ReHash #528

Date: Wed, 16 Jan 2008 11:27:19 -0500

ReHash #528: First of the Screw Year

Hare: @#$!-sucking Butt Floss
Hashers Present: Hot Lips, Master Baster, Spike, Liquor Harder, Porcelain Goddess, Just Scott, Pippi, Cocksmith, Harry Condom, Doris Dictoria, Bedside Pole Dancer, UFO, JSUAD, Just Matt, Just Holden, Just Rebekah, Just KC, Just John, and any other hashers that I forgot (you just aren’t important enough)

A ReHash in Verse
(or An Ode to My Ass)

by Porcelain Goddess

Oh such asses on hashers you’ve never seen!
You could bounce quarters to the moon and back.
Preparing to run where they’d never been
With no idea this @#$!-sucking trail might be whack.
(And I don’t mean ‘whack’ in a good handjob kinda way.)

A brisk chill off the lake whipped thru Stewart Park
Extra hats and gloves the hashers did don.
The @#$!-sucking hare, Floss, allowed us all to embark
On his @#$!-sucking Screw Year Hash was on!
(Just as an aside: though PG penned this rehash, it is definitely not ‘PG’-rated.)

Confusion ensued, like all good hash starts
But soon the @#$!-sucking trail was found.
I muttered something about the Hare’s diminutive private parts
Surprise! Up the steep hillside the flour marks wound.
(My ass had a feeling this might be a seriously @#$!-sucking trail right about here.)

But what is this we see at the top of the hill?
Is that a Back Check after our arduous climb?
Turn around, to the bottom, one @#$!-sucking hare to kill.
Aren’t you all impressed with PG’s ability to rhyme?
(We eventually went back up the hill we had just come down. I spent much of it staring at Harry Condom’s ass. Has anyone else noticed how lovely it is?)

From here, the @#$!-sucking trail went up, up, and then
It kept going up and, oh yes, up some more.
By now I’d imagined castrating the @#$!-sucking hare again
A Beer Near shout from the FRBs postponed the gore.
(Only a local would know about the shady BN spot near the highway exit. A local…or a murderer looking to hide a dead body.)

The @#$!-sucking hare said we’d go down from here --
‘Going down’ wasn’t what I’d hoped it would be.
I realized on the uphill that I hash for more than cheap beer
Only hashers would tolerate a ‘YBF’ for the camaraderie.
(At this point, we realized that we’d lost two Virgins – and a damn good rickshaw. You’d think we’d pay better attention to the Virgins – and the rickshaws.)

In Cayuga Heights, there was a new and interesting sensation.
The hare is still a @#$!-sucker but his ambition I appreciate.
We’re going down! Our ass cheeks jiggle! It’s a celebration!
Just as we were picking up speed, Liquor Harder stopped to urinate.
(No, really she just dropped trou and peed under the little bridge. We didn’t actually see her ass, but we all know that it’s booty-licious.)

Past the flour-pilfering squirrels we did suspiciously tarry,
Obsenities flowing from our lips at the flour letters scrawled --
@#$!-sucking Back Check (@#$!-sucking hare) up into the cemetery?!?
A well-timed Beer Near prevented the hare from being mauled.
(Did anyone else notice that we didn’t see Floss’ floss once during this hash? Normally I’ve seen it 3 or 4 times by this point.)

I’m sure the last part was the best of the hash.
In the murky moment, my ass was NOT alone.
Figuring I could make it up the distance with a short-cutting dash,
I stayed in the cemetery because I found a large bone.
(Get it? Cemetery? Dead bodies? Bones? Get your minds out of the gutter.)

Best trail of the year! It was super! Orgasmic!
The pains in my ass are now forgotten – history!
Beer, circle, and beer. (ok, the hare doesn’t have a small dick)
Why we all love to hash no longer a MYSTERY!
(Of course it was the best trail of the year. It’s the ONLY one we’ve had this year. The usual awards were given. Spike is now Sheriff of the Hash. Just KC bonged a beer like an expert. Baster pantomimed the hasher’s rendition of ‘Swing Low’. The Cool Hashers met for beer and wings at LeHigh Valley. The Uncool Hashers went in peace and probably got a piece.)

ReHash #529

Date: Wed, 06 Feb 2008 10:25:33 -0500

Courtesy of our own Inspector Speculum, with suspected assistance from the lovely Butter Buns:

It was a fine winter afternoon at the Fingerlakes National Forest trailhead-
Cold, bright and still, with little birdies occasionally twittering and flitting about. 
Trees were falling soundlessly, as there was nobody there to hear them.
A delicately balanced pastoral tableau- about to be defiled.
Not unlike an unyielding phallus penetrating an unsuspecting dry orifice, twelve hashers descended upon this tranquil scene and robbed it of it's of innocence, frightening the birdies and yellowing the snow in their insatiable quest for shiggy and beer.
 
The hashers chiefly responsible for selecting the avenue of defilement and hosting the orgiastic beer hunt were Unidentified Feathered Orifice and Bedside Pole Dancer, with advising and assistance provided by Masterbaster. 
Willing participants were Butt Floss, Porcelain Goddess, SS Thunder Thighs, Freeze Frame, Just Scotie, Just Haley,  Pippi Schlongstocking,  Tits Out  For Us,  Just  Michele,  and  your  humble  narrator,  Inspector  Speculum.  
Also attending were and assortment of four legged hashers of various makes and models.

Chalk talk began promptly at hash time, and was expertly led by Masterbaster, who alerted the pack to the existence of back checks and false trails, and a beer near somewhere along trail. 
Thence the hash commenced.

Many hashers were initially misdirected by a numerous false trails at the outset of the trail, but were able to regroup and experience a rare form of winter shiggy- that of the snow covered and completely frozen pond, unique for it's glassy smooth slick and hard surface ('slick n hard' shiggy).  Those particularly fond of the slick and hard reveled in their experience of this delightful shiggy treat.  Several beautifully executed snow angels were observed on one section of ice, but went largely unappreciated as most of the pack was off true trail at the time, shortcutting or something...
  Trail further led the pack through several hedges and snow covered fields, logging roads festooned with 'redneck detritus' shiggy (old mattress, decomposing garbage bags, deer spine etc), and a particularly dense and convoluted section clogged with prickers, burdock and logs (quality 'natural' shiggy).
Soon after, the trail opened up into a high hillside pasture- a minefield of frozen cow and bullshit patties interspersed with 4" punji stakes of grazed down shrubs and stiff grasses ('buffalo range' shiggy)- making footfalls slightly treacherous and slowing down the pack, nobody wanting to hash crash into cowshit.  Chalk was difficult to follow here and false trails were encountered, slowing the pack.
After a pass through more woods, a road was crossed and beer was discovered near another slick and hard pond.  Thanks to BPD and UFO's efforts, plenty of both liquid and solid fuel was available to reinebriate and renourish the hash. Most notably, a fruity rum concoction was consumed out of polyglot animal themed dixie cups, like urine specimens at the UN.  I was lucky to posses the cup of the Elephant. It was noted that the cup of the Tiger and that of the Ardvark were also in circulation.   PG and TOFU took it upon themselves safeguard the considerable remainder of the tasty fruity rum concoction for the rest of the trail- in their stomachs. 
Soon the hash was moving again- over frozen roadway, woods and fields- to trails end at a warm and cozy cabin, where was discovered plenty of beer, a toasty wood stove,and more solid fuel (including HOT DOGS and CHILI).  Also on site was a fashionable outhouse for disposal of the inevitable liquid and solid waste generated (gaseous waste esp from the chili was emitted as it was produced).  Many found the cozy cabin impressive on many levels: firm futon and wild discovery channel theme lending the appropriate ambiance for the manifestation of animalistc urges and desires.

The On-In commenced with Masterbaster's opening of the circle, many accusations were made and many down-downs ensued: some drank for setting trail, some for cuming lately, some for crashing, and some just because-  my drunken half mind fails me here again...
Butt Floss lived up to his name once again, and showed off the fashionable and functional handmade QUILTED butt floss he is wearing this season, in white with pink stitching.
Tits Out For Us did not live up to her hash name- alas, she showed her tits to no one.  Perhaps the rum she stashed in her stomach had not enough punch...
Most significantly however, after long deliberations, TWO new hashers came to be named on this glorious day: 
Just Scotie came to be known as Always A Bridesmaid (for attending far too many hashes and remaining unnamed for so long- may he finally get a honeymoon and a busted hymen).
Just Michele came to be known as Butter Buns (for developing a mysterious wet spot on her backside during the hash, the result of either being extremely stimulated on trail or being a big fan of Last Tango in Paris...)

And then there was the unexpected On-In crasher....
Her name was Moon Pie, and she was gorgeous, regal in her bearing, coquettishly playful, alternating black and white soft and puffy coat...
Take note Roadkill! it was a shame you were not there!
Moon Pie has the power to end your lifelong obsession with sheep, and turn you on to GOATS!
I have no doubt that after one look at Moon Pie and her puffy pudenda you'll say “fuck sheep” and never look back- you will instantly become obsessed with the far superior GOAT.
I'm telling you this because I care about you, Roadkill: UFO or BPR will set you up on  a date...

Finally, the circle was closed and many went On-On-On to UFO and BPR's crib, where further debauchery ensued: more fuel was consumed, pool was played, certain hashers field tested the hot tub (it was found to be hot and wet, later sticky too),  people were shot with rubber arrows, and much flesh was covered in tattoos to honor and commemorate events of the day.

Then, like bloated ticks dropping off a dog after a satisfying blood meal, one by one the hashers retired to their respective cribs, with a happy healthy alcoholic glow, in dreamy anticipation of the next trail...

ReHash #530

Date: Thu, 21 Feb 2008 01:01:04 -0500

Oh, and, yes, some of you may be wondering where the rehash is for the last hash. Well, I'm finally out of hash rehab (read on and you'll understand why that was necessary) and here it is:

Hash #530?
“The Great Big YBF Hash”
Start: small parking lot across the inlet from Island Health
Finish: Castaways
Hares: Porcelain Goddess, TOFU, Master Baster

For this rehash, there will be a chicken and eagle split. If you want all the gory details—if you want to feel as if you were there, without the excruciating pain of having actually been there—read the eagle rehash; if you just want the basic facts and spare yourself the horror of what we suffered through, go with the G-rated chicken rehash.

CHICKEN REHASH
We (the hares, plus myself, Liquor Harder, Doris Dicktorious, Cocktail Frank, Butt Floss, Pippi, and Cocksmith) met in the parking lot across the inlet from Island Health, where the hares gave out beads and balloons to wear on the run. Because of a little snow storm earlier in the day, the first part of the trail was going to be reset as a live hash.

After a quick chalk talk, the hares set off and we gave them 10 minutes before giving chase. Across the Taughannock Blvd. bridge we went (having seen them go that way), but we never caught them and only rarely found any marks. We wandered around Ithaca in ever-wider loops, eventually found trail leading up State Street. A few (dry) hash rests later, we found trail leading up the Commons and then, more or less, up Rte. 79. At this point, we granted Floss power to phone the hares, which he did, and they led us to the first (and only) wet (i.e., libacious) HR, at Baster’s palace on Tioga St.

We had some beers, ate some snacks, played some games, and then were led, by Baster, toward the wastewater treatment facility next to the farmers market, along the road leading to the collegiate boathouses, along the railroad tracks toward the former Bistro Q, right on Buffalo St., right on Taughannock Blvd., and to Castaways. We had some more beer. Bedside Pole Dancer and UFO came along and joined us. Baster ran circle, in which people drank for various offenses, and then we all went home.

EAGLE REHASH
I thought if I gave it a few days, the memory of this hash would fade and I wouldn’t have to write a venomous rant of a rehash. But, actually, I think I was feeling less venomous just before I left Castaways, beer still in hand, circle freshly closed, most of the hares’ offenses nearly forgiven, or at least forgotten. But a few minutes earlier, Floss had handed me a piece of paper and a pen, on which and with which to write notes for this rehash. And so, three days later (that’s when I started this rehash ...), looking back on those notes, it’s all coming back to me. And this time I’m not sporting a post-hash buzz and no one is flashing his or her tits at me. So, there’s just this rotten taste of bile in my throat and a not-as-vague-as-I’d-like memory of running all over town following the very occasional chicken scratch of a chalk mark.

‘Oh, come on,’ you-who-weren’t-there are saying, ‘quit your bitching and just tell us what happened. Surely, it couldn’t have been that bad.’

Well, no, no one died. No one, as far as I know, suffered permanent physical damage (although emotionally, we’re all pretty scarred). But let me start by saying that we called. We had to call. Yes, the hares. Okay, I’ve said it. I’m not proud of it, but it was a group decision and we called them when we just couldn’t take it anymore. And in all my too-many years of hashing, I’ve never had to do that (although, as BW could attest, there was that time in Hammond Hill that, after a few hours of wandering around aimlessly, I wish I’d had a phone with me to be able to call, but I was supposed to be the hare, so I’m not entirely sure who I would have called—but I digress). It wasn’t that we were actually lost—we were in downtown Ithaca; we even knew where the On-In was. But we’d been running for over an hour without any sign of beer (though we passed several bars) and had had a heck of a time finding trail and now, though we were on trail, we were pretty sure we were running it backwards (again).

Am I rambling? Have I lost you? Well, then, I’ve hopefully given you some idea of how we felt on trail. Except it’d be more like: Mary had a little ... and the second offensive of the war pushed the penguins back to ... by mixing vodka, lemongrass, and deer spit ... flip, flip, flip (that’s the sound of you flipping virtual pages to find where the text picks up, ‘cause it suddenly trailed off and you and your other buddies reading along with you are having trouble finding where it picks up again ... wait, there, it’s faded, no, it’s in very thin, very light pencil marks, but I think that says ...) which, amazingly, is the square root of the natural log of Huckabee’s chances of becoming our next Grand Poobah.

Yeah, trail was a bit like that. But let’s start at the beginning ... It all started badly. For everybody. This Sunday’s morning dawned inauspiciously enough, cold but with periods of actual sun. Then, the winds picked up and a series of snow squalls rolled through in the late morning. So, when I arrived at the start (punctually at about 2:20), I was greeted by hash cars, with engines running, and hashers huddled inside, waiting to see who’d be dumb enough to start standing around outside first. That’d be me. Liquor Harder was in the car next to mine but showed no signs of wanting to leave it. The only other hash car there was PG’s, with Doris Dicktorious (wearing a festive pumpkin hat and shirt that read “I Love Global Warming”), TOFU, and Cocktail Frank inside. Soon, PG jumped out, offered me a beer, and explained that Baster was still out setting. Then along came hare #3 himself, sporting his sporty red cowboy hat, followed closely by the Pippi and Cocksmith-mobile, carrying them and Floss. Everyone eventually got out of their cars and gathered around and soon Baster passed around foil balloons and Mardi Gras beads. I don’t want to know what Baster had to do to amass such a collection of beads: there were regular-old beads, plastic money beads, big ball beads, a couple of chains that included one of those rolling ball games, and even one with a giant Hermes pendant with flashing eyes, which Pippi scooped up. Cocktail Frank went for quantity, eventually looking like a smaller, whiter, ridiculously cheap Mr. T. We each tied on balloons, watched as a couple were lost to the winds, put on some bling, and watched TOFU do a little I-gotta-pee dance. Something about watching her made some of the rest of us realize we really needed to go too, but we figured we’d wait ‘til trail started—except for Liquor Harder who crouched between our cars.

Then—what time was it now, like a quarter to 3?—the hares announced that because of the snowstorm the first part of the hash would be set (re-set, or so they claimed) live. Baster then led chalk talk. We should have known we were in trouble when he introduced something called the “city check”.This was a special check that was actually like any old Ithaca check except that it had a big “X” in the circle with each thusly created quadrant spelling out IHHH. Again, this was no different from other checks, it was just something the hares felt like doing. I think they were full of shit, because, along with the other marks Baster described at chalk talk, I don’t recall seeing any of these on trail. But he promised a couple of beer stops, which would be held indoors in a warm place, so we forgot all about his weird marks.

The hares then set off to re-set, with TOFU veering slightly to finally take a much-needed private moment behind a bush. We then watched as the hares crossed the Taughannock Blvd./Rte. 89 bridge toward Island Fitness, waited several more minutes, and then followed. Miraculously, someone soon found trail on the bridge and we were off, with visions of pantsing (de-pantsing, actually) our hares. Then, things got ugly. Just past the laundromat at the corner of Rts. 89 and 96 we ran into an arrow pointing the other way. Okay, well, that chalk line on the corner could have been subtly curved to suggest we go left on Buffalo/96, so we decided to give that a shot. We made it to the next corner without seeing any marks, and only after much searching, found a faint curve leading into the parking lot toward the former Bistro Q. Sure enough, a “Y”, followed by a few marks seaming to lead across Fulton. I can’t recall where the last mark was but trail soon died out and then someone pointed out a cleverly concealed BC-some number. A few of us checked from the “Y” toward the collegiate boathouses and didn’t find a single mark. We later found out that true trail actually went that way. So, from here on we were pretty much off trail and royally screwed, though we would pick up snippets of trail again here and there (and Floss even discovered an On In at the bridge on State Street and 89; which, you may note, is several blocks from the nearest bar).

Keep in mind that as we ran around aimlessly in progressively larger circles around the same area, in basically really crappy weather, we were sporting balloons and an abundance of Mardi Gras beads. And, of course, Doris had his pumpkin hat.

Yeah, things were weird, and cold. But I hadn’t been out hashing in so long that I felt revirginated. So I was still having a good ol’ time and kept chasing down possible trails. There was the alley to Greenstar and checking out down Seneca to Meadow and over to Buffalo again. Eventually, “trail” was found near Alternatives, but that soon died out (in hindsight, it probably led to the On In at the State St. bridge, but we didn’t figure on that then), until it was picked up again going down State St. (toward the Commons).

A few checks later, we found ourselves at a HR in front of the Ithaca Running Company store. Great! Beer at last. No. Actually, there were no other hashers inside and this was just a beerless hash rest. Okay, soon enough, right? A block later, another HR in front of the porn shop (where the 7-year-old daughter of someone I recently did some work for walked by and waved. Hi!). No beer here, but certainly they’re in the Chanty. Or not. I checked over at Pete’s Cayuga bar, with no luck.

“Trail” was soon found going up the Commons, but again died out pretty quickly. I backtracked toward Moonshadow and found a mark, so figuring we were on trail, went back up the Commons and, indeed, “trail” was found again in front of the taqueria, and then heading up 79. Thinking one of the marks had a slight curve to it—and hoping to avoid running up the hill (we were far enough from the start already)—we looped left to head down Seneca and ran right into a false. But where was the check? WTF (again).

Doris and I, knowing that marks were few and far between, ran up to Stewart Ave., eventually finding the check. When other hashers followed, however, some more observant ones found a mark pointing down the hill. Forward or backward, we figured we must be close to a proper hash rest, with beer. Floss mentioned that TOFU’s apartment was nearby, so we decided to check in that general direction, and soon came to a “T”. I ran down the road that ends at the bridge that goes over the creek (you know the one) and smack into a BC9. That got us back to the “T” but further checking revealed nothing. It was at this point that someone suggested calling the f***ing f***er f***s who “set” this thing and getting to that first promised warm hash rest.

So we did. And soon discovered that we were on the second part of the trail, running backward as we suspected. But, actually, we’d run almost the entire thing backward. The hares were waiting for us at Baster’s on Tioga, so we hightailed it over there, ignoring a couple of marks along the way.

There, we found our hares polishing off the remains of a pitcher of some sort of lumpy green rum drink. We huddled in the kitchen and were offered PBRs, which we drank while we grumbled. Someone broke out some cheezy poofs and some ass-or-Ted cookies, which we ate while we grumbled some more. A few of the hounds tried to describe how we’d spent the past hour-plus (chasing down what someone referred to as not-see marks; had the hares given up chalk and flour for Lent?) and a couple of the hares attempted to explain how we should have spent it (a bit defensively). PG pointed out that we should consider ourselves lucky, because we had missed out on a BC69. We wondered if it was possible to hate her and her co-hares any more. TOFU cowered in the corner, muttering over and over “There was a blizzard!” Those not involved in this exchange just drank their PBRs and chatted about the relative merits of the ass vs. the Ted cookies (if you could tell the difference).

Then, perhaps in an effort to distract us from our misery, Baster went into the first of many wardrobe changes, donning a red cropped wig and a dashing red mini suit type thing with a nearly full-length zipper that, apparently, PG had bought for him when she decided it didn’t quite fit her. I think he was still wearing it when someone pointed out the pair of paper tits on the plant on the table. PG explained that they were for a game of pin the tits on the ____. Floss blindfolded PG, who then tried to pin the paper tits on Liquor Harder. Which, after much groping, she did. The paper tits made the rounds. Then, Baster casually commented on the time—4:20. Which led to a few people admitting that, until recently, they didn’t know what that meant. Let’s just say a few of us actively celebrated.

And then, another wardrobe change for Baster, though nothing quite as provocative (I don’t remember what it was except it was more or less back into hash clothes, though different hash clothes than before). And someone broke out a deck of cards. Which normally wouldn’t mean much, but on this day, somehow, turned into a game of suck-and-blow. We went around the room a few times, with a few close calls, some standout sucking, and Floss playing with such concentration and devotion that even after the card had clearly fallen to the floor, he was still masterfully sucking away. A few of us who were clearly hopeless were culled from the pack and a real match got underway between, I think, PG, Liquor Harder, Floss, and Pippi. PG and Pippi were the last two standing (and sucking and blowing).

We then got into talking about some of the upcoming away hashes and our own weekend (NOTE: there will be the first of many planning meetings immediately following this Sunday’s hash, at Chez Floss). One of the summer’s events mentioned was PP and Dances’ wedding in Cypress and Floss said that he expected a few Ithaca hashers might attend. He, himself, was hoping to go. A few others said they’d love to go, too, but most likely wouldn’t be able to. To which Floss said he’d pay for the flight for anyone who’d sleep with—or blow—him. Sex was out of the question but a bunch of us said we’d sleep with him as soon as he got us tickets, so Dances and PP, I’d say you can expect a pretty good Ithaca contingent.

But, enough standing around, it was time to get on with this hash. We decided we didn’t really need to re-run the Rte. 79 portion of the hash, nor try to get to the BC69, so Baster decided to just lead us on a straight run to the On In.

We headed through Fall Creek to Third St., across Rte. 13 to the water treatment plant / Aldi’s / farmers market area and then along the road leading to the collegiate boathouses, along the railroad tracks, to the former Bistro Q, right on Buffalo, right on Taughannock Blvd., and On Into Castaways.

For some reason, all the women decided to get their cars, leaving the men to have a brief Man Hash. Not much actually occurred, other than we got some beer. Bedside Pole Dancer and UFO showed up, recently back from some athletic event, for which they would drink. The womenfolk returned from their mission. UFO showed us her ass, which had a huge bruise on it from where she landed on some ice trying to chase down a school bus. And then she showed us her tits, too, for good measure, and so she could get some Mardi Gras bling. And then I realized that I had somehow ended up with the paper tits from the pin the tits on the ____ game and so I flashed everyone repeatedly and landed a few nice beads. There was more general flashing, some hash songs, and circle.

PG and TOFU just altogether denied trail, but they drank with Baster. People drank for various offenses: Bleeb (Liquor Harder?), Blab (Cocksmith, Pippi, and Floss), Bobbitt (UFO, BPD), Comes Latelys (me, Cocktail Frank, I think), UFO and BPD drank for overathleticism (having participated in some event or other), Baster drank a few times for various things and then drank some more for head gear in circle. Was that it? No one had their mugs, so we didn’t bother drinking for that. There were no awards exchanged. We drank some more and then went home.

And, you know what, a week and a half has passed since that horrible, horrible day (oh, how we suffered so!) and, looking back on it, I’ve since wondered how it could be possible for not one, not two, but three somewhat seasoned hashers to so completely fuck up a downtown trail (if they’d set anything of the kind out somewhere like Hammond Hill, who knows how many hashers we’d have lost forever!). And I’ve gotten to thinking about how they led us first this way, then that, then trail just died out, over and over again. There had to be some pattern here, some meaning to all this. But what? Did they have us run by all the places any of the hares had ever lived in? Their favorite Ithaca landmarks? Where they’d tossed their cookies? Or popped their—or other peoples’—cherries?

Then I mapped it out. And there, slowly, it was revealed to me. The evil bastards had done the whole-city-block circle jerk one better. (I tried to import an image of an Ithaca map and overlay the trail for you, but it didn’t work, so I’ll have to explain it; try to picture it as you read along.) There was a bit of a straight-ish run, then we went off to the left, came back and tried off to the right. Then trail died out. Minus a lot of confused checking and running around, it looks sort of like a “Y”. Then, some of us searched in a big arc and some of us eventually just went up State St., and we all met up a bit further up on State St. On a map, this looks a bit like a “D”. Then, further up State St. we went, but some of us looped around again and back until we hit State St. again. Another “D”. Stack two “Ds” and you have a giant “B”. With me so far? Then, it was up the Commons. We lost trail several times, and some of us checked right at the top of the Commons, but trail was picked up again going up Rte. 79. And then the “T” at Stewart Ave. and, checking right, the BC9. But going straight, nothing. Looks like a big “F”. Then, unable to piece it together any more, we threw in the towel.

Yup, we were meant to throw in the towel, ‘cause we’d finished spelling out their dastardly trail: “YBF”! Worst trail of the year? Or best?

-- Country Cock

ReHash #531

Date: Thu, 28 Feb 2008 10:48:38 -0500

Perhaps it was reading the last rehash or being blinded by the weekend spring-sunshine that images of Jack Nicholson breaking his way out of the ward in One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest comes to mind. What was left of the former IH3 hash met in what can only be described as serene compared to the drama-trauma queens of the last hash.

For all you scared and scarred survivors (vicarious or otherwise), this rehash is for you. This hash offered so many things--- starting with hashers who... get this… could follow markings and sniff out beer! It's true; no lost trail, selling beads and who knows what for a drink or hint of trail, no "white outs" (only black outs) and no lame a## excuses … er, I mean, harsh circumstances, leading one to break down and call for help. Admitting you are powerless is the first step. Cumming to believe that a Power greater than yourselves can restore you to sanity is the second and maybe, just maybe, the experiences, reassurance of happier times and mockery will lure you back to the power of the hash.

We had two out of town visitors from Tucson, Stuffed in My Box and Bunker Baiter, who naturally tried to take credit for bringing the sun (before our galant hare showed them where sun don't shine); along with Spike, PG, Mindy, Jiffy Lube and hare, Butt Floss.

Trail began in the falls overlook parking lot at Taughannock State Park. We ran up trail and crossed into a fresh, fertile field. It was magical really. Our feet grew double in length and a couple inches were added to our height. Who knows what else grew. PG began to stumble, regained her slippery footing before going down, hard and fast, just the way she … um…landed was graceful. She tried to shake off what can only be described as schmear and it covered her entire back side. A re-naming conversation arose when she complained of her hip being sore. Showing ourselves to be great helpers with unsteady footing, we just stood there exclaiming, "Oh My" until she got herself upright. Hell, it must be said here—PG is just that sweet or was too preoccupied with her new look to think of taking us down with her. We could feel the love on this fine sunny day. (Note to last hash: Not all misery loves company.)

Down the road we went with forewarning that we may be chased by hounds. The group responded as such: the FRBs took off quickly—clearly taking the gamble that if they couldn't outrun the dogs, they would outrun everyone else and be spared. The remaining DFL (aka disabled) fodder quieted down in hyper vigilance as the fearless hare formed his artillery of snowballs. Luckily, the dogs passed on the snow cone entree and stayed hidden. At this point, we arrived at the ice pond on Rice Hill and were rewarded with a BN in the bush after saying hello to Trojan's sister and chasing off a couple kids trying to dib in on our goods. (Note to last hash: That's right, we found beer.)

Down the hill we continued, skipping towards the beautiful blue lake with the warm sun surrounding us. The Sound of Music was playing somewhere, I swear. No sooner had we stepped out of the sun and into the descending forest did a dark mood overtake each hasher one by one. Nature joined the force by snagging hashers with tree branches; poking at them; tripping them; offering to lend a steady grip and then breaking when used. Indeed, loud torturous curses were heard echoing out of the gorge. With an evil laugh, our hare stood on high ground as the climb brought everyone to their knees. But good overcomes evil and the sun (no rainbows) led a path to swing sets were we proceeded; then a hop, skip and jump over stacked picnic tables as we headed our way up to the next BN. (Note to last hash: Did you catch that? A second (as in two) BN was found ON trail.)

Into the parking lot we returned to conclude the hash. With such a small but exuberant group, we attempted to accuse and sang a few songs, but really we just got distracted. Bunker Baiter will attempt to blackmail us later with photos. The sun began to wane and Mindy's whole doggy-body vibrated with such vigor that the table shook and beers spilled. PG took her into her arms and held her close. With a few raised eyebrows, we packed up and rode off into the sunset leaving our land of abundant beer and trail-- it was beautiful, really.

— Jiffy Lube

ReHash #533

Date: Tue, 25 Mar 2008 17:13:41 -0700 (PDT)

Ten hut! All present and accounted for sir! Sound off and be counted: Unidentified Feathered Orifice, Bedside Pole Dancer, Cocktail Frank, Lollypoop, Fetch, Party Doll, Master Baster, Spike, Pig Fucker, Extra Testicle, Harry Condom Junior, Floss, Porcelain Goddess, Jiffy Lube…..all here Check!!

Just after we crossed the bridge on Route 89 I signaled, and then executed a right turn into the north entrance of the park. Off in the distance I could see a small but jubilant crowd huddled in the lea of a white van with a curious structure on the roof. Once we stepped out of the car we knew why the group was huddled close in behind the van. Despite the warm sun on the lovely March day the air was sharp, like the dull edge of a pomegranate. The wind off Cayuga Lake compounded matters for sure. It was chilly standing there in the parking lot but I managed to stay warm by diverting blood from my hands and feet to my extra testicle, which was pumping like a second heart. This all because I caught a glimpse of PGs pronounced labia majora through her britches. A few others saw what I saw (one even got a camera image of it). One squealed, “camel toe!” but that did PG an injustice…….to me she was sporting nothing short of a moose knuckle!

Anyway, we waited a spell for folks who we assumed might show, however Hot Lips did not show. While we waited, some of us had a beverage while others of us tussled the hairs on a small dog’s head. After a quick scan of the near by parking lots for the directionally impaired and illiterate we made our way out.

No sooner had we got under way when Fetch was offered a special prize. A park ranger, serving and protecting, drove over to tell him that running on a certain stone wall was worth a $250.00 fine. The good news is that said ranger presented this fine to Fetch as an offer, like , “how would you like a $250.00 fine?” For some reason Fetch turned his offer down…. go figure? Oh if only more law enforcement officers made people offers like that….. “say how would you like this speeding ticket?”

I am no stranger to the Beaster Egg Hash so I knew it was inevitable that we would be climbing up some formidable hills, but I did not expect it to happen so soon. In no time we were ON! So on-on we were and on-up we went….and up….and up…and up. Just as Cocktail Frank and I cleared the tree-line we felt this eerie sense that we were alone. The air was getting thin so neither of us was lucid in our thinking, if only one of us had brought oxygen. This I do recall: there were two FRBs up ahead and no hairs to be seen below. Then my worst fears came true, from the clouds ahead back down the hill strode the FRBs waiving there arms, “avast….avast!” Yes, it happened once again, back check some number that wound us up nearly at the bottom of the mountain.

When we rejoined the tail-end of the group, they were already searching for treasures in an ancient cemetery. Our eyes frantically scoured the leaf covered ground for signs of beer and or egg. Some came up with hard-boiled eggs, some came up with candied sex organs, and still others came away with the crown jewel, a Rolling Rock pony. After a careful count of the booty in our hands matched the count of booty left on the ground by the hairs, we left the area in search of more Beaster Egg joy.

With the sugar coursing in our veins from chocolate breasts, penises, and vaginas we went on up the hill further in search of more wonderment and merry. With our noses pressed to the ground we took to trail like darts. Not long after we fanned out once again, like archaeologists we divided and quartered yet another patch of forest floor looking for hair droppings. This process repeated several times over, running followed by searching, followed by running and so on.

As the light of day waned and the weight of our treasure bags summoned lactic acid to build up in our arms we finally headed down the hill again. It must be noted that the day was quite beautiful. Had I been stuck in a cave…. dead… waiting to emerge after somebody rolled a big rock away I would have been sad to have missed such a day as this. But….this is the good news my friends…I was not dead in a cave…I was not in Iraq, I was not trying to sell a condo in Florida, I do not own Bear Stearns shares, and I was certainly not Elliot Spitzer trying to explain to Silda where that barnacle like thing on his pecker came from. The good news is that I was hashing! What a day to be hashing!

So down Rice Hill I went. So filled with joy was I, Pig Fucker, and Master Baster that we all three blew right through a treasure check. We three returned to the vehicles alone and when no one else showed we ran back to once again join the group. However, before we could find our friends it seems as though the park rangers got to them first. No tickets or fines levied but more fuel for all of us to wonder just how safe we really are in the hands of our law enforcement brothers?

To escape the searing cold we headed off to Floss’s home to convene the circle. The hairs drank for a shitty trail, Master Baster for a hash crash, and Harry Condom, ET, UFO, and Bedside Pole Dancer for comes lately. Master Baster was awarded the “who said head” award and Bedside Pole Dancer received a rather unusual apron, one equipped with a strap on penis. I cannot recall all of the awards and punishments that were doled out because the circle lasted for an eternity. In fact I would say that for I it was the longest circle ever. There was much singing and much laughing. The phrase, “when one hair drinks all hairs drink” was commonly heard bellowing over the crowd.

“Closing time….you don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here”……….not true! We closed the circle and did stay! The pizza arrived, we reduced our beer supply, and we enjoyed the company of many a fun individual.

Harry Condom and I left happy but without our mugs...lord knows what will become of them.

ReHash #534

ReHash #535

Date: Mon, 5 May 2008 19:25:09 -0400

I arose Sunday morning amidst the stirrings of a sleep Camp Stinko, nestled deep in the foothills of central Pennsylvania. Brushing the sleep from the eyes, I stumbled from my tent and beheld the embers of the previous night's fire, my sodden combat boots hanging from the flagpole to dry, several half-minds passed out around the camp... and promptly tripped over the pitcher of beer left outside my tent by some mysterious - but no doubt well-meaning half-mind. After a good stretch and a bend,

After a little hair-of-the-dog, a lazy fatboy trail, one incinerated easy chair (it wasn't me, believe it or not), and some packing up and heartfelt goodbyes, the four intrepid IthaWanks laid their own trail back home to join the second hash of the weekend. TOFU, Cocktail Frank, Mouthful of Clam, the primeval Butt Floss and I piled into the caravan and headed (heh) off to the best place to be that day: Ithaca's Cinco de Mayo!

We arrived in Washington Park to behold a motley crew of assembled wankers. Inspector Speculum and Butter Buns were there in cute semi-matching grey-and-black outfits. Always a Bridesmaid brought Just Torrey for her springtime re-introduction to the hash. Racine Rev came all the way from Dallas to join us for the festivities. Doris Dicktoria had the audacity to arrive in a r*ce shirt from that day. Porcelain Goddess was there in a shiny new black truck to match her outfit. Jiffy Lube rubbed her hands with glee, anticipating the trail that was to happen, giving out bandannas to mark the occasion. The wily and elusive Just Eric surprised us with a spur-of-the moment visit. Burpenstain and Hump Me Dump Me arrived to the delight of the crowd.

After a chalk talk for the out-of-towners, the pack set off searching the streets of downtown Ithaca! Trail was soon picked up heading southeast, zig-zagging towards Six Mile Creek in the southern part of town. Noted FRBs Bridesmaid, Doris, Burpenstain and ...someone else... enthusiastically ferreted out false trails while the pack caught their breath. They soon picked up the hill going up towards Gun Hill. Despite fears of a heinous back-check, they continued on left, zagged by the police station, zigged up the hill, where we saw a Cinco-custom mark: Photo Op! At Castle Burpenstain! On we went back down to the Commons. There was some confusion, as the FRBs were starting to think wishfully of a beer stop at the Chanticleer or Moonshadows. Up and down they ran, alas no beer was to be had. Where was trail? Fortunately, the pack was much more organized, and trail was soon picked up down Tioga. Several of us stopped briefly to greet Just Mary and Just Brian, who were seen wandering about the Commons, surely in search of beer.

On and on they went through Fall Creek neighborhood, chatting amiably and catching up with the rest of the pack. By the time the over-eager front-runners had made it to Ithaca Falls, the pack was nowhere in sight. Burpenstain had the bright idea to do a quick impromptu BEER NEAR at the Fall Creek House, and a pitcher was produced, thanks to the quick hands of Always A Barmaid - er, Bridesmaid. After that wonderful refresher, the pack soon picked up trail, pausing momentarily by the Photo Op at Ithaca Falls, before continuing along Fall Creek and into the Wilderness Preserve by the tracks. On through mild shiggy and briars, they came out by the bridges and into the open field. Speculating as to a location, the FRBs lit across the soccer fields and soon found a My Little Pony pinata, suspended on one of the willows by the lake. Truly, a glorious sight!

J. Sue appeared as a mirage to the thirsty, almost hallucinating hashers, bringing emoluments of BEER, chips, salsa, BEER, and some special veggie-bean dip, ensuring that hashers headed home could propel themselves with the force of their own wind. (Seriously, it was waaaay yummy) As the harriers trickled in, beer was passed out and masticating ensued. Soon, the call was up to put the pony out of its misery. Butt Floss was called up first to smite the smiling, mocking creature. In one fell swoop, he managed to smack the thing clean off its mounting. Much hilarity ensued as Mouthful bravely scaled the tree to reattach it, naming it Flicka in the process.

Racine Rev, Goddess, and Hump Me Dump Me each took their turn at popping the pony, causing candy to spill forth from a hole near the horses' groin. The last shot also caught the horsie's nose. The beast was done. As a mad scramble for candy ensued, Cock Frank - in a display of his good taste in harriettes - made a move at Goddess, saying "I'm done grabbing candy, I just wanna grab." As the beer was depleted, the pack got restless and was soon off again across the lawn.

Back they went, over the bridges, skirting the golf course, and towards the Farmer's Market they went. The pack continued into south Fall Creek, heading pack towards Washington Park. Just as the two thirstiest FRBs got in, Jiffy Lube pulled up with the sacred nectar. Perfect timing! The pack all returned, and soon we were ensconced in the park, wondering vaguely if the constabulary would object to our egregious display of hash sacrament. At long last, Inspector Speculum and Racine Rev returned, and circle was underway, taking special care to modify songs so as to avoid corrupting the young'uns in the area.

Down-downs were issued as you might expect -- Jiffy Lube for a wonderfully hilly, shiggy, and poorly-marked trail. Visitors Racine Rev, Burpy, and Hump Me Dump Me were welcomed from out of town. Barmaid - Bridesmaid, sorry! - Doris, Burpy and I drank for FRBing, along with Speculum and Rev for DFL. We welcomed back TOFU, J. Torrey, Speculum, and ButterBuns after being away so long. The traveling hashers were punished for traveling.

Most importantly, we took a special moment to commemorate Floss' recent superannuation. A bottle of bubbly was produced, and his birthday up-up was marked by bubbles up his nose. Yummy! Another 50 years and Super Robot Butt Floss will be able to do a second! Woo hoo!

We look forward to trail on 5/18, hared by Butt Floss and your truly at Michigan Hollow State Forest. Details will be announced shortly. Hash hounds welcome.

On-On,

~MBaster

ReHash #536

Date: Wed, 21 May 2008 07:42:10 -0700 (PDT)

Hash #536: Sunday, May, 18th, 3 pm.

Location: Michigan Hollow. Sunday's trail convened at 3pm HST, on Bald Hill Road in the Danby State Forest.

If you like…

mud cover wet puppies

virgins of all flavors

creepy old overgrown cemeteries

accidental “On-In’s” in the first quarter mile of trail

shitty-mean back-checks

long ball-busting up hills

wantonness “race-ism”

striking wild flowers

poorly marked “YBF’s”

swampy stream crossings

threats of ominous storms

prospects of sun

beer checks with no salsa

excessive dry-humping

really fast down hills

random newt crossings

illegal breaking and entering

car alarms

gay murky moments with virgins

circles that Hot Lips actually attends

plentiful ice cold beer

oh yeah and a beer check with a stupendous view of route 96

Then you missed a great trail.

Don’t do it again!

Hey Ithaca,

CockSmith and I had a great 4 years with you. Thanks for the trials, the beers and the cheers. See you in August.

On-oN!

Pippi “and Cock”

ReHash #537

Date: Sat, 14 Jun 2008 12:14:45 -0700 (PDT)

Well, a motley crew of hashers assembled at the Cornell Syncholtron parking lot this past Sunday....or at least I presume they did.... Your's truly...the ever punctual Butt Floss arrived after trail actually started due to prior BEER drinking obligations..........

Fortunately...Spike was there and took attendance...as well as hash cash. And....look at the list!!!! A number of cums-lately's showed up that we haven't seen in ages!!! Those attending were:

Hares:
Cocktail Frank
Mouthful of Clams
Tits Out for Us
Just Delena - Virgn lay

Hounds:
Spike
Master Baster
Just Brian
Just Mary
Virgin Rob
Always a Bridesmaid
Just Tori
Road Kill
Vibrator
Hungman
Staffy Puller
Doris Dicktoroia
Toothy Lunker
Butt Floss

It was decided mid-way through trail that I should be the one writing this re-hash...for a number of reasons:

1) I haven't written one in quite some time but have been real good about asking others to do it.
2) Who better to write a re-hash for the YHS crew than one of the oldest fossils in the hash????
3) It was I who broke the cherry of two of the hares and as you will soon see.....writing this is just punishment.

So...there we were....Phoenix and I....watching hashers running all over the place...and hares watching them. Upon closer observation I discovered that our hares were dressed as "animals"!! Mouthful was scantily clad as Peek-a-Choo.....TOFU was dressed as a HOT "snapper"...errrr...I mean snapping turtle....not really sure what Cocktail Frank was...and Just Delena was dressed as a skunk....and boy did she stink!!!! (her "white stripe" consisted of some dirty old socks she found buried in TOFU's room...YUCK!!!)

About then, Just Mary came by and we discovered that we were twins...sort of. Her leopard spots matched my "floss-du-jour". TOFU decided I needed some help and quickly placed her snapper upon my head. Ummm...that's snapping turtle head piece that is....dirty minded folks!

And then....we were finally off!!!

True trail led from the parking lot...up Dryden Rd and then up Maple Ave. It appeared to head....HEAD!...Who said head?....off down the East Hill Rec Way....to a long Back Check as it turns out....though Phoenix and I were tipped off by the hares that we shouldn't go that way....geriatric favors I suppose...

Soon though, we were trudging out towards Game Farm Rd on the bike path...but not for long though. We took a quick left....Phoenix and I were actually FRBing at this point...and ended up at a cultivated mushroom patch!!! Glory be....jackpot! Or so we thought. No mushrooms to be found....and off we started checking for trail again....which led us up to a driveway near the Cornell Orchards.

Ah...another circle check! But...which way???? We check ALL ways....EXCEPT backwards!!! DOH!!! Who taught these young whipper-snappers how to set trail???? Oh yeah...never mind....twas the bastard Floss and everyone knows how he likes to screw with the pack....caught by his own designs as it turned out....

Everyone was getting pretty thirsty by now........no BEER in sight though.

We ended up over in the area across from the water tower and true trail had us climbing under a bunch of concrete barriers.....on hands and knees no less! But...we were soon rewarded fore we ran off into the woods and found BEER!!!!

Whilst enjoying the liquid nectar and some animal crackers....of course...after all...it WAS the SAFARI HASH!!!.....Phoenix decided to nose around a tent with strange looking wires surrounding it. Hhhmmmm.........what are these??????.......Yipe...Yipe....YIPE!!!!! Shit! Those wires are electrified and poor little Phoenix got his wiener and whole body jolted! Sounds like he may have earned a name..........

After much laughter and the slaughter of poor innocent animal crackers....we were off again...

Out to Game Farm Rd and on to the bike path we went. Are we headed back to the start so soon??? Neh.....we soon turned off the path and across a small stream. This is where we lost a few hashers....apparently they could ford the stream. Road Kill, Vibrator and Hung Man were saw no more that day. Too bad....would have been fun to make them drink. Staffy Puller left with them as well but we did see her at the end.

Across the stream the rest of us went and on up to an apartment complex where the hares laid a sneaky BC 19...or something like that...which took us right back to the dumpster where we first entered the area....and.....BEER!!!! Hooray! There was a nice futon there that some college kid didn't want to take home with him. WE could see why...the mattress was a bit "stained"...or...was that from our YHS Hares earlier in the day???? In addition to beer....Mouthful treated us to some yummy jungle juice that he made up from apparent leftovers in the cupboard. Wasn't too bad actually. Amazing what some Hawaiian Punch can do to the taste of alcohol.....

Crackers and punch gone...we were off again as it was getting late.

Back to the stream....down the stream....and back to the cars for circle where we found Staffy waiting to say goodbye. We also found Just Tori who had cut most of trail off....

Circle ensued and everyone drank. Unfortunately....it's been so long since it happened that my feeble mind can't remember all the details....

I do however remember the naming of Phoenix. In the hash he shall now be known as "Shocker" for his little dance with the electric fence. We attempted to name a few others...without success...this time.

And there you have it....the YHS Safari Hash was indeed quite shitty and enjoyed by all that came....

on-better-late-than-never, Floss

ReHash #540

Date: Mon, 14 Jul 2008 17:24:08 -0400

The day was like something out of a fairy tale. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the forest smelled of fresh dew and supple adventure! I along with Just Matt and Just Delana happily paid monsieur Spike, but we had a feeling that our investment would be well worth it. Soon we were joined by the gallant Just Chris, and then our very own Cocktail "Mothernature-Loving" Frank pulled up in his pimped out ride including a refrig-o-trunk which was keeping cool a delightful stock of delicious brewed beverages.

With our beverages mostly finished, the eager hares leapt into the welcoming woods and quickly found an extremely well-marked trail through an untouched wetland paradise. "On-On!" the hashers shouted over the singing of birds and the humming of bees. Suddenly, they heard a beautiful voice echo "On-On" in the distance. Soon, the regal Toothy Lunker appeared before the hashers to join them in their quest with her supernatural path-finding ability.

On we went. I was enjoying the view so much that I barely noticed when we came upon a crystal-clear stream. At this point, the striking Cocktail Frank forcefully declared that he was unsatisfied with the trail as it stood beyond this point. Ordering his gorgeous hashers to give him a five minute head start, he stormed across the river and scrambled up the other side to begin erasing his old marks and laying a new trail. Rather than argue with the determined hare, the hashers decided to strip down to enjoy the laughing, sweet-tasting water and soak in the sun with their finely-sculpted bodies.

They could have stayed there forever in perfect joy, but the hashers, eager to rejoin the handsome hare and find a more hoppy thirst-quencher, cut short their playful revelry to continue the hunt. Through majestic old-growth woods, down heart-stopping drop-offs, along a river teeming with jumping fish, and up an exhilarating three-story climb we finally learned that beer was near! The wily hare had dug out a cool, comfortable burrow where the hashers found him laying back and enjoying a cold one. We promptly joined him. There was much feasting, camaraderie, and of course, rejoicing.

On the hash went under sun and shade and over moss and fern with the hare back at the end of the pack. The pack flew through the woods, and before we knew it we were once again at the stream where Frank had left us once before. Fearing that the hash would end before he wanted it to, he once again bid us patience as he took off in a new direction laying trail with gusto. Fortunately, it was easy to be patient with the sun on our face and the succulent water before us. Like Greek works of art, the young, nubile bodies of the hashers, glistening with persperation, were once again washed by the massaging current.

The trail soared onward and the clever Cocktail treated his followers to turns and trails that highlighted the woodland's natural flora and fauna. Finally coming out of the woods the hashers found themselves back at their point of origin, and their eyes already wide with the beauty they had said grew even wider as the hare invited them to help him ravage a cache of brews that seemed to appear out of nowhere. I myself chose the Ithaca Brewery's mighty Ten to bathe by tongue in frothy goodness.

Circle was a joint effort of Toothy, Spike, and myself, and ended up ironically sharing many characteristics with our daring hare - it was short, sweet, full of beer, and hard to leave. Cocktail was punished for his stupendously shitty trail. Just Delana, Toothy and myself were berated for our rampant r*cism. Everyone except Just Matt was found to be guilty of FRB-ing or DFL-ing, but Matt did get to share a drink with Just Chris for embracing the natural beauty more physically than deemed necessary. Toothy called me out for not sharing my stick with her, a mistake I will never make again, and we admonished Cocktail for attempting to ruin our taste for PBR with his exotic selection of malty beverages. Finally, we decided not to assign a rehash for fear of driving our absent compatriots mad with envy, but I have since decided our story must be told so that Cocktail Frank's legendary hash of Monkey Run serve as an example to us all. With that, the hash went in peace.

On-On

Mouthful Of Clam

ReHash #541

Date: Wed, 27 Aug 2008 22:30:08 -0400

Ithaca Hash #451
Finger Lakes National Forest

up the dirt road
a long road
to Finger Lakes Forest
hash all around
assembled
hares Floss and Liquor jest
hounds gather near
the flour
chalk talk of what we'll see
WT
Just Kevin
while Glasstor Bator pees
Baster and Spike
and Hot Lips
Just Chris, Just Matt, Just Jen
Mouthful, Just "Moose"
and Beats It
Air Jesus, where've you been?
TB, PG
and Cocktail
and Poker Heinus too
let's not forget
Sevtana
and also Deja Goo
off after marks
on on yell
but trail is YBF
back to the start
those damn hares
are you? no, i'll check left
finally trail
through thick woods
on path up hill, i hear
shiggy and thorn
hounds calling
but where the hell is beer
road goes down hill
lose high ground
and Thunder Thighs appears
him we abduct
to hash now
and then by stream, beer near
back check up hill
hounds walking
for this the hares will drink
finally trail
more shiggy
and into mud hounds sink
following trail
a long time
at last the beer is seen
slide on the grass
by water
drink beer by pond and stream
back down the trail
through forest
a porta potty found
check out the trail
around it
a back check for the hounds
who's in the john
a hasher
a murkey moment, yey!
check over there
some campers
let's go the other way
back to the pond
familiar
i think we've seen before
is this the trail?
we've gone on?
have we been on this shore?
head down a road
still going
on on this must be it!
down a long road
still going
another back check, shit!
short cut some did
but others
returned to check it back
through the green woods
the hashers
on on-ing limbs go whack
finally found
the trail ends
on in give me a beer!
circle around
to hashing
give me another beer!
and then we were too messed up to rhyme in meter. . .

Spike

ReHash #542

Date: Mon, 11 Aug 2008 11:59:14 -0400

Start: South Hill Recreational Area, Six Mile Creek
Finish: South Hill Children's/Hasher's Recreational Area, Six Mile Creek

Hashers Present: {Porcelain Goddess, Cocktail Frank, Mouthful of Clam} (Hare + Man-tourage), TOFU, Toothy Lunker, Beats It Blind, Always a Bridesmaid, Butt Floss, Spike, Poke Her Heiness, Liquor Harder, Jiffy Lube, Mr. and Mrs. Porcelain Goddess, Just Sid the Fiddler on the Gorge, Just Delana, Just Brian, Master Baster, Just Rachel, Just Kevin (or is it Justin? The hash cannot remember), Bumbleballs (née Just Matt), various hashers of the canine persuasion.

The morning of hash #542 began ominously, with the weathermen reporting that most of New York was already wet with excitement for the impending hash -- indeed, upon leaving to seek trail, I noticed that Tompkins County was the only county in the area not affected by severe thunderstorms. It was almost as though God (the original hare) had said unto the hash: "be fruitful on this day: drink of my mead, run of my daughter's trail, and multiply." And verily, we did.

Driving the impeccably maintained vehicle owned by Mouthful of Clam, I ventured to the hash with Beats it Blind and Just Delana, noticing on the way that Butt Floss was driving his wonderfully gas-efficient Nissan Xterra immediately behind us. Beats It took this courting as an invitation to see if his rear would comfortably fit out the window while the car was in motion. Butt Floss can confirm that it does.

Arriving at the hash, we were greeted by other hashers, but there was not a hare in sight! We soon learned that our hares had been enjoying some sweaty private time on the last leg of their newly-set trail. Cocktail Frank, in particular, was so excited from his time alone with PG and Mouthful that he passed out, sweaty and with a blissful smile on his face, and did not return until the hash began. We passed the time until the start discussing the fact that Mr. PG, sire of the great harrierette, had not had PBR in over a decade. After assuring ourselves, and him, that the tasty beverage remained as wonderful as ever, the hash began.

In search of cold beverages and adventure, the pack set out down the gravel path on South Hill, r*nning for what seemed like forever on an nonbranching trail, we were greeted with the first of many back-checks. It was at this point that many noticed that our hares were far behind, if following us at all. Jealous of their ability to drink beer while we sought trail, our pace was hurried. The trail led us into a shiggier path off the main road, and it was on this path that I had the first of my three hash crashes of the day.

After running through overgrown fields and along not-so-beaten paths, the trail led us past a gorgeous hash view of a tall waterfall. It was shortly after this hash view that I along with many other hashers encountered a man hiking on the rocky part of the trail, looking most unhappy. Surely his sour attitude was attributable to his lack of beer and good company, though his identity was confirmed as a City of Ithaca Park Ranger when Always a Bridesmaid and Master Baster found BEER hidden in the shiggy near his truck, parked at the top of the waterfall. During this period of drinking, the hash poured some out for its dead homies, sharing in a large quantity of malt liquor, provided by Cocktail Frank.

Soon it was off to trail again, and for me another hash crash brought upon by a high-lying tree-root. The trail took us up, up up, and also back, back, back, as we began to understand the true magnitude of the hares' love for back-checks. At one point, running near Jiffy Lube, I was given my third hash crash when Jiffy lost her footing on a hill, careening into me. When she turned to laugh at the spectacle, Just Rachel also joined in on the tumble, all three of us dirty and wet. The trail led us onward, however, and we eventually heard the sweet siren song of fiddle off the in the distance. The hash rested to the sultry sounds of Sid's melody, and enjoyed some swimming and more conversation with the Elder PG's. The trail continued on only a bit longer before Always a Bridesmaid discovered more BEER hidden in a pipe!

During this beer check, the hash was set upon by either an angry set of bees, or on incredibly angry and persistent hornet. While minding their own business and attempting to enjoy a frothy beverage, Poke Her Heiness and I were stung by the creature(s). My reaction to this was to exclaim a sentence expressing my dismay at having a bee sting so near my groin, and to go flittering away from the creature into the safe and protective arms of Spike, Just Rachel, and Butt Floss. Luckily, the bee(s) left us, and the hash continued, but not before Just Brian joined us, having been lost and wandering trail for quite some time in search of the group.

From the second finding of beer, it was a short jaunt on-in to the playground in the South Hill Recreational area, where more beer, as well as a package of "larger than life" Cocktail Franks awaited the hungry, thirsty hashers. Circle commenced, giving our hares a much needed drink for their hard work. Beats It, Cocktail Frank, and I were also given downs for deciding that we must leave the Ithaca Hash. Baster was also rewarded for his foresight of bringing new shoes on trail with a cold beer from said shoes, and PG was rewarded for her recent r*cism, which many hashers had witnessed firsthand. As usual, Bridesmaid and Baster were given downs for FRB'ness. The Circle also successfully avoided the ire of the angry neighborhood, jealous as they were of the fun being had of the hash. Finally, in reward for my recent wound and more-than-overdramatic reaction, I was christened Bumbleballs by the Circle, shedding at last the status of being just another hasher. Thus the hash ended, with the hashers searching in vain for a way to replace the three who were lost. With that, the hash went in peace.

Thank you, Ithaca Hash, for helping me to lose my hasher virginity. I will miss you all dearly, and you are all always welcome at my home in Santa Cruz.

On-On,
Bumbleballs

ReHash #543a

ReHash #543b

ReHash #544

Date: Mon, 15 Sep 2008 09:50:00 -0700 (PDT)

There I was....sound asleep Saturday morning....visions of BEER laden harrierettes dancing in my head....on my bed....

The damned phone put an end to that!!!!

It was Just Delana....one of the hares for the day's hash.

"You HAVE to park you car where the hash is going to end so that I can put my clothes in it for the BEER Festival"

Being one of the YHS contingent....how could I say no to her????

"OK, what time do you want me there?....WHAT!!!??? Holy shit! I have to get my ass moving!!!"

And so the day of craziness began...............

I had to get out of bed....to get to the END of the hash...to get a ride to the BEGINNING of the hash...to do the hash....then leave the circle in order to go to Chris and Dorothy's wedding reception...to leave that and get back to the BEER Festival...to go to dinner and continue PG's birthday celebration weekend....to.............Oh F*ck...and then there's that whole take care of Phoenix bit.....

Yup....so much for "visions of BEER laden harrierettes dancing in my head....on my bed...."

Up I got....morning wood shriveled away with the thoughts of this very busy day laid out before me................

And...........so this re-hash begins. Are you still with me????

As promised, Just Delana picked me up at the end of trail and dragged my hung-over ass to the start in the parking lot behind Gateway Plaza in Ithaca...just up the street from Ithaca Commons. As I get out of the car....Shank-n-Bitch from Flour City cums running over to me.....to give me the money bag for hash cash. ???? WTF? "Spike said to give this to you because he had to go home.....to retrieve his BEER Festival ticket." Dumb Ass! He should drink for that!!!!

So, who was there????
Not many from IH3 as it turns out........

Hares: Just Delana and Master Baster
Visitors from Flour City: Shake-n-Bitch and Muther Cummer
Virgins: Just Mike from Buffalo...Baster made him cum
Just Bridgette and Just Brianne...twin nurses from Groton that made eachother cum.....OH! There go those visions in my head again!!!! HEAD!!!! Who said HEAD????......
Spike eventually showed back up...
And then....yours truly Butt Floss

Was that it??? Two Ithaca hashers....a couple of visitors....and a handful of virgins??? Yup! And the rest of you should be ashamed for missing out on such a fun day!

As you may recall...this was to be a LIVE HARE trail.....unusual for Ithaca....

After a quick chalk talk....the hares were off....kind of like scared rabbits!!!! You could see the fear in Just Delana's eyes.....fear that she would be caught....and de-pantsed!!!!

After ample time....maybe 5 minutes.....the hounds were off......like a heard of Turtles!!!! We decided to conserve our energy for the BEER Festival and to chat with the virgins about what hashing is....

The trail led UP East State street....naturally.....but wait...nope! First of many found falses for the day.

True trail took us down the street...around the library...past the police station....STUPID HARE....there was FLOUR right in front of the police station door. SHIT! Run by there quickly! :O)

On we went....up and around and eventually across the foot bridge back towards State Street....with no BEER in sight yet!!!!

A few falses later and the FRB...umm....that was Floss for some odd reason....cums across a civilian sweeping up FLOUR in front of his steps. Hmmm....what was that?....Just a mark??? But.....wait....there were no more marks beyond it! Crap! Back to the swept marks and the civilian to see what it was. Rats...he was gone now! Thank goodness for the trained eye of Muther Cummer. He determined that it used to read "BC"!!! But nothing more. So...we start searching back.....god knows how many marks....and MC actually found true trail leading us up through some treacherous terrain where Floss finally saw...."THE LIGHT!!!". Yup....a discarded florescent bulb...one of many treasures to be found that day as it turns out....

On up through College Town and eventually to the 5 corners area. Heading down Dryden Rd form the check Floss noticed a odd marking across the street that led up the stairs towards the East Hill RecWay....and also saw a mark farther down Dryden Rd at the Hoy Rd intersection. Rotten hares....he thought....that's a Back Check down at Hoy Rd leading right back to here. Sure enough...he spotted flour heading up the stairs and was off!.....Only to discover much farther on that there was a BC 10 at Maple Ave. Crap.....out-fooled by the hares!

Sure enough...TRUE trail was actually down at that mark at Hoy Rd. Stupid hounds....NEVER follow Floss!

Eventually the trail led us up UNDERNEATH the stadium....through some very dark passages.... Where were those hot virgin nurses when you need them?????....Out of the darkness we went.....to find our hares waiting for us!...and....the glorious BN sign!!!! Praise the Hash Gods!!!

And then....our hares were off again.........

Follow them quickly and depants them? HELL NO!!! Stay and consume the delectable gifts they left behind!!!

And we did........

Then...we were off...through the top-side of the stadium where a football game was happening. How boring! Hashing is MUCH more fun!

On through campus we went where Floss found his next two treasures of the day....

A sign reading "No Entry - Deliveries Only"...which when folded in half made for an interesting "suggestion" between the legs of Virgin Brianne....

Then....a BROOM on the sidewalk. Thinking quickly....Floss tossed it at Shake-n-Bitch and told her to enjoy her new car! Snicker! Oh payback will surely be a bitch...no pun intended...or...maybe it is....

Down to Beebe lake we went...across the dam...and then down along the gorge to the other foot bridge. Jesus...I thought this was going to be a short hash so that we could get to the festival and REALLY start drinking.....

Down Gun Hill....around the high school....and over the tracks........and..........ON-ON!!!....at the mulch pile...where we found our hares awaiting us...but no BEER! "You have to go find it...again.." BASTARDS!

And find it we did....buried in the mulch. The cover to the tote was covered in mulch and needed to be removed before opening it. Well....some how it all got dumped on the lead hare...Master Baster...for such a shitty trail. :O)

And then....we drank!

Hares for the cursing we did all over Ithaca that day.
Virgins were welcomed into our fold
Visitors thanked for joining us.
FRB's for being over enthusiastic
Floss, Just Delana and Master Baster for recent R*cism activities
Spike for something that I forget
And others that I should have obviously remembered.

And then.....on to the BEER Festival for most........where they saw many a Bobbit for the day including PG, TOFU, Jiffy Lube, Just Sue, Lil'Dimmer, Bride's Maid (I think) and probably more that I'm forgetting because I didn't finally get there myself till the final half hour of the event.

And there you have it.....a re-hash by Floss..........long as it is.

Now...which is worse? My long re-hashes....or my long trails?

Speaking of....next trail is Sunday, September 21. Hares are....you guessed it...Butt Floss....#9 for the year....and Just Delana....silly girl!

on-on!
Floss

ReHash #545

Date: Fri, 17 Oct 2008 23:36:29 -0400

A gorgeous morning dawned on the twenty-first day of September. Fall was just starting to think about coming to the Finger Lakes region, as the first hints of orange were creeping into the maples. Master Baster had plenty of time to reflect on the beauty of the day, as he was on trail to witness both the ebb of the lovely Saturday and the creeping fingers of Sunday dawn pull back the yawning darkness of night.

The first hints of sun alit upon his brow at about 6:15am, by his reckoning, but it was not until seven that the sun came up along the back ridgeline of Virgil Mountain. After several more hours of walking and r*nning amidst the arbored trails of Greek Peak, he was once again able to rest and enjoy the sweet taste of the golden nectar for which we all strive.

Feeling curiously rejuvenated by the previous night on foot and mere two hours' sleep in the preceding evening, he feasted upon the many victuals available to him that day, anticipating the many hills yet to surmount for trail. And so he passed the next few hours, until trail was upon him again. Alighting from his abetting vehicle, he quickly realized his folly in packing light - virtually all members of the pack present were wearing skirts! Regretfully, his kilt remained well-hung in his closet at home.

Those assembled were indeed a motley-dressed crew - Just Bridgette, Just Brianne, TOFU, and Virgins Maggie and Dana were assembled, each with a gorgeously short skirt, befitting the theme of the day. Soon the hares pulled up, back from a very murky moment indeed. With Floss in his debonair camouflage kilt - so camo'd it even hid his floss, to the delight of harriettes everywhere - and J. Delana in her racy red skirt, the pack rejoiced at the sudden availability of liquid refreshment.

Soon the rest of the pack joined, with Poke Her Hienis, J. Jen, Porcelain Goddess, Hot Lips, and Virgin Albert rounding out the thirsty harriers. After a brief chalk talk for the newly-arrived, the pack was soon off checking out trail. Down Star Stanton road they wended, finding an evil back-check at the intersection. After much searching, true trail led north into the woods on the Finger Lakes Trail, and the hash was on! Sniffing trail eagerly, Hot Lips and Baster took off hungrily in search of beer. With a zen-like calm, they took turns discovering the way, uncannily negotiating the several Y's and X's as a skilled geneticist would easily assay a DNA sample.

With true trail but a path through tall grasses and over roots, it was but a few minutes before the elusive BN approached! Not two minutes later, the pack caught up and laid into the beer and packing-peanut-quality cheezy popcorn product, feeding hounds Shocker and Mindy as much of the food-like stuff as they themselves ate. After some time of Floss entertaining the pack with stories of Shocker's elimination habits, the pack determined to set off to find more trail and nectar.

And so again it was, tracking along old logging roads, over moss, brambles, and roots on the northern edge of the forest. Soon enough, the pack caught up at the intersection of Star Stanton and Canaan Roads, unsure of where to go next. After an egregious set of false trails and back-checks, trail was discovered going down another old logging trail, passing by a fetid old stone water cistern. So as the pack laid into the ambrosia hidden nearby, so did Shocker laid into the stagnant mess, eager to share his miasmal gift with the repulsed pack assembled.

Chatter was lively, discovering that Virgin Albert had met Toothy Lunker back at an event that morning, learning that he spent his days crafting arcane electrical circuitry and jerry-rigging electronic switchgear from old computer and auto parts from deep in the bowels of the local salt mine. Rumors soon abounded that he rarely saw the light of day only twice a month and subsisted on a diet of vermin and lichen. Virgin Dana let on that her father was a veteran hasher in her native town of Atlanta, thus provoking many ribald hash-cest jokes. Her friend Virgin Maggie looked on with a touch of bemusement and mirth intermingled.

Soon enough, the pack grew restless. Shouldering the remains of the beer to burden their FRBing, Baster and Hot Lips took off towards the next hash rest, finding trail off logging roads and onto more groomed trail. Out of the woods and into the fields they went, finding a true hash treasure -- the wily bobbit! Toothy Lunker emerged from trail to surprise the mpack, lamenting the poorly-marked checks and no remaindered hash rests to speak of!

Soon enough after, with liquid energy coursing through his veins, Baster encountered trail skirting the woods and through a field to encounter a long YBF, only to then have true trail backtrack and pass not twenty feet from the mark. Cursing his heretofor excellent trail-zen prowess, Baster resolved to continue blowing straight through false trails, learning that a Floss-false is rarely a false at all. Yet, this was to be his downfall, as not long after, he helped Virgin Albert, Just Bridgette and Just Brianne get rather sidetracked. Chastened, he called out after the crescendoing cries of the pack, hearing only the dulcet 'ON-ON!' of Toothy Lunker to guide them back. And so they returned from whence they came and found true trail, catching up to Goddess and the rest of the pack on the way back down Star Stanton to the on-in.

Sadly, Poker Heinis, Just Jen and Hot Lips begged their leave from the pack before circle, thus their departure was mourned by down-downs to follow. Among the many violations, Virgins Albert, Dana and Maggie were duly welcomed, noting, among other things, that their desired cartoon sexual partner would be Jessica Rabbit, Mickey Mouse and the prince from Beauty and the Beast would be their preferred partners. Virgin Albert joined Baster and Toothy in the circle for blatant r*cism, citing V. Albert's unabashed wearing of a Boilermaker shirt, and the presence of Baster and Toothy at the event that prompted his presence that day.

After circle was concluded and the pack bade adieu, there is a curious story of Just Brianne, Just Bridgette and Butt Floss staying late into the evening, resulting in having to call for a ride back home from their husbands. As Floss's ass was not thoroughly beaten, we can hopefully presume that such murky moments were above-board... but the author can not take such liberties with a hasher's (dis)honor.

On-who-remembers-when-Goddess-actually-re-hashed-instead-of-pawning-it-off-on-some-unsuspecting-dupe,

~Master Baster

ReHash #546

Date: Sat, 18 Oct 2008 00:20:47 -0400

Once upon a time there was an Ithacan pack
They traveled in a group of six
For beer they needer their fix
And for beer-drinking they had a knack.

So once upon a day in quiet T-burg
This eager crew assembled
Their manner was not dissemled
And incited to find trail about the exurb.

Bridesmaid and Baster drove up in a 'Rexie
Glassterbater from Corning arrived after
Then Just Dana pulled up in her Beemer
Floss the hare was there and Spike made it sexy.

And so the pack was off
finding trail was not so tricky
for trail was in fact paved and not shiggy
and lo, some harriers did scoff.

After much false trail checking
with flour marks abounding
with true trail confounding
the pack found roads lacking.

Yet wait! Amongst no sidewalks nor brambles
track long upon sun-drenched roads
these poor, besotted toads
did find beer amongst the shambles.

There the pack stayed, getting hotter
quenching thirst, rehydrating
catching up, respirating
And the hare laughed at, drinking but water.

After a bit, quite well rested, hare is off!
Long enough! Ten minutes past!
Needing beer, harriers gassed!
And the roads? Pack'll scoff!

Long enough, over roads meandering
men mow lawns, women trim hedges
kids play on, old folk kvetches
Hasher think about philandering.

After some time the pack turns left-
familar terrain- is this T-burg fairgrounds?
Surely 't must be - tiremarking abounds!
Where's the hare, so bold and deft?

What ho! Look there!
What could be in such plain sight?
T'is the hare! Good grief, what a fright!
And hey! There's beer!

More beer consumed, the hare's off again
dusk not yet looming, the pack still consuming
chatting of music, of long-ago grooving
But the chase yet continues -- off now, towards Main!

Skirting the ice cream store cool
The trail to town draws near
Good Gispert, where's the beer?
Oh, wait, trail heads towards the school!

Along the road we go
the pack baying loud
FRB's running proud
Aha! There's Butt Floss, r*nning slow!

Catching up to him now
sprinting up quick and quiet
this prize? Heck, I'll buy it
Our prize is tied up with bow.

And so on we jog
passing walkers and sitters
hog-tiers, rail-splitters
soon enough, there'll be grog.

Back home we are, laying into the brew
But wait, what's that vehicle?
It's UFO and Bedside, Jeep colored red treacle!
Then Delana arrives, hair slightly askew!

Pack gathers, circle commences
Down-downs meted and quaffed
The girls hit upon, but not boffed
Shocker humps the fences

Thus it is, and so it shall stay
Does re-hash suck? Nay!
A poem writ in A-B-B-A!
There I leave you - on-on to Sunday!

Verily yours,

~Master Baster

ReHash #547

Date: Tue, 21 Oct 2008 12:02:48 -0400

19 October 2008

Our scene opens on Hill Road, a quaint, pothole speckled dirt lane nestled deep within the beautiful Danby State Forest. There was a certain nip in the October air. At approximately 3pm SHT, IH3 hashers began to emerge from the woodwork. First to appear was the hasher-who-was-certainly-not-the-hare, Spike. Next, the harriette Just Brianne and her chocolate colored pup Gunner arrived, followed closely by it Beats it Blind and I, Just Delana. Before the hash commenced, we'd gained a few more local hashers (and two virgins), including:

Master Baster; Always a Bridesmaid, Just Tory and pup, Lula; Virgins Just Sarah and Just Shawna; Freeze Frame and Thunder Thighs; Poke Her Hienis and pup and friend's pup; and Butt Floss and his crazy hashpup, Shocker.

After a quick bout of chalk talk, the hare-less hashers received a hint from Spike, who was certainly-not-the-hare, that the trail proceeded down Hill Road and they all got off... I mean... took off. Trail headed down Hill Road and eventually into the woods of Danby State park, damn dogs running all around. On! On! and on and on and on... and on... through 2 miles of shiggy, over the leaf-laden forest floor, onto the Finger Lakes Trail. "Who SET this trail and where-oh-where is the beer?" I wondered.

It was a scenic jaunt, we should give the mysterious hare that much. The trail's soft footing was bathed with sun spilling through the trees. Like Piglet, Pooh and Roo gallivanting through the 100-Acre Wood, we nimbly jetted through the trees and bramble.

Finally a check brought FRBs Bridesmaid, Thunder Thighs, Freeze Frame, Floss and Baster to a halt. Floss was sent straight ahead. I caught up and was barely able to catch my breath before we heard his calls of ON! ON! ON! We shot out of the woods only to see the always-exciting floury BN mark waiting for us. But Floss had overshot the loot and was now confused. (He'd forgotten his glasses.) It was hidden oh-so-cleverly in the woods to our right. Bridesmaid found the *cough*tiny*cough* cooler of beer and tossed it out to the group of thirsty hashers.

But our thirst was not quite quenched. We were off in search of more beer in no time at all. The trail continued out to the dirt road and passed the Danby Pirates Club -- arrrrr, a sweet hashview, fer sherr.

The second leg of the trail turned out to be considerably more shiggy-filled, i.e. delightful. We followed trail up a bank full of thorny rose bushes and into the woods once again. Now, I don't remember when the transition to a huge-hill-hike occurred exactly, but I do recall it was well before we'd received our second injection of beer. We climbed up and up... and up and up and up. At some point lost all of my fellow hashers, as each of us was concentrating hard on his or her climb to the top of what seemed like Mt. Everest.

Finally the hill leveled out and trail led back into plush shiggy. Down the other side of the hill we stumbled, only to see that we had to slide on our butts to the beer. "The only way to the beer is down," jeered the FRBs. Never one to turn away a PBR, Beats It Blind hiked up Mouthful's baby blue shorts and plopped to his butt. Down the dirt hill he slid. Into a tree he crashed. Broken balls he succumbed. Luckily he is a resilient hasher and would do anything to get to beer…

The final leg of trail journeyed along the road and back to the cars for circle. Spike, who was certainly-not-the-hare, was nominated to drink for the afternoon's hash, coined then as the "Best of '08" because of it's long, hard, exciting, new... tall, dark, handsome, muscular... wait, I mean shiggy-filled, hilly trail. Virgins Just Sarah and Just Shawna were introduced … thanks to Just Tory for bring them out! We learned that, given the opportunity, they'd choose to enjoy intimate relations with Papa Smurf and Popeye, respectively. Baster, Floss and Just Tory were given down-downs for their recent r*cism activities. Bridesmaid, Floss and Baster drank as FRBs. Beats It, Floss and Just Brianne drank as DFLs. Surely others drank, but frankly I was too cold and lazy to pay attention.

On-on (…and on and on and on...),

jd

ReHash #548

Date: Tue, 4 Nov 2008 10:14:51 -0800 (PST)

It was a glorious night....one to remember....if only one could........ :o)

It was Halloween.....it was a Friday.....and everyone was primed for some costumed tom-foolery!

Master Baster and Jiffy Lube had been conspiring for weeks...."what shall we do to have fun with the Itha-Wanks on Halloween???"

Well...they figured it out.....INDEED....they figured it out!

A dinner party followed by LIVE trail pub crawl.....YEAH!!!!

Master Baster cooked up some yummy vitals for all that cared to show up at his place...and there were many...too many to remember them all...but I'll try...

Before heading out on trail there was much eating and merriment with:

Just Tzvetlana
Butt Floss - Dressed as a trouser snake charmer
Jiffy Lube - Dressed as Zorro!
Porcelain Goddess - Dressed as SEXY highway to hell
Just Delana - Dressed as HOT cow girl...complete with cleavage! and squirt gun (wonder what it was filled with??)
Summer's Eve - Dressed as German BEER wench
Kitty Litter - Dressed as umm...I forget...sorry
Just Tim - you wank! - you should hash! - Dressed as German BEER wench boss...sort of...LOL
Doris Dick-toria - Dressed as scary rock star?
Just Catherine - Dressed as cute bunny with flashing ears!
Vibrator - Dressed as cute...but stinky...skunk :0)
Just Rick - Dressed as ????
Just Magdeline - Yeah! - You FINALLY hashed with us! - Dressed as cute gypsy gal
Just ???? - Civilian friend of MB's - Dressed as wold like mask??

Others????...could be....I forget...help me out... Oh yeah!!!!.....Master Baster - Dressed as a reverse cowgirl in a red dress and blond wig. Very cute...but no match for Just Delana.

Eventually it was time to go out and brave the night...and we did....out to the parking garage where we had chalk talk. Then...the hares were off.....down to the commons for another chalk talk because we were then joined by Just Kira - - Dressed as a HOT horse rider....complete with sexy riding crop. It was at this point that we lost Summer's Eve and a few others.

Those of us remaining chose between the Turkey Trail...Hared by Zorro!...or the Eagle Trail....Hared by the Reverse Cowgirl.

Being the over-athletic type....I chose the Turkey Trail. Hey, what can I say? I'm a big fan of Zorro!

Eventually we all ended up at the same place....The Fall Creek House....and there was BEER!!!!!

PG and Just Delana struck up a game of pool with a cute civilian...try as we may....she wouldn't join us for trail... ;o(

Our thirsts quenched.....Reverse Cowgirl and Highway to Hell took off to set the next part of trail through the erie streets of Ithaca....and on to our next BEER check.....Karova! It was here that we met up with more hashers....Yippee!!! There was Just Brianne - Dressed as The Big Bad Wolf, Just Bridgette - Dressed as Little Red Riding Hood and Just Alte (Just Bridgette's hubby) - Dressed as The Joker??

Little Red Riding Hood took a real liking to the Trouser Snake but felt that it needed "protection" on this night of all things evil and scary. So, she produced a "goodie" from her basket meant for Grandma...and proceeded to place a condom upon the head of the snake...complete with "receptacle end"! Good Lord!!!! When asked if she had ever seen the serial number on such things....The Big Bad Wold replied "no". Too bad...apparently she had never been with anyone large enough to roll them down that far......like the Trouser Snake was!

Drink up! More trail to follow!!!

And out we went.....and up again to Reverse Cowgirl's pad for impromptu drinking and fun. This is where we lost Highway to Hell and HOT Cowgirl for awhile. They decided Moon Shadows was closer..... The rest of us drank more and Little Red Riding Hood showed the Trouser Snake her reasons for the "gift" earlier by dragging him into the bedroom....followed closely by The Joker...who said he wanted to watch. Scary night indeed!!! The Trouser Snake barely escaped the trap....and fled for his life.

It's at this point...that someone else needs to pick up the re-hash because I headed back to Trumansburg for more trouble...errr...I mean fun....

On-Halloween Hashing Doesn't Suck!
Floss - The Trouser Snake Charmer

-----------------------

Hey now Floss, don't forget about Joe Six Pack and Bristol Palin (aka "preggers!") Sheesh, how unpatriotic.

ReHash #549

Date: Mon, 3 Nov 2008 15:39:56 -0500

ReHash #551

Mon, 8 Dec 2008 13:32:10 -0800 (PST)

So....it was a #%#%@#$^@$ morning and I was debating the hash.....

PG touched base with me and was already whining about not going if it stayed shitty out....even if I stopped by and gave her a ride since she was on the route to the start.

A fine start for a hashing day....no one wanted to go out and play.

The hour grew near and I realized that I had to at least show up at the start and attempt to hijack the whole pack and just got some place warm and drink.........and so off I set from Chez Floss & "Safety Dog"....mission in half-mind......

Running late...go figure....I arrived at the Freese Road Garden Plots to see.....see what????

There was PG's car! She decided to come out in this god-fore-saken weather after all! No....weight....she was dressed in a...a...a DRESS!!!...and sporting the cutest little parasol. Obviously...as she pointed to her attire...she had no plans of hashing this day. Damn! She was at least sucking down a fine BEER provided by relatively new-boot Just Chris. I like this guy!!!! Already he knows not to trust the hares to leave BEER out for us when we arrive!

Speaking of the hares....where the blank were they?????

As I was attempting to convince Just Chris that we should bail before they get back and go to the plantations for a frosty one in the warmth...instead of a warm one in the frost.....up rolls our hares Doris Dickoria and Master Baster. Curses! My plan was foiled. Knowing these two fine runners I was concerned at the length of trail this nastiest of all nasty days.....4 miles?....6 miles?...MORE???? Oy-Vay!

Well, as GM I've always told newbies.....If you set it....they will cum. How could I run away now? After all....I wasn't wearing a dress....had no cute little parasol....AND.....Safety Dog was already running amok in the lot itching to get on trail.

And....so we did...after bidding a "not-so-fond ado" to Porcelain Goddess for bailing on us.

So...there we were....two hares....and two....count them.....TWO HOUNDS!

Setting off in the only direction that made much sense...towards the trail head....I found...........no marks. But, I kept running any way and the hares followed along side me out in the meadow....AND....THEY were apparently following marks. (Guess we deserved a small clue as to where trail was since there was only the two of us) Eventually I hit a false. Without ever seeing marks??? Curious. As it turns out....there was a check up ahead that I hadn't gotten to yet. The trail took us in the direction of the SPCA and party spot on Monkey Run....with many a check along the way. Just Chris and I were doing fine.....hitting all of the bloody false trails as we got wetter and wetter.

About this time a loan runner went by us. When I returned from one of the many falses....he was now running with MB and Doris. Turns out his name was Eric and MB had been trying to coerce him into joining us for some time. This was his a....errr...."lucky" day. He ran along and even checked out some of the trail. At one point...he hit a false with MB and then told us he needed to depart but would return again some day. As we were now atop the ridge....and on a false trail....true trail must be down to the bottom along the creek. Knowing the area a bit better than in my earlier years hashing Monkey Run I knew that it eventually had to climb a steep embankment and on up to the party spot. NO THANKS!

I decided to long-cut around a couple of meadows and headed to the BBQ area. I figured that I was alone since Doris and Just Chris were way back at the original check. Nope! They decided to tag along as well...with MB trotting along side them. I sensed BEER would be at the BBQ pit as it often has been over the years......so I dashed along.

WRONG!!!!! I got there ahead of everyone.....only to be fooled by a Back Check heading down to the stream. Crap! Where the hell is the frickin' BEER??????

Nothing could be done....other than follow trail....presumably out to the bridge on route 13 so we could cross over the creek and head back towards Varna. Maybe there would be BEER near 4H Acres???????? Oh joyous thoughts as I moved along... But....wait!!! The trail turned down to the creek and back towards whence we came. WTF!!!! Do these silly hares think we're going to forge the creek on this miserable day???? NOT I!!!!...shouted out the little wimp within me. How do I get out of this one??????

Then....there I was...at the old bridge remnants where the mighty Maxi-Pad was lost a couple of years ago during one of the infamous Blond Bimbo Birthday Hashes....and also where the same haring duo had set a BEER Check during a weekend trail some time back. Could it be????....Was there BEER here? There WAS a BN on the bridge beams....but no BEER in sight. Crap again!!!

About now the group caught up and MB suggested going ACROSS THE BRIDGE for BEER. What the hell???? Being as thirsty as I was wet....I shimmied up the bridge and on across while Safety Dog joyously jumped into the creek and paddled across....beating me with no problem. Once across I spotted it....one of PG's blue tubs that we've been using for BEER. Yippee!!!!! And there were cookies too!

Well....with the HUGE turn-out that we had....yeah...right....there was plenty of libations to go around...and around....and around. Finally....we were reminded that there was yet another BN out there some place.

So....off we went....in search of even more BEER....even though there was still plenty here. WTF again???

I must say that the Hares did a fine job as we scooted through the woods...finding pretty much every false they set....

Soon we were back near the steel deck bridge on Freese Road. But....trail didn't go that way. Crap (anyone counting how many times I've used this word so far??) I tried to convince Just Chris to blow off the end of trail...even without our second BN...as it was getting dark. NO WAY he retorted! He wanted to find the BEER. Great....yet another hashing monster created by IH3. OK...what the hell. Off we went across the meadow and up towards the old railroad trestle that goes over Rt 366.

What's this???? A BN.....BEFORE having to go across the trestle? Hot Damn!!!! So...we drank some more...and...ate more cookies.

Once our thirsts were quenched again the hares decided we should skip the rest of trail and head back because it was certainly dark now. As we took the direct path back....MB pointed out where true trail WOULD have taken us. He also sent Doris.....silly girl...on ahead to get his car and come retrieve us. And so he did. But...it was full of stuff and had no room for us all. Just Chris and I decided to "tuff it out" and "run" the rest of the way up the hill as the hares went to retrieve the BEER.

It was decided that....rather than hold circle out in the dark and rain....or go to The Plantations for warmth...but no money for BEER....that we should descend upon PG's abode and hold circle there....wet as we were. And...so we did. Just Chris and I showed up there...with no signs of our hares. Where the F were they????? Turns out the Doris got a call from his girlfriend and that held them up....while Just Chris and I nearly expired for lack of BEER!!! Bastard!!!!

Finally...they arrived...with PLENTY of our favorite beverage.

Circle was short...we all drank for FRB and DFL.

I drank for having the only pooch on trail....who was soaked and sacked out in the car.

PG drank for Bobbitting trail...her lovely parasol...and something else.

Our hares....they drank PLENTY...as they should.

I volunteered to write this overly long re-hash since I generally am setting trail and thereby exempt.

And so...there you haven it....one of the crappiest days for hashing in 2008...and yet...at the same time....one of the best set trails full of fun.

Too the Hares!!!!

on-on!
Floss

ReHash #552

Mon, 15 Dec 2008 13:40:19 -0500

Amidst a backdrop of grey skies, gusts of up to ten MPH and near-freezing temperatures, the Ithaca Hash was soon to assemble on Yellow Barn Road for another exciting trail. Always a Bridesmaid and I took the scenic route, heading through Varna, across Turkey Hill, out to 79, and back through Midline & Irish Settlement. Pulling up to the intersection, we notice a familiar vehicle... SPIKE! As our mighty engines roared through the hollows and up Yellow Barn, we started wondering where on Earth the trail would start.

Aha! A few miles up the road, along a woodsy stretch of straightaway, we spy the legendary ToothyMobile! Though there is no Toothy, nor Crimes Against Huge Mammaries, nor Man-O-Whore, we do spot Just Chris, Just Rachel, and ...is that COCKTAIL FRANK? It IS! It is Cocktail, returned from the wilds of Arizona! We gathered around Bridesmaid's car, chatting and catching up on Cocktail's recent machinations in the world of college, hearing of his exploits on the radio, r*nning with the rogue, even-more-mismanaged-than-most Flagstaff H3, and his conquests of many fine women. Many. All of them fine.

As the winds blew and time dragged on, I became more and more grateful that I had taken five minutes to pack several additional layers of clothing. Pulling on my snowshoes and jacket, I noticed that the hares were not yet there. Hmm. I called MOW, who informed me under no uncertain terms that they were "...just moments away from the pack." Ten minutes later, at about 2:30, I finished my second beer and declared "Enough of this. I'm getting cold and there's beer out there."

So the pack left to find trail, without benefit of the hares, with the two FRBs leading the way, packing down the snow for the benefit of those without snowshoes. Off we went, trailing down the singletrack, amidst the snow-dusted maple, oak, and ash. After a few minutes pounding down trail, we come to a circle-check. When the pack was all caught up, Bridesmaid continued straight, Spike bore left, and I elected a sharp left, straight into the woods. Shiggy knows no season, and trail became an exercise in bounding over logs, around brambles, and under brances, weighted down with an icy crust of snow, which resembled so much frosting on a gingerbread house.

Over and on-on we went, staving off hypothermia and frostbite with our athletic vigor, checking checks, feeling the cool snow on our butts as we trampled the shiggy, and wondering when we would find the beer. Trail came out onto open trail again, and Just Rachel remarked that she would have to leave soon. Seeing a road nearby, she noted that she ought to bounce, as there was a prior engagement to attend. We headed out towards the powerlines at the crest of the hill, but alas, it was not to be, as Bridesmaid found a back-check a ways down the hill, and the road went nowhere useful. Resigned to her fate, Rachel continued on trail with us, trekking down the crunchy, tire-hewn ice and snow.

Problems soon arose, as we came to a false trail at a T-intersection, but could not find a trail. Curious. Backtracking, I was a bit confused, and found nothing. I then headed right down the trail, endeavoring to zen trail and find beer. But wait! What's this? A stranger approacheth! Clad in yellow, and with a dog in tow! It's Dash! And Toothy Lunker, our noble hare! Woohoo! Catching up with the pack, our hare continued with us down the road, where we she helpfully pointed out a dog-nibbled circle-check. We made a turn and on-down the road, where we hit a T and an E. Spike elected to follow Bridesmaid on-left, while I held back, both out of a desire to catch up with DFLing Cocktail and to determine whether my cold feet wanted beer quicker, or after more exercise.

For the first time in a while, I chose the Tough trail, continuing straight down the road. We shortly lost trail in a similar manner as before, and backpedaled a ways before discovering errant marks pointing off and to the left. The Toughies bounded over a couple of fire road berms and found themselves crossing a semi-frozen quagmire, which in spring no doubt comes up to your ankles. Once the swamp was passed, we continued through the forest and shiggy, crossing several streams and ducking under fallen trees. Once over a fire road, we suddenly found ourselves amidst a beautiful dark stand of fir trees, bringing to mind the grove that stands atop Virgil Mountain. Navigating around the branches that snag and poke, we came back around to the snowmobile trails, where who of all people would be out but Crimes and Man-O-Whore, accompanied by their faithful hound, Charlie!

After exchanging greetings and grousing about the dry trail, Just Rachel soon found a heartening note at the cross-roads near a large pond -- BN! Much rejoicing ensued, as Bridesmaid and Spike burst through the vegetation to join us in the hunt. After much searching, it turned out that the hares had to relocate the BN from the previous location, but soon beer was upon the pack! Woohoo! Bridesmaid helpfully pointed out we had traversed 3.06 miles in just over an hour, with his f-a-a-a-ancy-shmancy new Garmin 405, while the rest of the pack grumbled about tech on trail. We canoodled about for a while, talking about the large hill on the Easy trail, puppies, new houses, gluten-free beer, holiday plans, kids, finals, concerts, and suchlike, before Rachel announced her departure. We bade her off with a rousing chorus: "She ought to be publicly pissed on, she ought to be taken out and shot! (bang bang) She ought to be tied to a urinal, and left there to fester and rot!"

Thus we continued our valiant effort to drink the beer, before folk started mentioning the various chills. Having lost the feeling in my right pinkie toe within the first 30 minutes, followed by the numbing of my feet during the hash rest, I tossed my can aside and cleared my throat. Soon enough, the pack cleared off for the rest of trail. On-on we bounded, sticking mainly to the groomed snowmobile path, winding our way down a fast hill, hopping betwixt the streams that flowed along with us, until we jumped back into the shiggy. We continued for a bit, leaving the hares in the dust, before emerging back out onto Yellow Barn Road. Seeing trail could only go one way, Bridesmaid and I soldiered up the hill, keeping to the snow when possible, our cleats clinking against the pavement. When we finally made it to the cars, some three-quarters of a mile later, we noted that the hares hadn't yet arrived. Cracking a beer being the only truly feasible thing to do, the two of us readily commenced pre-emptive rehydration.

Toothy and Spike joined us soon after, and went off to retrieve the rest of the errant pack. Soon we were all assembled, and convoyed down the hill to the hares' new place for circle. We all piled into the garage to strip off our sodden garments and don fresh ones, then into the house where we met an amiable, aloof feline puffball that I will call Cupcake, since I can't remember the real name. After beers were cracked and chatter exchanged, circle got under way.

Hooray circle! The hares were duly celebrated for their pavement-ridden, heat-stroked, shiggy-avoiding, too-much-beer having trail, and again for cherry-busting. It was decided that, although Man-O-Whore did live trail for the weekend, it only half-counted, and that, though this wasn't really their first housewarming party, that it was half of one. Cocktail Frank was duly called up for a cums-lately, and Bridesmaid and the hares were also grouped into the circle. The dog owners - coincidentally the hares - were punshed, as were the usual suspects for FRBing. I came up again for costuming in my ever-so-fashionable Shiggy Shirt, as did the hares for theirs. Spike and Bridesmaid had down-downs for an extended murky moment on the Easy trail, and Cocktail had a belated side-side for his recent 23rd birthday.

Less common down-downs were meted out. We sang "Hot Vagina" to Cocktail Frank for sleeping with a Mom (not your own or the wife of your children), for being a father (Just Chris and Always a Bridesmaid), and for being a mother (Toothy) since we didn't want to leave her out. We accused Crimes and Man-O-Whore for living in sin, which morphed into the accusation "Or you now, or have you ever lived in sin?", for which the entire pack drank.

At this point, I related the story of the last hash, during which Just Chris had been one of the few who had the courage - and stupidity - to follow trail through the rain, sleet, hail and dark. Once he finished his down-down for his actions, Toothy remarked at what a good naming opportunity this might be. We banished Just Chris to the reaches of upstairs where he played with Crimes' pus... err, cat. We discussed naming along the lines of "Leave your package at the door" and similar 'dirty postman' names, in keeping with the old oath: "neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night stays these courageous couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds."

It was after several minutes of brainstorming that one of us suggested "Speedy Delivery," recalling the sketchy postman that Mister Rogers always used to hang out with.... the one that always seemed to have a nice, big package for Mister Rogers, who lived in a house at the end of a block. Further debate revealed that Mister McFeely was much more entertaining, and Just Chris was called back down into circle. A benediction was given, a song was sung, and Just Chris was duly named Mister McFeely. Not a minute later, however, did someone remark that Mister McFeelMe would be much more entertaining.... a quick vote was taken... and the Ithaca Hash is proud to announce:

Just Chris will henceforth be known as Mister McFeelMe!

And lo, there was much rejoicing. The pack adjourned to treat of brownies, courtesy of Toothy, some warm blackberry-strawberry-cherry pie (you missed out), and escargot with garlic & butter (you REALLY missed out).

And yea, the pack did go in peace, and they hopefully got a piece. Or will soon.

On-on-to-Holidaze,

~Master Baster