The other Thursday drinking/running club


Some time yesterday, our fearless hare raiser, Fuu Fuu, asked Felcher where the start to the No Name would be this week.  This is how I envision this conversion:

 

Fuu Fuu: Where’s the start for the No Name tomorrow?

Felcher: How the fuck should I know?

Fuu Fuu: Well, you’re haring it.

Felcher: What? I can’t do that! You’re crazy.

Fuu Fuu: That may be true, but you’ve been on the calendar for months.

Felcher: This must be a joke.

(Then Fuu Fuu dejectedly put his dick back in his pants.)

 

I’m pretty sure this mishap was due to unfathomable qualities of alcohol on both sides.

 

At approximately 6:25 pm on Wednesday, Fuu Fuu found another hare: BeeFuck.  It was his task to find a willing bimbo (not so hard for a strapping wanker like himself), scout trail, get drunk, and deflour said bimbo in just 24 hours.  BeeFuck definitely had his hands full (of what, I don’t know).

 

But posting the start location only an hour before didn’t dissuade our intrepid No Name hashers; there was chatter all day long that a No Name hash could not be missed.  Perhaps the anticipation, the mystery, and the reckless spontaneity made cumming all the better.  This is why you should always have sex with strangers.

 

BeeFuck was proudly deflouring the lovely Value Vagina Discunt, and you could tell they had been at it all day by BeeFuck’s sleepy grin, and VVD’s boundless enthusiasm.  What a pair they are.  After their 6.9th beer, they ran off to have another go around in the woods.

 

The pack set off, eager to quench our thirst with the all too elusive beer.

 

Now, there’s been recent talk lately of ANOTHER group in Portland that describe themselves as “a drinking club with a running problem.”  These poor bastards are somehow oblivious to the fact that there’s at least two other groups on Thursdays alone that are likely achieving drunkenness while running way better than they ever could.  This group calls themselves the NoPo Run Club, and they don’t sing, they follow a set trail without stopping for beer, they don’t have religion—and I bet they never get laid.

 

Our hares, of course, insisted on showing them what the Hash House Harriers are all about, and laid a Song Check at Amnesia Brewing, where the NoPos have their weekly post-run beer.  Can’t Finish and Cockjaw led us in a beautiful song called “Yo Ho,” where we told them just where to stick it.  One of their members said to me, “yeah, but we’re the better drinkers,” and I laughed at him as he sipped on his $6 pint of beer.

 

Our beer check was on a grassy knoll that overlooked the stunning beauty that is the I-5 corridor.  There were at least two beers for everyone and we reflected on the greatness of being a hasher.  Tequila Cockingbird (or was it Log Jammer…?) begged us not to make her drink more alcohol, because apparently her eyes bug out when she pukes, causing a rather serious medical emergency.

 

BeeFuck and VVD miraculously found shiggy in the short time they had to scout trail, which was certainly a challenge for this group of drunken fools, especially Tequila.  As we scrambled and stumbled out of the bush, civilians watched us with jealous bewilderment.

 

It was then clear that the trail would end at the highly esteemed Tina Turnover’s house, though much of the pack somehow got lost anyway, following Can’t Finish, thinking he might actually finish.

 

Honor to our hares, BeeFuck and VVD for demonstrating that a last minute trail can be just as shitty as the best of them.

 

We all crammed into Tina’s backyard and continued to out-drink the NoPo runners.  Cockjaw, even after his famed bar fight earlier in the week, led a stellar religion, not to be distracted by the fireworks going off across the street.  Robo Dick and Iced Pee (for his virgin, Just Kelly) eagerly drank out of both of their shoes, we fed Tequila even more beer, and BeeFuck tried to instill in us his own long tradition of not seeing any boobs or cocks.

 

With that, we swang low.

 

Upcumming:

 

Today: Cocktails with the Captain, hosted by Tripod

Saturday:  The OH3 Magic Merkin Ride Campout: begins at 3:00 near a Blue Subaru

Monday: Chester Clusterfucks the Kahuna

Tuesday: The Beaver’s 2nd anal Tour de Franzia

Wednesday: “The Bitchin’ Hash II: Son of a Bitch” At the Elephant House in Washington Park.

Thursday: The Bastille Day Hash! Hared by Poke Her Face, Rosie Palms, and Snuggle my Pee Pee (you bimbos are aware of this, correct?)

 

Your swanky scribe,

Romancing the Bone

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4 thoughts on “The other Thursday drinking/running club”

  1. Tina, you’re highly esteemed since you let hashers cum trash your house twice in the same week. also, because your super hott (that’s right, with the double T).

    Iced Pee, those kickballers looked pretty sober to me…but I guess that just depends on your perspective.

    1. The hares missed a perfect opportunity to place a beer check in the outfield, it would’ve been good to practice drinking while dodging balls, catching balls, and waiting for balls to drop. Hashers are the true beer athletes, the rest are just clubs.

  2. When we ran trail through Overlook park, we also converged with a group that often refers to themselves as a “drinking club with a kicking problem.” I.e. Portland’s adult kickball league…

    Oh, and just to be sure…it wasn’t for lack of coaching my virgin wore new shoes and I had to drink out of them…, it was planned well in advance in order to indulge my bizarre foot fetish / dominatrix fantasy.

    On-on!
    -Iced-Pee

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