After circling the frustrating series of dead end streets around north Portland and the Adidas Campus, the hounds, one by one, eventually found the allusive starting location for the No Name Hash. (Tardcore asks me later, “Is everyone cursing my name?” –We were cursing your name before we even got to the start.)
To apparently avoid more scrutiny, our hare, Tardcore set off on trail before much of the pack arrived at the start, so I had no one to complain to about getting lost, except for the poor innocent hashers standing around at the start who just wanted a beer (Cockjaw wasn’t there to complain to either).
After giving Tardcore a fair 30 minute head start (because we all know how slow he is), we set off. We ran through thickest brambles of pavement I have ever seen, the most ferocious stinging chain link I have ever experienced. I think—just maybe—I may have even gotten my shoes dirty on the ankle high grass next to the sidewalk.
We arrived at the first beer check to find a less than adequate supply of beer and swill. I almost got stuck with some Seagram’s Sangria, but traded it with a lovely wanker’s beer with a broken top. BeeFuck worried for my safety—but I risked the jagged glass at the top of the bottle for a taste of that delicious nectar.
The pack was not anxious to find trail, unsure if it was worth checking at the bottom of the long flight of 69 stairs. But so it was, and we were off again. The thing about a Tardcore trail is that you really have to pay attention. One minute, you’re guided down one direction, happy and comfortable, and the next, BAM! He’ll pull a fast one on you and he’ll go in a different hole—I mean direction… And the worst part is, he’ll do this so slyly, so subtly and without notice, that by the time you finally realize what’s happened, you’ve already gone too far. And going all the way back is a real pain the ass, in a manner of speaking…
After being jerked around (or off) by Tardcore, we were greeted with another inadequately supplied beer check (but luckily I was able to get there soon enough to get my hands on a delicious 7.0% alcohol IPA with an intact top).
We ran by the most romantic body of water, where we all sucked in the romance. Then Pump Me Dry flipped her shit when she saw a tiny little Gartner snake. I think it was a baby.
It was starting to get dark by this point and the pack was becoming lazy and tired of getting butt raped by Tardcore, so we all stood around a check for quite some time until we realized that Tardcore did in fact go through the property that clearly said “no trespassing,” and on up the shiggy laden cliff side before reaching our regular comfort of the pavement.
We ran swiftly through the neighborhoods, only to find our hare coolly driving by with a big grin on his face, asking if we were on trail (shouldn’t you know…).
Our FRBs were none other than Tina Turnover, Burning Feeling, Pump Me Dry, and myself. Honor to these badass bimbos for showing the wankers how to run trail (especially you, Gayzelle).
The On In was at Yorgo’s (again) where we met with autohashers, Cockjaw and Pabst Smear. Tardcore got us mucho pitchers, fries, tots, and pickles in the effort to win our forgiveness for his shitty trail. Honor to our hare for another shitty fucking trail. Cockjaw led an awe-inspiring religion that brought nearly everyone to tears, oh wait, never mind. Honor to Cockjaw for leaving me to my own devices next week (and boy do I have some devices…)
We had four virgins, whose names don’t matter, not yet anyway. We brought up Wildman, who quietly muttered something about how much our hash sucks. We discussed the prospect of actually starting a conspiracy to always give Flaming Hetero the Hash Shit, and even though Cockjaw gave him a way out, he embraced yet another week of having my ball hitch knock him in the nuts when he runs.
After everyone was sufficiently lubricated, we swang low. And so it was.
Tonight: TGIF at O’Malley’s in SE
Tomorrow: Mud Butt and Grab My Handlebars hare the Oregon Hash at Pavlov Bitch’s house in Seaside
Sunday: Choir Practice on the Beach in Seaside if anyone still has the energy or sobriety
Monday: Pabst Smear does the Kahuna in Milwaukie
Wednesday: Hump Hash at the Portway Tavern in N Portland, hared by 3 undersexed wankers, Can’t Finish, Flaming Hetero, and a mystery birthday hare.
Thursday: Pump Me Dry deflours Crab Shaft in front of the No Name