners at Dempsey’s.  Hares watched the Song Check from a secluded vantage point as visiting Hasher Panda Sexpress led all in a round of “If Your Girlfriend Tastes Like Shit, Roll Her Over,” impressingg the nearby outdoor diners at Dempsey”s, along with the diners’ young children.

BQ25 followed immediately, where Just Linda offered a Banana Bread Beer (because bananas are yellow, and so are chickens, per Frank Perdue, so they must taste pretty much the same, which anyone would know to be obvious.).  Beer was found and consumed this time and there was even a third Choked Chicken (thank you, Awesome Hares), but feathers were apparently ruffled, thanks to Tap That Teacher’s taunting of the locals.  What the hell’s up with her and the cops?

I think now would be a good time to stop, open another Giant Beer, and reveal something I’ve learned in the few months since I so foolishly volunteered to feebly update this site.  It is amazing to me how gladly your fellow Hashers with give up the stupid shit that was done on trail, by you or another Hasher, and do so with an unconstrained and willful sense of glee.  Effing Amazing!  In fact, at this very moment there’s a laundry list of stupid shit Bleeding Gash was happy to dish on, including the aforementioned TTT vs. The Cops issue, and vertical-leap-challenged Hentai Me Down’s taunting of Back Tits McGee, Tijuana Donkey Fluffer, Bambi and Gash himself for not launching over a 20-foot wall after foolishly following a false trail to a  dead end.  True?  Not true?  Don’t know, but I suspect there’s a line of buses out there waiting for you all to throw more Hashers under.  I couldn’t be more proud (wiping a sentimental tear from my eye).

First official Beer Stop was along a smelly river-ish body of water in Fair Haven.  Hasher Virgin and Ardent Texan Just Jennifer snagged the fourth Choked Chicken (which was unnervingly near a giant cardboard box of dead fish spilled all over the ground, which begs to ask “Who the hell puts so many dead fish in a goddam corrugated carton and leaves it beside a sketchy-but-public throughway, anyway?).  After beers were pounded down and trash was talked the Kennel was sent through a few yards (okay, maybe about 120 yards) of unmarked and noxious shiggy before finding the urban trail NH4 (or NHH3, if you go that way) is known for.  A handful escaped the full shiggy, choosing instead to scale a 12-foot fence after which they would have to climb yet another 12-foot fence to escape.  D’oh!

In the rush to find Beer Check #2 all Hashers blew by the final Choked Chicken and soon found themselves crawling under fences to get to more beer in the parking lot of a local German bakery.  Visiting Bethel Hasher Leapfrog (who’s full name is unknown because I drank a little beer and forgot it, but it was remarkably dastardly) says to Don’t You Dare “So, is this an authorized place for a beer check, or are we trespassing?”  “Oh, it’s authorized.  I know the owner of the bakery,” I lied out my ass, scanning the horizon for TTT’s Cop Buddies.

Tap That Teacher was waiting for the auto-Hashing Hares at the On-In, happily waiting on the porch at DYD’s place with a Choked Chicken around her neck.  She cheated on trail and was to be awarded the goddam booze prize.  Again, a tear fills my eye.  The balance of the Kennel made it in until we were just waiting for a wayward Mathole, and all was right with the Hashing world.

Bleeding Gash, once again spent and supine...

Bleeding Gash, once again spent and supine…

But wait!  There’s More!  Bleeding Gash and a visiting Hasher from Seattle realized the fifth Chocked Chicken was still on trail!  DYD gave the location and they were off, two of the most r*cist effing Hashers ever, passing up on cold beer for a Chicken that would win one a bottle of Big Cock wine.

Having aided and abetted in Haring duties for the first time the Kennel decided they would name Just Linda, despite the fact several marks were remarkably small (so size doesn’t matter?), too frequent at the beginning of trail and on at least two ocassions just effed the effed up all over the effing place.  Questions were asked, sexual positions were demonstrated and finally she was sent away while the Kennel debated.

This was a hard one (that’s what she said), as all Hashers agreed JL’s name should reflect the Leeroy Jenkins disaster she survived at TDF’s Hash two weeks earlier, but the exact name was at issue.  At the end we ruled out Going Down on Leeroy for the the popular vote, Facefull Of Leeroy.  Welcome, Faceful, and thank you for co-Haring a Shitty Trail!

Facefull of Leeroy

As a Post Script, I’d like to encourage everyone to Hash with us Saturday, September 13th, when we will have Hash Erections!  Several positions are to be filled, and we need your help and guidance in selecting the chumps, er, I mean, Mis-Managers of our Kennel.  Early Hash Time of 1:00 so we may accomodate Bleeding Gash’s beotch.  Cum early, cum often, but just cum!  Details at our MeetUp and Facebook pages.

Erections September 13th!

Erections September 13th!

Choked Chicken Hash!

Choke-the-Chicken

Why did the Hashers cross the road?

For the beer, dumbasses, it was for the beer!!!
 
The Choked Chicken Hash is Saturday, August 30th, and On-Outs from O’Toole’s in New Haven at 3:00 PM HST.  Or 3:15, or whenever the hell we damn well feel like it.  But definitely before 3:30.  Okay, 4:00, tops.
 
The gist?  Collect one of four Choked Chickens, be the first to cross the literal Chicken Road, and win delicious booze.  What could be more goddam glorious than that (other than being forced to Down Down because you exhibited r*cist behavior in your clamor to collect choked chickens!)?
 
Hares Don’tYouDareCloseYourEyes and Just Linda promise a relatively flat and urban trail with a Beer Check, at least one On The Foot and a newly-introduced Beer Quest Check!  There also may or may not be a little Shiggy that will make you long for the winter Hashes where there are no noxious weeds to take issue with your tender and unprotected shins.
 
Trail is A to A-ish (did you read this, STFU?  A to A-ish!  I swear to god you’d better not lead hot yoga-pants-wearing-virgins to a false On-In again or we’ll have to beat you speechless!!!).  Trail is most definitely not strollerable (I’ve yet to see a stroller on trail) but somewhat dog-friendly (depending upon whether your dog sees other dogs as peers or as snacks).  Roughly four miles, depending upon whether we get you lost or not.
 
Hash Cash is $5 (cheap), and it would be very cool if you let us know you were cumming so we could stock up on enough beer and other tasty beverages.  Park east of State Street so you don’t gotta feed the meter.  And as always, we encourage you to wear new shoes.
 
One Choked Chicken per Hasher, please, unless you subscribe to the “There are no rules in Hashing” theory.  Oh, and when referring to “Dumbasses” above I in no way meant to infer or imply that your ass had less intellect than the common ass, or that said ass should be the subject of ridicule or even snide remarks and pointed fingers behind your back.  Honest.
 
Hey!  Skull and Boners Hashers!  This is your opportunity to tune up your Mad Hashing Skilz before the Mud-And-Blood-Fest on Sunday, August 31st!  Join us and form fond memories of a Hash that doesn’t have you praying for redemption (and, most certainly, fewer leeches).

Three Hashes, One Recap and an Excuse to Drink Beer!

Oh Eff Me.  How do these Hashes get away from me so quickly?  In the past three weeks New Haven Hash House Harriers have had three Hashes and a figurative ass-load of new traditions thrust upon us!

I need to get you to the most recent Hash, the Rising Sun Hash, which was Hared by the wiley, bicycle-stealing Tijuana Donkey Fluffer and formerly Just Ed, a.k.a Superman in Underpants.
 
You got a beer? You Hash, so I’ll assume you’re responding “Oh F*cking yes,” as you settle in, closing one eye as you read so as not to double-image the shit out of this posting (this was an awkward sentence, so please feel free to squint harder and re-read). Cue the harp strums and bleary Gilligan’s Island-style dream-sequence graphics as we travel to the afternoon of Saturday, August 2nd.
 
 Epic Shiggy, New Shoes and Cheese It, The Cops! 
Milford PD

Saturday’s 154th New Haven Hash House Harriers Hash may not have been the Hash that hallmark Hashes are made of, but then again, I’d be hard-pressed to conjure a more perfecter (yep, I said “perfecter”) Hash. 

As you’ll recall from past posts, this was Hare Mathole’s August Holiday Hash, an irreverent celebration of all that’s not celebrated in our most sweltering month.  Can celebration and conflagration be interchanged here?  Oh hell yes.  Hell to the effing yes…
 
Mathole dodged the rain bullet this time (his last Haring was a soggy morass of three-legged antics, so he was due for reprieve).  But was it to be a celebrated Sh*tty Hash?  History will be the true judge, but until this Hash is in our past this posting will need to serve as the official record.
 
Don’tYouDareCloseYourEyes came way too early (go figure), cleverly representing Veteran’s Day, St. Patrick’s Day, International Beer Day and Festivus, but he was quickly shown up by Tijuana Donkey Fluffer’s awe-inspiring Cat Eye T-Shirt Festival gear (who knew it was even a holiday?).
 
Then the shit got real. Just Ed shows up and just after unbuttoning his shirt to reveal a Superman S. he then drops trou, not knowing that his dramatic presentation was thwarted by Kryptonite, dropping his Superman Underoos with said trou, leaving him in the ShopRite parking lot doing the Superior Dance in his underpants like he had the bag of chips to be all that, but instead he was just the Superman-wearing-t-shirt-in-his-underpants-guy-in-the-Milford-parking-lot attracting looks of confusion from shoppers and dropped eyes from Hashers.  Shameful, right?
 
In comes Bleeding Gash to the rescue.  WTF? Again, I ask, WTF? Darth Vader with a t-shirt reading “May The Fourth Be With You.”  Coolio.  I’m down with that. But the Baby New Year Sash and requisite diaper? Really? And not just a diaper. Or even an Adult Diaper. Bleeding Gash approached this like the first time he bought condoms, throwing the first “diaper” product he found on the counter. Fer christsake, he didn’t even buy a Snickers bar to cloak his purchase! Amateur…  In his haste Gash bought Adult Pads and not diapers, which meant he had some serious duct-tape work ahead of him.
 
It was not a pretty sight, indeed.  Shortly after the On-Out Hashers found themselves Song-checking at an actual watering hole, or to clarify, a pond hidden among the piles of Canada goose shit.  Waiting for the DFL Hashers to show up our clever banter is silenced when a Milford PD cruiser pulls up near our gathering. Oh great, we’re all dressed like a-holes and it’s quite likely there’s a load blooming in Gash’s make-shift diaper. Cop gets calmly out of the front passenger seat with only the slightest glance, reaches back and opens the back door. Who pops out? Goddamn Tap That Teacher, who giddily dances up to the check. She claims the cops offered her a ride, but several of us suspect she lured them in with talk of handcuff play. We may never know.
 
The balance of the Hash was certainly Hasherific, and was highlighted by Mathole’s trail that had us treking trough at least 10, maybe 11 yards of off-road shiggy. We were out before we even knew we were in, if you know what I mean. As mentioned above, shiggy as hell.
 
On-In was highlighted with more flagrant behavior from TTT as she latched on to the sole Virgin’s hand, dragging him to a shared title of DFL. Oh, and nary a Hasher escaped the punishment of false accusations and and the requisite punitive beers. Aaaaahh, punishment! Highlight of On-After was Just Linda’s belief that things written in this post are true and directive in nature, so when the NewHavenH3.com site said “Wear new shoes” she happily obliged. Hash lies are the sweetest lies of all!
 
Now go refresh your beer.
 
Impromptu Out-Of-Towners Welcome Hash!
 Leeroy
It’s been well-documented that our own Five Minute Layover has been road-tripping with her mini-chicas for the past 10 weeks (welcome home, FML!), where she’s successfully ferreted out all manner of new and obscene Hash traditions, as well as all manner of new and obscene nationwide Hashers. On Tuesday, August 5th, NH4 (or NHH3, if you’d like – Don’t care what you call us, just call.  Seriously), welcomed FML’s new-found bestie Trifukta from Phoenix at an impromptu Hash Hared by Hentai Me Down with an On-Out at our watering hole of choice O’Toole’s (not to be confused with Mathole’s actual Canada goose-shit laden watering hole in Milford). The Hash was small, but size doesn’t really matter, right? Tap That Teacher and Don’tYouDareCloseYourEyes represented from NH4 while Penis Fly Trap and Duck Duck Oops from Skull and Boners joined in, as well, rounding out our Evening-O-Thrills!
 
Hentai’s ad-lib trail was marked with the obligatory wander around New Haven’s greens, and, quite surprisingly, inveterate DFL Hasher TTT forged our way out of a shitty trail. Beer would soon be near!
 
We hopped an urban fence (Don’tYouDare did this quite lamely, in hindsight) and soon found ourselves at the First Beer Check, Only Beer Check, and On-In. Who the hell wants to Hash when there are war stories to be told.
 
So there we were, in a random parking lot, drinking giant PBRs out of Hentai’s tiny Dixie Cups (BTW, Hentai had a PBR Check on trail, which called for a Piggy Back Ride, but the Hashers kind of blew him off and assumed it was a Package, Boob, Rear Check, which we accommodated). We were close enough to the On-Out, which would also be the On-In that it was mutually decided that Hashing should end and bullshitting about Hashing adventures begin. And the bullshit commenced…
 
And then Trifuckta (who, coincidentally spells it Triph Uckta, but who in Arizona knows anything about spelling?) breaks into his epic tale of Leeroy Jenkins, disrupting Circles with unexpected nudity and an irreverent sense of willy-nilly brouhaha as yet unseen on the East Coast (even at Skull and Boners Hasehes!).  Based upon Some YouTube Clip from Some Video Game Leeroy Jenkins has become the harbinger of all that is melee-ish, and has even warranted it’s own patch. Essentially, per Trifuckta / Triph Uckta, one simply and covertly strips down to pure birthday-suitness and then yells / decries “Leeroy Jenkins!” with all the fervor one can muster while wearing nakedness and then run among the masses with the intent of taking all controll from the RA, which likely isn’t too hard.
 
We listened in awe. Nakedness? Hashiness? Irreverenceness? We were IN!
 
Trifuckta went on to explain that once you Leeroy Jenkins (yes, a noun and a verb) you’ve a moral obligation to assume the naked and running position whenever anyone yells Leeroy Jenkins.  Failure to do so could very well result in the stripping of your Leeroy Jenkins patch.
 
On a side note:  Once you’ve dropped undies and have run around with your assets in the wind is there anything that would prohibit you from doing the same in the future? Could pointing and laughing from your fellow Hashers become worse? I think not.
 
Fast Forward to Saturday, August 16th! Got beer?
 
Tijuana Donkey Fluffer’s Rising Sun Hash (co-hared by Just Ed):
 habu-sake-japanese-snake-wine 7
Another beautiful day in Branford, and the weekend-abandoned Branford Train  Station was the perfect spot for an On-Out (TDF had explained via MeetUp his house would only accommodate 3.5 midgets, which makes me wonder vertically or horizontally).  Cops only drove by once and actually sped up upon seeing Hashers – TTT was not to pop out of another official vehicle.  Alas!  Trail was live, and there was a promise of illicit / illegal booze at the On-In.
 
Trail was shitty, which it to say, it was shitty in the shittiest of shit-for-trail-marking-trails possible ways, yet we persevered!
 
TDF introduced this as an authentic Okinawa, Japan trail (which Don’tYouDare, Bleeding Gash and TDF had run before, but let it be known Don’tYouDare ran the Okinawa Hash the same year that rat-bastard TDF was born, goddammit).  And, introducing a new component to the NH4 Hashes he introduced the BC25 Check!  In essence, there was beer to be found within twenty five feet / yards of the BC (units of measure are quite subjective when Hashing, which you all know).
 
Only half the assembled kennel made it to the Beer Quest, as trail doubled back upon itself and Hashers (read: TTT) opted to chillax sans beer until the true Hashers  reappeared.  Bleeding Gash ran completely past the Beer Quest, which kind of sucked as he was all hell-bent on being FRB and forsaking a giant bottle of refreshing malt liquor (en serio?).e
 
All ended with a poorly-executed limbo at the On-In (Who knew TTT had a set of stolen fast-food restaurant cordoning-off thingies in her trunk?!?!) where TTT claimed FRB and virgin Hector was DFL.  And then it got kind of good.
 
Having about a dozen-ish past-Hash Hashers tucked into the back corner of a quiet train station parking lot made for an amusing time as we we collectively lacked the motivation to find an On After.  Beer was consumed, accusations were made and then we consumed more beer.  Tap That Teacher struck Hasher-Stealing-From-A-Child-Gold on trail when she latched onto a bicycle even smaller than her.  And then at some point TDF took possession, riding it like a clown car into circle for Down Downs with co-Hare Just Ed.
 
The Naming Inquisition of Just Ed revealed he seems to have issues following up on phone calls with the ladies and that, while frequently vying for FRB, he’s surprising not so fast on his feet when answering odd questions thrown at him by fellow Hashers.  He was banished from Circle while a decision was made, and finally rode back on Tijuana Donkey Fluffer’s midget bicycle handle bars.  And now, I’d like to introduce the the Hashing masses, Back Tits McGee!
backtits
 
Okay, it was a bit of a stretch based upon a foolish moment of back tits horny-ness from a trivia night a few days before, but it struck Back Tits like a giant set of, well, back tits, and he was left shocked and appalled that he was not awarded one of Hashing’s more Cool Kids Names, so we considered the naming a great success!
 
TDF then extended the celebration by sharing shots of the Habu Sake he smuggled back from Okinawa on his last tour there.  Imagine, if you will, a vile, rice-based alcohol in which a poisonous snake was killed and then allowed to ferment in to the point its scales began to break off and drift in the boozy mix.  Got it?  Bad alcohol?  Check!  Dead snake?  Check!  Warmed by the summer sun to enhance boozy-snakey goodness?  Check!  We all bravely drank, and Just Linda only threw up a little.
 
So this now-too-long story of three Hashes seems to be winding down, but wait! There’s more!
 
TDF’s On After was cooling down comfortably as dusk started to overtake the train station parking lot.  At some point Hentai Me Down and Just Linda get up and head behind a car at the edge of the lot.  We, as Hashers, conveniently pay no mind to the whispering and covert nature of their escape because, well, we’d all been drinking and our ability to focus sharply was admittedly lacking.
 
And then, out of the darkening dusk comes the cry “LEEROY JENKINS!!!”  And there are Hentai and Just Linda bare-ass naked and running like hell (quite racist behavior) along the edge of the parking lot. TDF stops riding the bike and stands to see the spectacle, and just as he utters something about Peter Griffin we see Just Linda bottom out on her stride.  The ensuing crash and burn played out as slowly for us as it likely did for her.  High speed, no protective clothing and the unforgiving parking lot surface.  It was a perfect Hash, indeed!

 

Rising Sun Hash

mr-miyagi1Start location: Branford train station parking lot (39 Maple Street)
3 pee em
Trail: A to A, live hares: Tiajuana Donkey Fluffer and Just Ed. Turkey/Eagle split, 5-ish miles, 2-3 beer checks, some off-road but not really shiggy.
$5 hash cash

From TDF: My house is too small to fit more than 3 1/2 midgets, so the on-after will be determined by drunk folks upon completion of trail.

Wax on, wax off. Hash like they do in Japan and make Mr. Miyagi proud (he was from Okinawa). I will try to lay the trail like i learned at my first kennel in the mysterious Far East. Wear anything vaguely Japanese related and get a shot of a special drink that I smuggled back to this country at the end of trail. I guess in the case of BYS, get a shot of special water? Chopsticks optional.

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