Montreal Hash House Harriers
Run #216 (14-Jan-2001)
"Where’s Blue?"
by Kristal Tits, Hash Scribe
Hashers and wankers present: Nutcracker, Yogi, WOB, LOB, Double Fisted, Numbskull, Wade, Total F**kup, Muddy Nipples, Tigress, Mustapha Kunt, Smegma, Skinflint, Abbot, Poo Bare, Bl*w Job, Speed Hump, Oral Supplement, Foxy Lady, Dead Animal, Painted Knobs.
If I forgot anyone, it’s because Bl*w Job messed up on the stats, stats that were up before even the start of the circle! But I digress….
Weather: eh, can’t remember.
Trail: For winter markings, these must have been right up there with the best. We really had the impression of following one sick puppy as he left a trail of smurf-blue urine all around NDG. Of course, it was just the Total F**kup/Double Fisted duo doing their thang. Congrats DF on your "redemption run". You’re A-OK in my books! (like anyone cares)
Run: Right, so it was nicely marked, except for that false trail up near the overpass next to the train tracks, a flase trail LOB and Mustapha both missed. I guess it was a good walker/runner trail ‘cause in those two minutes of figuring out the trail, all the walkers and their uncles passed us.
I had heard rumours of DF not feeling the need to show the walkers the full trail however, so maybe that had something to do with it…
The little bit around Villa Maria was quite nice, and reminded me of the 5 years of emprisonment I suffered at the hands of the nuns who run the place. In fact, the lap we did was exactly the course set out by our 8th grade gym teacher when he was in a particularly unpleasant mood.
We then passed by the gazebo and down into the ceme-… I mean!, the residences, and past the mother house where they have an altar that within it contains bits of Sainte Marguerite Bourgeois heart.
After that we went down past the park where the blue-skirted girls on lunch break go to smoke up, and back to Sherbrooke.
This run was, now that I think about it, quite masterfully set out and included a beer stop. Yay, Labatt 50. Ok, so most things in life aren’t perfect, still, we had a spirited exchange of snowballs. The only thing that could get us back on trail was a visit by some cops who happened not to be sleeping in their patrol car but instead driving to the nearest D&D (that’s Dunkin Donuts). DA pretty much begged them to loop around and did so by showing off his near-empty bottle of fifty from the vantage point of the sidewalk in front of the apartment. We all took off, but not before I planted a bottle in the snow. Hopefully in the spring we should find a beer tree there, or at the very least, 5 cents worth of glass.
The down-downs: Our festivities were nearly aborted once back at the bar. No, I am not referring to the near-death experience of our Tigress who narowly missed being plowed down by a 24 bus and becoming asphalt filler. I am of course referring to the lack of beer at the bar, a situation that before resolution, needed the intervention of the barman, the manager, and assumedly, the owner. They finally found another miracle keg and DISASTER was averted.
I have here a paper handed to me by the GM to guide me in writing up this report. In retrospect, I should have accepted his offer to type things up for me. From what I can tell, it’s either the design of some new space rocket, or the artistic cry for help of a mentally challenged 5-year-old. Please bare with me:
Wade, a virgin I myself brought for sacrifice, was named Boner, after the erect style of his running. (wahey) His real name is in itself quite unusual, and I personally would have gone with something along the lines "Rubber Duck", an allusion to the Duck character named Wade in "Garfield and Friends" who is petrified of water. Alas, My advice was not solicited.
It must be noted also that Boner drank his down down in record time and almost shamed Yogi for his lackadaisical demonstration on how to suck it back.
The barman was given a glass in celebration of the auspicious number of people the building is maximally allowed to host: 69. An appropriate song was sung.
Milestone run of the month goes to Bl*w Job. He just did no.100! No doubt a proud moment. The other "milestones" here seem to be all single-digit and hardly worth mentioning. :oP
I am just upset the GM failed to toast me for my lucky 13.
Speed Hump was chastised for the worst bowling ever witnessed in Montreal, Oral Suplement was criticised for getting Captain to fix her mum’s washer/dryer instead of having him out on the hash with threats of "cutting him off"… or is that "cutting it off"? I can’t decipher the writing again. Damn. Also LOB got one for wacking some poor chinese/asian/middle-eastern/afghani/mid-oriental/PNGaboriginee/samoan non-descript person with a newly acquired numbskull.
Finally, everybody followed latecomer Abbot in a stirring rendition of some salty song or other. Something about fornicating bishops and whatnot.
on-on: After completely trashing the place with Speed Humps pop-corn and Total F**kup’s little pistacchios, Painted Knobs managed to drag most of us out to Peel Pub where we ate a 100 chickens worth of wings. Painted Knobs was going on about some sob story (probably hers) and bored DF to sleep.
Another hash passed without loss of life or limb and all rejoiced.
NOTE: Although I am as always swamped with work and had forgotten most of the (un)interesting events that took place that Sunday afternoon, it was the reading of the guestbook at our site that prompted me to put something out. Apparently, Mr. OAP feels that there should be more hash trash produced so that he and other non-attendees may follow more closely the trials and tribulations of our misguided pack. WELL! far be it for me to let him down.
Now, I have been surfing the Sin City Hash House Harriers and Harriettes site lately, in preparation for a trip I am planning there in February, and they mention the custom that the assigned hash scribe may delegate the weekly hash trash responsibility to whomever, and is only stuck writing it when he/she forgets to do so. The last time I tried this, Mustapha and Dr. Delight provided the hash with absolutely squat. Let’s try again, shall we??
Comments, questions and suggestions go to hell.
The Gulp (aka Krystal Tits)