This trash is long like your cock


When I woke up this morning, found a lovely hash trash by Testicles, and I thought to myself, “I need coffee,”–but after that– “shit—it’s been, like, YEARS since I wrote one of those.” Fuck, YEARS (and if you know anything about me, I am very uncomfortable with the whole aging and time relativity thing. But enough about me [probably not]).

I did not expect much of last night’s No Name Hash. I had heard that the Stumptown hash would make traitors out of many of our once beloved and loyal No Namers (In case you’re in the market for their soul: their price is salmon. I’m looking at you, BeeFuck). Also, Chubby Chaser was our hare, so I was sure that no one would cum and Cockjaw, Chubby, and I would end up spending the night alone talking about our feelings in tears. But I was mistaken—we had a good crowd. Some came because they love hashing, others because of the April Challenge.

We met at the Marquam Shelter. The night started off great—I was immediately informed by Chubby that the cops were on their way—but not to bust us—WE called them. Apparently some bum vagrant (Honor to Hash Bum) was violently masturbating and jizzing in our general direction (or something like that, he had finished before I arrived). As soon as the cops arrived, we hid our beers behind cars and pretended to be decent, and they left without incident. We then prayed to the hash gods that our cars would not get broken into this time, and set out for trail.

We ran up and we ran down, and back and forth, and up and down again. Sometimes we went fast, then slow, then up and down again. We went down real fast, then up slow. The trail was wet and slippery and we went in and out and in and out again. Then he lightly graced my thigh with his finger tips and I let in a quick breath as my loins tingled. (Oops, I seem to have lost track of what I was doing… Back on track.) We then ran into a curious mark—XXX. Was this a false with checks instead of marks? Were we being fucked with? Was our hare a half-mind? At least two of these things proved to be true. This mark fucked our shit up for at least 69 minutes. We were later informed by our hare that this was a “fuck check.” mmk. I think this trail has fucked us enough. Fuu Fuu, Goo Swallow, and Hot Buns don’t like to be fucked and managed to catch a ride to the end by a random with a car.

Finally, we found a Beer Near, and we eagerly began to run up a hill, many of us struggling with early onset sobriety. Unfortunately, beer was not near. Beer was 690 feet straight up, and the pack, dejected and thirsty, wound up the many switchbacks that finally led us to the beer. Cockjaw clocked 3.5 miles by the time we got there. We drank our PBR with serious concern for what the rest of trail would bring.

We then did some pavement pounding on the mean streets of Southwest Portland, and eventually headed up to the OHSU Tram. Of course, the halfminds that we are, lack the short term memory required to remember the super shitty first half of trail, and we were instantly excited to go for a ride on the tram. Say what you will, but the tram was pretty neat, and the view of Portland at night was beautiful. Hashers being hashers, got all hot and bothered by this, and steamed up the tram windows.

Pulling out the worst “late” April fools joke in history, we see a note from our hare in chalk, “April fools, no second beer check.” Boo. Fortunately, our intrepid stallion FRB Cockjaw, had carried the leftover beer from the first beer check. So we drank the delicious nectar of the hash gods, and I considered what I would do to Cockjaw in bed that night.

Finally, after what I imagine was 6.9 miles (which—take note Amazon.cum and Flat Dick—is NOT an appropriate length for a week night trail), we got back to Marquam Shelter. It was raining, but we did not want to disturb the gentlemen (the jizzing masturbator left) sleeping in the shelter, so did religion in the parking lot and all got wet. Some people (*cough*Angry Inch) convinced the RA to sign his April challenge sheet before circle and skipped out on the third religion this week.

Learning that Plan B would not be there complete the dynamic Cockjaw-Plan B duo, we all gave a collective sigh of disappointment (seriously, Plan B, you should feel loved). Child Left Behind brought us a virgin, and we had several visitors, White Boy from Guam (Fuu Fuu let out a squeal of excitement), Better Hoes Than Gardens and On All Floors from Ashland, Just Stacy (a two timer whose cherry was popped at the Hump the night before), and another dude from the Oregon Hash. There were some crimes, I think (but my alcohol consumption and memory are inversely related). Milkbone blinded everyone by flashing (not her tits, unfortunately, her fucking camera). Anyway, then we swang low.

Afterward, many of us headed to Suki’s to hear Cock Model’s ridiculous karaoke rendition of Devil Went Down to Georgia.

And all was good. Honor to all who turned down salmon to hash a shitty trail.

 

On-fucking-On!

Romancing the Bone

 

Upcumming:

Sunday: OBGYN 4th Anniversary! O Smears Pabst, in Riverside County Park in Clackamas

Also, Deadliest Snatch does little kids at the Family Friendly Hash in Gabriel Park

Monday: Hit it and Quit it does the Kahuna at Marquam Nature Park (again?)

Wednesday: Mambo Blows the Hump

Thursday: No More Fucking Hornets and Bone in Hamms bone some fucking hornets at the No Name!

 

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