Gold....Silver....Bronze....Aluminum Foil 1 .......................................................PBR ...........1.............................................Rainier ........................1................................Olympia ........................................1................Schmidt's

 SH3 Run #480 – Monday, July 12, 2004

Road 2 Roslyn - A Hash Special Olympics Qualifying Pre-Lube

Hares:  Slippery Fingers, Breasts on Trail and Whore O’Cock in the Morning

Let’s get rrrrready to STUMBLE! If you MISSED the SH3 R2R, it delivered, BABY!  A true challenge (transl. for DimSum: French = “shalaang”) of body and brain cells one beer at a time.  If YOU WERE THERE, you certainly don’t remember a thing.  Either way - read further. 

At Seward Park’s Temple of Zeus (if you recall he was the doctor on Planet of the Apes), the contestants arrived with great fanfare.  They came in white togas.  They came in pink togas.  They came in blue togas.  They came with laurel.  They even came with “How Would You Like to Be Queenie for a Day” headwear.  For a cool 12 bucks Slippery Fingers would ask you your size and offer her T’s.  In private nearby Swollen Gaping Festering Hole gave free lessons on how to pump until the rubber is tight to BOT and WhoreO’Cock in the Morning (who wants us to believe she was actually renamed WhoreO’CLOCK - like we’re gonna let THAT happen).

As the hares demonstrated the efficiency of modern day Athens (by yelling “chalk talk in 5 minutes”…every 5 minutes), we were treated to a sight not known to most of our newer members:  After many full moons of absence and becoming something of NW hash lore of yore– Head Nurse arrived.  OK – also returning were some other long-time-no-see’ers who had left the NW hash family for a mandatory stay in Leavenworth (however, due to parole constraints they shall remain unnamed here).  Then it began.  With the lighting of the Hash Olympic torches, the regal procession moved in single file past the “Danger! Poison Oak” sign into the woods.

Up the hill we strode to the Bavarian Amphitheater where the Hash Olympics was born.  Teams were drafted and marshaled under their namesakes: Team Schmidt’s, Team Rainier, Team PBR, and Team Olympia.  Our first shalaang:  Eat a rock hard pretzel (not break any teeth), chug a test tube size beer, and look for trail.  Family Jewels, smartly wearing his good dentures today, was first to display tongue to prove he had fully consumed the Snyder.  But NO!  Our moderator, WhoreO’Cock, who knows a full swallow, said he still had white stuff floating around in his mouth.  He faded in behind Dickless Armstrong who boasted that she had lots of good practice.

We bounded on trail to Shalaang Deux and the beginning of the Orient-beering (OB) trifecta.  Simple enough, each team was tasked with finding a map, which led to hidden caches of team beer to be consumed before stumbling on to the next beer stop.  Lets just say that this is where the cutthroat action began.  Public (WTF?) Pussy Petter (P3) sent hashers screaming from true trail by dropping trowel in mid-run (which he did so expertly that all small children living in Queen Anne should be warned), while Knees Wide Open blocked the way with a take-one-for-team face dive (she explained that she had a prick in her ass but it must have been a small one).

At OB #1 it was clear that instead of maps, the hares had actually posted the childhood art of BON-BON, as the PBR Team was informed that “maybe” your beer is on the other side of the trail from those nettles you are rummaging through.   Not a problem though:  Bitch-n-Hoe arrived to lend a talented throat and they were off again.  OB #2 was a bit more challenging to some.  Late-cumming Festering Drip, assigned to Team Schmidt’s, arrived to find out that his team totally missed the beer stop (the PBR Team would like to express its gratitude for his thirsty participation in our beer-guzzling requirement).  TwatNot, perfecting the volcano chug, opened his beer to a plume of suds, licked the tab and stuffed it the team bag (Yes, the next hash movie will be “I Know What You Did Last Beer Check” – bank on it).  Into OB #3, P3 mistakenly found the wrong stash and stood with his glassy-eyed “wish I could be on the PBR team” look as he refused to give up the Pabst.  His teammates smacked him back to the fold though just as TwatNot arrived, stubbornly stood in one place, and continued to scream back to his team:   “they won’t tell me where the map is!”  Sometimes we place too great a faith in human nature. 

The great teams fell from the forest and amassed on the shores of Lake Washington. Our final shalaang:  damn near drowning.  The goal:  take the team float out to the mark raft (kayak) drink a beer, and return to shore to the next team member who would theoretically be ready to do the same.   We looked out in horror as WhoreO’Cock and Crash maneuvered the tight rubber kayak a mile from our sand.  Ingeniously, SafeSex flashed them requiring the two to come so far back to see that the course was now doable.  With a whistle we were off – except of course for Boitano’sHardOn - who despite his seafaring talents was still TYING himself to the PBR float.  In the ensuing pandemonium, Bag-O-Porn overcame severe puppy control issues and managed to keep Zoe’s claws from capsizing the mark boat, PissBoy recovered his float that went POIT out from under him 10 yards away as he dribbled his beer, and P3 just managed to return to shore after flip-flopping through the water (the Center for Woody Boats does not teach this shit).

With the last shalaang over, our JGM’s convened the circle and charges followed:

Virgin:  Just Sara who set up sponsor Boitano’sHardOn saying she thought this was an Ultra.

Backsliders:  Boy Toy, WanksWithWolves, Head Nurse, BnH, and Loan Shark

Late Cummers:  Festering Drip and Loan Shark

I’m kinda sweet on him: AssMa gave himself a down-down because P3 held his hand Sunday.

Shalaang:  Previous White House H3 hashers sang the WH4 travel song to WanksWithWolves and Boy Toy (a former Mount Vernon H3 GM) and challenged them to sing a new song for the SH3.  As always, “We’re the White House Hashers” was sung is perfect harmony only to be met with some washed up noise in return.  As the song goes – “We say ‘Fuck you!’” (in a nice way)

What Blind Hare Am I?:   Silppery Fingers who lost her glasses in the water.  The real entertainment though was seeing P3’s lesbian (sp?) lessons pay off as he acted out the scene.

Awards:           To the Schmidt’s team:  Compass rings so that they miss no future beer check    To the Olympia Team:  Yo Yo’s (no explanation required)                                      To the Rainier Team:  Mini-trophy (for mini accomplishments)                                 To the PBR Team:        The Golden Ring Whistle  (key awe music)

Hats were off, pots were on the ground, and we swang low until next time.  Of special note after: The newly engaged (Knees & Swollen) were harassed on ice long enough to ensure a childless marriage.  And…of greater import to you school night pukes:  our dear pal, Mr. Keg, expired at 0700 GMT (midnight Seattle time) after the park ranger admitted having no authority to evict us. 

Disclaimer:  I can’t vouch for the accuracy of anything in this trash apart from the hares being  half-minds, which is very true.                         On, on…Piss Boy