Bimbos & Wankers:
Ever wondered what Romancing the Bone will look like in 20 years? Then you should have been at the No Name. The metric dozen* half-minds who were not too hungover from the Buns n’ Guns Hump showed up at Sacajawea park and got to meet MILF Bone and the Cutest. Puppy. Ever. (Not to be confused with Milk Bone and her totally adorable dog, who were also on trail). But damn, that puppy was so cute that even Plan B couldn’t be full of hate for a few minutes. Romancing tried to persuade her husband to get her a dog, but somehow the promise of anal didn’t seem to work on Cockjaw. We’ll see who wins this battle in the end. (In her end?) The hares took off so MSG could deflour Lovely Liquor Lumps – again – and, foolishly, we tried to follow their trail.
*math joke for MSG
I don’t know how they lay trail in New Mexico, but we found no marks. We ran anyway, like idiots, in circles, until finally flour appeared and we thought we had a trail to follow. Remember that virgin who got Alouette’d at the Running of the Bulls? She was nice enough to show her tits to a desperate housewife out watering her lawn. Little did we know how generous this Bimbo would be later on trail…
Meanwhile, we got lost once or twice, managed to be the sketchiest people at 82nd and Sandy, then realized that OF COURSE this trail was going to take us up Rocky Butt. Somewhere in the jungle, all humid and mosquito-y, we eventually found the first beer check. But wait, why is there Reddi Whip in with the beer? Is it for the 5 pounds of jello shots? No, of course it’s for making beer sundaes. Because that’s a thing.
There was talk of abandoning trail after this, since we had heard rumors of “severe weather” and “thunderstorms” but we figured Fuck it, it’s Oregon, let’s keep running up this hill. At the top of Rocky Butte we tried to convince some picnic-ers to finish our jello shots but they seemed hesitant to take candy from strangers. Maybe they would have preferred a Rainier with whipped cream on top. Most of us managed to find flour that led us down down down (the incline gave me serious 4th of July flashbacks) and back to pavement. Apparently there was a 2nd beer check, but we kept following arrows and lightning bolts, and missed it entirely to end on-in at casa de MSG & LLL. There we found Flaming Hetero, the master(bator) of meat, had cooked us all burgers, and there was beer and watermelon and much rejoicing. We started religion in the thunderstorm once the Tyrant arrived, even though we were still suspiciously missing two hashers.
The sacred vessel acted as a lightning rod, causing everyone to chug their down-downs faster than ever to avoid electrocution. We harassed the hares for the exceptionally shitty trail and celebrated Maxi Pad’s naked airport acquittal based on “insufficient evidence” (in his pants), when our missing hashers Semen Goodwill Cunting and Just Alouette finally showed up. Now we all know Goodwill has been hard up since leaving boot camp as he’s no longer getting reach arounds from his drill sergeant, so thankfully our new Bimbo was willing to support and service our troops. And so she was honored. on her knees (for the second time that night?) and thus she will from now on be known by the Coast Guard’s motto Semper Peratus (“Always Ready”).
Our super classy, multi-lingual religion continued with some Hebrew and Russian (it means “I Love You”), and Milk Bone’s frigid cunt inspired an amazing reenactment of A Christmas Story’s Tongue on Metal Pole scene. We swung low, and the hash gods were appeased, as no one was struck by lightning.
PS. Honor to whoever steals Penis Envy’s keys at Goldrush so she can’t leave us for the East coast. Seriously, “graduating” is over-rated, stay and get drunk with us!
This trash brought to you by the hot sexy bimbo, Tongue Twat Twister.