2003 BVDH3 Hash Trash

HASH DISCLAIMER: IT ONLY HAS TO BE 10% TRUE TO BE TRASH!

#83 - New Park, Palm Bay
January 18, 2003
Saturday is hashing day but this was no ordinary day for the BVD crowd. No sir, this was a cold hashing day! No problem, we had beer and Fire to keep us warm! Despite some confusing directions the pack plus two virgins gathered at New Park in Palm Bay. After a short bit of socializing our virgin hare Fuckelberry gave us our chalk talk. Now when I say virgin I do mean virgin! Fuckels looked as nervous as a young lad about to taste a woman for the first time! Dr. Anus (wanting to get out of the cold) eased the "deer in the headlight look" and completed the chalk talk.
On-Out. Trail started off through the quaint neighborhoods of northern Palm Bay before quickly splitting into turkey and eagle trails. Into light shiggy we went and thanks a few count backs yours truly (slowest of the slow hashers) found him self as the FRB! That could not last long and did not as the true FRBs finished their turkey trail and ran right by us. Out of the shiggy and in to the hood past two killer poodles we went. Finally a BN sent us in to the woods for our first beer stop of the day. A few of us took this moment to relieve our selves of our start point beer. We explained to virgin Just Laura that is ok to use the TP on trail, just put it back so we don't lose a mark. In true hasher fashion Just Laura responded that she was fine with "drip dry". (Note to self: Remember this when naming time comes around!)
On-Out 2. Woods and shiggy started the next part of the trail so thick that it kept the whole pack together, even those running bastards. Soon we departed the woods and were faced with a ditch much too wide to jump. The FRBs were all ready on the other side and promised that it was much too far to go around and not that deep. Dear Miss Shooter in a moment for all blonde time decided a water crossing was in order. Just a mere 2 steps and she plunged in, swimming the rest of the way. Dark muddy water splashed about and all I could see was blonde hair headed for the other side. The crowd on the on the other could barely contain their laughter as they fled form the angry muddy Shooter that was trying to catch them. As for me, well I am just glad I peed at the last beer stop. I would have wet myself watching that one for sure! Bless you Shooter. That was one of the funniest things I have ever seen on trail!
Those of us that were still on the back sided decided that we were going around now matter how far it was! Lucky for us it was only about 50 ft. Being much kinder than his current reputation Suck-U-Later was quick to give the shirt of his back to Shooter who was now shaking as bad as Under Cover Cunt. I think he was just trying to see her tits. No luck there as thee were incased in a sports bra from hell. Bra or no bra the red neck who's yard this took place in still enjoyed the show. Following a trail along I-95 we came to another water crossing. This one was a bit different than the last. Way to wide to jump and no way around. There were some fallen logs that were placed across the ditch and Dr. Anus was instructing us to cross using the logs. Panic started to sink in for those who had yet to cross. As I approached the bridge Short Straw stood on the other side taking bets weather the fallen limbs could hold me. Cumsickel pleaded to go first fearing there would be no bridge when her turn arived. One by one the hounds made it across until it was my turn. Much to the dismay of the on looking crowd I made it across with all the grace of...... well, more grace than Stumbilina at least!
On-Out 3. Up the opposing shore we were at our second beer stop. After a short break the runners were sent down the eagle trail and the walkers were sent back across the tree bridge. This time Dr. Anus gallantly waded into the ditch to help us cross the logs. Even the mighty (and homophobic) Ass Packet was willing to hold hands with the good doctor to keep his tootsies dry. We thought we were going straight back to the cars but Anus could not resist one last count back! Back on the main road we were greeted with trash on the street that looked strangely failure. Fuckels forgetting to put his tailgate up had dumped our stuff (INCLUDING BEER!) on the street! Luckily the police car that drove by did not seem to care much!
On-In! Circle time! The circle took a while to get started and it was getting colder! Beer and cheese poofs were scarffed down as the torture devices were prepared. Chairs filled with ice, mugs filled w/ beer, hashers all around and one Stumbles w/ a pint of vodka,, it must be circle time. Stepping in for our missing RA Just Puke kick things off. Hares, virgins, DFL, FRB all did down downs. On to the HUYA! Immediately after sitting on ice to pass the HUYA I was attacked by Cumsickel! She wanted some revenge for my sitting on her lap during her naming. Add Socks on top of us, take a few pics and lets go! This stuff is cold!! Despite Shooter's choosing to swim on a dry trail I gave the HUYA to Fuckels for dumping beer on the street in front of the law. Bad, very bad. Rumor has it that the HUYA was stolen at the on-after but that is another story. A few more accusational down downs and this hash was done.
That is how I saw it. May the hash go in peace!
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#84
February 1st, 2003
Hares:  Ass Packit, Circle Blow
Hounds:  Dr. Anus, Ass Squealer, Bike Bitch, Dick Sniffer, Dollar in It, Fire In Da Hole, FuCkleberry, In My Mouth, Short Straw, and Stumblina
One should already know things are not gong to be good when the Hare (Haulin ASS_PACKIT) starts out with the ominous words "No Chalk Talk Required, Y'all are all experienced Hashers". Boy was that a HUGE mistake. Especially when he advises those with TECH to take it with them.
After an impromptu Father Abraham for which NO SONGMEISTER was present AGAIN. The Hare, Hares, ride alongs (sniffa) pointed out the beginning of the trail. The pack found these faded half arrow looking chalk marks so we started in the right direction. Shortly though we came upon an X, after the arrows it was thought that the Hare had forgotten to draw a circle around his check because no more marks were found if you went straight. Well after ranging @ 15 minutes and no marks were found and many "What the F___?". It was discovered that the Hare had decided to veer from the sidewalk and put smaller marks up in the Walgreen parking lot. OK, back on track. Well Anus finds another arrow and bolts across Palm Bay Rd. While the rest of the pack finds other marks and continues along Palm Bay Rd. (Trash NOTE: if you want us to cross a busy ROAD, crossing at the light is easier and safer than having us do it 50 ft from it). Well the pack is pretty divided at this point with everybody but Anus going East. Anus has found Flour while everybody else follows transparent chalk. I decide to check out Anus way and hustle my fat ass along. I see the flour and some True Trail Arrow and there's Anus way out there. So I just head (HEAD) straight to where I saw him last. Anus is no longer in sight so I start ranging since I haven't the foggiest idea where the damn trail is. I find flour and a True Trail into the shiggy. Not hearing any whistles in front or behind I plunge in and follow TP stopping in the middle of a field when I no longer see trail. After looking for 10 minutes up come running Anus And Fuckel, apparently I had missed count backs YBF and who knows what else. All of a sudden something to the right looks like a mark and we plow thru under brush and back on PB rd we are. Crossing again we start to range looking for some sign from GOD. When we hear BB's whistle sounding like he's On-On so we stop ranging and head back only to hear that he?s trying to locate the rest of the pack (Bad Bitch). Well Anus and Fuckle decide it's a good day for a marathon so take off down PB. I wasn't going anywhere without a sign from up above. Finally the stragglers catch up and Stumbles in her infinite wisdom finds a TT arrow going into a car Wash with a Check in the middle (this time with a circle) After much round about everybody is together and back on track by BJ?s the FRB?s (guess who) find a YBF and we go around this pond to only end up just past the YBF (silly Rabbit Trix are for Kids). We find another Intersection and the FRB's have ruled out 2 directions one with a YBF and nothing in the other. We see TP and go only to find nothin else. On-On is heard only to have Anus shouting that's the YBF. Oh well up and over we went and trail is on again. BN and people are looking to string up some Hares. No HAWGs due to the cowardly cojones of our Hare (AP) but he does tell us the general directions of where they are but after the trail so far nobody trusts his directions and decline to go searching. It is discovered that Bike Bitch has camel toe showing. Well after a much deserved BEER and some wussy water, off we go
Those funny faded arrows again. (What?s wrong with big ol' plops of flour?). We get to a point where we no longer see arrows or intersection so it's back to ranging Anus heads one way I another. Nothin in his direction, Nothing in mine we expand the search. He finds a YBF , so we ask ourselves where the HELL was the CHECK? Oh well Ranging further we hear On-On again Stumbles is becoming a HASH idiot savant as again she finds trail (the direction the ANUS said none existed). Ok after meandering we are back behind the Bowling alley in to Crack Haven Apts. We now know where AP got his stash we just want to know "HOW MUCH CRACK DID HE SMOKE" prior to laying this trail? I see Anus and Fuckle way off in the front going back and forth and can lip read the "WHAT THE F-----?" I take an angle and more or less catch up the rest of the pack. Thru some barren field and BN is being laid out by none other than Anus. Hmm I thought that was the Hares job. Oh yeah the FRB made the end before the Hares. Ok eventually everybody makes it in with Stumbles sprinting the last 20 ft not to be DFL.
Circle starts with a moment of reverence for our fallen comrades on the Space Shuttle. Zippy from colorado is remembered and a toast to G. Hares on the ice is heard around the world. AP and Circle Blow get on the chairs of death . That AP sure does expose alot of skin Eeew. FRB (anus) DFL (dollar in it) are on the Chairs of death. Many other accusations are made (or made up as the case may be). Finally the moment we waited for our Long gone Bike Bitch gets to experience the Chair of Death. Well he sits there for @ the amount of time he missed for all the hashes combined (can you say Frost bite). Finally Fuckle is seated and the Huya is brought forth and also the thief is revealed (ANUS) they drink and the Huya is returned to Fuckle who will now sleep with it till the next Hash.
On-Out to the Porn Shack to clean up then to Beefs for ..... Beer and wings after many week attempts at flirting with the waitress people go off to Corvettes or JD's . Much more drinking and lying to each other and more people go to Corvettes, Anus and myself stick around for another $4 pitcher. And after chatting up some over endowed chickie poo are blamed of cheating on our wives. HMMM ok maybe too much beer was had cause I Plum forgot I was married. Oh well time to join the other drunks at Corvettes. Other shenanigans go on but that's a story for another day.
It you think this was too long. Remember it the next time you ask me to do the trash! - Short Straw
P.S. - Things I learned from this trail.
1. Always have CHALK TALK
2. Anus is a much better Hare than a hound.
3. Anus's favorite phrase "What the F___?"
4. When in doubt wait for Stumblina to catch up and lead the way.
5. Never let Ass Packet Hare without Anus.
6. WHISTLES are a great tool, everybody should get one.
7. Cheesy Poofs still suck even more when stale.
8. Intersection marks and MANhole covers do not mix
9. If you show up at the circle all dressed up (Happy Meal ) you will be declared new DFL and made to sit on Ice.
May the Hash go in peace!
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#85 - Sniffa & Shooter Hash
February 15th, 2003
Hares:  Dick Sniffa and Salad Shooter
Hounds:  In My Mouth, Suckulator, Dr Anus, Ass Packet, Bike Bitch, Circle Blow, , Yanksit, Fire, Happy Meal, Cumsicle, Short Straw, Sir Flatulot, Uncle Pervey, FuCkleberry, Crotch Duster, Cockpit, Stumbelina, Ass Squealer, Just Carlo
Visitors:  Gilligan, Flash from Daytona
Virgins:  Just Mom, Just Jean and Just Sloan
It was a beautiful summery afternoon when we arrived at Wacky Wings on Merritt Island. The BVD Hash Flag was blowing in the wind and we were immediately invited to play a game of Frogger across the busy 520 road as Wing's parking lot was too small to hold our extra large group. BIKE BITCH acquired some white Challenger remembrance ribbons for us to pin on while we drank beer awaiting the shotgun start of our Birthday Hash trail. He was also peddling our favorite green habberdashery t-shirts (it looked just like a lemonade stand with him in his birthday party hat). The Hares, of course, were dressed for the theme in their velvet party dresses - (they wore underwear - several folks checked). JUST CARLO was also quite striking, dressed in his best BVD hand-painted tuxedo shirt complete with tails. I also heard GILLIGAN was giving away kisses with the wrappers on. SIR FLATULOT led us in Father Abraham and also treated us with a "7 days of the week" song- something about 2-finger day, which turned into 5-finger day, hashing day, fucking day, drinking day, cunnilingus day (we already couldn't pronounce it so we just made the motion with our tongues between our fingers) , all complete with animation of course. Is that seven ?- who cares - I said this would be a long one. We also had a chalk talk with a new thing called COMBO. There were several questions about COMBO that pushed us off to an even later start. Must have something to do with the disappearing trail that even a blind man couldn't follow. FIRE, our hash flash, takes a group shot and the hares were away somewhere around 2:45 SHT.
We set off in a westerly direction and quickly got off the pavement into some shiggy. IN MY MOUTH demonstrated running like a girl and further explained how it takes way too much energy to do so. Our usual FRBs were heading the pack and took the eagle route through some dense and scratchy shiggy. YANKSIT, FUCKLEBERRY, SIR FLATULOT and DR ANUS all arrived later at the circle with various scratches, cuts and bloody legs. They chose the water crossing, while the rest of us walked a nice, well-driven path. SQUEALER and HAPPY MEAL decide to remove their shirts on trail in order to improve aerodynamics. We wandered around in the woods following TP and pink flour marks for quite some time listening to distant whistles. The hares later told us there was a TEQUILA PRIZE somewhere out there and none of us managed to find it, so some camper is going to be REALLY happy. Our first beer stop took a very long time and all the panting hounds crawled a dirt hill, which looked to be some sort of landfill with garbage dotting the landscape (as we didn't know Florida had hills) to pour some suds down our dusty throats. There were many countbacks and YBF's, which is a good thing because JUST MOM and JUST JEAN were bringing up the rear and we were afraid we'd lose them by the end of the day. I am also told COCKPIT AND CROTCHDUSTER engaged in SEX on trail although there were no witnesses and they didn't invite anyone to join in. Greedy, selfish hounds!
We then head off down the hill to what appears to be another water crossing, but we stay dry for a little while, only to find ourselves confronted with a yellow 2-person raft (with NO OARS) and our faces light up as we are about to get WET. SHORT STRAW wasn't ready for sex yet, so he made quick use of the RUBBER, I mean raft, and managed to stay dry, while FIRE, SQUEALER, HAPPY MEAL, CUMSICLE AND JUST SLOAN try their hand at a wet shorts contest. Not with a hose mind you, we chose a very odorous canal with green slimy on the bottom and poles to hang onto every 4 feet across. No one was wearing white, so we quickly lost interest, squeezed out the excess water and went ON-ON. SIR FLATULOT reminded us later to go to the COOTER DOCTOR as there were dead fish in the water. FISHY COOTERS really are a nagging problem indeed and need to be treated. CROTCH DUSTER, COCKPIT, STUMBELINA, JUST MOM AND JUST JEAN managed to find a more lengthy route where only their shoes got wet. At this point, we haven't seen the FRBs in quite some time. We also followed a dock overlooking the water behind a clubhouse, which turns out to be a wedding in progress. We try not to be too much of a distraction and press ON-ON looking for beer.
We get back to civilization, most of us black from the waist down and wearing our squishy shoes from our nasty water crossing (must be payback for SHOOTER'S Channel swim from last hash). Once again, we are parched as the distance between beer stops is far too long for SUCK-U-LATOR's standards (he says every 50 yards). We see a HOOTERS and almost break off trail to go get a cold one- some of us had money - but we stunk too bad - and the FRBs were returning from yet another countback. So we are ranging after we cross the last road, hounds all scouting through freshly cut grass, desperately searching for some kind of mark and STUMBELINA finds a mark across the grass lot in a parking lot and we are ON-ON again. As soon as we clear the end of a building, we see our final beer stop and STUMBELINA, CUMSICLE, BIKE BITCH and several other thirsty hounds engage in competitive running only to be corrected and we immediately go into a fast-walking , ass-wiggling, arm-pumping finish in order to get to our cheesy poufs and beer.
The party girl hares have also sprung for M&M cookies in addition to our normal chips and cheesy pouf fare- it was very festive and colorful indeed. YANKSIT AND SUCK-U-LATOR eat cheesy poufs out of other hounds ears just to hear the sound it makes "clear through to the other ear". Where's the cleanup-crew you say? Other hounds are quick to lap up any remaining cheesy pouf dust on fingers and inner ears. SHORT STRAW also discovers that cheesy poufs are flammable and the pyro is burning a stinky one until it no longer smells as good as burnt marshmallows and he throws it to the ground. We are all entertained, but we have a circle to run with our dearly missed religious advisor, YANKSIT, who's been away for 6 weeks. We've finally done it. We lost JUST MOM and JUST JEAN and DR ANUS had to sprint back on trail to retrieve them. Gee ANUS, next time, can you get them a whistle or a cell phone with GPS or something? Everyone finally makes it back and we set up our circle in the back of a building overlooking a tree-lined retention pond. The natural ambiance was very fitting for our perfect summer day.
Our hares, SALAD SHOOTER AND DICK SNIFFA take the ice chairs first while the hounds critique the trail. There were many "too long between beer stops" comments. Our FRB, SIR FLATULOT goes next with DR ANUS taking it for Just Mom, the DFL. JUST MOM takes some film footage of the ice chair while her son has his pants down like any good mom would. FATTY also collects the very nice, MADE IN JAPAN, bronze, first-ever, FRB running-man trophy. GILLIGAN and YANKSIT take the ice chairs next, for too long between hashing. Why GILLIGAN, what a HUGE, MONSTROUS and SCARY ..................................... drinking vessel you have. DR ANUS poured water over the ice for an extra sloppy welcome back. CUMSICLE and her virgin JUST SLOAN take the ice next and those friendly 200 and 300 pound hounds help them both feel loved by sitting on their laps, always making sure to stack hounds boy, girl, boy, girl so as to eliminate any reactions from the homophobic frozen asses. JUST SLOAN gets to have a double DOWN DOWN while CUMSICLE is taking a breather trying to get through her first one. Several hounds take part in shenanigans, including UNCLE PERVEY who decides it's also appropriate to sit backwards on CUMSICLE's lap with his legs through the arms of the chair and bounce up and down.
I INTERRUPT THIS HASH TRASH FOR A SERIOUS ANNOUNCEMENT: Remember, at this point, we all have to pee and bouncing should not be part of shenanigans.
HAPPY MEAL also assists those on ice by sitting in their laps, while once again escaping the frost-bitten butt (how does she do that?). There were many accusations. FIRE takes the ice for using her cell phone in the circle. DICK SNIFFA was awarded the HUYA for some unspeakable crime (which means I can't remember). CUMSICLE goes down again (was that an implication of HEAD?) as she is the new ON-SEC. It starts to go fuzzy here after that second DOWN DOWN. We wrap up the circle and take a short trip back to the parking lot where several hounds were engaged in public nakedness, stripping out of their WET clothes in the Circuit City parking lot to get ready for the ON-AFTER at Wacky Wings and continued later at the Purple Porpoise. Thank God for large trucks as the open doors make a nice blind when you are getting naked in front of one of the busiest roads in Brevard county. I hear tell there was nipple tasting and feel tests for real VS purchased boobs (purchased boobs are firmer on top if anyone cares to know the results), body piercing reviews, dancing, the usual co-ed restroom visits and much spanking (1. dominatrix hard, 2. wet, post-frozen ass spanking and 3. my favorite, soft swirl spanking). It's always a good day for hashing, but today was an especially GOOD DAY for HASHING.
Reminder to FuCkleberry for the next hash: there are children at Kentucky Fried Chicken and you should go around your truck before you strip and moon the little ones.
Now raise your right hands and repeat after me: ( I just love this plagiarized item and I think it should become our pledge of allegiance prior to every hash-but don't ask me to memorize it): Release: I might (OK, WILL) be drinking and doing stupid, foolish things. I can hurt myself if I want to, and if I do, it's MY OWN DAMN FAULT!
May the Hash go in peace...........
ON-SEC, CUMSICLE
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#86 - Bike Week 03
February 28th - March 2nd, 2003
Hares:  DBH3
Hounds:  Too many to count!
Friday: Hashers donned their finest 70s garb for the welcome party at the Mayan Inn. There was plenty of tie-dye, polyester, platform shoes, leisure suits, Hog Balls in his sexy denim jumpsuit (good God, I'm glad the 70s are over!). Momma, Meet Her Beaver & Dollar In It looked particularly H-O-T! Me-ow! There was no "official" pub crawl Friday night, so some people went off and did their own thing, while others joined ?renegade? pay-as-you-go pub crawls. The combination of polyester clad hashers and leather wearing bikers was quite amusing. Karaoke at the bar formerly known as Robby's entertained us for awhile, but then we decided it was time to go back to the hotel and drink free beer. The techno room was rocking and Ray, the security dude was partying with us until his boss yelled at him. (This is where I lose my memory so on to Saturday...) Has anybody seen my liver?
Saturday: The day started off with the traditional room crawl. This thing gets bigger and better every year! Great stuff, but those Long Island Iced Teas were EVIL! Circle Blow was the official room crawl cheerleader. She was actually wearing a cheerleader outfit (and looked adorable, by the way) and was very enthusiastically cheering us on as we drank. "We've got blue stuff, yes we do, we've got blue stuff, how `bout you" DBH3 started a new tradition this year by having 2 trails for Saturday's hash. The Eagle trail started around 11:30 and promised the r*nners a good workout so they could sweat out all of the alcohol they drank on the room crawl. They went over the bridge to a little watering hole called Crook?s Den, then back to the hotel to meet up with the smart hashers for the Turkey trail. Gilligan was presented with a birthday cake in honor of his 50th, and was promptly covered with icing (Or was it whipped cream? Unfortunately, I didn't see it happen). The Jacksonville guys were all decked out in matching kilts and hot pink "Jacksonville is Gay" shirts. A reporter and photographer from the Orlando Sentinel joined us there. After a few brief instructions and a toast to KGB, Zippy & I Get Named Next Week, we were on-on down the beach to the first stop at Bernkastle?s. Next on the agenda was the traditional jog down Main Street, which was considerably shorter this year (good for the fat boys!). Stopped at Wise Guy?s, one of our newest hash bars- We LOVE that place! From there we moved on to Robby?s, then ended up at J?s. Thanks to Thor for another kick-ass pub crawl! Later that evening, hashers headed out to join the action on Main Street.
Sunday: Back to Bernkastle's. The crowd was smaller than usual, probably because of the rain, so No Blow was actually able to conduct a somewhat controlled "circle". I use that term loosely because hashers were standing in any dry spot they could find. It looked more like a big "E" than a circle. He did a great job remembering all the important down-downs. We drank and ate and said our goodbyes until next time. Big thanks to everyone who worked so hard to make Bike Week a success! You guys rock!
See ya when I see ya,
-Cockpit
May the Hash go in peace...........
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#87 - St Patricks's Day Parade & Pube Crawl
March 15th, 2003
Hares:  Just Puke & Dr. Anus
Hounds:  Suckulator, Yanksit, Fire, In My mouth, Stumbelina, Edgar Allen Ho, Happy Meal, Cumsicle, Bike Bitch, Ass Packet, Circle Blow, Dr. Without Sox, IFH, Dick Sniffah, FuCkleberry, Gamey Gonads, Salad Shooter, Short Straw, Dolla In It, Delta Dildo, Uncle Pervey, Cockpit, Just Roger, and Watch em Wiggle, Just Tonya, Just Margaret.
Visitors:  Gator Hater, Way Beyond Gay, Woody, No Blow, Putacockinit, Down and Dirty, and Cumswithstick
Virgins:  Just Chad, Just Matt, Just Mike, Just Bead Guy, Just Karen (with her neon green hair) Just Schott, Just Francis, Just Larry, and Just Dana
Blarney, it was a kilt-wearing, free-dicking, 2-keg, yucca drinking, super-sized jello shot eating, chunk-blowing St Patrick's Day hash in downtown Melbourne Florida.
We started our hot hashing day off in two different locations. Some of the hounds were performing a pre-lube at the Little Gay Cottage and got trucked in later by HOPPERS, a great drunk-driving service (try them the next time you want to get hammered in Brevard county 956-3400), while the rest of us set up a pavilion at the downtown location -EATZ restaurant.
While we waited at EATZ for our Hoppers friends, a few of the hounds were still searching for more green stuff and discovered the Daily Bread thrift store just across the street. GATOR HATER found a green beret, DOWN and DIRTY or Delta Dildo (who are these people and why weren't they wearing their beads? Beer does not help me remember - I need the visual) found a green evening gown for $5 and a rabbit visor. FIRE showed us her hind quarters under her green lingerie and pointed out she needed more tanning. Her rubber elf shoes were the perfect accent to her outfit. CIRCLE was sporting St Patrick's theme Sponge Bob shorts to compliment her outfit. ASS PACKET didn't know it, but the bandana that just magically matched his vest came from the groomers when CUMSICLE'S dogs had a March grooming appt. So did the clover bandana on HAPPY MEAL'S arm. DR ANUS cleverly died a cream colored suit green, while PUKE chose to simply rip the sleeves off of his suit jacket and wear a green St Patty's day flower in his lapel. Shooter made us great St Patty's tags and a bonus Daytona tag too. GAMEY GONADS prepared a dress from tapestry green curtains.
We patiently waited for our #32 spot in the parade (we'd rather be 69, but the parade marshall wasn't going for it). He said we added a nice flavor to last year's parade and he was glad to have us back.
Once we got in the street with our half of a mother-lode of beads, our keg and our yucca, we began dodging poop behind the Brandywine Estates horses and were in front of some old ladies who I'm sure either couldn't see us or were deaf, as they sure were expressionless for the day. The parade was short and we spent our wad of beads and candy and hovered around our float, driven by DICK SNIFFA, our hash Goddess, wearing a green evening gown and gold mesh shawl. We had an addition to our float from the Treasure Coast Hashers which included a large 5x5 canvas with the slogan "GOT BEER?" on it, courtesy of GATOR HATER. I believe we were calling that Yucca drink made in Dr ANUS' yard, spout shots, as we were drinking them from a nozzled container from Puke's and ANUS' shoulders. DR WITHOUT SOX was rationing the beer from the back of the truck, telling CUMSICLE she had been back too many times -- I had a tiny Jabber Jaw cup -- so it was OK. This was also our first hash to hand out our new yellow business cards. We ended the parade by the railroad tracks while the hounds snuck off into the shiggy and the nearby Texaco to lift their legs. Others entertained themselves by flashing for the remaining beads. Just Bead-Guy wouldn't give up his shark beads for anything and we requested many others before he finally gave up his lighted-parrot beads. This guy is really uptight. I can't think of another male hound who wouldn't have gladly relinquished anything he was wearing for a flash of tits.
We had a chalk-talk and went on-on to the Melbourne Convention Center park. IN MY MOUTH took a break on the curb due to a few too many pots o' gold at the end of the rainbow. HAPPY MEAL supervised GATOR HATER'S leg lift behind the dumpster.
Somehow we always manage to fit a contest into our trail and this time it was flacid dick size. The contestants were SUCKULATOR, ASS PACKET AND GATOR HATER. ASS PACKET made the final vote and was quoted as saying, "Well, GATOR just shows well, you know I can't perform in public." Cumsicle helped judge, so know you understand why she was oblivious to everything else that went on at the park. As a consolation prize, all 3 contestants allowed some freshly-shaved, sweaty-ball handling to see if there might be a possible recount ---NOT!!!
Then began the day's underwear/G-string collection. First out of the shoot was BIKE BITCH. He aired his privates and gave up his french, green, lame thong to HAPPY MEAL. She really is rather a lazy underwear collector as she only went after those men who were wearing kilts or dresses. What's the challenge in that? Soon after, she also had SUCKULATOR'S, FUCKLEBERRY'S, and JUST CHAD'S. Poor virgin. He opted to wear a spare dress of CUMSICLE'S and it was very short. He may be a real hasher though. I couldn't figure out how so many people had a breeze blowing through their cracks when I only saw HAPPY MEAL with one pair of unmentionables at a time. I understand that she was storing them in the cooler, so who knows what might have been in those jello shots.
The trail led to the Eau Gallie Causeway to our first beer near (The hare made it there before the beer did--Oh the jello-eggs of forgetfulness). After playing with the whipped cream and the jello shots, we continued across the causeway and had to move a guy we found passed out in a pile of ants. We brushed him off and moved him about 30 feet and placed him under another tree with no ants. No he was not a hasher, however, he did try to bum a ride off of Puke earlier and Puke told him to go sleep in his truck. We thought he was dead. You never know what you are going to find on trail.
ANUS AND FUCKLEBERRY must be Labrador Retriever hounds as they took to that salty river water and went for a swim. Does alchohol float?
On-on to On-Tap where we surely confused the only non-hashing couple sitting in the middle of our group out on the deck. I missed this whole party in order to walk one of the Virgins back to my car for his clothes and send him home in a Hoppers van. Thank God for that service.
Besides hanging out with Benjamin Franklin, AKA BIKE BITCH, with his kilt, knee socks and wire-rim glasses, I don't remember a thing from the circle.
The ON-AFTER commenced at the Little Gay Cottage with the usual shedding of clothes to worship the orgasmitron. YANKSIT exposed his Patriot Missile yet left his t-shirt on. (Hey - I don't know, I wasn't there, it's what I was told) All the tired little leprechauns were in bed by 1030. The wee hashers and harriettes were just a touch blasted after a solid 10 and a half hours of professional drinking. Yet another successful hash!
Favorite lines of the day:
"That's my cover. Wanna blow my cover"...(GATOR HATER referring to his plastic bowler hat he was wearing on the front of his shorts.
"We should screw sometime"... Suckulator
Hurlers Anonymous:
Short Straw
No Blow - what???? you mean he does blow ---chunks that is Just Chad
A St Patty's Day to remember!! (For those that can at least!)
May the Hash go in peace...........
ON-SEC, CUMSICLE
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#88 - Siggy’s Bar and Grill
March 29th, 2003
March 29th, 2003, wasn’t an ordinary day.  No, it was a hashing day!  BVD, that is…hash house harriers.  Though the turn-out was small, the party was huge!  Here’s a recap of the day…
We met at Siggy’s Bar and Grill in Palm Bay.  BVDH3 has been here before.  The bartender remembered us from last year, and in this case, it was a positive experience for him.  We must have been somewhat well-mannered that day, or the bartender is quite tolerant. 
The hounds that ventured out on this gorgeous Florida spring day were quite content to sit around for an hour or so before the hare was on-out.  Golden Shower and Salt Lick Titty rumbled up on their Harley and enjoyed the on-before with the rest of the hounds.  Afterall, the beer was cold and cheap, and the company was great.  What else could we want?  Oh yeah, a trail.  Our hare, Edgar Allan Ho finally was on-out after a short verbal chalk talk in the bar.  Then the hounds, Dr. Anus, Yanksit, Just Puke, In My Mouth, Bike Bitch, Way Beyond Gay (visitor from Daytona), FuCkleberry, Dick Sniffah, and me (Fireindahole), were on-out.
If I had to describe the trail in two words, I would say it was long and hard.  You want more?  Okay, it was approximately 6 miles of pavement…long and hard.  Butt, it was a good trail.  Ho is known for his difficult trails and he lived up to his reputation.  I AM NOT complaining, however.  I need all the exercise my big ass can get J  Now, I have to say that we had one of the longest halfway beer stops ever.  The FRBs were there when Bike Bitch and I rolled up, and they were already on at least beer #2!  Their goal was to leave no beer behind.  After about five miles to the halfway stop, IMM and Sniffah decided to head back to the bar for some good eats.  Way Beyond Gay, who was accompanying our two fine harriettes bid them a fond (get your ass back here) farewell.  Eventually we were on-out to the end.  Ho promised it would only be about one more mile and he was right.  Ho…you do know that halfway beer stop means HALFWAY don’t you????  Just wanted to point out the obvious to future hares.
We ended in an awesome spot in the woods overlooking a water retention pond and BCC.  The “ice chair of death” was all ready to go and everyone pulled up an ice chest to form a circle around it.  Since there were only eight of us at the end, everyone got their turn in the chair.  I’ve got to tell you--this was one of the coldest chairs I’ve ever sat in!!  It beats the block of ice 10 times over.  There’s nothing like sitting in cold ice water that reaches all cracks and crevices and you know what I mean.  After about 4 or 5 minutes, though, all is numb and the world is normal.  We had some good story time while taking turns in the chair.  It started to get dark and we were on-back to Siggy’s where everyone decided to go their own way.
On-on to the next hash….TOGA, TOGA, TOGA…..more details to cum!
Fireindahole
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#89 – Fat Boy Toga Hash
April 12th, 2003
Hares: Suckulator, Fez (virgin hare) and Ass Packet
Hounds and Harriettes: Bike Bitch, Dr. Anus, FuCkleberry, Happy Meal, Cumsicle, Circle Blow, In My Mouth, Salad Shooter, Yanksit, Fire, Baby Huey, Uncle Pervy, Just Chad, Just Frances, Dick Sniffa, S-Tumbelina, Short Straw, Crotchduster and Cockpit
Visitors: Waay Beyond Gay, No Blow (to be referred to as Blow by BVDHHH hashers from here to eternity after the St Patricks Day Hash, not to be confused with Circle Blow), Puta CockinIt, Wish you were Queer, Fairly Small, Wet Dream, Richard Pierce, Just Wendy, Tongue In Groove, Lazer Lips, Momma Get Off Me You're Crushing My Cigarettes.
Virgins: Just Rick, Just Tim, (Just Wayne, and Just Mitch (the band guys))
It takes a lot of practice to be professional drinkers and practice we did on our toga hash. Our Hares hosted an exceptional event on a gorgeous spring day in Cocoa Beach, Florida.
Even with our elaborate toga instructions, compliments of STUMBELINA, we determined that a sheet or fabric, safety pins, a pair of scissors, sandals, a yard of rope and some greenery is all you really need to make a fashion statement.
We drank 32 Pitchers of beer, 6 cases of beer, 24 Smirnoff Ices, and spent $500 in all to support this special event hash. The Cops came 4 times-which was a record for the BVDHHH hashes. We are so good at getting people off, however, that's still only half of CUMSICLE's record, so there is much work to be done in the Brevard kingdom.
Here is a good sampling of the great togas that were worn:
Naked-Under Togas (our favorites), Goddess Style togas with flowing chiffon trim in many colors. Commando style togas with jungle and arctic camouflage prints, Gold-Greek Key Stenciled togas, Tailored, sewn and trimmed authentic-looking togas (courtesy of SNIFFA), White, red, and Striped sheet togas (200 thread-count but very soft), plaid togas, costume in a bag togas, Green swirl togas, floral togas, Stars and Stripes togas, Diaper Man togas, Gold trimmed togas (love the spray-painted gold sandals with the gold ribbons attached), Long gown togas, Non-togas (you already know how much fun you missed and I'm sure it will never happen again)
CUMSICLE was the official toga maker for those last minute folks who showed up with toga parts. With a few sticks of the pin and chops with the scissors, she worked FAIRLY SMALL, S-TUMBELINA and DR ANUS into toga fashion plates. They added their own accessories and did their own prep work.
CIRCLE BLOW also wrapped and pinned togas for ASS PACKET, FUCKLEBERRY, and JUST CHAD. Don't worry guys, the more you hash, the more you get the hang of the dress thing.
Our Hash Cash, BIKE BITCH set up his card table to sell On-On Stickers ($1), BVDHHH Patches ($3), On-On patch feet($2) and of course the dirt cheap, puke green BVDHHH T-shirts ($10).
Before we even started this hash, we had our first cop visit as the Dollar General employees had reported that people were partying and getting naked in their parking lot. Our Chalk talk was given by SUCKULATOR for our virgins, athough he left something out. We had a strange new trail mark that wasn't explained to us prior to trail. It looked much like a stick-man hasher sitting on wheels and was painted in a very large blue painted font, with blue lines on either side. Not sure what it means yet, but it was outside most every business and we think it means we can pee there as it may be a rest stop sign.
We declared Roman war on anti-terrorism in Cocoa Beach today and in light of current world situations I'll continue the news bursts throughout the trash.
Our Hash Flash, FIREINDAHOLE took our group grope shot and we were on-on. What a trooper she is. She wasn't feeling well, but didn't want to miss the toga hash, but she hung with the Roman Gods and Goddesses until the wine skins dried up.
I said I would bring the mini-recorder to assist with the trash, but since I didn't drive, I forgot it in my car and had to improvise. First, I tore out my underwear tag - which leaves very little room for trash, so I had to find more paper.  PUTA offered her gum wrapper, which was about 3 times the size of the tag, but still needed more room for all the shenanigans, so ANUS finally headed for the restroom to retrieve a hash scroll parchment (a 2 foot section of paper towel), which was carefully stored in CUMSICLE'S bra in between scribing.
Where did we go and what did we do there?
Cottage Pub - We headed north on A1A and true to FAT BOY PUB CRAWL RULES, SUCKULATOR had us in another pub within minutes. The Cottage Pub had quite a few folks in it and we simply told them we were their city officials having a party using their tax money. This pub happened to be SUCKYS trail highlight.
Rum Runner's- We continued up A1A waving to passing vehicles full of our constituents, many of whom were honking and yelling their affirmations to us. We stopped for a photo op at the waterfall in the middle of the road just before Rum Runners. During the course of our trail, it was observed that CUMSICLE had a hare on her ass. (Literally, she had a rabbit sewn to the butt of her toga, which she freely flashed throughout the course of the trail). HAPPY MEAL checked under RICHARD PIERCE'S toga which drew a response from an elderly gentleman in the bar - "Good Move". RICHARD PIERCE showed us his ZERO- gauge dick piercing. OH MY GOD!!!! was heard many a time, especially when he reached up the leg of his shorts to pull it down and out while waiting for his ride to the slumber party. If you've seen the hooks we use to clip our drinking vessels to our fanny pack belts, you'd be right on with the thickness of that cock ring. What a Gladiator!!
I noticed that HAPPY MEAL did some research on the Roman handball game (Expulsim Ludere), playing with just two balls at a time. It probably wasn't traditional Roman handball for the following reason though - and I quote "...They...had a kind of hard glove for a version of this game. The larger, heavier, hand-made leather balls would not be likely to survive the punishment of a racketball style game..." She wasn't wearing gloves and judging from DR ANUS _expression and position (head to the right and coughing), I certainly don't think it was punishment. She may, however, be a doctor as her handball game looked strangely like a hernia exam. CUMSICLE is not a doctor, however she has a certain bedside manner and practiced some Geriatric kissing at Rum Runners. An elderly gentleman with his oxygen tank got a whiff of her coconut oil as she blew in the bar. A hound decided some charity work was in order and took her to meet him, when she promptly thanked him for the "you smell good" compliment and planted one on him.
Pig N Whistle- YANKSIT and "LONG DONG" BIKE BITCH practiced the Roman Ruler wave (with their hands and their dicks) atop the concrete ledge on the back patio. Their constituents were adoring and offered head in lieu of paying taxes, and it was much appreciated. There were many dickus Penisus photo shots. PUTACOCKINIT broke out her lipstick and commenced to playing a kissing game, leaving her mark on every hound and harriette in the area. She's a very territorial harriette. She put a special mark on DR ANUS and BIKE BITCH by forcing them to actually wear some lipstick. She wanted everyone to know that if she missed anyone, it was only because she was drunk, and was not intended as a slight.
City Park - There were no animals allowed in the park, but apparently, we were making new rules while assuming our temporary city council positions as the hounds quickly spread out and took over the area. COCKPIT and BIKE BITCH rode the shit out of the Hobby horses. Will someone please sex these people up so we don't have to watch their public masterbation? Never mind, I forgot we like to watch. The remainder of he hash, BIKE BITCH carried a paper towel holder in his toga for some strange reason. Wait, I think he was just happy to see that horse and was having afterglow. HAPPY MEAL, FAIRLY SMALL, DR ANUS, JUST WENDY and WET DREAM ran for the swings.HAPPY MEAL Lesson learned - chain swings leave bruises on your thighs when you are on top. Apple Pie Shots were administered orally by the 3 hares using liquor pour spouts and pressurized cans - vodka, Apple Schnapps, then whipped cream. No cups necessary - keep this money saving tip in mind for when you hare a trail. No sooner had we resumed trail, the nice police officers visited us again, blocking our trail with a police car. We all dumped our beers and continued sucking the whipped cream cans for nitrous oxide (it's legal right???). It always helps to compliment the nice officers. HAPPY MEAL passed by the parked vehicle that was blocking our trail and says "Very Nice!!!" Of course he had to let us go then. Is it wrong to pass him our empty whipped
cream can? We really shouldn't litter, so what else could we do?
Cocoa Beach Beach - DOLLA IN IT joined us on our way to the Jello Shot checkpoint - she was riding her motorcycle and found us on trail. WAAY BEYOND GAY tried to lead us off trail swearing we were going the wrong direction. Apparently the nice police officers were hungry or were trying to kick their donut habits (don't shoot me, I have nothing but respect for authoritaay), as they showed up at the Jello shot checkpoint too, but we are not good with sharing. Some of us did not get to enjoy the shots as we were behind on trail being good citizens reporting a window breaking we witnessed at a Realty office.
News burst - If you spot terrorism, blow your anti-terrorism whistle. If you are Vin Diesel, yell really loud.
FUCKLEBERRY bloodied his toga from the cuts on his forehead and chin from jumping the ramp on the beach. Apparently his drinking vessel shattered on impact with his hard head. He was left with nothing but a handle. MOM (AKA DICK SNIFFA) performed first aid.
Holiday Inn Suite - If your building collapses, give yourself a blowjob while waiting to be rescued.
You only had to show a naked body part for entry into the party suite. Simply press the naked part against the glass and you could cum in. The Reggae music was playing, there was a smorgasbord of sub sandwiches, chips, cheesy poufs and of course more beer laid out for us. The police made their final visit here, as they tracked us down via FIRE's cell phone. They took statements from several harriettes over the vandalism incident. The harriettes flirted with the cops and asked them to join us next hash. CIRCLE BLOW told them some of our hash names and they were very amused. FIRE also commented that she much preferred uniforms to the polo shirts and shorts casual look - way more sexy --and the rest of us agreed.
We had a short circle led by our religious advisor, YANKSIT (we actually ran out of beer and had to send out for more). Our ingenious hares brought in a blow-up baby pool to set the ice chairs in so we wouldn't drip on the floor. We put our hares on ice first. The hounds have been known to make fun of my sippy cup as a down down mug, but tonight they traded their giant Budweiser mugs for it to do their down downs. I guess they know their limits and will not make fun of Jabber Jaw again. Next were the Virgins and their sponsors (JUST TIM, JUST RICK AND JUST WENDY AND HAPPY MEAL). I don't know what offense CROTCH DUSTER and COCKPIT committed, however, they were wearing matching plaid togas and may have needed matching frozen asses to go with them. Update:  CROTCH DUSTER, WHISH YOU WERE QUEER, and JUST WENDY, were in the circle for being pilots overseas during these troubled times in the world. COCKPIT was in the circle for putting up with CROTCH DUSTER’s shit!
SHORT STRAW helped clean up once we finished with the chairs by putting ice in everyone's togas wherever he could find a hole. ASS PACKET coined a new term - "show cock" (sounds good to me, when's the next show?). DR ANUS was wrapped up in the ice pool, which makes no sense becaue he's always cold. Is this some kind of new rubber or safe sex? Somehow I missed it but the photos show DOLLA and BLOW engaged in fully clothed sex in the baby pool - BLOW on top. Many a lap dance was given on the couch by the HARRIETTES. I had never seen one with the ass in the lap and the legs wrapped around the ears before. The scene much resembled Animal House when the entire club was dancing to Shout with all the legs in the air, but we used the couches instead of the floor.
FUCKLEBERRY or ASS PACKET rendered our single restroom unusable for roughly 30 minutes due to fumigation. If you are trapped under falling debris, conserve oxygen by not farting. Someone will have to explain Bat Thumb to me as YANKSIT was completely amused trying to explain the movie to me. Is this a porn thing? I have no idea. SUCKY stuck his plastic sword up many an ass. DR ANUS lost his shorts AGAIN, this time to CIRCLE BLOW. Damn those men in dresses are simply irresistable. BLOW and COCKPIT were engaged in breast exams - never let it be said that hashers are not compassionate or sensitive to the cause. We had all kinds of dancing:
Retard dancing by YANKSIT and BIKE BITCH (please do not write your Congressman over the terminology, I am not discriminatory, I simply don't know how else to describe it).
Slam dancing by YANKSIT and SHOOTER.
SUCKULATOR gave dance lessons.
And then there were the resident construction workers who were cat calling to the Holiday Inn guests from the Balcony--that would be FOREMAN FUCKLEBERRY, STEELWORKER JUST CHAD, BEAM WALKER FEZ and others.
Diaper man (AKA UNCLE PERVY) - spanks way too hard according to STUMBELINA and CUMSICLE. Can you tone it down a bit please? You don't get your favorite until we get ours. Either Glow Sticks were broken open or we have some radiactive hounds as HAPPY MEAL had glowing green cum stains running down both legs. There were cum stains all over FEZ', SUCKLULATOR and FUCKLEBERRY'S toga's. Thank goodness we didn't have any crime scene detectives with black lighting or we would have been collected as evidence.
Lesson Learned Number 2 - Never look under the baby pool no matter how much it's bouncing around, someone may be receiving HEAD. Who said HEAD, I'll take some of that.
Slumber Party at THE HAPPY HOUSE - (The BVDHHH has a growing list of real estate - The Little Gay Cottage, The Porn Shack and the Happy House - We buy ugly houses too). HAPPY MEAL'S daughter was named without ever attending one hash (HAPPY SNACKS) (she is not yet of age and this paragraph has to remain PG for that reason. SUCKULATOR came up with that name spontaneously during the pub crawl. He was subsequently kicked, and beaten by HAPPY MEAL and CIRCLE BLOW for crossing the line on the subject of under-age children. ASS PACKET almost pissed himself over this little joke when he remembered it at the slumber party while viewing photos of HAPPY SNACKS. JUST RICK got his toenails painted red, but was happy with the shade, so didn't protest, even upon waking. The dog was exhausted from chasing the laser light around the house, but we stuck with the house rules--no inappropriate behavior with the dog.
Inner Room moonlight trip - for some HAPPY HOUSE guests (they snuck out and just had to go to the titty bar) Favorite quote of the day from our virgin JUST RICK:  " I had a lot of fun, I just need to learn to pace myself better"
Final Lesson learned courtesy of ASS PACKET:  Don't put your wallet in your toga - it's not secure.
Our Roman hares treated us royally on this day and we are eternally greatful. Our visitors were highly entertaining and we welcum them back anytime.
May the Hash Get A Piece.
ON-SEC
Cumsicle
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#90 - Aloha Eatery
April 26th, 2003
Hares: Yanksit and Fuckleberry
Hounds and Harriettes: Bike Bitch, Suckulator, Dick Sniffah, Ass Packet, Circle Blow, Salad Shooter, Sir Flatulot, In My Mouth, Dr. Anus, Just Puke, Flash, Cumsicle, Waaay Beyond Gay, Happy Meal, Edgar Allen Ho, Fireindahole, Just Patti, Short Straw, Puta Cockinit, Up Chuck Fuck, Down & Dirty, Just Linda, Stumbelina, Gilligan, and Salt Lick Titty.
Welcome to your first recorded and transcribed hash trash for BVDHHH run #90. Your very own ON-Sec loves to use technology at every opportunity so she had a mini-recorder on trail.  As unruly as this pack of hounds is, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to hear anything, but it was surprisingly clear and I got to relive the event almost in it’s entirety.  We sure were destructive today. Read on to find out what I'm referring to.
We had a false start at the credit union on south Wickham and moved over to Aloha Eatery due to the massive no-trespassing signs.  We were expecting wet, buggy shaggy due to the storm the night before, but we all managed to make it to the circle with clean shoes.  .  Short Straw broke out the Cutter spray and did several people before we got started (sprayed them with bug spray that is).   We had sand, canals, real shiggy and shiglet, gator corpses, (bones actually) – which ASS PAQCKET tried to claim as his ex-wife’s remains.
I tried to interview our Hare, FuCkleberry, but he gave the politician answer – “I cannot comment on the trail until it’s over.”  ASS PACKET wanted desperately to bring his new paddle on trail, but he was having trouble controlling himself and CIRCLE made him put it away. That would account for the constant tapping at the beginning of the tape.
SIR FATTY entertained us with his polish version of the 7 days of hashing song.  Basically, just add ski to the end of each phrase and there you have it. He also demonstrated his version of 69 with Shooter in a handstand and him standing.  SHORT STRAW commented, no wonder they have no children. Not to be outdone, DR ANUS and STUMBELINA demonstrated Congress of the Cow, with STUMBLES in a wheelbarrow position and ANUS pushing the load. 
ANOTHER FAVORITE PHRASE – SHORT STRAW mentioned that DR ANUS looked like the poster child for Auschwitz referring to his thin frame. Very visual and global usability. We love you ANUS, and it was not intended in an insulting way.
We gathered for a beer stop to tell stories and I left the recorder running. JUST LINDA told us some useful news about using Porcelana cream to lighten dark nipples. PACKET told us his intentions to change jobs and take up his own business as a vagina shaver. SICLE quickly asked him if he wouldn’t reconsider and put the sand on the models, but he said he’d rather brush the sand off. We also discovered a camel toe violation on trail with IMM, but I believe it went unpunished. JUST PUKE found himself alone with 8 harriettes as BIKE BITCH ANUS AND PACKET took off on-on. He liked the ratio and our conversation soon switched to prison stories.
HERE’S SOME DUI AND JAIL DETERRENCE FOR YOU
3 of our formerly incarcerated shared that you have to endure peeing in front of the cops, being forced to listen to blaring BAD BOYS all night long, no blankets, nothing soft, and the dangers of using the “brother’s phone”. Who would have guessed that the pay phone was proprietary? 
We learned some new terminology – at least some of us did – felching (licking gism from the butt), tossing salad, etc.  Nasty hounds we are.
Stumbles also made the caveat that if there were any who didn’t yet have a DUI it was only a matter of time.  Let’s do everything we can to keep that from happening.  Otherwise we’ll have to teleconference our future hashes. FIRE gave us HO’S secret for escaping a DUI. Have all of your ID, REGISTRATION, and license stuff ready before you leave the hash. When the nice officer stops you, be polite and cooperative. Also, a little tip from CUMSICLE, when he puts the laser light in front of you and asked you to follow it without turning your head, concentrate real hard and try to make your eye movements as smooth as possible. Apparently jerky eye movements are an indication of intoxication and turning your head is a sure sign. Tips from PUKE – do everything in your power not to get picked up commando in a red dress. I also heard a certain hasher was nicknamed BUNKY in jail.
It didn’t take us too long to get in our circle and we immediately put our hares and also recent birthday boys on ice- YANKSIT AND FUCKLEBERRY. While on ice we took some time to announce Bike Week 2004 and answer all pertinent questions – to which we had no answers at this early date. We also gave several directions to Daytona, to include driving to Georgia and coming back south.
Fatty led us in prayer – Our lager, which art in barrels, hallowed be thy drink, thy will be drunk, I will be drunk, at home as I am in the tavern. Give us this day our foamy head (who said head), and forgive us our spillages, and lead us not into incarceration but deliver us from our hangovers, for thine is the bitter and the lager and the ale, forever and ever Barmen.
We also had a moment of silence for our service men and women overseas.  All birthday boys and girls were forced to wear hats on the body part of their choice. And we sang them a birthday down down. We did a lot of circle groups today in order to get as many folks drunk as possible in the shortest amount of time. 
We took care of a little Lost and Found from previous hashes – HO’s manties – or HAPPY PANTS, as we like to refer to underwear with wiggle eyes, a painted mouth and strategically placed hole for a nose. The collectors, now referred to as one person “HAPPY CUM” (that would be HAPPY MEAL and CUMSICLE) were forced to do a down down. ( I swear I was an innocent bystander!!) We didn’t find the owner of the gray jock strap – we believe it belongs to THE DUKE.  All of our visitors were placed in the circle – UPCHUCK FUCK, WAAY BEYOND, DONW AND DIRTY, PUTACOCKINIT, FLASH, AND GILLIGAN.  DOWN N DIRTY was rated the best ass on ice for the day and the hounds were grateful not to have to see ASS PACKET display his hairy, spotted beast this day.  D AND D also sang us a song and I can’t remember the tune – but it went something like this – da da da     da da da   da da da   don’t mess my hair do…blah blah blah – that’s all I can remember, but we liked it. The recorder did not pick all of this up due to the unruly hounds.
JUST LINDA asked BIKE BITCH if she could spark one of our visiting hashers at the LITTLE GAY COTTAGE, and was flatly rejected. After all, knowing his anal retentive sterile home environment, staining his sheets with cum Is rarely allowed.
WE BROKE THE FRB TROPHY after we presented it to FATTY. I believe we need a rubber one now – perhaps a dildo with a first place ribbon – to be sanitized between runs. I guess it wouldn’t be much use to FATTY, who is often our FRB as he couldn’t feel his butt. 
PUTACOCKINIT broke her martini glass.
YANKSIT was afraid to fart due to his frozen ass and explained, “he might shit himself”
WE LOST THE HUYA – we need to find it and get it back into circulation.
We escaped the rain, we didn’t get too dirty, we changed in the parking lot of the Aloha Eatery (except for those who went home to shower in order to smell good) and went on-out to Kelleys for the on-after. It was another great hashing day in Brevard County. We have to stop breaking and losing stuff. Visitors keep cumming. We love to have the bigger crowds and we are very easily entertained. We should have some new tshirts for you to buy soon.
May the hash get a peace.
On-Sec
Cumsicle  
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#91 - Kellys
May 10th, 2003
Hares: Bike Bitch and Fuckleberry
Hounds and Harriettes: Just Maria, Waay Beyond Gay, Suckulator, Just Puke, Dr. Anus, In My Mouth, Just Tara, Uncle Pervy, Ass Packet, Just Trooper, Cumsicle, Salt Lick Titty, Golden Shower, Yanksit, Fireindahole, Dick Sniffah, Cockpit, Edgar Allen Ho
It was a scorcher of a hashing day on the day before Mother's day in Melbourne Fl. Our very thoughtful hares brought yellow roses for all the mothers and dill weed for all the motherfuckers. JUST MARIA was making a hashing documentary of FUCKLEBERRY'S last hash. HO barely made it to the hash before the hares were away. FIRE took our group grope shot right after we asked many annoying questions about the chalk talk. There were boob and dick checks described, but I never did see any on trail. Must have been delirious because it was so damn loooonnnnnnng before we stopped for a beer. We were on-out from behind Kelley's restaurant/bar and as soon as we rounded the first building, SUCKULATOR was quick to point out that at a FAT BOY hash, we would have already been at our first beer stop. JUST PUKE got us in the hashing mood early by getting us wet at the FAT BOY mirage beer stop (with his big hose....... I mean the rubber one). We usually see the FRBs asses, but today we kept seeing their faces due to the countless countbacks. A 10 year old even chased them out of the woods screaming .."and don't you ever come back here, ya hear???"
On trail, we listened in disbelief as COCKPIT told us of her virgin hash in Key West. She showed up in a sun dress and sandals. We couldn't imagine her as a virgin ever.
We kept looking for the beer stop and it didn't cum, so COCKPIT offered to use her tits at the nearest residence to get us some beer.
We did a lot of concrete trail today and luckily there was a lot of shade. We passed a lot of yard sprinklers and CUMSICLE thought she might cool off in one of them until COCKPIT pointed out that it was probably stinky well water, so she passed. I distinctly heard " FUCKLEBERRY IS EVIL" about this time, and that both he and BIKE BITCH would surely be on ice.
When we finally trekked through about 4 miles of neighborhoods and a couple of business districts, we heard faint whistles in the distant shiggy across a busy road and a soccer field. We also saw the biggest BN we had ever seen in our lift. FIRE laid down next to the N to make an exclamation point, as she was so excited at the thought of finally having some beer - some 1 hour and 14 minutes into the hash. We saw ANUS in the distance in his Charlie Brown shirt and made our way in that direction. We hit the shiggy and immediately passed the poopy tree - the most foul smelling shiggy we've ever encountered. BIKE BITCH said it was a very rare tree and there were only a few left. UNCLE PERVEY reported that CUMSICLE had been deflowered on trail (no - not sex on trail you sick bastards, she lost her rose from her fanny pack when she ran across that busy road). As we came into the clearing, we saw that the BVD hashers not only buy ugly houses, we customize cars. Our hares had marked on-on in chalk on the open door of a junk car.
I wonder if we will ever get to see the footage that JUST MARIA shot from this hash. From what I could see in the viewfinder behind her, there was a lot of bouncing with an occasional head or ass in the shot. JUST TARA took her first pee in the woods, with plenty of offers for a blow dry from the disgusting hounds. JUST PUKE asked if his tongue would work?
While at our ONLY beer stop, we compared virgin hazing from other hashes and determined that we treat our virgins extremely well. We do everything to get them to cum back. We have no rituals for them except to allow them to drink as much beer as they can pour down their throat and we just stand back and watch them self destruct (as all virgins do). It's so highly entertaining. That's why we love our virgins so.
COCKPIT had to get final proof that the rare poopy tree did indeed exist, and that it wasn't YANKSIT'S butt. She should get a medal for this one. She sniffed his butt and thank God she didn't get her face blown off - cosmetic surgery is really painful and expensive. She also noticed that our beer stop appeared to be a hooker hangout due to the massive number of used condoms and empty deoderant dispensers in the area. Nothing but the best trail for BVD.
While I was innocently standing at the beer stop with the rest of the hounds, BIKE BITCH began to AIR HUMP. I'm not sure why. He further described it as an gyrating upward. Perhaps he was just getting warmed up. He is after all, a senior citizen and he had done everything possible to get laid today (the suck up flowers for the women I mean).
GOLDEN SHOWER had to leave us early to go to work, but not before he tried to do a down down from his urinal. He's a serious hasher, but he still spilled a whole lot of beer. I sure hope he's not an air traffic controller.
We talked about our upcoming BVD camping trip and YANKSIT was very proud of the fact that Wickham park didn't want us back. Apparently the park rangers kept cumming out to see if the hashers were naked yet. And not to give you any ideas for camping entertainment, but after FIRE the girl scout returned from her leg lift (complete with tissue, which she buried), it reminded CUMSICLE of a game that her brother told her Marine's play when they camp out. It's called SKY SHITTING. You dig a hole, climb a tree, drop your drawers and sit on a limb over the hole and shit into the hole. Who ever comes closest, wins. I won't be playing that game. You boy scouts have fun.
THIS IS FOR COCKPIT. On trail, she yelled out ...."CUMSICLE, record that number!!"
751-2109 Barship Enterprise, Party Bus Rental
UNCLE PERVEY said the next hash is at his place to celebrate his birthday. Woo hoo, another house party.
We knew we had arrived at the ON-AFTER as soon as we saw the chalk on the sidewalk, that said, "Clean up after your dog - $500 fine". We were at the Little Gay Cottage, otherwise known as the LGC. Here are some house rules for the LGC:
Don't make a mess
Recycle your garbage
Don't touch the stereo
Get as naked as you want
Have all the sex you want as long as it's with BIKE BITCH
We decided we better leave now and get our cars from Kelleys as we knew we were on our way to a serious hangover. We piled in the back of FUCKLEBERRY'S truck and drove the 2 miles back to our starting point. While at a stop sign, SUCKULATOR AND YANKSIT blew a kiss to a very uptight lady in a Cadillac. She immediately turned her head and wouldn't look at us again. She probably won't come hashing with us either.
Now we are in the circle and here are some comments from around the ring:
JUST RICK announced that he was pacing himself much better this time. He was also wearing a WANNABE hash shirt with two feet on it from an Alzheimer's run. He said he forgot our logo was just one foot.
NO NAME TROUPER said there were too many 12 year olds threatening to kick his ass. YANKSIT immediately asked DR ANUS why he was picking on our virgin.
HO said he would sign no more going away pictures for FUCKLEBERRY, so just leave already.
SUCKULATOR AND FIRE were on massive drugs today but they weren't sharing so we were pissed off. FIRE said she loved the big BN so much that she busted her hyphen on it.
UNCLE PERVEY said we ruined the economy by busting up the hookers hangout.
My tape ran out at this point, but I can still remember bits and pieces of the rest of the evening. We put lots of folks on ice - Virgins JUST TARA AND JUST TROUPER. We put visitors on ice - WAAY BEYOND GAY. We put the hares back on ice. We put HO on the outdoor shitter with a Playboy magazine. Someone will have to remind me the significance of the shitter.
We mysteriously got the HUYA back, but now I have no idea who is sporting it or what stupid shit they did to get it. FUCKLEBERRY was busy in the kitchen whipping up some grub for the hungry hounds.
And we had the ritual nakedness in the hot tub. I can only describe the scene like one of those arcade games where the little gophers pop their heads up while you wait to slam them down with a gigantic mallet. I walked up to the seemingly well mannered, but wet bunch and asked if anyone was naked in there. One by one, they stood up, exposing the gophers stating, "No, I'm not naked". And me without my mallet. Damn!
Later, for those of you who are dying to find out about BIKE BITCH and his inappropriate behavior in the hot tub, I can only recall rolling flesh and wild splashing and BIKE BITCHES frantic face mouthing "HELP ME" He went under several times and the rest of the hounds just sat and watched. The man obviously needed a life guard, but we were too fucking drunk to save him from himself. He recovered though and donned his robe (didn't bother to tie it or put on anything under it, but he put it on) and calmly set up a viewing of Bat Thumb to get our minds off the traumatic event.
What a great party! We even managed to hang for a couple more hours than the last party we had at the LGC. The house was clean by midnight. The overnighter's were all tucked in and added another fantastic hash to our history books and the floor wasn't even sticky.
May the hash get a peace.
On-Sec
Cumsicle    
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#92 - Uncle Pervy Birthday Hash/ Crash Dummy Hash
May 24th, 2003
The Lone Hare: Uncle Pervy (who let this happen?)
Hounds and Harriettes: Bike Bitch, Ass Packet, Circle Blow, Yanksit, Fireindahole, Big Canal, In My Mouth, Just Tara, Kittylingus, Dr. Anus, Just Puke, Just Rick, Cumsicle, FEZ, Short Straw, and Dick Sniffa.
VISITORS: Upchuck Fuck, Big Bloody Ketchup (JAX), Putacockinit
VIRGINS: Just Uncle Leo, Just Mack, Just Drew
It started out as the UNCLE PERVY birthday hash in the Space Coast Sports Complex in Port Saint John, but it quickly turned into the CRASH DUMMY HASH. We conducted our crash dummy testing just off of Canaveral Grove Blvd to the sports park on your right, I mean your other right and finished up at UNCLE PERVY‘S home. We had to caravan to UNCLE PERVY AND JUST BRID’S house because we weren’t trusting the mutant HARE (two right hands) to give us directions again. HEY, I just realized we had two mutants in our midst. JUST RICK showed us his two right nipples. CUMSICLE could hardly resist trying to pull or bite that extra one off, but JUST RICK refused. Let me just share with you some of the stupid shit we did to ourselves today and let you figure out who did it.
We had 5 folks (a total of well over 756 pounds of flesh) in the fold up lounge chair at one time, so we can now turn in our stress test results to the camping gear company. Stay tuned for further camping gear research. [ Shouldn’t we be getting paid for this?] We had swing dancing where the dipper and the dippee made cranial contact with the indoor/outdoor carpet, (fully padded with concrete I’m sure). We had a second crash test of that same carpet when one of our Harriett’s walked right through a closed screen door (she swears the door was open) bringing it and herself to the floor (we had some handy hounds repair it, so not to worry). We had a cactus thorn through our youngest virgin’s running shoe. I guess we’ll have to start wearing our steel toed boots to hash. We had bloody scratched up legs and horse fly bites. We also had a near decapitation due to hooking a tree vine while jumping down a steep 4-foot bank next to the spongy water crossing. And many of us were covered in beer either from being doused on trail or from unfinished down downs. Most folks who entered the pool at the on-after did so via the propulsion method rather than diving in themselves. The SCUBA hashers arrived as crispy critters after spending too much time in the sun that morning on their Jacques Coustou adventure in the pool of a local motel. Even HAPPY MEAL, who is scouting the northern Florida, central Alabama area for other hash groups called in at the first beer stop to tell us that she too, was doing stupid shit without us and that she was fried from digging holes on the beach in Destin. Ask her about it when she gets back in July.
This was also a family affair for UNCLE PERVY, as JUST UNCLE LEO joined us from Cheese head land in Wisconsin. Brothers JUST MACK (brother of ASS PACKET), a college tub party maniac from Michigan and JUST DREW (brother of KITTYLINGUS), a rabid Syracuse fan were also with us today. This was truly an inbred event and you’ll find our later that these folks’ family tree just keeps getting more intertwined.
We met in a clearing near the remote control aerial field and after giving UNCLE PERVY some obligatory shit for his virgin hare, we immediately set off in opposite directions after several Harriett’s molested BIKE BITCH‘s head in the group grope shot, with the eagles heading east and the turkeys heading west. I just realized that all the accidents happened in turkey land (either that or the eagles just weren’t sharing with us the stupid shit that happened on their trail.) We dove immediately into the shiggy following toilet paper and white flour plops (even after the DC hash warned us to always add color to the flour so folks won’t mistake the white powdery substance for anthrax). It wasn’t long before the eagles path joined the turkeys and we had a very early BEER NEAR stop by a pond, where we watched tiny little remote control boats race around. This was very cool as we were reminded of the FAT BOY TOGA HASH with the frequent beer stops. PLUS we hounds very rarely get entertainment from an outside source on trail. It was also at this point that we noticed JUST PUKE was no longer with us. Sex on trail perhaps? No, wait, he was alone. Sex on trail perhaps? And remember the reference to the Charlie Brown shirt on DR ANUS from our last hash? This boy seriously needs a hobby because he took his yellow shirt and meticulously taped off precision zigzag angles around the bottom of the shirt and spray painted them black. It looked incredibly professional and he was asked if he might design HASH GEAR for us.
The down side was that it took 48.32 hours for him to get the angles just right, paint the shirt and let it dry. He ain’t called DR ANUS for nothing. At that rate, many of us would remain naked while he repeated the process of applying our Surfing Hare logo to blank t-shirts. So scratch that, let’s get the cheap ones off the internet.
Whew - all that and I haven’t even pulled out my ON-SEC notes yet. This could be WAR and PEACE. I must have taken JUST RICK’s advice and paced myself. And speaking of JUST RICK, he was sporting some very delicate pink and yellow flowers behind his ear on trail. We haven’t named him yet, but we need to remain vigilant for every scrap of indecency so we don’t let him down on naming day. That would be his hash after next.
Were we dreaming or did DICK SNIFFA, our hash goddess, appear in the clearing and join us on trail from the first beer stop. No, it was really her. We confirmed it for ourselves with a nipple check as she arrived braless. Later she added ice to keep them up.
BIG BLOODY KETCHUP reminded PUTA of an anecdote from the SCUBA adventure that morning, where they all had to sign health waiver forms. One question asked if you had any blood disorders and CIRCLE began screaming, “Only every 28 days, yes every damn one of us has a blood disorder!!”
We tried to assist FIRE with her dilemma as to what hair color she should change to before heading out for her next job hunting adventure. I think we finally settled on auburn because blonds are not taken seriously. Ask her to do the ditzy blond dance she showed us when she was describing exactly how blonds are perceived. Should I be offended? Oh wait, the carpet doesn’t match the drapes, I’m not blond, so I won’t be offended. By the way, this is the first time in a month FIRE was well enough to run. Her name should have been SMOULDERINGHOLE for that period. PUTACOCKINIT forgot her “CUMS FOR BEER” sign. Damn, hate it when that happens. FEZ appeared to be wearing new shoes, however we didn’t make him drink out of them today.
The eagles and turkeys split again, this time, eagles west, turkeys north, but were soon reunited at the toilet paper demarcation point in the trees. CUMSICLE AND BIG CANAL made a human chain in an effort to keep YANKSIT from getting ahead of us on the sand trail. CUMSICLE even tried to slow him down by tossing the rest of her sippy cup beer on him, but he was not deterred. He took a short cut through the trees and found our next BEER NEAR, but this time we took turns in a NYQUIL shot chair. I think hounds don’t handle the red stuff (grenadine) very well because later, we found it on the ground and the kitchen floor after ASS PACKET and UNCLE PERVY’s body’s rejected the stuff. We have a support group for you HURLER’s ANONYMOUS people. It’s called BREVARD HASH HOUSE HARRIERS, or better known as BVDH3. We will put you through desensitizing training, give you a rash of shit and publicly humiliate you until you never hurl in public again. I’m also thinking we need to add the Pepto-Bismal-smelling, Kitty Litter stuff the janitor used to put on our puke as wee students, to our hashing safety kit, because when you puke by someone’s front door, it smells like dog shit and that’s not a very pleasant way to greet your guests.
It was a short trail today, so I really can’t explain the long trash except that we had a FUCKING 2 HOUR AND 49 MINUTE WAIT FOR ON AFTER BEER FOLLOWING OUR CIRCLE!!!!!!!!!
We were totally sober and about to range out into suburbia to find an oasis from the on-after. This is just how many a wolf pack has disbanded leaving lone hounds to wander the desert!
I just wanted to let you know that up front, because HAD WE KNOWN THAT, we wouldn’t have drained the first keg at the circle. Our religious advisor, YANKSIT, once again had to scream over the hounds ( I swear to God, we may have to open up a can of whoopass on you noisy hounds if you can’t control yourself in circle). YANKSIT gets hoarse yelling over you. He also gets powdery thighs or dingle berries for some reason ( I really don’t know what that was between his legs). I know he often shares his gas with us, but I don’t know where that powder came from. As soon as I pointed it out to FIRE, she quickly groped YANKSIT’S crotch to get it off, I mean get him off. “No wait, we are about to start the circle, there’s no time for that Batman..”
We also had a YAK box today, but we may need to be refreshed as to it’s purpose because the only yakking that was done today was no where near that box.
WHO WENT ON ICE TODAY AND FOR WHAT?
PERVY - for haring, because we missed his birthday, to pass the HUYA to JUST PUKE for leaving the trail and again later just because
DR ANUS - someone splain to me why he did 12 shots of beer from a shoe box lid and for why
VIRGINS - JUST UNCLE LEO, JUST MACK AND JUST DREW and the people that made them cum.
ASS PACKET - Why not, and again for head gear, will he ever learn?
FEZ - too long between hashes
JUST DREW AGAIN - because he was getting too cocky
JUST UNCLE LEO - because he likes frozen ass. I want to point out that he asked for the Bitch on his lap (referring to BIKE BITCH, but BIKE BITCH got really scared and he stayed on the edge of the circle trying to blackmail CUMSICLE with the two-towel hot tub story. It’s not gonna work baby, one for me, one for my hair. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.)
LAP DUTY OR SQUATTER’S RIGHTS on the ICE CHAIRS OF DEATH
ASS PACKET - as always, PUTA and BIG CANAL
QUOTES FROM TODAY’S HASH
JUST RICK “It was fat enough, but I’d like to see a little more length” ( in ref erence to today’s trail)
IMM - “…the directions were extraordinary…”
BIKE BITCH “…where else can you have trail and a boat show at the same time?”
CIRCLE - “ …there were no balls on trail….”
YANKSIT “Where the fuck is the beer, over? Bring me beer!!!!!” (on-after)
CUMSICLE “Roger that” (in reply to YANKSIT)
UPCHUCK FUCK - (FOLLOWING THE HEAD SONG)…”and then she licked my asshole and then I quivered!…” And I liked it, (no wait I added that) New verses to the song…cool.
JUST UNCLE LEO - “I want the ice”
CUMSICLE - “It just doesn’t get any better than this” referring to the caravan ride with a pitcher of beer in her shotgun partner’s lap, tunes blasting, windows open following a hash..
CONGRATULATIONS TO BIG CANAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! - SHE GAVE BIRTH TO A 200+ POUND BOUNCING, BREACHED, JUST PUKE. He came out fully dressed with size 13 sneakers on. Check out the pictures once they are posted. Mom and nipple sucker are doing just fine.
JACKSONVILLE IS GAY HEY!!!! Just thought I’d throw that in since we sang it often today.
We also learned another new song from UPCHUCK FUCK with the very kissable sun burnt lips and high speed hasher hairdo and it goes like this:
Old MacDonald had a farm - e I-e I o
Stick with me here, it gets better
And on that farm he had some sheep e I-e I o
With a bah bah here and a bah bah there, here a bah, there a bah , everywhere a bah bah
Old MacDonald had a farm - e I-e I o
Old MacDonald had a farm - e I-e I o
And on that farm he had a whale
(then takes a mouthful of beer and blows it out like a spout on the person in the ice chair)
and that’s the end of the song
WAIT - we like that song
let’s repeat that verse
And on that farm he had a whale (and we all blow beer on the ice chair people)
AAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWW. Mr. BIKE BITCH was the FRB today and he did not get recognized, nor did he get the broken FRB trophy. Now we need a new trophy for the STEALTH FRB.
The thunder heads were looming (who said head, I'll take some of that) and BIKE BITCH was getting worried that we might all get struck with lighting, plus we had to be out of the park by dark or get locked in, so we headed for the on-after in a caravan line. CUMSICLE was holding up the line waiting for JUST PUKE to get a towel out f her trunk so he could carry a pitcher of beer without spilling it in her car. They were jamming to BAD TO THE BONE and ZZ TOP and barely heard the horns honking, but when they did, they exited the car and mooned the remainder of the line and flipped them off continuously out the sun roof for the rest of the ride.
Even though we didn’t have any FUCKING BEER FOR 2 HOURS AND 49 MINUTES, UNCLE PERVY and his wife JUST BRID (I think I’m spelling that wrong, but pronounced BREED) were very gracious hosts and served up some gaseous libations, such as bean dip with chips, hot wings, cheese and a party sub. NOT TO MENTION the UPS SHIPMENT OF JELLO SHOTS. I swear to God, there must have been almost 100 of them. We finally got a second keg and the hounds settled down. BIKE BITCH immediately broke house rules and stripped naked in front of the non-hasher guests and jumped into the pool . I swear he was being a little vindictive for all the times house rules have been broken at the Little Gay Cottage. It scared all those folks into the kitchen - away from view of the pool. JUST TARA got wet again, but it’s harder to chase a BITCH around a big pool, so there is no further dirt on her. Remain vigilant hounds - a naming is coming.
We also named our virgins before they went off to their respective homelands. The following virgins will hereafter be forever known as:
CAPTAIN COCK - formerly JUST MACK - - (pilot)
CUM PACKER - formerly JUST UNCLE LEO (Cheesehead Packers fan). Now a relative of CUMSICLE - I told you the family tree gets uglier by the minute.
LITTLE PRICK - formerly JUST DREW (thorn episode)
AND ALSO - some of our hashers were named outside of our group and some of you may not have the history.
KITTYLINGUS - formerly JUST CHAD - works in a Vet’s office and loves to go down on females (beware). You remember, our St Patty’s Day virgin, who wore the free-dicking green green dress?
BIG CANAL- formerly JUST FRANCES - She is from PANAMA. SHORT STRAW named her but then couldn’t recall and started calling her GUADAL CANAL at today’s hash. That’s why we need the beads. Many a lost brain cell could cost you.
The wet hounds enjoyed themselves splashing in the pool and tearing up the buffet into the evening until UNCLE PERVY passed out on the bed, a SPENT YET satisfied BIRTHDAY HARE.
Mr. Webmeister - don’t think I haven’t noticed that you edited my previous trashes, so this time I’m going to beat you to it.
MAY THE HASH GET A PIECE
ON-SEC, CUMSICLE
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#93 – Yankee Hash
June 7th, 2003
Hare(s):  Cockpit ( I mean Dr. Anus and Just Puke)
Hounds and Harriettes: Bike Bitch, Waay Beyond Gay, Circle Blow, Ass Packet, Yanksit, Fireindahole, Suckulator, Kittylingus, Big Canal, Cumsicle, Dick Sniffah, Wrong Hole, Just Robin, Uncle Pervy, Erector Pad
VIRGINS: Just Gary
On-After drop-ins: Gilligan, Divide My Pie
This is the first time I can remember that we got wet before we even started our Storm Hash - I mean Yankee hash #93. We started just north of 528 on US 1 from the High Point office building parking lot and there we were - most of us without rubbers (we like to get wet). COCKPIT'S pre-laid trail got washed out just minutes before we started, so the evil Dr. Anus and Just Puke took off to lay a live trail. COCKPIT was wearing hash gear from her recent Costa Rica hash - a hash bib, a hash t-shirt and she was carrying a wooden down down mug. Cool Stuff. If we took a group grope shot, I missed it because I was late from getting my hair cut from the brain surgeon barber. Next time I'll just bring some scissors and you all can cut it straight across the back while I'm on ice. We were on-on into some immediate shiggy and had to look extra hard for marks today because the rain was soaking up the flour and disintegrating the toilet paper. Circle Blow came across some footprints and thought she had found a major clue as to our trail direction, but quickly realized they belonged to the person walking right in front of her. UNCLE PERVY recovered from his birthday hash to join us today. We hadn't seen or heard from him since we last saw him passed out on his bed. WAAY BEYOND was questioning our credentials as hashers because we didn't put any makeup on the boy - apparently harriettes are supposed to carry this around at all times for just these types of occasions. Oh yeah and we saw that peacock COCKPIT was telling us about, so now we know she wasn't hallucinating.
HEY - DID YOU SEE THAT DOLLA IN IT AND FIREINDAHOLE MADE THE HASH CALENDAR!! Woo hoo - our harriettes will soon be famous worldwide. Hash hounds everywhere will be drooling over February and April respectively. Congratulations you sexy bitches!
While on trail, we exchanged chatter about the upcumming JAX red dress hash. Apparently wearing dresses is one of our most favorite things and we were very excited. ASS PACKET said he was getting his red frock custom-made by DICK SNIFFA. He couldn't possibly be seen in the same red dress he wore last year! MOM has some skills as she also designed many a toga too. ASS PACKET also told us he was responsible for naming YAK SHAK II and that he was going to JAX Friday night because there was no way he could get up at the crack of noon to be in JAX by 2. We couldn't stay on the subject too long though, as we quickly ran out of marks and were wandering aimlessly in a huge sand box. We shouldn't have complained about that because the next portion of trail was full of stinging nettles. Many hounds started complaining they had been stuck and scratched and their legs were in pain and burning. ASS PACKET quickly became our nettle detector, stopping several times in front of us to warn us not to run into another of the prickly little plants. He's such a gentleman (not all the time, but today he put others before himself). We crossed over US1 and it's important to note here that we started following the railroad tracks right after that. Not at a railroad crossing, where the NO TRESPASSING signs are posted, but in the middle, through the bushes. It will be a loophole that we can get off on later cuz there is a $500 fine for this offense. It sounded like someone was chewing gravel on my recorder as we tromped through the large granite rocks under the cement railroad ties. Off in the distance, we could see our friendly officers waiting for us in the car marked "BEXAR COUNTY SHERIFF". Mr. BIKE BITCH represented us and immediately acknowledged the nice officers once he hit the street, as he knows they like attention and was trying to stroke their egos. He explained we were a running club, we didn't know that we were trespassing because we didn't cum on the tracks at an intersection, (as he turned around to point at the running club, you could see a group of us walking at a leisurely pace down the tracks balancing our beer mugs- running club my ass) So much for credibility. Remind BIKE BITCH to remove his BLOW ME badge hanger before he represents us again. The officer said we would get sucked by the train if we were too close. How can that be a bad thing? We don't understand. FIRE began yelling at us to get off the tracks and the nice officers waited to ensure we made it safely to the street. That was very sweet of them, but now the stalking bastards made the hounds nervous about our next beer near stop. We drank our beers with a paranoia like never before, checking the street often and behind trees. We admired BIG CANAL's hemp macrame'd whistle hanger while we were at the short beer check. We have some crafty little hounds in our pack. WAAY BEYOND GAY finally succumbed to the pressure and yelled ON-OUT. We crossed some knee-deep reclaimed water. WRONG HOLE, (no that doesn't mean he's a fudge packer - it was an innocent seat belt mis-match thing) a hasher that's joined us from Colorado, took a flying leap, scaled the entire 10 foot water ditch and managed to keep his shoes completely dry (at least for now). KITTYLINGUS decided to try it too and fell about 8 inches short, splashing the nasty water in his mouth. Silly KITTY, doesn't he know cats don't do water? CUMSICLE pointed out that he was the only kitty in the pack of hounds and he should be very honored that he was even allowed to hash with us.
We crossed another nettle patch and ended up on a deserted race track. We rounded the first curve at 9 mph and discovered an obstacle-- A 6 foot chain link fence. It was wet, the holes were too small to hook our feet in for traction, pine trees do not make good climbing tools, we were breaking off branches and were in danger of neutering or skewering some hounds. Once again, ASS PACKET offered his hands and his strong manly self to boost some harriettes over the fence (we all know it was only for the chance of grabbing some ass in case we should fall) but today, I'll keep my gentleman fantasy going. NICE ASS PACKET - thank you baby! BIKE BITCH said he couldn't afford to lose his gem nuggets and went to get MOM in case we injured ourselves, because at this point we were possibly 3 miles into the trail and he hadn't even turned around yet. No sooner had we scaled the fence, we had to cross another water ravine. It was only about 8 feet across, and someone tried to scare us that it was neck deep, but it was only knee deep. CUMSICLE hollered SNAKE and FIRE didn't like that joke. PERVY saw that someone dropped a tampon and FIRE said hers fell out - sorry - no really, she told us another story (without going into too much detail) about how tight her muscle is and that once she has a hold of something, there's no letting go. Careful YANKSIT, I heard hosing her down with cold water isn't very effective and you don't want to have to explain this to the vet.
After going through another mile of shiggy, vines and burrs, WE CAUGHT THE HARES - they did so much shiggy on their own countbacks trying to find trail, that they simply tuckered themselves out. When we found DR ANUS and JUST PUKE, they were dirty, breathing hard and soaking, wet. We do more sex on trail at BVDHHH hashes, I swear.
We finally got to turn around and this time, we located the portion of the chain link fence that was laid over (that we could simply walk across) instead of scaling it again. This was after we were covered in cuts and bleeding from the first crossing. DICK SNIFFAH called CUMSICLE on trail to say she was going to be at the beer check to pick us up. A shuttle service was arranged and most hounds took advantage, just to get back to their cars. The rest of them heard about a nude barber shop that they wanted to check out on the way back. The autohashers milled around the starting point waiting for the runners to get back, stripping off wet clothes, eating cheesy poufs and getting into the trunk of CUMSICLE's car to sign BIKE BITCH'S birthday picture. Once we retrieved everyone and the runners/walkers were all back, we had a very short circle because we were already wet and it started raining again. We hollered at the last group not to be the DFL, so to start running. CUMSICLE held out cheesy poufs for motivation at the finish line. While still milling, we were supervised by a 67 year old female security guard. She parked her car at the top of the hill to look down on us. No wait, there she goes with a man in a Cadillac behind her. She was just picking up her trick. BIKE BITCH brought his lightning rod (giant umbrella) to the 6 foot in diameter circle (we were feeling cozy today). We brought the hares in the circle, the virgin, the autohashers and the visitors--May the hash go in peace. I told you it was quick. As several hounds strip down, they were hollering instructions that under no circumstances should you get naked at this point -- do NOT change clothes in the parking lot.
The on-after was at Beef O Brady's on 524. The folks at my end of the table were busy working on names for our virgin, JUST GARY and JUST ROBIN(who will have five hashes on her next run). CUMSICLE, KITTYLINGUS, JUST GARY, JUST PUKE AND WRONG HOLE had their heads (WHO SAID HEAD) together and I'll record these for possible future use: Drama Queen, Dairy Queen, Milk Grenades, Milk Bitch, Milk shooter, Milk Mines, Milk Poker, Milk Camel (two humps), Cow Fucker, Goat Fucker, it degenerated into all kinds of cheeses, Air Bags, Flotation Devices, Life Jacket, Dirty Knees, (I'll leave out the mean ones- when guys get on this track, they get evil). CIRCLE BLOW AND COCKPIT CAME DOWN TO ADD SOME NAMES--Thanks for the Mammaries, Never Cums, Inflate-a-hasher ( I like this one). FIRE decided I was having too much fun with 4 guys and she wanted to join in. Then we worked on names for JUST GARY: Cums Too Soon, CUMS and GOES, All Talk No Action (mostly because he was trying to leave the on-after). Perhaps we need a bit more dirt on him. I moved to the other end of the table after we couldn't cum up with any more names to see what folks on that end were talking about and to get our GM and RA to deliver our cleanest version of Happy Birthday to BIKE BITCH, which is this cumming Tuesday. We already know he's a senior citizen, so it's all down hill from here. The kids wouldn't leave Beefs so we sang a wanker birthday song and presented BIKE BITCH with a framed hash picture collage. I left the recorder going and YANKSIT was babbling something about writing a hasher book on various ceremonies, hasher funerals, etc. ERECTOR PAD joined us and shared some bare tits and also did some private viewings of her thigh tattoo. GILLIGAN was there with his friends with the cell phone flasks. I didn't know that kind of high-tech hash gear existed.
Bleep, CENSORED, ..."fuck her in every orifice ...", NOT RECOMMENDED FOR YOUNG CHILDREN, "... we really just want her ears...".RATED R..".If I were candy, I'd be a root beer barrel, cuz you can like lick it for 6 hours,... If I were her candy, I'd be Good n Plenty....Sucky fell out of the bed doing the nasty and kept right on
going.....Bike Bitch fell out of the hot tub...NOT ITENDED FOR WEAK STOMACHS...."we hate him for taking our woman but it doesn't matter cuz he'll be dead by tomorrow anyway..."......... Sorry--Bike Bitch, Just Puke and Sucky got a hold of the recorder. Wish I could have heard everything on that part of the tape.
Famous last words "We have 6 minutes, order a pitcher." ....Suckulator The bar closed at 1130 so that's all folks.
Quotes from our GM on today's hash:
1. Beware of walking on railroad tracks, it is unlawful and you can get sucked up.
2. Beware of fences, they are dangerous to climb.
3. Rain washes prelaid and sometimes live trails away.
4. If lost in the woods for hours.. listen for traffic sounds and go towards them.
5. Stinging Nettles SUCK.
May the hash get a piece
CUMSICLE, ON-SEC 
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#94 - Applebees
June 21st, 2003
Hares: Dr. Anus & Just Puke
Hounds and Harriettes:  In My Mouth, Edgar Allen Ho, Just Gary, Just Robin, Just Bobby, Just Angie, Just Robin, Just Tara, Kojak.
Another great??? day with Dr. A and Puke. And by the end of it most of us in the know wished we had been out in a swamp with lots of saw palmetto, bugs, snakes, etc. But, I am getting ahead of myself.
Our illustrious little group of mostly newbies met at Applebees at the corner of Wickham Rd. and Eau Gallie Blvd. at the more or less appointed time. Just finding the damned place in the biggest downpour since 1956 was fun, but then hardy Hashers don't let a bit of rain trouble them.
We were off across the intersection and told to head south. About four hundred yards or so we found ourselves at the first BN kind of in a little wooded area at the corner of Sarno and Wickham. Well, it wasn't exactly BN it was, daaaadaaaa, Red Headed Slut shooters (no not the Salad one). Apparently this was KGB's favorite and we were honoring him on this day.
Off again on a mad dash of about 50 yards to the first Special Credit at Wid's Place. After a pitcher or two it was ON OUT and headed east and then north thru some vacant lots a neighborhood and then down a dirt road to the second BN and, yeah, you guessed it. more Red Headed Sluts and of course the nectar of the gods, whichever you wished.  We even had a mini circle here and sang somebody a song.
ON OUT again toward Eau Gallie and across into another neighborhood, oops, excuse me, turns out this was a "private" neighborhood, but I'm getting ahead of it again. Seems that PUke hadn't really checked this out and the streets were a dead end and just circled around. So, the pack circled around and on the way back we were stopped by some big, and I mean big, fuc*&% who claimed he was the police (he did flash a badge) and we had no right to be in his "Private neighborhood" and what the hell was that stuff on the ground. He was pissed and his attitude made your humble scribe a bit pissed too. Words were exchanged and he threatened arrest and called more cops on his little radio. As for the stuff on the ground we offered to kneel and lick it as it was just flour but godzilla wasn't having it. So, the cruiser arrived and my impression from these two young men was what the hell has this guy gotten us into. So, they radioed in my and someone else's ID and got nowhere with that. Big Dude says "call for a supervisor". So, we are waiting, while jail is often being threatened, the pack is hollering"go, Kojak go and I am hollering SHUT THE FU&% up or we are all going to the lock up. So, we stand around tempers cooling a bit and I says to Big Dude with high and tite mostly shaved head and a little crewcut "you look like a Marine", "Second MarDiv" says he. So, I flash him my tattoo and say I cannot believe you never heard of the Hash House Harriers. Uniform says, "do you still want the supervisor", No, says he, they can go. (this is really a very abbreviated version but I didn't want to bore you to tears).
ON OUT back to Eau Gallie and follow trail to Wickham and head north where we end up at Slacker's Grill. Once there we learn that Puke also had been waylaid (Puke got laid?) by another of Melbourne's finest. Apparently scared the crap out of him when asked for ID. (Puke is still on probation). But, all he had with him was a bag of flour. Dr. A. had joined him at this point and after some blah blah blah they were allowed to continue.
So, we enjoyed a pitcher or two while IMM bawled her ass off. I suspect she was a) scared to death she almost saw the inside of another cop HQ, or, b) so happy that (a) had not happened. Perhaps it was a combination of both.  
ON OUT to the final BN which was across the road and behind the Little Saigon, Tokyo foods, etc. We went w a y back in the woods to make sure we didn't have anymore uniform problems.
Circle was called and your scribe was invited to be GM for the day. A toast to the Hash, G and KGB and things got underway.  Hares on the ice chairs and I know they were thinking "why the hell didn't we do what we are famous for". GM declared there would be one song for the day. It went like this "Jacksonville is Gay Hey, Jacksonville is Gay Hey, dring it down down down...
Your's truly was FRB ( I told you this was an unusual Hash). And a variety of accusations, etc., ensued, to the cries of Jacksonville is Gay Hey.  And then we Swung Low and the Hash went to get a piece.
The On After was at Kelley's.
NOTE: I really think Big Dude was an anti-terrorist type or in Intel. He made reference to something on his net about a group in Tampa putting some kind of powder on the streets. At first I thought Hashers, but he named the organization and it was nothing to do with H3. The Homeland Security thing has some of these guys really up tight. Fourth of July is coming and they are concerned. If you are going to run neighborhoods talk to the cops beforehand. The anthrax thing has not gone away. In fact, anthrax or whatever substance, may be more a concern now and in the next few weeks. So, go do shiggy, keep a low profile, and stay safe.
ON ONnnn
Kojak
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#95 - 2nd Anal Patriotic Pub Crawl
July 5th, 2003
Hares:  Dr. Anus & Yanksit
Hounds and Harriettes:  There were a bunch of us there.
We started the day at Chili’s in Palm Pay. It gets fogy from here forward.
We had quite a crowd and some new faces. 2-4-1 beers were flowing everywhere. We had a chalk talk and began on the quest for the day. Across Palm Bay Rd, across Babcock St to Poolies we will go.
In Poolies I had  meaningful meaningless conversations w/ somebody. I am not sure who or what but it was getting good (I think) when everyone was on-out to the next spot. People were out so fast that a few of us actually had to follow trail.
Next stop was a jello stop behind K-Mart. There were Jello shots there, I do remember that part.
Next was Tapps where I had a fabulous beer (I do not remember what it was) and got into several more meaningful meaningless conversations.
Beef O Bradys was the last bar on trail. By now “fogy” has turned into very “clowdy”
After Beef’s we found ourselves in a field where we tried to have a circle but we were all just too damn drunk. On-After or something like it was at JD’s
May the hash get a piece!
Ass “Webmiester” Packet
Note: This trash was written for the sake of having trash. Names were intentionally left out because I was just too damn drunk to remember exactly what anybody did or did not do.
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#96 – 80s Grub
July 19th, 2003
Hares:  Dr. Anus & Just Puke
Hounds and Harriettes:  Yanksit, Fire, Just Gary, Just Robyn, Just Rick, Happy Meal, Slow Poker, Snatch Wax, Skybox, Just Marlene, Cumsicle, Just Amy (Just Amy - are you a virgin or has your hash cherry been popped before?), Kittylingus and Just David, (Ass Squealer showed up to say hi, have a beer, then took off for another party).
Where:Publix on Palm Bay Road, West of I-95
Wear: Ugly 80's clothing
Special Info- will scout trail Saturday morning. Could be messy???
Just repeating the posted facts before I get started as we had some accusations in the circle and DR ANUS had no idea what an understatement he'd made when he posted the special info. I didn't have an odometer on trail, but I would guess this one was somewhere in the 6 mile range and we did lose a few hounds before the end.
We met under the trees in the PUBLIX parking lot. The clouds looked ominous on the horizon, but the sun was still shining and it wasn't raining YET. We were promptly directed to a tin full of gaudy 80's jewelry to wear, but not before we could pass DR ANUS with a top lip swollen to the size of a Ball Park sausage (you get the picture, not quite as big as a hot dog, but a little bigger than a sausage frank). The poor guy had been stung by something scouting trail and his face was now reacting violently to it. He wore his clip board as an accessory to his bow tie and tacky plaid outfit, to cover his face from the nose down. He couldn't buy his own drugs looking like that, so we sent our most "normal looking" folks into PUBLIX to get him some Benadryl. I think we could safely say ANUS was not getting laid tonight and 69 might even be pushing it. Yes, we have pictures! His profile was the best part. He explained to us it's very uncomfortable when your lip gets stretched to those dimensions. It reminded me of Homer Simpson, cuz I saw it as we were about to park as we drove by him. How could you miss it? OK, no more teasing, it's not nice to make fun of mother nature.
We were ON-ON somewhere after 4:30 as we gave the HARES a 15-minute head start. We had a chance to look through the hash album that FIRE and DICK SNIFFA spent 8 hours sorting through and building. JUST MARLENE showed up a little late, whining something about going to the wrong PUBLIX, as there is more than one in Palm Bay. OK, so both of them are west of I-95, but only one of them is west of I-95 on Palm Bay Road! We were going to do Father Abraham to warm up, but instead did some hoisting exercises as we sat on the pavement to make sure we didn't tear any arm muscles later on. We had an immediate countback behind PUBLIX only to go over a small embankment and a barbed wire fence, which KITTYLINGUS held for some of the hounds to pass. Chivalry is alive and OK!. We crossed a small water ditch and headed off into a canopy of shiggy. CUMSICLE almost stepped on a black snake that slithered in front of her shoe off into the palmettos. I was told by the HARES that we might see a cute little white tailed deer, but NOOOOOOOOO. We went around and around in the shiggy following toilet paper trail and finally came out near a canal, under some barbed wire. HAPPY MEAL started to lose her shorts until CUMSICLE started to sing I SEE LONDON, I SEE FRANCE, so she put her butt back in. We followed the grassy bank to a crossing, (which the hares were nice enough to put at a shallow point), and most of us managed to keep dry shoes. Once out in the open, we wondered how those damn FRBs got so far ahead of us in that thick shiggy. The vines were grabbing our ankles, the palmetto blades were slicing our skin. They were nowhere in sight. Somehow KEY WEST is sounding kind of good right about now (that's where Bike Bitch, Sucky, Ass Packet, Circle Blow (who was probably also celebrating her 30th birthday, which was last week) and Dick Sniffa went this weekend (you only get your name in CAPS if you show up to the BVD hash). We were back into some more shiggy ( I think this was just to give the hares time to set up our beer check). Lord knows, we went so far before we got to it, they had plenty of time to sit around in their lounge chairs. We came out of the thicket, followed the bank to a heavy metal gate with side guards. I hear SLOW POKER tried to scale it instead of going thru the unlocked gate, realized it wasn't strong enough to hold his weight, then let go. Some onlookers, quite possibly property owners, hollered at the remainder of us to go thru the gate and not try to climb it. Somewhere in there, there was some more barbed wire but I lose track of the order, now that it's a day after and those brain cells are gone. We jogged across a bridge that was further north on Minton and crossed over the four lane highway, I-95, where cars honked at us from below. We looped back into a housing area and could see a new subdivision construction area beyond that. We did get the up-close and personal view when we found the CountBack # 14. The hounds behind us waited til we found the correct plop, then we crossed a knee-deep water ditch, hopped over the low subdivision construction boundary fence and across the sandy lot, with newly paved streets to a small clump of trees and a man-made pond. We saw drunk people and we chastised them for not whistling those of us who completed the CB#14 when we did it within their sight. They said they whistled us, but my guess is, they were over there drinking beer and laughing at us. Who the hell could be drunk after all that distance?
Finally a beer stop! We compared bloody legs (JUST DAVE, who also had gnats crawling in his wound) , SLOW POKER and FIRE. We checked out those with muddy shoes (JUST GARY-who reminded us of Salad Shooter, the canal swimmer), KITTYLINGUS, AND SLOW POKER) and those with dry shoes (everyone else) and teased JUST GARY about his knee socks with red stripes. Apparently the FRBs had waited so long for us, we shortened the stop and took off after one beer. At this point, there was thunder on trail and no more sun. We left through the back end of the subdivision, across another water crossing, behind some houses on another canal bank and finally had to get our shoes wet in knee deep water to get back up to cross Minton road. We played frogger crossing the street and followed a tree-lined sand road next to some softball fields. The plops were looking suspiciously like another countback was coming and SLOW POKER was ranging trying to find the short cut. I believe we lost JUST DAVE and SKY BOX somewhere around here. We followed the sand road into an less inhabited area, through a shallow, watery, swampy place and now realized we were back on a trail we had already run. This is the only time we caught up to the FRBs. The chalk was a different color now, so we knew we were still going the right way. We kept reassuring ourselves that we weren't repeating trail as we made sure to distinguish new marks from old ones, but there we were, headed for that clump of trees, the man-made pond and the drunk people again. It really was a nice little private place and thank goodness for that, because we rarely have a hash without someone getting naked. Want to take a guess? It wasn't JUST GARY, the swimmer, he was already soaked and trying to dry off. KITTYLINGUS stripped naked and dove, head-first into the pond. Crazy man, you have to check the depth first. CUMSICLE stole his clothes and brought them back up to the truck while the rest of the hounds ate watermelon, cheesy poofs and chips. WIGGLES joined us there and this is also where we found out that JUST AMY had been detained by some barbed wire and called her hubby to come and get her. We were setting up the circle, because it was getting very cool and very dark, when KITTYLINGUS came strolling back up to the truck with his beer mug over his dick. JUST RICK was snapping pictures while CUMSICLE quickly retrieved his clothes from the bed of the truck. REMEMBER, no porn on our photo sharing sight. We want everyone to keep their jobs so they can keep hashing with us.
WE HAD A NAMING TODAY!! This was JUST ROBYN's sixth hash, but the drunk bastards who had her on number 5 forgot to name her. BUT FIRST, we had some rituals to attend to. The HARES took the ice chairs. We suggested DR ANUS go face-first this time, as no one had sat on it yet and his lip had come down considerably since the beginning of the run, but it still wasn't completely normal. He remained upright and we then put some folks on ice for TOO LONG BETWEEN HASHES - HAPPY MEAL, SNATCH WAX, SLOW POKER. Then the FRB,--YANKSIT, then the DFL--SLOW POKER. What's weird about that is he was one of the first ones at the halfway mark. Then DR ANUS had to get rid of that HUYA and who do you suppose earned that today? Why KITTYLINGUS of course. We weren't so concerned about him getting naked, but he kept offering to let us use his drinking vessel after he housed his dick and balls in it. NOTE TO HOUNDS: Don't share mugs with KITTYLINGUS. Then we put JUST GARY on ice for wearing new $10 red canvas high top sneakers and let him drink from one of them after we swirled a beer rinse in it to get the chunks out.
Finally, the naming. JUST ROBYN got on the ice and immediately began squirming and it started to rain. She doesn't yet know the ice stages and that everything would be alright in a few minutes when she wouldn't be able to feel anything. We threw out some old suggestions , BITCH, BITCH, BITCH--DAIRY QUEEN-- MILK CANNONS,--JUGS SOMETHING but then we were told she is a purchaser for Home Depot and we changed directions - HO DEPOT, DICK DEPOT, and being the clever hounds that we are, we settled on ::::::: drum roll please::: JUST ROBYN will forever, from here to eternity, be known by other hashers, as : "HO DEEP-HO".
I do believe that was the fastest naming we have ever done. Amazing how the creative juices get very active when you are getting poured on.
A couple of vehicles had been retrieved to auto hash the hounds back to their cars over a mile away. The rest of us rode in the back of JUST PUKE'S truck on top of the coolers, ice chairs and beer cans. We told him to drive careful as we didn't have much to hang onto. We coordinated our leaning with the turns so as not to fall out of the truck. HAPPY MEAL was having a hard time with this, because she was the only one sitting backwards, so we had to give two commands for every turn. Lean right, that's HAPPY MEAL's left! We all made it back to our cars just as the storm broke loose and commenced to pounding Palm Bay with heavy rain. A few of us were headed to Corvette's in Satellite Beach to hear FIRE's band, - AK 40.
Come on out to the County Line on 25 July around 9 o'clock to hear them again as we are planning a
hash invasion. This is a big gig for them and they've been pumping it up for a couple of months now. If
you got an AK40 t-shirt from FIRE, wear it to get in free.
Get your thinking caps on too, as the next hash JUST RICK and JUST GARY attend will be their naming hash. Cockpit and Crotchduster are doing Cockpit's birthday hash on the 2nd of August. Watch the website for more details. Our 100th run is coming up in September too, so mark your calendars for this milestone.
We need more hares too!!!! Remember, ANUS makes the trails every time he can't raise a hare. Sign up on the website!
The hares actually had some positive comments from their trail today, and we didn't get too messy--we simply had a lot of fun. WE DRANK MORE and we BITCHED LESS! This was a very good day for hashing!
May the hash get a piece!
ON-SEC, CUMSICLE    
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#97 - 11th Anniversary of COCKPIT’S 25th Birthday
August 2nd, 2003
Hares: Cockpit and Crotchduster
Hounds and Harriettes:  Fire, Bike Bitch, Yanksit, Dr Anus, Uncle Pervy, Cockpit, Crotchduster, Just Tara, Just Gary, In My Mouth, Suckulator, Dick Sniffa, Just Aurora, Ass Squealer, Ass Packet, Circle Blow, Just Rick, Waay Beyond Gay, Latrine Wolverine, Mount Dora, Ho Deep-Ho, Cumsicle, Just Tanya, Just Mike, Just Rick, Just Dave
Hash Gear- From $1 to $10 bucks
Pitchers of Beer - $4 bucks if you get A good deal
Cockpit’s birthday hash with substantial snacks- $7 bucks
AAA - free if they actually show up
Spare Keys - a couple of bucks at your local hardware store
Duct Tape - a couple of bucks at your local hardware store
Having hasher friends who live in Merritt Island so you don’t have to drive your drunk-ass home to Malabar – PRICELESS.
It started out as a nice, hot sunny day and what looked like it would be an awesome 11th anniversary of COCKPIT’S 25th Birthday, Pub Crawl , but this is Florida and she’s been plagued by the rain before. We stood around waiting for all the hounds to arrive, including the beermeister, DR ANUS, who had the rest of our starter beer. FIRE had her hash album out again with a lot of extra pictures from prior to October of 2002. So if you hashed with them way back then, your naked ass might be in some of the stack that we are letting all hounds rifle through. Our hash cash, BIKE BITCH was also busy peddling his wares until he locked his keys in the car. (That’s a whole story in itself.) I’m thinking the next time anyone hollers out, “DOES ANYONE HAVE AAA? “ The answer should be, sorry guy, better call Pop-a-Lock , bust the window out or invest in a slim-jim. (He feels really bad about this but I couldn’t let the opportunity go by because we discussed later, informally, that he might be a good HUYA candidate.) Kittylingus has it now, but he was working overtime today, so we couldn’t pass it on anyway. We had a lot of folks to name today too, so we were pretty excited about the possibilities as we had been warming ourselves up for this the past couple of hashes. (Just Rick, Just Tara and Just Gary). We actually named some late arrivals and out of towners too - read on. We took our group grope shot and were ON-OUT.
The clouds off in the distance threatened to strike us with lighting, so the HARES, being safe hashers, decided we would auto hash to our first stop. WAAY BEYOND GAY demonstrated some competitive driving on the way- bad boy - it’s illegal to pass on the left, especially if it’s in the turn lane in busy Port Canaveral. We drove to a tiny little dive called Kaye’s Place and quickly determined we were all up in each other’s arm pits, so we moved ourselves out to the tiny  but lovely (sarcasm) deck next to the trailer house and made our first attempt to name JUST GARY. He is an acquisitions person for pumps and he carves cherry wood into hash mugs. His favorite barnyard animal is a goat and he likes the woman on top (lazy bastard). I guess he doesn’t like to do push ups either. Just kidding, whatever turns your crank JUST GARY. We threw out quite a few names, but couldn’t cum up with one we really liked, but we sat him on ice while we had our thinking caps on. We had to improvise since this was a pub crawl and we didn‘t bring our ice chairs of death. There were plastic chairs on the deck and an ice machine. WAAY used his vessel to scoop ice in the chair and swore he had not had a drink out of it yet. We threw out Woody Suck Her, Cherry Fucker, Dry Rot, Wood Pumper, Wood Rubber, Sheep Shank Redemption, Rotten Stump, Knot Hole and told him to pull his pants up cuz we couldn’t get off.
We left that pub and auto-hashed to another spot in the Port - Rusty’s. On the way, we passed BIKE BITCH and FIRE at the start point where they were still waiting for AAA, however, they were doing their best to entertain themselves as they MOONED US as we drove by and honked. At Rusty’s, we picked up our bottled beer from COCKPIT as we straggled past her at the bar. The bartender was popping caps as fast as we came in. I think JUST DAVE showed up somewhere