“I signed up for a fucking drinking club” —Ditch Bitch


“I signed up for a fucking drinking club” —Ditch Bitch

 

I came to last night’s trail not really wanting to run—honorable for a lazy hasher like myself.  The last few days, I had been carbo loading and hydrating in preparation for a booze filled weekend in Palm Springs at Betty Ford Rehab Hash.  The last thing I wanted was a fucking 9 mile trail though the hills of southwest Portland that would leave me sore and tired the night before adorning myself with a busty corset and see-threw lace petticoat at the opening Betty Ford lingerie hash.  Fuck.  I wanted to be in my best form—to drink obscene quantities of alcohol—to stay out until the sun rose—to tease all the wankers until they had to excuse themselves to a private alley behind a dumpster because they just couldn’t take it am more.  Running a fucking nine-mile trail on Thursday night was not in my plans (nor should it ever be).

 

Dear hares,

I’m not sure if you’re aware of this or not, but we are all a part of what is called “A drinking club with a running problem.”  I supposed you don’t really understand what that means, but the focus is primarily on drinking, and we kind of sort of accidentally end up running along the way.  We’re not really happy about the running part, but it’s just something that has to be done.  We’re only running to get to the beer—and then we’re happy.  Nine miles is unacceptable.  Hell, last week your really blew it too—seven and a half miles is also too long.  And the fucking Hump Hash hares—six and a half miles is still too long. You see, it’s a weeknight, Thursday is (Wednesday too), and some of us have lives outside of the hash (Hash Gods forbid) and we need to get home at a reasonable hour—before we’re too tired to fuck.  Just in case you were unaware, the standard go-to mileage for both the No Name Hash and the Hump Hash is three to five miles.  That means five miles is a really long trail—as long as it gets.  Four miles is alright.  And three miles is ideal—because a three mile trails means we’ll get to the beer that much faster, and that’s kind of our reason to be.  I don’t think I can reiterate this enough—We are here for the fucking beer.  If any future hares lay a trail longer than five fucking miles, I will cut you in your sleep (and I’m pretty sure I can figure out where most of you live) because you are a huge cum oozing asshole.

 

If you don’t think you are capable of being a good hare, I hear there’s a Ball Buster hash starting up soon that will welcome your 6-10 mile trails.

 

Cheers you fucking fuckity fucks,

Romancing the Bone

 

Upfucking:

Monday: You’ve probably missed it by now, but it started at the Greeley Avenue Bar and Grill, hared by Tardcore

Wednesday: Can’t Finish deflours Tongue Twat Twister at the Decoy Bar in NW

Thursday: Pump Me Dry and Flaming Hetero do the No Name

Friday-Sunday: The Green Dress Extravaganza!!

 

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