Blue Hen Hash House Harriers Archive

Newer write-ups are on our blog: The Blue Hen Hash House Harriers Blog

The following are confirmed and unconfirmed accounts of Blue Hen Hash runs. All rights wronged, virginity can be cured. If you remember something not listed, mail it in...the archive continues to grow.

Run #	Description	Hare	Date
1	The Evil Beginning	Fuk Stik & La Poubelle	October 24, 1992
2	VC Thru the Woods	La Poubelle & Fuk Stik	November, 1992
6	Winter Session Hash	Fuk Stik & Scoot-Her	February, 1993
10	1st AGM	Fuk Stik	April, 1993
12	CHEG 112 Final Hash	Fuk Stik	May, 1993
13	Iron Hill Hash	Fuk Stik	September, 1993
14	Lovell Returns	Tsvi Raab	October, 1993
16	MD Redneck Hash	Fuk Stik	November, 1993
19	B&B's 1st Lay	Beavis & Butthead	February, 1994
20	1st St. Pat's Day Hash	Fuk Stik	March 17, 1994
21	2nd AGM	Fuk Stik & La Poubelle	April, 1994
22	Ray Fair Hash	Fuk Stik	May, 1994
31	2nd Annual St. Pat's Day Hash	Fuk Stik	March 17, 1995
32	Prelube to Hockessin H3's 25th	Fuk Stik	April, 1995
33	Football M*rathon	Beergoggles & Slow Cummer	April, 1995
34	One More Left Hash	Fuk Stik	May, 1995
35	Hate Crime's 1st Lay	Hate Crime	October, 1995
37	2nd 1st Hash	Porta Potty Trainee	December, 1995
38	Woodsy Tromp	Beavis & Butthead	January, 1996
39	Winter Session Fiasco	Slow Cummer	February, 1996
40	DE Interhash	???	March, 1996
41	Shark Bar Hash	Porta Potty Trainee	March, 1996
42	AGM	???	April, 1996
43	Graduation Hash	Fuk Stik	May, 1996
44	Mid-Ceremony Hash	Fuk Stik & Beer Goggles	May 25, 1996
45	Reunion Hash	Blew Balls	September, 1996
46	Winter Hash	Hate Crime	January, 1997
47	Ides of March	Hate Crime	March 15, 1997
48	BtB Spand-Ox's Virgin Lay	Babe the Blue Spand-Ox	June 14, 1997
99-101	St. Louis Halfway Hash	Buttsucker, Sky Queen, Fuk Stik, Wetback, Flamin',HC	June 20-22, 1997
52	Kojack Sack's Virgin Lay	Kojack Sack & Sock Boy	July ??, 1997
53	Nitanny Valley 500th Pre-Lube	Hate Crime & Rubber	August 13, 1997
54	???	Wet Back	September ???, 1997
5th Anniversary (55-56)	5th Anniversary Hash	Wet Back, Fuk Stik	October 24-25, 1997
57	New Year's Day Hash	Babe the Blew Spand-Ox & Kojack Sack	January 1, 1998
58	Urban Bungle Hash	Wetback & Kojack Sack	February 1, 1998
59	Stairs Much?	Just Schporto	March 1, 1998
XXX	Blue Hen Field Trip to DC	XXX	March 8, 1998
60	5th Annual St. Patrick's Day Hash	Just Schporto	March 17, 1998
61	Run 61	Sockboy Destroyer of Argyle and just tim	March 29, 1998
62	Where's the Fucking Cheese	The Hasher Formally Known as just /b(ei,ie)l{1,2}/ and Title 18 Section 2423	April 19, 1998
63	Try Pussy (I liked it so much I molested the company)	just sisters nikki, chris and kimberly	April 26, 1998
64	Sicko De Mento	Babe the Blew Spand-Ox	May 5, 1998
69	New Year's Day Hash	Babe the Blew Spand-Ox & Kojack Sack	January 1, 1999
72	For Pussy Hash	i'll respect you in the mourning, Welcum to my Berfday Suit, prickly thighs and duckie	April, 1999
76	Devil's Night Hash	The Hasher Formerly Known as Schporto	October 30, 1999
77	New Year's Day Hash	Babe the Blew Spand-Ox & Kojack Sack	January 1, 2000
78	Mardi Gras Hash	Title 18 Sec. 2423	March 7, 2000
80	New Year's Day Hangover Hash	???	January 1, 2001
81	Yes Virgin there Really is a hash	THFKAS & Just Josh	May 27, 2001
82	One of Twenty-Six	Title 18	September 26, 2001
83	How long are we gonna follow this river?	WaterFoul	October 13, 2001
84	Ninth Anniversary	THFKASchporto, FukStick	October 26, 2001
88	He Need The Money Hangover Appreciation Hash	THFKASchporto, I'll Respect You in the Mourning	January 1, 2002
89	???	???	January 13, 2002
90	???	???	January 26, 2002
91	???	???	February 10, 2002
92	???	???	February 26, 2002
93	???	???	March 10, 2002
94	???	???	March 26, 2002
95	???	???	April 14, 2002
96	AGM	???	April 26, 2002
97	I smell fucking disaster...	Fuk Stik	May 12, 2002
98	Another fine mess...	Fuk Stik	May 26, 2002
102	Last Blood	BadLay and Cums Early	June 9, 2002
103	Death March in the Heat	Title 18, Section 2423	June 26, 2002
104	???	Frontal Lobotomy	July 14, 2002
105	???	???	July 26, 2002
106	???	???	August 11, 2002
107	???	???	August 26, 2002
108	???	???	September 8, 2002
109	Full Moon Hash	THFKA Schporto	September 21, 2002
110	Rain, Anyone?	Fuk Stik	September 26, 2002
111	Pajama Bash	Vaseline Alley	October 12, 2002
112	Hangover Deathmarch	Vaseline Alley and Cums Early	October 13, 2002

The Beginning

The Blue Hen Hash House Harriers were founded on October 24, 1992 by Tom "Axl" Tarka and Dan Rosen. Roughly 15 minutes before the run began, Dela-WET decided to live up to its name and a thunderstorm rolled through, pouring down rain for roughly 10 minutes. With the run all but washed away, Dan finishing laying the trail and Axl needing to buy beer, the hares hoped that the pack would be able to follow what remained of the flour. Needless to say, Axl had the fore-sight to print up shirts which read "Blue Hen Hash House Harriers, Run #1, "The Worst Screw-up yet...".

At roughly 2:15 pm, the pack, consisting of 18 visitors and 3 virgin Delawarians, set off on what was left of the trail, into the now sopping woods behind Ray Street and Axl set off for the food and beer. The trail consisted of mostly woods, including some bush-wacking, trail-running, and one river-crossing at a false. There were two downed barbed-wire fences which the pack would be crossing, one into a field, one out of the same field.

The pack somehow remained on flour for a good part of the run, picking up Sam Kinch, another virgin who happened to be riding by on his scooter, along the way. Sam, having heard about the run a few days earlier, had run into the Park Rangers before coming across the pack, and had the sense to divert the rangers to another area of the Park that he didn't think the run would be crossing.

After Sam met up with the pack, they came to the downed barbed-wire fence (the pack lifted the scooter over the fence) and entered a field. Within moments, the pack was having problems locating the flour in the empty, grassy field, dismissing the white splotches on the horse-dung for mold (which indeed was flour). A Maryland harriet took the lead, exclaiming that she knew the way, and proceeding to run up a hill towards a farm house. This turned out to be the wrong answer, as a pick-up truck came screaming down the hill towards the pack, nearly running over the FRBs, and spinning to a halt. The driver, otherwise known as Farmer John, proceeded to ask the FRBs what the hell they were doing there, and, accused them of scaring his prize horses.

The pack, in the typical fashion, replied that they were running and the man in the hat, "Woody", was in charge. Woody was chosen as he was currently bringing up the rear of the pack. As the farmer sped off to intercept Woody, the rest of the pack hi-tailed it into the woods, scooter in tow.

Having completely lost the trail, the pack started heading back to the start, only to run into Axl, the hare, car loaded down with multiple kegs and miscellaneous food. They proceeded to the On-In, a beautiful clearing next to a waterfall, and the rest begins to get blurry. Of the pack, roughly 16 were drinking, but with the help of the hares and a few random people John Lovell picked up in the bar while grabbing the pizzas, the 1/2 keg and 10 pizzas disappearred in about 45 minutes.

During this time, songs filled the air, Axl was presented with a "magic wand" found on the trail, follwed by him playing tonsil-hockey with every Baltimore Harriette, in thanks for the gift, and the hares, Axl and Dan Rosen, were "Crabbed" by the Baltimore/Annapolis hash. When the beer finally ran dry, the pack moved on, staggering the 1/4 up-hill to dancing and further refreshment.

The next stop was the "Down Under", a local establishment which was completely empty at 4:30 pm, and had a dance-floor, darts, etc. Excessive amounts of alcohol were consumed and the party picked up more steam, if possible, until about three different hashers managed to break their beer mugs on route to, or on the dance floor. Needless to say, it was time to go, and the hares, the virgins, Ian Cumming, and John Lovell headed back to Axl's dorm-room to tap the 1/4 keg.

4 hours later, the party started winding down, Axl was renamed "Fuk Stik" after bedding some woman while the party had raged around him, and the no one slowly but surely, people started passing out around the room.

Babe the Blue Spand-Ox's Virgin Lay, Run #48

We were told he had the basic concepts down. We were told he could lay trail through woods. We were told he knew about beer checks. Well I'll be damned, we weren't lied to for a change.

The usual Blue Hen pack (read 5) showed up in the parking lot in front of the Elkton Road Acme. Sandman, as he was then known, was waiting with a smile on his first. They say you never forget the first time. Plus, it's not often that Babe gets to lay something anyway, unless you count those excursions to the adult book store. Wet Back (formerly Jerry), Chic D.S., the hare, and I waited patiently for Sporto to show, he never came. We went to make him cum and played car tag for a few minutes before finally starting.

The trail headed to field across the street where everyone except myself proceeded to go down an incredibly obvious false, suckers. We bushwhacked our way through the field and some woods before encountering what would turn out to be our nemesis for the day, a stream. Some tried to avoid the stream in a futile attempt to keep themselves somewhat dry. I jumped, I missed, I got mud up my ass. This was my fate throughout the rest of the trail.

We ran, we came to the stream again, again we crossed. We ran, we came back to the stream, we crossed. We ran some more, Chic and Sporto tracked into some unnecessary shiggy, we came to the stream, we crossed (note the recurring theme). The stream tried to eat Wet Back's shoe, he got it back. At this point Wet Back and I decided to make friends with the stream and stayed in it until just before the beer check.

At the beer check, Spand-Ox (still smiling) and the always loved Wheelie Cooler greeted us with cold Bud. We drank, we bitched, we discussed how many down-downs Spand-Ox should get, Chic smoked (big shock). After a few cold ones we headed back out on trail to our final stream crossing and a failed attempt to catch up with the hare who sped out of the parking lot with the remnants of the beer check (bastard!). A short jaunt down the road to Madison and we were on-in.

We began the apres with a few beers and the starting o' the grill. At this point we were joined by two guys who spoke in ebonics. Apparently they followed trail too, just none of the stream parts. Anyway, none of us could understand a damn word they said and proceeded to do down-downs. Spand-Ox got a few for his shitty trail, Chic got one for FRB just because he touched the door first and because he wanted to drink, Wet Back got one for being Greek or something, Sporto got one for disrespect, and I did one for something too.

Shit hash, what else,

Hate Crime

St. Louis Halfway Hash

St. Louis Halfway Hash, Part 1a

The Blue Hen Halfway Hash, aka: the St. Louis Halfway Hash, the Do Me in St. Louie Hash, the disaster of the century, BH4 invades BellScot, the drunken Roadtrip from hell

Well, at least that's what the T-shirt said and it seemed pretty in line with all the propaganda that I had put out on the web and in flyers meant for the Pissburgh 600th. But when it all started (read: when I got in the car to drive the 930 miles to Belleville, IL) it seemed much more innocent than that, just like any other roadtrip. Not 300 miles into the trip, Michael (YTBN, although many ideas are circulating) and I realized that despite the assurances of the AAA (that's American Auto Association, I'm no quitter!) map which stated it was an 18 hour drive to St. Louis from Denver, we were a third of the way there (and not even in Kansas!). Granted, up until this point I've been barrelling down I-70 between 80-95 mph, but here we had expected to get to the hotel just around check-in time, have lunch, scout some trail for Saturday, then get drunk on a pub-crawl in St. Louis, and suddenly we have an estimated extra 6 hours between arrival and check-in at the hotel. Well after brief consideration, we determined we should *not* stop by Chicago for the hell of it and instead take the speed down a notch and plan on getting some well deserved sleep before the run.

After what was a relatively uneventful ride to St. Louis and beyond, we pull into Belleville, IL and the Executive Inn. We must've looked sorry enough that the night man at the EI decided to let us check in early at no-charge (actually, I think his friend convinced him, but whatever) and I sign some form stating there can't be more than X amount of people in the room at one time or some such -- as if I care after the 13 1/2 hour drive -- and we crash out in moments.

11 a.m. BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

ugh. 4-5 hours of sleep somehow didn't cut it, guess I'm either getting to be a lightweight or the hotel bed wasn't what it needed to be (couldn't have been the week of partying full-bore leading up to the weekend, nope! :-) ) So I drag my sorry ass out to the car to get Sky Queen's phone # and call him to let him know we're in town and ready to go for lunch as we had planned. Well, not 5 minutes after I've gone back to bed, the Blue Hen party van pulls up with Sandler, Chic, James, Hate Crime, and Jerry... blaster in tow, bitching about driving straight from delaware and someone not wanting to stop for food or whatever. I'm glad to see them, but hit the showers as their getting settled. Sky Queen shows up shortly there after and we head to "Show-Me's", the local version of Hooters, and are well rewarded -- not only with buxom women wearing tight clothes, but *friendly* buxom women wearing.

...I guess you get the point. We order some beer to start off, followed by Chic ordering a round of Jaegermeister shots for all interested parties. Somehow I ended up with two and I'm soon quite over my morning haze and into a new one as we're all putting down beers and interacting with the locals and working on getting our waitress to show up for the run the next day. Meanwhile, the one shortly thereafter named Wet Back immediately insults the waitress with his food order -- a statement along the lines of "I'll have the Buffalo Wings, and tell your cook that he's a pussy and can't make them hot enough, no matter how hard he tries"...meanwhile I envision (quite correctly) how the rest of this weekend is going to turn out and I'm overjoyed that I can be reunited with such a druken bunch as those who call themselves the Blue Hens. Much drinking ensues, the wings turn out not to be hot enough, so the waitress brings out a cup of sauce for Wet Back to dip his wings in...a sauce that still doesn't quite cut it, and meanwhile Sky Queen buys me a "Show Me's" calender and manages to get it autographed by at least a half a dozen of the women therein...all of whom happen to be working that day (with the exception of the cute bartender who I'm still sorry we missed). I can't remember many of the conversations that went on over lunch, but I *do* remember Chic's insistance at finding a sex shop so that we could buy a blow up goat (apparrently they're illegal in DelaWHERE, go figure), getting directions to a few stores and that this would be a theme throughout the weekend, no matter where we were.

Before long we're back at the hotel, Sky Queen's jetted off on some errand so we're left alone with 4 coolers full of beer and the hotel swimming pool. Drunken swimming ensues as we wait for Sky Queen's return (so he, Wet Back and I can scout trail) and ButtSucker's arrival with directions to the pub-crawl in St. Louis that evening. By the time ButtSucker arrives, we're out of the pool and getting riled for the run...he explains the situation and we spend the next hour or so packing the cars full of beer, waiting for Sky Queen, and verifying directions. Just as we're about to bolt for St. Louis ( a bit early for the run in an attempt to miss ball-game traffic) we run into Back Door and Back Door Man who have just checked in. We hurriedly give them directions and then pile into the Blue Hen party van, music blaring in the hot sun (bloody hot weekend that it was going to turn out to be), and off to St. Louie.

The next few hours passed pretty quickly as we hung out in the middle of St. Louis, listening to a Stevie Ray Vaughn style band, stealing up to ButtSucker's car for refills, and meeting some of the incoming St. Louis hashers. A few BellScot Hashers showed up for the pub crawl (which was a dead lay set by ButtSucker and Col's Lay-Dy), but it was mostly Blue Hens (with the Blue Hen soon after named Kojack Sack meeting us at the concert) and St. Louis hashers. Hate Crime handed out the name-tags he had made for the occaision, and Col's Lay-Dy handed out our tickets for beer at the pubs. After a while, the pack was gathered and was finally off in a blaze of speed through St. Louis!

Now, I could go through the pub-crawl in detail, but as it turned out, the pub-crawl turned into quite a little pub-marathon. I didn't mind, I got "misplaced", as is expected (we tell all our virgins, rule #1 of hashing: "Never follow Fuk Stik"), along with Hate Crime, Sky Queen, Butt Floss and Michael...but that was later. For now, I'll let someone else pick up the story of the pub-crawl because I haven't the energy to recount all 4 (?) bars and each false we caught and still get up for work tomorrow! "pub-crawl" began!
--Fuk Stik

St. Louis Halfway Hash, Part 1b

>Now, I could go through the pub-crawl in detail, but as it turned out, the >pub-crawl turned into quite a little pub-marathon. I didn't mind, I got >"misplaced", as is expected (we tell all our virgins, rule #1 of hashing: >"Never follow Fuk Stik"), along with Hate Crime, Sky Queen, Butt Floss and >Michael...but that was later. For now, I'll let someone else pick up the >story of the pub-crawl because I haven't the energy to recount all 4 (?) >bars and each false we caught and still get up for work tomorrow! >"pub-crawl" began!

But-Sucker explained the trail signs. Pretty ordinary except the womens check (a check where you have to wait for a woman to show up and find the trail). Then off we went. Blacktop, blacktop, blacktop a fairly ordinary urban hash. After around a mile and a half we stopped at the first pub. A sorta cheapy place by the river that served its beer in plastic cups and had a karioki machine in back. I forget if we sang anything [without use of machine] (that's not true...I know Fuk Stick and I sang something, I forget it the group did). It was at this pub that I met a few of the local hashers..the only one I remember was Early Discharge; she was a BellScot that stuck with us the entire weekend.

Then off for a 2 mile run, passed The Arch, through a park and the warehouse district (including the home of Ronco) (the hares yelling to stay together because this is a bad area and hope we get through before dark and telling me that it is a "running club" and that I should not have to walk [note on mile 3.5]). Eventually we end up at a little hole-in-the-wall bar (at this point chic points out to me "how can this be a pub crawl? We passed six bars to get here"). Well there was much singing and drinking (from glassware even) it even felt like a hash. We sang the days of hashing (Today is Monday) and Chicago (I messed up a verse and drank a down-down and was handed another beer by Fuk Stik [personal note: thanks])

Off we went for another 1.5 miles (more for the rest of ya'all suckers that got lost, ended up at the on-in bar and had to backtrack). To a quaint little Irish (or as chic says "British") bar where we were served Bud-lite. We drank for awhile and chic did some "traditional" (well sorta made it up as he went along) British dance. (ever notice how the powder used on a fiddle can look like a flour mark....and three of them....must have been a false trail). At this point I was so exhausted that the beer was affecting me. I started to wear a food basket as a yamukah and had kojak sack sneak it out over his balls. Was But-floss there?..I think I remember her and her amazing rack..

Well the hares were going to lead a short-cut to the final bar (around .75 miles away) but took off running...excuse me this is supposed to be a short-cut for the people who were too slow wasn't it (whine, whine)? Well, I ran into flaming asshole in a car (who I had never met before, but I was hang'n with his girl) and he gave me an auto-hash to the last bar...

Someone else's turn....
--Babe the Blew Spand-Ox

BellScot Hash Trash--R*ns #56-58--20-22 June 97

Venues: Downtown St. Louis and Executive Inn, Belleville Conditions: Hot and humid, raging downpours, cool and humid Hares: Sky Queen and Blue Hens; Flamin'

Boring Details: This trash captures the essence of the Blue Hen Halfway Hash weekend to commemorate the Blue Hen's 100th r*nning, held in conjunction with BellScot and Belleville-St. Louis. The Blue Hen hash is situated at the University of Delaware. Their GM, Fuk Stik, has graduated and moved on to allegedly gainful employment in Boulder, CO. The Halfway Hash concept provided an opportunity for their whole hash to reunite for their 100th r*n (and to pillage our city, drink our beer and steal our women). Well, they did get to drink some of our beer.

R*n #56: (Full Moon r*n, Friday night) The BellScot mis-management originally decided that this would not count as an official BSH3 r*n, because it was a dead trail starting on the west side and was co-hared by St. Louis hares. However, due to the fact that so many BSH3 regulars showed up and Buttsucker is a frequent BSH3 attendee, I decided that this will count as BSH3 r*n #56 (so fire me). The trail was very similar to one I laid in downtown St. Louis 3 years ago, but that was before many of you were here, so it seemed new to most attendees. It was a typical St. Louis trail in one respect: too much r*nning and not enough drinking for a supposed pub crawl. The festivities started in Keiner Plaza, beer warm ups started around 6:00 for a scheduled 8:00 r*n start. I arrived there with Butt Floss, ED, and Byte Me around 7:00, just in time to get a couple of beers and sing a few songs before the start. This clearly was not a BSH3 r*n, we promptly started the trail at 7:58. The trail started just northwest of the plaza at the corner of 7th and Chestnut (unfortunately, Leatherballs and WTFYB arrived "on time" but never found the start or the pack). We generally meandered north for a short distance before turning eastward towards Laclede's Landing. Several of us guessed that the first beerstop would be the Morgan Street Brewery, but trail went straight by there and continued to another place called Handy's about 5 blocks away. We picked up Backdoor Man and Backdoor there. The Blue hens wasted no time complaining about the humidity, and I knew they were in for a long night. We drank a few beers, sang a couple of songs, then were off again. The trail then went down to the riverfront and came back up to the Gateway Arch National Park. There was a check under the apex of the arch, which gave the Blue hens and several locals a chance to appreciate the enormity and height of the arch. True trail was found craniuming southward towards the Soulard and after a short stretch of confusing trail markings we finally found our way to beerstop #2 at BB's on Broadway. We drank more beer and sang "I Used to Work in Chicago;" little did we know what lay acranium. As we left the stop, the hares asked us to stay together, as we would be traversing some stranger-unfriendly territory. One would expect that the trail would then be well marked, so as to keep everyone together. Perhaps it was at one time, but by the time we got there, it was hard to follow and we spread out like a puddle of puppy piss on the kitchen floor. I don't know where the trail went, but I led a group of about six of us to the last bar (I had been tipped off by the hares), where we then r*n the trail backwards (yelling "no no") to bar #3, McGuirks. We got there right after Col's Lady had closed out her bar tab and there was momentary confusion before the staff got their shit together. We drank our beer while the early arrivers straggled out. Then, since we knew where the ending was and had already r*n the trail backwards, we chose to go straight to the end (Molly's). A sizable number of early arrivers joined our beeline to the end. Flamin managed to find us after arriving late from the airport. There we had ham and turkey hoagies and pitchers of Schlafey's Pale Ale. We went out in the alley for the circle so as not to piss off the other paying customers too much more (some took exception to the "S&M Man"). I left around 0100, I heard later that drinking continued back at the hotel until about 0200.

R*n #57: (Hares Sky Queen, Fuk Stik, and Just Jerry) Notes by Flamin'.

Saturday's hash wound up like all other BellScot weekend events....beautiful hashing conditions throughout! The sky was clear, the wind was light, and the temperature was balmy....That is until we got between the second and third bars!

Sky Queen and Fuk Stik arrived at the start on time (BellScot time) for the beginning of the Darkside's version of a pub crawl. Over 25 hashers sent Sky Queen and Fuk Stik off on their merry way. Someone from the Blue Hen hash, who was well on his way to celebrating their 100th hash, brought out a concoction on what appeared to be nuclear waste by-products in a bug spray container. Feeling obliged to help the Blue Hens celebrate, the local hashers helped lighten the load...actually, they heard the green neon juice had 180 proof hooch in it...You know what they say...Drink Grain, No Pain! Over 15 minutes later, the pack took of in hot pursuit for the first of what they hoped would be numerous watering holes, each with less distance between the previous. The hares were rather devious...they managed to scatter the pack within minutes of starting. Eventually, the pack made it to the first bar. It was an uneventful stop. DickSmith, a visiting hasher from Waukesha, earned DFL honors and Early Discharge "won" the first leg of the hash. They were given a down-down and singin began as the hares left for the second bar. Of note, Cums in Brown was found holding up a bar stool, en route to "a friend's wedding." Everyone knows, friends don't let friends get married...which makes this scribe doubt the accuracy of his story. After more twisting through the streets of Belleville, the pack made it to the second bar where, once again, DickSmith was awarded DFL honors--A Blue Hen hasher "won" this leg. They aptly performed the tradition for such heinous sins, singin' once again commenced, and the pack was of again towards bar #3. This trail turned out to be the most interesting...Mother Nature was up to her usual tricks. Right as the pack was leaving the bar, the skies opened up and poured out enough water to keep Noah's arc afloat. Half the pack went right--towards the motel/alternate bar, while the rest of the pack followed true trail to the third bar. After about 45 minutes of searching for the rest of the pack, the "true trail" hashers were off in search of the fourth bar. They were accompanied by the bartender from the third bar, a welcum addition named Just Arva. She led the way to the fourth bar, which was actually scheduled to be the third bar. As we later found out, the hares diverted because they were being pursued by a Blue Hen hasher. [Sky Queen note: the third bar was planned as Friday's East. However, as we approached, Hate Crime was waiting there and almost snared Just Jerry. Quick adaptive planning (motivated by panic) resulted in us going to the "new" bar #3 (I believe "RJ's"), where we picked up Just Arva.] At the fourth bar, we watched the white water(about 9" to 1 foot deep) roll down the main drag. After completely soaking the floor in bar #4, the pack took off in search of bar # 5, which turned out to be the location of the other long lost weak-dick wankers who were afraid of getting a little...okay a lot....wet! After a quick beer stop, we craniumed back to the outdoor pool for some body part painting (Two Head's comment: "These boys don't get out enough"), a rather lengthy circle, though a good circle including ice parking, followed by a quick trip to Taco Bell by Flamin' and Back Door for 60 Tacos and 30 Burritos....Boy did they love us! Furthermore, we consumed over 200 packets of hot sauce...Beans and hot sauce and beer...oh my! Beans and hotsauce and beer....

R*n #58: (Hares Blue Hens and Flamin') After much singin' and debauchery, the time finally came for the "midnite" hash...So as to not catch cold, some hashers were observed placing socks on various parts of their body to keep them nice and toasty. Knitty titties and socks on cocks...Dr. Suess has nothing on the hashers! The pack was hearty and full of beans and hot sauce and beer, oh my! The Blue Hens assumed hare responsibilities...they looked like chickens with their heads chopped off runnin' around in the parking lot. Finally, one of the Bell Scot hashers who will go nameless took off around the fence and into the residential neighborhood. About half way through the 3/4 mile jaunt, the hare did a hash halt at the top of a hill next to a townhouse...After catching their breath and collecting their "things", they went screaming past an elderly woman's back window as she watched TV...I don't think her husband got any sleep that night after she observed the 21 moon salute! Back to the hotel for mo' beer, singin' and various assorted "other" activities....Believe me, I'm not gonna go there! "What happens in the hash, stays in the hash." - Anonymous All in all, it was another sh*tty hash weekend.

On on
--Sky Queen and Flamin A**hole

Virgins: Just Arva (two r*ns)
Visitors: Blue Hen Hash, DickSmith
Namings: Babe the Blue SpandOx (Blue Hen), Just Jerry (Blue Hen) named Wet Back, Just Kristen (BSH3) named Rug Burn.
Hashit: DickSmith (for taking it), Sky Queen (for bogarting it), Flamin' (just because)
DFL: DickSmith (too many times to remember)
FRB: ED, Blue Hen hashers
Wankers in Attendance: Back Door Man, Back Door, Just Chic (DE), Byte Me, Early Discharge, Butt Sucker, Beak Her, Just Kristin (BSH3), Ball in Hand, Blows His Own, DickSmith (from Waukesha), Dick Smoker, Just James (DE), Just Jason (STL), Pussy Peeker, Flamin' A**Hole, Two Heads, Just Andy (STL), He 'Hore, Hate Crime (DE), Fuk Stik (DE), Dog Man (STL), Just Jerry (DE), Sky Queen (hare), Babe the Blew SpandOx (DE), Butt Floss

Nittany Valley 500th Pre-lube

Rose Butt's write-up of the Pre-lube:

"THE ONLY THING OFFENSIVE IN HASHING IS TAKING OFFENSE AT ANYTHING THAT HAPPENS DURING A HASH. Most of us are here to get away from stupid hypersensitivity of the kiss-ass business world. We're here to relax, run and socialize. It's okay to pound on the hares, especially for a poorly laid trail. Beyond that, LAY BACK AND RELAX! If anyone is incapable of abiding by these basic guidelines, then they need to find another activity.

"The hash started at the Deer Park Cesspool and Beer Recycling Center. Here we met up with the Blue Hen Children's Hash. A quick sign laying; perfunctory kiss, grope, three pushes and groan, was followed by two people trying to enthusiastically involve the rest of us in _Father Abraham_. This died an agonizing and prolonged death. Finally, we were given the call to trail. Beetle Dick and Mad Hattor were quickly on trail followed by Rosebutt and the rest of the hash. Across camps to and between science buildings we quickly chased. Back to Newark Lumber and then to the East End Caf for a quick rest and the first of only two beer stops. From here chased up through Newark Shopping Center and through several car lots along Cleveland Avenue. Shortly we were headed west on the only shiggy we were to know. Chasing around Rodney Dormitories and Prison Compound we found trail to the Crab Trap. From here we were directed south to Park Place following a covered sewer. Once on Park Place, it was an easy jog to the Apres at the domicile of three reputed college males. This place even surpassed my sister-in-law's for orderliness and cleanliness. Most of s spent the Apres outside and decided not to see if our vaccinations were effectively working. Down Downs were performed with Mad Hattor being First In, five virgins, five fith runs and one new shoes (and excellent tits) being drown. The Apres consisted of beer, potato chips, pre-fab grease burgers and hot dogs. In other words, poor college folk food."

Runs 55 & 56 -- The 5th Anniversary of Blue Hen Hashing

When the crew started assembling on that Friday night no one knew what horrors they would face that evening. Nay, they did not even know that they themselves would become horrific twisted monsters before the evening was through. They would transform from young, ordinary, healthy kids on a night out into the beast that was lurking latent just beneath the surface of their fragile personas. They would become Hashers. This is a recounting of a tale of horror and amusement as remembered by at least one of the surviving youths.

Friday night 6pm: 1 hour before the "Break In The Blaster" pub-crawl is about to start. We are only missing people, a blaster, blaster mix and any organization what so ever. Wetback starts making phone calls. Meanwhile Spand-Ox is running around the planet getting the Allentown Horn from the repair shop. 6:45 (as the crew is about to leave for the Deer Park) Grizzly Snizz calls on the phone, lost as usual. Can't follow directions (as usual). She is so disoriented that she can't even describe her surroundings. Spand-Ox tells her how to get to the Deer Park and goes off to buy a Blaster and head to the Deer Park. Once the crew starts gathering at the Deer Park Alcohol starts to freely flow. The Crew included: Babe the Blew Spand-Ox, Doke, Chick, Kojak Sack, Wetback, Fuk Stik, Bridge Over the River Twat (BORT), Grizzly Snizz, Rosebutt, Horn Blower, John B., Martini Cocoa, some Irish Guy, Scooter, and Just Another Little Pecker (JALP).

After they all had consumed a quantity of Alcohol at the Deer Park the group went into the rain. Supposedly to follow a trail set by Fuk Stik and Wetback. The combination of the flour famine and the rain left little to no trail to be found. The group was helped along by the hare from the Deer Park into some mud and then to Grottos. After a few songs it was not long before we were kicked out and went to Kate's (skipped Iron Hill because the mark was under a parked car). At Kate's we Alawettaed a volunteer, got Kicked out and went to Iron Hill. Got kicked out there because a lesbian that tried to hit on Grizzly Snizz got offended. (We didn't mind, the beer sucked anyway.) (mass piss break on the bank wall) Went to Maxwell T's. A pub that was almost exactly like the Down Under only with lamer music and less of a crowd. They would have kicked us out if we weren't essentially their only customers. Instead they took our picture to hang on the wall. Then we went back home (I mean of course...the Deer Park). We lost a few people on the way: Rosebutt....couldn't take all rate of alcohol, JALP....Got laid, Horn Blower....No Idea. The Partying and drinking went into the night.

Cut to the Sand-Castle. Spand-Ox gets to his home first looking for JALP (didn't know he left with a girl, BORT was concerned). Shortly thereafter Fuk Stik shows (after puking in someone's car) and passes out on the couch. One by one the humble hasher's home gets filled with the scourge of society.

Day 2 (The Worst Disaster Yet)
At the break of noon most of the hashers were up and about. From there we split up promising to meet at 2pm at the Deer Park. Spand-Ox went to engrave a trumpet, Chic to buy hard alcohol, Fuk Stik to do Fuk Stik type things and arrange the On-After Aprs. Some hashers went to the diner to get "food." Well anyway, some of us made it to the Deer Park at 2pm to meet our out of town hashers. After another hour or two (give or take a Todd) we had everyone who was going to hash assembled. We did some songs and started piling into the Love Van to take us to the trail. The Blue Hens were: Spand-Ox, Hate Crime, Chic, Kojak Sack, Wetback, James, Todd and Fuk Stick. The visiting hashers: JALP and BORT from San Diego, Gunjaman from the Philadelphia running club, Grizzly Snizz from Hershey/Harrisburg, and Pro-Blow from Nashville. The New Boots: Andrea, Anne, Gwen, Katie, Mark, Mike, and Todd. There might have been more people but they weren't interesting enough to mention here.

The trail started in White Clay Creek Park. It was hunting season. We went there and yelled at some hunters who threatened to shoot us. We kept on hashing. We drank some beer and sang some songs. We hashed some more. Over the river (at least once...up to three times for some) by wading (most) swimming (Anne) or tree climbing (after wading). Up and down and around to the On-In. The Pizza was cold and the beer was absent. The Hashers were angry and had to do with liquid heroin (equal parts: Goldschlager, Rumplemintz, and Jaeger...it warms the soul). Eventually the keg and tap showed up and there was much rejoicing.

What happened in the circle: lots of drinking. We iced the hare for a shitty hunter-laden trail. Then Kojak Sack because he was made Jointmaster. Then Wet-Back because he was made RA. Then me because I was made: Hare-Raiser, On-Sec, and Songmeister. Finally we had a naming. The hasher formally known as just Chic (our designated smoker) is now known as Sockboy Destroyer of Argyle. There was a recounting of how he played with Arva's Tit for hours and destroyed an Argyle Sock (belonging to Kojak) in the process.

If this were the end of the story we would all have more brain cells today. Alas it is not. We all piled into the Love Van and decide that Spand-Ox was sober enough to drive. On the way home we had to drop off some people who left their cars at the original lot. It is here were we met Officer McFaden. The kindly officer gave an informative lecture to Spand-Ox (the driver of the Love Van) about the danger of going into parks during hunting season (I did not know hashers were in season). Meanwhile the crew with the tapped keg in the back was quiet. Spand-Ox even slips in a "yes, sir" to let the officer know that he is paying attention. We are allowed to go with one last warning. "Following Hash Marks Will Get You In Trouble." Well, I think we should take this to heart. But, by the way, next time you are in a bar (you might be in one right now) drink to the health of Officer McFadden because we all left without any additional marks on our criminal records. After that thrilling climax I won't even bother to tell you of the party in Pinebrook or the co-ed naked run, Grizz and HC's Gay Bar Adventure, or even the people having sex next to the pool table in the Sand-Castle....it would be anticlimactic. So remember boys and girls: Following hash marks will get you in trouble...and have nice day.
--Babe The Blew Spand-Ox

Run 57 -- New Years Day

Some run for their health. Some run for their life. Some run for glory. Some run for honor. We walk because we are too hungover.

We all gathered to on this first day of the New Year to pay homage to what is really important to us: Good friends, bad songs, cheap beer, the Deer Park..and Doke (Baby New Year). The crawl was supposed to start sometime after Spand-Ox (me) dragged his hungover ass out of bed, bought some shit, laid some trail, and got to the Deer Park. Hopefully this would be around 4pm. Well, I actually got there 20 minutes early. I think this is a first, a Blue Hen showing up early for a Blue Hen Run. What was I thinking?

The crowd slowly gathered: Kojack Sack (who crashed at The SandCastle so I made him co-hare), Babe the Blew Spand-Ox, Just James (the pedophile), (un)Just James (The one who is trying to vote us into a third world country), Just Biel, Just Doke, Just Danniel, Just Ether, Just Adam (my favorite son), Just Kristen (BR), Wet Back, and Sockboy Destroyer of Argyle.

The trail started hard and long (just the way Sockboy likes his men) and took a grueling course through the Deer Park around some heavy shiggy (chairs) to the first beer check (three tables away). The pack drank then deparked and followed a checkback to Wet Back's car (where we had to drop off some shit). Blah blah blah blah where Kojack Sack and Spand-Ox showed the pack their butts on which were written Happy Birthday (in honor of Doke)..Blah Blah Blah The (Crab) Trap..Blah Blah Blah laundry room impromptu beer stop to warm up and play with the carts (until Kojack started to play with the security system and we left.fast)..Blah Blah..Beer Check in playground..Blah Blah. .Beer False (a false we had beer anyway) at Schporto's (sorry about the flower in the hall Chris). Blah Blah On In at The SandCastle.

There was some drinking in the circle and Just James (not the one who thinks closed minded bible thumpers are good for our govt...the other one) got named. Just James will hence forth be known as: Title 18 Section 2423

Then we went to Pizza The Hutt to sing Unchained Melody every time it was played...Scarey..but not as scary as the art chick freaks in the next table.
--Babe the Blew Spandox

No write-up for the Feb 1st Hash

You could buy costly equipment or join an expensive health club but why bother when you have hashing?

You could have workout schedule like the following:

The days would start at 2pm at the Deer Park where you start with plenty of fluids and vitamin C (Mammossas).

Next a short jog around our outdoor track to our upper and lower body workout area. This is a combination of hills for the legs and branches that must be move by the arms. This combination is proven to burn twice as much fat as watching TV.

Next the stair climber. Other health clubs have been criticized because they only have a few machines that use resistance to simulate gravity. At Hash Spas we use an actual 17 story dorm building. Once you get to the top you have the opportunity to try our marinated fruit cup. Back down and into our hill course to a rehydration point. At this site we have build a large rock climbing wall.

Off again using the branch climbing system until the third rehydration point with its view of a scenic unnamed bridge (just look up).

A short swim in our stream and around a pond to, you guessed out, our last rehydration stop. Then its off over the asphalt mogul course through the flats to end at The Beast End Cafe. All of this and it only costs 1 soul. Yes, that's right 1 soul. If you don't have a soul (lets say you have hashed before) your can come for free (some restricts may apply, taxes fees and hash cash not included).

New Boots:
Yes, we had one
Visitors:
Beeper - Hock [ed: Hockessin H3]

Circle Events:
Naming: Just Doke now know as "He Needed the Money"
(ok someone said "little Boy blew" and we all responded)
Titling: "Just Beil" is now Hash Cash

A unending stream of violations and awards and then an unending stream of singing.

On On

PS and by the way: My spelling and grammar suck

5th Annual St. Patrick's Day Hash

Well if you thought just schporto's last trail didn't have enough flour on it this one must really take the sauerkraut. There was almost no flour at all. (But that's ok, he used chalk.) The St. Patty's day hash started as our begrizzled hashers met at the DP at 7pm. (Slowly but anemically hashers arrived.) Once it looked like no more would show we had another round of beers and went outside for the blessing of the hare, the trail, and the hoard of new boots. The marks were explained as follows: A spot was represented by the water symbol from The Fifth Element (no, not Boron ... the movie). A check was a shamrock. An arrow was an arrow and a false was marked with an 'F'.

It was tally the hoes and off into the ugly monstrosity known as the UofD parking garage. [Ed Note: What is up with the hasher formally known as just schporto and stairs?] Up, down, around, through and mockingly close to a few bars (Grotto's was calling me) passing them and ending up at The Bar Formally Known As The Crab Trap. There we drank, sang and drank some more. The entertainment included: The Engineer's Song. The Old Dun Cow. The Wild Rover. Cold Winter's Evening. Also, some guy we just sorta happened upon gave as a few songs none us had ever heard before or are likely to hear again.

Bottoms' up and more trail (including a fence that needed climbing and a wall that needed pissing on) and on-in to the hasher formally known as just schporto's abode. As a tribute to St. Patrick the trail was set such that during the entire trail not a snake was seen. (I wonder if we can find a saint to drive all the rats away from Rodney Dining Hall?) Circle up and the new boots all told us that just kimberly make them cum. There were throngs of them (8 I believe). If they come back for other runs I might even put their names in the next piece of trash. In other circle news the hasher formally known as schporto was named: an impronouncible symbol

And then we drank, we drank for hours - uprooting tree, shrubs and flowers. It was a source of much singing and personal fulfillment. The beer was the best we have had at a hash for awhile and the company was beatific. Truly a hash I am glad that I attended. On-On and On-Out.

Babe the Blew Spand-Ox

Run 61 -- March 29th

Well, we of the Blue Hen I think are now disqualified from complaining about the length of other hashs. Ok, maybe we can still bitch about the distance traveled or not enough beer but not how long it takes. In this trash I will try and relate many of the events that took place between 2pm (when we got to the Deer Park) and 8:15pm (when we left the bEast End Cafe).

Hares: Sockboy Destroyer of Argyle and just tim

2pm Deer Park. I met just kimberly and just KRis for some beer. (Sockboy DOA and just tim were inside, out of the glorious weather, being anti-social). By the time we had finished the first pitcher others had arrived (hashers and pictures). Wetback (who's hair was nappy, clothes did not match, looked like he had a bit of a beer belly and smelled foul [fuck with the on-sec will you?!] wanted to be known as Fuck You [at least that's how we signed the book]) came and offered us his left-over runner's tang (mimosas).

As each doggie passed the entrance, each doggie signed the book, each doggie hung his asshole, upon his very own hook.

The hasher's included:

Named Blue-Hens:
Babe the Blew Spand-Ox
SockBoy Destroyer of Argyle
Fuck You!
The Hasher Formally Known as Just Schporto
He Needed the Money

The Unnamed Blue-Hens:
Just kimberly
Just chris
Just tim
Just biell
Just nikki
Just anne

The Visitors (from the other area Hash):
Do Me (On The Beach)
Butthead
Deadhead

Well, once we had some beer in us we were ready to go to the location of the start of the hash: the Curtis Paper Mill. Once the trail marks were described (or not described in the case of the mysterious MT) and the hounds were blessed (or prepared to be fried with a light coating of flour), the visitors ran off as quickly as they could in search of trail. The trail we found was fairly straight with a few falses across water (or dilapidated bridges with missing sections). That is until we had to cross the dreaded White Clay Creek (musical sting).

[Flashback: Master Po saying to Grasshopper "When you can cross the water without twisting your ankle then you will be a Shau Lin"]

Now according to the official record just kimberly, Do Me and just chris took there shoes off for the crossing (a down-down worthy violation), and just biell twisted his ankle being stupid (also a down-down offence). I would like to make a special note that Deadhead got his feet wet. Yes, Deadhead crossed water. For those of you who have never run with that other hash this is a miracle.

It was through some shiggy until we came out to the road only to see two of our park's finest waiting for the rest of the hashers to arrive. I will call them officer friendly (because he was) and officer dumb (because he did not say a dammed word the entire time we were there).

Well officer friendly berated us for running through the wilderness area (uprooting bushes trees and flowers), told us we should tell them know when we are going to be holding our "events" and that we should stay on established trails. He asked us if we knew of an officer McFadden who we said we didn't.

Excerpt from fifth anniversary trash:

...it is here were we met Officer McFadden. The kindly officer gave an informative lecture to Spand-Ox (the driver of the Love Van) about an informative lecture to Spand-Ox (the driver of the Love Van) about the danger of going into parks during hunting season (I did not know hashers were in season). Meanwhile the crew with the tapped keg in the back was quiet. Spand-Ox even slips in a "yes, sir" to let the officer know that he is paying attention. We are allowed to go with one last warning. "Following Hash Marks Will Get You In Trouble."

Back to this trash:

So after that SockBoy did the stupidest thing I could think of. He gives the guy his real name and phone number. As our group leader we gave the name of Bob (Crib Snatcher) (thank you Do Me). So we moved the beer check around .25 miles down to the old railroad bridge on Creek road. (We love you He Needed The Money, oh yes we do-ooh)

The pack was still a little shell-shocked from our encounter with people in uniform so we did no singing at that beer check. Do Me runs off before everyone finishes there beers.

We hashed some more and ended up at...well you guessed it, another beer check. This one was on Wilbur Street and was a little bit more relaxed. We even sung I Don't Want To Join The Army and just kimberly gave us a rendition of Oh When The Saints Go Marching In on the Allentown Hash Horn. The (stoned) neighborhood bagpipe player gave us a tune as well.

We hashed some more and ended up at the mysterious "MT" mark. It was on the train tracks. Well it was for "Moon Train" we were told and if a train came at any time during the next beer check (in the graveyard below) we all had to go up and moon the train. Well it turns out no train came. Well actually we think the mark was a typo, it should have read "MN" for molest (just) nikki ... So we did.

From here we hashed to the double secret beer check (the Iron Hill Brewery) where we tried to get just james fired (you know the guy that was supposed to hare this run). Well, he took it in stride and tried to disavow any knowledge of us...when that did not work just james only slightly stressed. No one else cared though. We did not even get kicked out this time (or slapped).

From there we went to the Ripe Tomatoes beer check (where the hare just tim tried to ignite mud with some fireworky sorta things). From there it was on-in to the bEast End Cafe.

Tally:
1 starting bar
5 Beer Checks
1 On-In Bar

After the antisocial smokers joined the group we had the circle.

Circle Jerks:
Hare (just tim head gear)
First In - Fuck You
DFL - Biell (and autohashing)
Visitors (Do me did beer and option...yummy)
Dry Shoes (just kimberly took the option..nice rack)
(parent moves child at next table out of room)
Overachiever - Do Me
New Job - The Hasher Formally Known as Just Schporto
First Blood - Butthead
Hash Harlot - Nikki

Meeting events.
Babe the Blew Spand-Ox Drops the Title of On-Sec (Down-Down)
Babe the Blew Spand-Ox is elected On-Sec (Down-Down)

Circle Breaks...

All and all it was another shitty trail.

Hash Quote "But that's a foreign object in your nipple" - Do Me

Note: Make sure you bring money in your dry bags. We often eat after these things and food is not included in hash cash...just beer.

Babe the Blew Spand-Ox

Run 62 -- April 19th

Hash on April 19th (Subtitled by me: Where's the Fucking Cheese)

Well when I got the Deer Park at 3ish most of the pack was well on their way to intoxication. The totality of the pack was: Blue Hens: Kojack Sack, He Needed The Money, Babe The Blew Spand-Ox, just james, just knicky, just tim, and just jason. Visitors: (Hock) Gomez and Butthead. The hares were The Hasher Formally Known as just /b(ei,ie)l{1,2}/ and Title 18 Section 2423. Hey a twelve pack of hashers on a cold rainy day ain't bad.

Well after the introductions and trail marks (including one telling you which button to press on an elevator and some indoor eq of trail marks) the trail started going straight into a fence. Well there was a bit of running around the railroad tracks and then the cleverness of the trail started to become apparent. The trail would break off in a new direction and then lead us back frightfully close to our previous trail. From our new location on the trail we could see the trail we were just on but from the pervious part of the trail we could not see the marks that would have avoided the meander ahead. This theme of coming mind boggling close to our previous trail continued for most of the hash.

After some overpass and underpass running we hit the first of the (orthodox) easter egg hunt beer checks. The beer was hidden in the classroom where the beer check occurred. If we did not find all of the beer, there will probably be some very happy students or very sad professors.

The trail continued to crossed the under the pervious trail (on the way to hitting the rest of the overpasses and underpasses in Newark) through the Smith Hall Sub-Basement and continued onto the roof of Brown Labs, up a little ladder to cross over to the roof of Spencer Hall, down and through the underpasses between the buildings, through and over more university property until finally crossing over the bridge at the Newark Train Station and then (of course) under the bridge at the Newark Train Station. Got that?

Well we followed the train tracks past a cute little park and had a (O)EE beer check by the tracks. (We mooned a passenger trains and gave a couple of beers to a hobo). More trail including water crossings (or followings) and lead us eventually to the little park (the one we passed earlier) where He Needed The Money had the grill all fired up and ready to accept hamburgers and cardboard (verggie-burgers). It was, of course, the On-In.

There was a circle where things happened but the only real things of note are Hock people don't get stories with there names, and the story of the how The Hasher Formally Known as just /b(ei,ie)l{1,2}/ sprained his ankle instead of crossing water was related, and he was named Water Foul. (Well it was either that or something about him being a veggie so we went with the thing that happened on trail). The On-In Beer was excellent.

Ok, now you may ask why I called this the "Where's the Fucking Cheese" hash. Well you might think it was because we had no cheese with our burgers, but you would be wrong. This trail would have exceeded a mad psychology professor's best hopes and dreams for a human scale rat maze. The entire time we were on the trail we were being so accurately being lead it was a thing of beauty. This trail might be the best trail I have ever been on. So here's a health to the hares (drink you beers now).

In other notes: Next Week The Pussy's of Blue Hen are laying (at least) the trail. Hock is also having there 169th weekend. I will be helping with the Friday night and Sunday trails (I will make sure Sunday's ends so you can make both).

Oh, if you happen to be with a mind-beguilingly drunk hasher, don't let him wander aimlessly and get himself into trouble (ie don't let him pass out outside the diner and decide, eh, he will probably still be there when we finish eating). What you call these your friends?

BTBSO

Run 63 -- Hash trash for April 26

Well I thought there was going to be a huge crowd lined up to Try Pussy. After all, just kimberly, was saying "hi" and introducing us to all sorts of people whom we have never met before. Well, when we go out to do this hash and it is just the hashers we all know and presumably love.

The Roster Included:
Try-Pussy Hare contingent (the just sisters knickie, chris and kimberly)
Babe The Blew Spand-Ox
Water-Foul
Sockboy, Destroyer of Argyle
Title 18 Section 2423
Wetback
He Needed the Money
just tim, james, jason, ann

We were eventually (by some miracle of science) joined by:
Kojack Sack
Just Bill and jaun

The hashers were given the headbands (stolen from the H4) to tie on their heads in a girly fashion and the marks were explained to us. "Ok, normal marks...if there is something you don't understand just wait there." Seemed easy enough. We went out in search of marks, we even found a few (although they were cleverly hidden).

Now I am not sure I remember the order of the checks (I was already in a daze before this ordeal started) but they included:

Melon check: Where we got to see the Try Pussies fondle their boobs and got to eat some melon (it was quite and intoxicating experience [and the melon wasn't bad either]).

Sorority Girl Check (at boarded up Frat house): We got to wear lipstick, tie our shirts up tight and scream the way sorority girls do when they run into each-other at bars (the lipstick was too bright for Wetback but looked stunning on Title 18 Section 2423...who did this check a little too well).

Girly Drink: Laced pink lemonade. Nothing like getting your alcohol in the form of a sweet hot-pink beverage. (By the way it is at this point that Kojack Sack and the just twins showed up...we forced them to do the Sorority Girl Check for us...and got some Coke cards)

Try Tits: The bar they stopped at did not have the equipment for blow jobs so it was a bunch of muff- divers for the three first-ins. (office note: there was some autohashing going on here)

Bush Check: Bush beer that is

On-In: to Deer Park where it became obvious that there are certain Blue Hens that can't drink (or prefer to to wear) beer.

Circle events of note: The Try Pussies were named
just kimberly = "What Kind Of Phish Is That Anyway?"
just nikke = "I'll Respect You In The Mourning"
just chris="Spooge, It's Good For The Complexion"

Hmmm, now we need to come up with names we can actually call them. I am a little to blurry to remember any of the fine details of the day I remember there were some cool T-shirts and that the food prices at the Deer Park are now absurd. I remember some tradition of given me some loving. A double arrow (I guess they changed their mind) I remember singing some. I remember Wetback trying to abuse his power in the circle. Well, at some point I will have to start coming to these thing not after an entire weekend of drinking.

On-Out
Babe The Blew Spand-Ox

Run 64 -- Sicko De Mento Hash

Well it was the 5th of May and the hounds were ready to hash. They started at the Deer Park (after having their fill) and tried to find trail. Well they ended up at Grotto's and decided they needed to call the hare (Having found No flour). Well, Spand-Ox was the poor looser who answered the red phone. He had no choice, did he? He put on some clothes...grabbed a bag of flour and placed the first check next to the Area 51 game. From there the tricky trail went out the back of Grotto and found its was to the bar at the Stone Balloon.

"You can't take that pitcher in here"
"It's filled with flour"
"Why the hell do you have a pitcher full of flour"
"Unimportant, we want beer"

From there the trail slid its way to the Iron Hill....just james not working...kept going to Kates. It was here that the doorbrute took away my flour (Babe is sad). We got some Guiness, Kojack spills all of his and breaks his glass. KS then drunkenly picks up the glass and cuts his finger. From this point on we decided he was only allowed to have plastic cups. Title 18 Section 2423 is covered in a smelly brown liquid...but what's new.

Reclaimed flour
From there all the way down Main until we needed to take a piss-break at the "student center." You don't know what a confused expression maintenance people have to dropping of flour on the floor inside a building. Well On-In to the Deer Park.

All and all it was another shitty hash.

Run 76 -- Devil's Night Hash

Amazingly most everybody showed up on time to this hash. The biggest reason for this was because not many people went. At about 4 The Hasher Formerly Known as Schporto shows up clad in kilt. Amazingly enough though the song was never sung. Sitting around the table were Respect as a blown up professor, Bad Lay as himself, and 3 newboots. Just Becky 1 - as the Duct Tape Avenger, Just Becky 2 - as your pick of sperm, tampon, Roman statuary or ghost. I choose sperm as it is the least offnsive. Oh and Melanie dressed in camoflauge. But she left early and never went on the hash so therefore does not count in this retelling. The decision was made to wait for more people to show as we THOUGHT more would show. After a copuple calls to people, the arrival of Vaselline Alley as Spock, and a pitcher of beer we left. THe decision was made that nobody really cared about this hash so the hares were sure to point out most of the trail. After the trail led around some university buildings it made a beer check at the roof of one building. Here hot cider and rum were drunk. It was really hot cider. The hash marched on crossing tantalizingly (ohhh big word) close to several bars (Grottos, and that evil place upstairs). And of course a stop at a graveyard. Here fireball cherries, and jello shot grapes were consumed. Or more like thought about. Then tossed. Then over the train tracks, through the thickets, cross the street, down the street with the football dog (really a doberman pincher with a spiked collar about the size of my foot), into the woods, an to the tennis courts. Here the beer check was feared lost. Luckily I found it. Then people quickly wished I hadn't. A truly nauseating combination of peaches and Bailey's labeled as brain chunks. VA devoured most of it and spewed the rest. On-on. And by the Blair Witch iconography. NOTE the hare's had nothing to do with that. Down the street and into the woods again. Side note - trail in woods at night is tough. Moving on we arrived at the usual spot in the woods by the Towers. And beer was consumed. The flashlights appeared and we ran. Unfortunately at this point it seems the jog of the remaining cider was lost. Then around the towers with a piss stop at the Tower's commons. They have this really nice collage about how much alchohol it takes to get someone intoxicated. Claculating out we estimated ~18 to get me completely incoherent. This was later tested and proven to be accurate. After a brief wander through the Tower parking lot in search of a car we found Schporto's. Complete with a severed arm rum cake. Did we mention the Rum? It was good and tasted fine. Except for the Rum pockets. Then we tracked flour down to the sororities. I swear there should have been some screaming ax murderer there. Nuts. And finally up North College Ave and back to the DP.

Run 78 -- Mardi Gras Hash

I apologize before hand. Several details were forgotten. Clear it up if you want. Just email me with what I screwed up.

• Hare: Title 18 Sec 2324
• The Hasher Formerly Known as Schporto
• Respect you in the Mourning
• Ouch My Cervix
• Severed Member
• Water Foul
• Vaseline Alley
• Just Tyler
• Just Becky
• Just Hockey
• Just Adam
• Just Ducki

• Just Pads
• Just Derek
• Just Buddy
• Just Jesse

So the hash started after a quick blessing, and mark explanation. And of course we go up 896 with yells of "On-on" and "Spot" (silly Beckys). Finally after a false up to a church (ok who was silly enough to check that? Common like Title would go anywhere near a church) we get to the little bridge. Where lo-and-behold there be mimossas. Mmmmm. Fruity orange champagne. After several swigs its on-on across (or under) the street. Over to West Main, where we lose trail and half the hashers. But we keep going. Through the yards, by the houses, cross the street, and on to the frshmen. Mmmm freshmen. And across Elkton Road and into the Crap Trap for Guinness, and Bass, and Yuengling. And Ducki and Respect teased us for some potential kissing. OK so we stayed on the porch. It was nice out. And over to the apartments next to public saftey, across some fields through a storm drain gutter (where Respect started off the flashing). And we cross Elkton Road again. And straight through a graveyard. You know Title can't pass a graveyard. And in to the on-in.

All in all another shitty trail.

Run 80 -- New Year's Day Hangover Hash

'Twas a cold winters' evening, the boys were all...

ok, so it was the afternoon, you're not going to mess with my story are you? Right, so the long and short of it is that we had gotten a late start moving our sorry asses from the wonderful horse-bru...er, hospitality of Flamin' Asshole and Pussy Peeker after a wonderful New Year's Eve of nekkid hottubbing, cigar smoking, 140 proof potato-whiskey drinking, not to mention the potato soup slurping the next day, and we were upon Newark (that's New-ARK to you non-Delaware folks) Delaware on the cusp of 4 pm. We were supposed to have been in NY for NYH3's New Year's Day run (that's NYH3, not NYCH3), but were way off schedule after partying till 5 something am and the goodnesses presented to us on that fine morning after...hell, it was surprising we had gotten out of there before 6 given the temptation of "Just one more dip in the hottub..." and more potato whiskey (no, i wasn't driving), but we did, and since we had already missed the NYH3 run I figured there was no harm in dropping in on the Blue Hens and causing a little havoc. Hell, I figured it was my duty as GM Emeritus to show any new-ish boots what the score was and if nothing else, a little chaos never hurt the mix.

Well, we cruised into town, stopping briefly at the ATM so I could grab enough cash to buy 2 rounds of shots, a pitcher or two and maybe a plate of nachos at the Deer Park, and I gave Mark, the driver of the day and my fearless companion, instructions not to let us stay more than 45 minutes once we found the bastards cuz we were on a time schedule. He syncronized his watch and we pulled into the Deer Park noting Spandox's car in the lot. Well, good thing that I didn't follow my original plan of just sneaking up to the bar and buying a round of shots then finding the bastards, although maybe it was the volume (or lack thereof) in the place that tipped me off -- no Blue Hen Hash. I was this close to just saying "fuck it, let's blow this joint" but decided instead to call that bastard Kojack Sack and complain, not waiting for more than a hello, "How the hell am I supposed to randomly show up and rain mass destruction and chaos if the fucking blue hen hash isn't at the Deer Park?" "Where are you?" "Where the fuck do you think? The Deer Park..." "OH, we're on Elkton Rd...we just passed the Sunoco..." Well, we had just driven past that too, but nonetheless Mark and I hopped in the car and cruised the 3/4 mile before we saw what might be a pack on the other side of the road and what was obviously "He Needed the Money" and someone else (it turned out to be The Hasher Formerly Known as Schporto) walking on our side of the street. I gave my best vertical smile out the window (filling the window, but i won't go there) just as THFKAS was heard to say "Fuk Stik is supposed to be showing up any time now..."

Let's just say that that was the beginning of the end. Actually, given the circumstances, I'm surprised I made out as well as I did. I made it out *alive* which is really more than I expected. Anyway, we pulled over after THFKAS jumped in the passenger side window of the car and proceeded to give everyone a breathalizer test (Mark had gotten a portable for Xmas), were disappoointed at the results and proceeded to the next beer check. Now, I don't know where the bloody hash had been before I showed up...they must've had a beer check or two, but I think they had spent the last 45 minutes in the laundromat. The scientific method had proven that Just Eri(ck?) had, at 145 lbs, been able to get into the dryer and be spun around, but Kojack Sack, who shocked everyone by being able to fold himself into the dryer at all, at 170+ (I'm being nice) had only gotten upside-down before the dryer motor gave up and dumped him on his head. I reckon the dryer just didn't like him. I think Just Becky gave the dyer a shot too, but I'm not really sure what happened there. Well, by the time we reached the next beer check (200m) I had worked up a powerful thirst, having been in the car for nigh on 2 hours and not had a single beer since leaving 6910 Lodestone (what a great address for a hasher!), you can probably understand my state of mind. I wasn't to be disappointed. The Molson came out, drinking songs were sung, conspiracies were hatched, people finally figured out who I was (must've been the singing), more breathalizer tests were taken, etc. How long were we there? I have no clue. We had at least two beers and sang...let's see, The Mayor of Bayswater, My Gal's a Vegatable (i think) and god knows what else. A few others before heading off to beer check number n+1...

I have to say, at this point I was having a good time, but was at least a little bit disappointed at the fact that a few of the newer BH4'ers that I had heard so much about, notably "Welcum to my Berfday Suit", the Grand Mattress and Ouch my Cervix (is she still in DelaWHERE?), weren't there... I guess I got to see a lot of new faces regardless, but it's one of those things that when you've heard so much about someone...

Anyway, we finally made it the 300m to the next beer check (SpandOx's), were treated to a slipperly nipple shot and more beer. It wasn't long before the conspiracy which had begun at Water-Foul's (the last beer check) started to hatch and a good portion of the pack lined up and dropped 'em to reveal a butt-painted "Happy Birthday ****!" message butt painted for "He Needed the Money". Having been part of the "card", I didn't catch HNtM's face, but I think he was at least pleasantly surprised. It had already been a big day for him, having come out of the closet at the last BC (he had been locked in) and having threats being made a week earlier that it was no longer going to be the annual hangover run, but the annual d*k* run, not to mention the wear from hosting a brilliant, albeit goth-infected New Year's Eve party at his house the evening before starting to show, but he bore it all well and managed a patented cheshire-cat smile as digital cameras blazed immortalizing his card forever after, until cheeks do part. The conspiracy being over, the card being shown, everyone settled in for a nice game of "let's put beer caps and empty bottles on the pool table just because Spandox is getting riled over it" and drinking the 4th or 5th round of molson, which had presented itself from a dark corner somewhere, emerging into willing and thirsty hands as usual. Unfotunately, here is where things started to take a sinister turn. As you all well know, Kojack Sack has a penchance for nekkidness and a soft spot for trying to talk other poor sods into doing stupid stuff along with him, usually safe in the knowledge that not many folks are ready to even contemplate the everyday acts which Kojack supresses each minute he spends in a suit during the 9-5 workday, but, Kojack must've forgotten (or his subconcious must've been waiting for this ripe moment) that I was in town, as we have a long standing history of egging each other on when it comes to the worst of the worst. Well, as it happens I walked up to Kojack as he's trying to convince poor Eri(ck?) -- who couldn't have hashed more than a time or two and doesn't even drink to boot -- that he wants to streak to the end of the hash, which someone's let on is at He Needed the Money's house, roughly a mile away. After listening to Kojack go on for a while, I step up and say "Let's do it...when are we leaving?".

It was a long, cold run. Ok, you're right, the word "long" shouldn't appear in that sentence. I'm not sure what the temperature was, but I'd guess 38 degrees F (~4degC) and breezy, snow and ice still on the ground and shrinkage in effect. We were wearing our chef's hats, just in case we were to stumble upon members of the police somewhere along the way. The Hasher Formerly Known as Schporto left a few minutes before us so he could get to Barksdale Rd (the one major intersection we'd be crossing) before we did, just so he could watch us cross, but he didn't quite leave early enough. We were *moving*. Now, mind you, the only reason -- ok, well not the *only* reason -- that I agreed to this was the fact that there was a hot tub at the end of the trail, never mind that it was still light out and we were running through student housing developments, but I have to admit that that mile of chill was FUN...cold, but FUN and almost worthwhile after tearing off our running shoes (or Doc Martins in my case) and jumping in the hottub. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..........

-Fuk Stik, GM Emeritus

Yes Virgin, there really is a hash

It had been a while since the last hash. About 4 months. Nobody had seemed to want to run. But lo' and behold the Deer Park did close. And there was much sadness. Nachos were migrated to the Beast End. But all was not the same. A hue, a cry came from the crowd a' gathered. "A hash, a hash! We must have a hash!" they cried. So the culprit of this new round of hashing was found and forced to lay the trail. Thus Just-Josh learned the ways of laying trail. It was a cold, dark, rainy evening. Or at least the night before had been. There was much fear that the trail would be the same. But some great force looked down and did say "They hash. It is good. I shall hold my driving wind, and drenching rain till they are done." And thus the sun came out and blessed the hash as they gathered below the slowly diminishing Deer Park. Those present counted THFKAS, Respect you in the Mouring (aka Mrs. THFKAS), Mathematical Impossibility - She was Ate before she was Seven, Sleepy Head, He needed the money, Just Jackie (Virgin), Just Josh, Buthead, Vasseline Alley, Severed Member, Just Tom, Kojak Sack, Just Buddy, Just James (Yes anotherone), and his dog. The dog promptly pissed on the Deer Park, thus further blessing the hash. And we left.

After the pack finished the gallon of schtuff, the trail continued. Past the new apartments, across Clevage Ave, under the tracks, and into NewARK shopping center. And the second beer check at La Toltecca. Future note to any hares.

• Check that the bar has pitchers.
• Order for the pack.
• Note if there will be food later.
• or... Don't complain when ten people run a $70 tab in 20 minutes.

And the trail went on. Across Main street, through more new apartments (in case people wanted to move). Kojack Sack almost sank into the volley ball court, but managed to save himself. God knows none of would have. Trail then went through parts of campus, and finally finagled intself into Kells park. After a brief trip down a storm runoff ditch. Awaiting the group at Kells was THFKAS along with a grill and unlit charcol. Remember kids - buy mathclite, or bring lighter fluid. Instead some bright lights decided grain would do. It did for a bit, then didn't. Eventually fire was created. Then it was discovered there was no spatula. But we had meat so were not to be thwarted. Soon thereafter God fulfilled his promise of rain and the skies did rend apart, deluging those gathered below. But care they did not, thanks to alcohol and a plastic roof. Meat was eaten. Beer was drank. Songs were sung. Chests were displayed.

-THFKAS

And there was much rejoicing.

One of TwentySix

This is actually pieced together from various emails. Its the best accounting we could get of the events of that night. I think 11 people showed up....
Title 18, THFKASchporto - and his dog Loki, Just Buddy, Tyler - who was named at He Needed the Money's Berfday hash but nobody rememmbers., Waterfoul, Kojak Sack, HornBlower - and his dog, ToxicWaste (josh for those unaware he was named), Just Ruddy, Donna (whose name I can't remember), Just Pads
I think that was it.
Now I could tell ya where the trail went,
But I'm not real clear on that.
There were woods.
There were some white trash neighborhoods,
there was even the infamous quote from the 12 year old...
"What are all these non-negros doing running through a negro neighborhood anyways?"
They're so cute at that age.
There were cornfields.
And there was beer.
I also unfortunately had to leave the circle a wee bit early. The east end don't like dogs.
The trail itself I'm really mixed up on though.
Oh.
And it was dark.
Pretty damn dark.
-THFKASchproto
And the writeup from Pads
Donna is Shes Gives It Away.
The trail went something like this:
From Bennigans, into College Square by the Blockbuster, back out by the far left corner from there, around the fake lake by the new office buildings back there, up over the railroad by the bridge on Marrows road, across the street after the bridge into the apartments there. (Kimberton?) Then out the back of the apartments into the woods back there in the park like area that yahoo maps says is called Greenbridge park. (I didn't see no bridge. Just lots of really dark trees) In this area was the first beer check. Doubling back out to the apartments, we wandered down the road to the townhouses, and from the townhouses we moved on into the actual houses, which would be Brookside, and back across Marrows road, following the grassy area next to a storm drain ditch. From there it crossed the one water hazard of note, a narrow concrete ledge across the corner of a pond, and then turned into some more trees, (You can tell Title18 was a boy scout, he just seems to love trees) and on to the next beer check, hanging from a zipline that had been abandoned out there. Nobody being quite stupid enough to try it, we moved on through the trees, into some more townhouses, including a moment where we thought we were going to get yelled at by the owner of the yard because he was in it, but it turned out to just be Hornblower, who had actually been running or something, and got ahead of people. Then past another small park, and into a huge-ass cornfield. Through the cornfiled, we made it over to Rt. 72, and turned right to head back to town. Somewhere along this way is where Title18 had run out of flower earlier. So he managed to actually get ahread of everyone, and start throwing down flower. Unfortunately, this was noticed, and pursuit ensued. The trail went pretty much in a straight line, up to the public Library, where Title18 claims that he put the on-in with an arrow pointing towards the East End so that people who wanted to go to Bennigans and get their cars could do so. Biell, whose Hash Name I'm blanking on, says that the On-In was placed there because in about another 10 seconds, Title18 would have been caught. In any case, everyone ended up at the East End, Beer was consumed, in some cases several, and those of us with brains made a note to bring a flashlight next time we do this at night.
-Just Pads

-THFKAS

How Long are we following this river?

Well the hash was dictated to start at 2pm. Sharp. Not T18 sharp. But actually 2pm sharp. Waterfoul even said "Pls". So needless to say 2:30 rolls around and we're finally on our way. Notably after explaining to He Needed the Money's neighbors that no this white powdery substance was not anthrax.

The hash started off a running, down the street, and quickly finding the Mason Dixon trail. We started on the M-D trail at Barksdale Rd. It ended also on the M-D trail at Rittenhouse. That was the main extent of the trail. Oh yes don't get me wrong Waterfoul laid some beautiful checks, that fooled nobody. For most of the trail he could have just said "I used blue marks" and never set any flour down. And yes there were 2 beer checks in there, so it wasn't without adventure. Between shortcutting by jumping the Christina River, or overrunning a beer check, we had fun.

All in all - ahhhh heck you know how it goes.

Ninth Anniversary Hash

So after 9 years and nobody knows how much alcohol, the Blue Hen Hash House Harriers held their 9th anniversary hash. People came in from out of town for this event. OK only 2 but they're still people. Kinda.

All told the following were present:
I'll Respect you in the Mourning & her little dog too
Title 18 Sec2324
Ouch My Cervix
Sleepy Head
Bad Lay
Kojak Sack
Mathematical Impossibility
tyler - who can't remember his own name.
Just Pads
Dainty a girl from Baltimore
Just Buddy
Just Dave
Just Bob
Just Melissa

Hares were:
THFKASchporto
Fuk Stick

All were gathered at the bar foremerly known as the DP. (DAMN THEM DAMN THEM ALL!!!!) And the marks were explained. More specifically the material used for marks were explained. Ya see flashback a few hours ago as FukStick and THFKAS willingly walk into the Newark Police station to explain the "scavenger" hunt and their use of orange chalk. And sureveyors tape. And crushed fish stone. All of this was used in the hope of avoiding any type of anthrax scare. Seems to have worked too. Anways after a rousing version of Father Abraham the pack was off to find Fuk Stick and THFKAS cuz they laid the start live. Well seeing as how the hare is writting this I have no idea what actually happened. What I do know is that I was way to tired to start with. And barely jogged to the first of the nasty checks. This check was at the Rodney underpass. See after a check the trail can go in any direction. Up happens to be a direction. This was very confusing to some apparently. Cuz the true trail lay above the underpass on the tracks. Those who avoided the 'pack' concept went off and were calling from Apple road. Apple Road? How the heck they get there? ehh. Not my worry. Eventually the pack found the area behind the Hutt, with the first beer check. Who knew this would be such a problem? Mmmmm. Remember in Star Wars Eps 4 (installment 1), in the cantina where the bad guy loses an arm. At the time you had no idea what it meant. By Return of the Jedi you knew it was "dramatic forshadowing". Well, in a similar fashion, we had no idea quite what problems we had created. So after some alcohol the trail continued down the tracks. And on, and on, and on, and 'FALSE!' What no check? Just a false? Ahh the problems of darkness and orange chalk, and vision, and packs that wanna be led by the hand. So it was back to find the check. (owww my arm) And finally figuring out that there's marks off the track that, oh my, lead to another beer check. Luckily this is at title's house, and much beer is found and consumed. Songs are sung, and Dan shows up. Who's Dan? Dunno, but he knows FukStick. And has had his car totaled by some idiot cruising down Madison. A while later trail continues this time across Dickey Park. And on down the road, and "RU?!?", "RU?!?", dang. They missed the mark again. After some gentle prodding by the hare, they find the mark, and trail back onto the tracks. To the next check on top of Casio Mill bridge. Oh Doke's is that way, we'll go there. Why? Are there marks? Are there no falses that way? But its Doke's. Shrug. Hey, where's Buthead? He went that way. Oh. I guess trail's that way. But Doke's over here... Oh.... And on down the tracks finally. "Ms. Sullivan? You're my teacher." Eventually people find the trail, and the check over the Christianna River. And onto the Mason Dixon trail. And jogging along, and walking, and jogging, and OW!!OWOWOWWOWOW!!!! Ouch goes down in a twisted wreck, with a bum ankle. After yelling and screaming Title and Just Bob come back to carry her out. (there goes my arm again) And the rest of the pack continues to try to find trail through the now dark, confusing, never traveled woods. Oh wait a mark! And another! And ano---owwww!-ther. Damn stickers. Stinking shiggy! Who set this trail?!??!!?? I'm cold. I'm stuck! yipe (Loki got stuck too). And soon after much sticking and bleeding and cutting, and ouching, the ONIN!!!! Yeah beer. THFKASchporto takes off in search of pizza for people. Return in a bit to hear singing and yelling from Suburban parking lot. Makes it real easy to find the pack. Luckily I brought pizza so people were happy to see me. In the circle there was a contest of wills as to who was in charge of it, FukStick or Kojak Sack. Both drank. And drank. (dang who knew I had 3 arms) And it was cold. And we drank. And sang. And there were two namings...

After all that the entire hash (sans a few) retired to the McPark. Drinking ensued, singing occured, Sleepy Head got pissed (the kind not invovling beer), Kojak lost his phone, and some new possible hashers were met. So all in all another shiggy year of hashing.

Oh and the next morning Dainty flooded my toilet.

-THFKASchporto