‘La Virgina’ Just Sarah and the ‘more-experienced’ Mr. Dickie Wongstockings laid a somewhat visible trail through the CBD and FQ, only having lost THREE people by the end of Circle.  Since I.M.E. has already been named, this incident must later be noted for the namings of Just Carl and Just Jason (whose New Year’s Resolution to start showing up to the Hash on time was considered an EPIC FAIL since he only met us at the Beer Stop).

Also suspiciously absent from the Trail were late-cumming Wanker and Wankette Just Kim and Montana Boy Toy, who I suspect would have been there if they hadn’t embarked on a ‘Paleo-Diet’ just four days prior.  This makes sense if you think about it (or ask MBT.  He’s all about the details).  At least they brought their own beer (cups).  Moving on, Circle was a brief affair in which attendees and the angry (yet secretly longing to be with us) tour group behind us in Jackson Square were privy to the viewing of Cock-a-Booty Boo’s Sports Bra.  This would set a trend for the rest of the evening, after (nearly) the entirety of the evening’s frozen Hashcicles proceeded to stage a HOSTILE TAKEOVER (okay, maybe not so hostile) of Rotolo’s in the FQ.  Once there, Everything Butt Sex’s ‘Vaginas Are Awesome‘ shirt (talk about being the Village Bicycle) made its way through yet ANOTHER round of sweaty, beer-and-wine-soaked Hashers, in which we all finally got to see Chum Dumpster’s BODACIOUS TA-TAS (or for those of you who didn’t black out during the post-RDR pool party, the second time).  Apparently there was an On-After-After at Lick-A-Lotta Cock’s house, but for those still mesmerized by the sight of Chum’s TA-TA’s, there was nothing left to do but go home for the night.

Next week’s Hares will be Tidy Bowl Man (who, apparently, STILL KNOWS NUZZING!) and Puppy Love Machine, who had BETTER not fuck up. Again.  Just sayin’.

On-On!

Hobo Rodeo

And a note from Everything Butt Sex:

 

 
You can tell by picture B that it is a pretty even split by both men and women are fans of how Vaginas are awesome. I’m OK with this, but picture A is disturbing. It clearly shows that only 17% of the interactions that show how Vaginas are awesome are done by men. Do everything you can to improve that statistic today!

Joining them was Cock a Booty Boo,
who recently given Everything Butt Sex the flu,
Lick a Lotta Cock showed up with steaks and champagne,
Until then, the pre-lube, had been midly tame.

We finally ventured on to the neutral ground of Miss Mae’s,
Where we found Lick A lotta Cock hashing with her tits on display.
She also wore black leather boots to the hash,
Pretty sure she was short a six pack and one dollar in cash.

TidyBowlMan was the sole hare,
Did I mention Lick A Lotta Cock’s tits were bare?
We did chalk talk, told dirty jokes, and a whistle started to race,
The ground was slippery and a couple of people fell on their face.
Slam Bam was accused of boy scouting on trail,
Turns out it was dark which lead to an epic fail,
You see, he thought the fallen hasher on all fours was a lamb.
Instantly a harriette was in a jam.
This was evident by the wet spot on Booty boo’s back
and the satisfied grin Slam Bam had after he stood up and adjusted his sack.

We talked about penis size vs vagina depth at the beer near,
A couple of the harriers braved the conversation with no fear.
About a third of the hash pee’d on trail,
This happens when everyone brings light beer instead of a good ale.

Onward to On-in we dashed
Circle and goodies was hosted by Kiss My Trash.

One at a time we left the site.
Twas a good hash and all had a good night.

- Everything Butt Sex

This weeks circle started out as #96 did – with our 3 hares ( Indickcision, Penis Fly Crap, Just Dave (who was caught!) ) sitting on ice, so I won’t go on and on about the quality of last night’s trail.

But the circle. Ohh, the circle ladies and gents. Apparently the hares didn’t feel that the trail was bad enough, so they decided to pick a lousy ON-IN. They decided to cram ~50 in a teeny tiny little wedge of Earth between 9th and Harmony just off Magazine St, where the New Orleanians with the smallest sense of humor live.

So, we moved to a hare-recommended location, the Redezvous around the corner. FAIL.

I ended up just standing atop a fire hydrant and closing out the “circle”, and we headed back to Parasol’s with our coolers. I guess we never should have left the “A”.

And, we had some distinguished an naughty special guests – hashers from West Palm Beach who came to NOLA simply to eat and drink. If you didn’t know, they were in the news recently:

 
Oh! We also had two namings!

Just Jon, now known as “Spermin’ for Germans”

 
Just Dave (the disastrous hare), now known as “Puppy Love Machine”

 
Let’s just hope that next week’s hares have their shit together.

ON-ON,
Pastor Bait-Her

What can we say? 2 in the Mouth, 5 in the Hole’s (2Mo5Ho) first trail was about what one would expect from a virgin lay. Couple that with Queef Meter as a co-hare (who has only hared once, and that was with Missionary Impossible) and there’s no need to get into specifics.

In fact, all I’ll say is that for the ENTIRE circle, I had each of them sit on a bag of ice, bare-assed. Unfortunately, since things were so messed up, I had to run what could have been the world’s shortest circle. Hopefully, it’ll still learn ‘em good.

I don’t really have much else to say except that we a a lone visitor, a bunch of new boots, and some still-wet-behind-the-ears hashers. Glad y’all could make it, hope to see ya soon.

On On,
Pastor.

Like I said, another week, another hash, and another naming.  “Wait, what?  Did he say naming?”  Yes indeed, wankers and wankees, last week’s hash became an epic baptismal hash-naming spree! We interrogated 5 of our most recurring new lunatics, and named THREE of them!!  Wow!  But in the tradition of a good prime time network news show, I’m not going to give you the full story (and I’m not going to tell you their new identities) until the end of this post.  Because first, you’ve gotta come back with me.  Back where?  Back to 1985.

This week’s hash was totally tubular, I mean like super rad and bodacious, man.  That’s because this week’s theme turned the clocks back to nineteen-eighty-something, and forced us to shift our ponytails, pull up our neon tights and leg warmers, and strut our stuff as, like, the most gnarly-looking pack o’ hounds the world has ever seen.  I have never seen so many jean skirts and neon scrunchies in my (admittedly short) life!  Our two hares were appropriately decked out in “period attire,” and many of the harriers and harriettes were similarly donning their most bitchin’ clothing.  I may have to go out on a limb and say that Show Me Your Posse took the cake with her jean shorts, a.k.a. jorts.  Just the same, everyone’s costumes were fantastic.  There were so many sunglasses being worn at night, passersby must have thought we were from L.A.  Though I am a bit miffed that no one even got to eat the hares’ shorts!

The struture of the 80s trail was fairly standard, although these two harriettes did take advantage of their collossal 20-minute head-start and gave us a trail that was abundant with falses!  While the format of the trail was familiar, the hash marks were specially-formulated with eighties goodness: the checks were in the shape of Pac-Man, the falses took the form of his formidible ghost foes, and I guess the hashmarks were supposed to be those little pills he eats.  Ingenious!  But where’s the Bonus Cherries??  Oh well…

Trail was fairly short this time around, in order to make time for naming interrogations: it was a mere three miles–for most of us, anyway. But some of us must have decided that just wasn’t enough.  Yes, Lack-a-Virgin once again went in completely the opposite direction, and led Just Olin on some epic lackscapade that took them traipsing all over Old Metairie.  Good grief.  Come outta the closet already.

Well, that was fun, wasn’t it?  Don’t you wish you were there?  Yeah you do, especially because you missed out on the namings! So here it is, you lazy backsliders, as summarized in an earlier post:

Just Bea, our radical rollergirl representative, apparently gets a little ‘grabby’ when she has a few drinks in her.  Therefore she will forever be known as:
UDDERLY RITITULOUS!

Just Brian, our pool-building maven, was tricked by fellow hashers into making his car (and everything in a 5-block radius) smell like rotten fish boil leftovers.  Therefore he will forever be known as:
CHUM DUMPSTER!

Last but not least, Just Olin, avid runner and avid hasher (though that sounds like an oxymoron), has the unfortunate task of taking air samples around the city to ensure the dank mustiness of post-Katrina New Orleans is safe for human intake.  Therefore he will forever be known as:
QUEEF METER!

All in all, it was a very productive circle, after which we rewarded ourselves with some good ol’ fashioned pub grub (a.k.a. HASH) at Winston’s.  Some food, some drink, and a rousing rendition of “Jesus can’t go hashing…”, and we were ON-OUT!

On-On,
Lack-a-Virgin