Tacoma H3

Annual Erection Run, # 516

3-4-06 

            Tacoma H3’s Annual Erection Run, #516, proved to be a dead end. 

The dead end of an era as JGMs Magot and Wanks with Wolves were bid a fond adieu at the end of their reign (and rope no doubt), and also a dead end on Falling Waters Boulevard (does someone get paid to make up such names) that marked the start of the day’s adventure.  A start locale that was shared with some barely pubescent youth engaged in the apparently thrilling and seemingly stimulating occupation of “mudding”.   

            “What’s the fun in that?”  questioned Pissin’ Hole.

            “They’re probably wondering the same about us,” countered English Channel as the two bimbos bobbed into the undergrowth following trail. 

            “What are they running to?”

            “What are they running from?”

            “What are they running for?”

            Questions we have been known to ask of ourselves, but only momentarily.  It doesn’t pay to ponder too long on any question that threatens to have a psychological answer when one is a hasher. 

            I digress.

            The trail meandered to and fro along dirt trails and up a God-awful steep hill to the first beer check.  The only hound who seemed to still be enjoying herself at this point was the hound. The dog that is. Or the bitch if you wish.  Yes, I speak of Lady, Pissin’ Hole’s spaniel who joined the less athletically inclined human hounds on this hash.  And fortunately so for Groper who allegedly engaged her services by looping his sweatshirt through her collar and forcing the hapless hound to pull him up the next hill. 

            After the first beer check, the hounds ran another 20 miles to the second.  Or it sure as hell felt that far.  Along the way, Boy Toy and Groper encountered a grizzly bear and Galloping Safe Sex’s popularity plummeted when he aimlessly led the pack for miles in the wrong direction before admitting to the ensuing English Channel, Boy Toy and Port-a-John that it had been a while since he last saw flour.  The comment that this irresponsible behavior had caused his popularity to plummet was countered by P-a-J who advised that GSS was already the most unpopular guy in the hash so his popularity didn’t actually have anywhere to fall.  Although, by this point, Magot and Wanks were definitely vying for the honor of “bottom dweller” in the popularity stakes as the trail went on and on and on with nary a hint of beer on the wind.

Spectacular views of Mt. Rainier on this crystal clear day did lift the spirits of the weary pack however and all was soon forgiven as, one-by-one, the dejected masses found their way into second beer check.

The on-in proved to be a short distance from this second beer check, as well as in the same, dead-end location as the start. 

The circle was made a little more aesthetically pleasing by the card table conjured up by Wanks from a pile of nearby debris.  Among the down-downs bestowed were:  the hares (of course), EC for kicking out checks when the trail direction seemed “promising” rather than positive (only trying to be helpful!), and Ass-Ma for complaining about doggie-do on trail.  Obviously, he fondly recalls doing a down-down from a “doggie mitt” at this year’s Stuperbowl and has developed a fetish of sorts.  What do you say we have a whip round and buy him a puppy for Christmas? (Port-a-John will explain “whip round” to anyone who doesn’t know what I’m talking about). 

The convoy of cars heading to the Bonney Lake Tavern for the on-on-on-on took a slight deviation as the lead cars (Spike and someone else) missed a turn, but the scent of alcohol and the promise of greasy burgers guided the crew as aptly as any shining star ever could.  As the harriers chowed down, Magot sat with blank paper, quill pen and an optimistic glint in his eye as he spied potential victims, I mean volunteers, to take the TH3 reins and reign through the rain of the proceeding 12 months.  Below is the outcome of his charismatic charm, smooth talking and random delegation of irresponsibility.   

Shitty trail, no ass-fault, lots of beer, Girl Scout cookies (thanks Ass-Ma), and yummy food (did you see the size of those nachos!) and more beer at the BLT made for a great day out.

On-out.  

Honorabubbly submitted by your new On-Sec Scribe,

English Channel,  XOXOXO 

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The magot addendum:

Yesterday a very important Erection took place in Bonney Lake. There was not much of a democratic process and very little ballot recounts despite repeated box stuffing. The results in a moment.

The trail itself was the best ever as several hounds and hares spilled blood. Boy Toy no doubt had the bloodiest legs but Groper impressed the circle with blood oozing from both arms which he then used to wipe his face and brow. That's correct, Groper bathed in his own blood and it was quite the turn on for many. Porta Jon said "bloody" more than English Channel did but that's about the only word I can understand spewing from his speech impedimented bloody hole anyway.

I was going to write more but I really don't feel like it at the moment so with sincere congratulations, here is the 2006 Mismanagemnt for TH3.

JGMs-- Where's and Wanks (the latter until July or so when her & BT move back east)
         (We anticpate a great run from you two on 3/18)

RA-- FC, after minimal whining
Beer Beotch-- Bunny Phu Phu
On Sec or as she proclaimed herself, a very good writer & "Scribe" -- English Channel
Hare raiser-- Pissin' Hole (I hope she does a better job than our previous hare raiser)
Hash Cash-- Crash (though we forgot about you, didn't you?)

It is with great relief I step aside from my JGM duties but offer my assistance to anyone who might request me. Thanks Wanks for your patience scouting trail and enduring my many nuances, etc.

Everyone else can go to hell and I'll see you there soon.

magot of Kent