So long Just Ryan, hello Jizz Rag!

Sayonara Just Ralph, konnichiwa It’s Just a Little Prick!

Adios Just Mike, hola Wax On, Wacks Off!

Auf Wiedersehen Just Andee, guten tag Battlesnatch Galacticunt!

I’m not going to talk about our little prison bitch, or our Black Metal Bretheren™ in the next campsite, but instead just introduce you to the Campout Class of 2010: (in order of naming)

Just Dominic – Shit Candy

Just Sara – Pickup Fuck

Just Jeff – Jefferson Starfish, Just Jason – Game Ovary, Just Marcelle – 8 Lays a Week

Just Mike – Cold Wet Douche

Just Darren – Top Queer

Well done, VooDoo, well done. I can’t wait ’till next year, when we’ll hopefully be somewhere that we don’t have to pipe down after 10pm.

After some debate, Just Nick is now to be known as Brokeback Dyke!

So, Just Teeny, COME ON DOWN!

From here on out (and on-on to Europe in a few days), let it be known that Just Teeny Is to be known as Teeny Weeny On Top (TWOT)!

 
And just as an aside, I was going to post up a photo of TWOT in her britches, but you couldn’t see her face. Well, I guess I shoulda anyways – I just thought that Tidy looked eerily like Cornholio.

On-On,
Pastor.

I can’t believe I forgot to do this, but last month during S4G’s (Spermin’ for Germans) going-away party, we named Just Rose mere hours before she was due to hop on a plane and head back to the Fatherland.

In retrospect, maybe throwing a bunch of white powder on someone about to walk into an airport was a bad idea. Meh.

Anyways, when she returns, make sure you call her Five Dolla Schatzi!

FYI – “Schatzi” is a German term of endearment – like “dear” or “honey” or “love”. Take that where you want to, just keep in mind we were pretty close to Airline Highway…

It did stop us from giving Ready Whip the “birthday cake” she so richly deserved, but I did just mark down her 1/2 birthday in the calendar (which also happens to be a Thursday!) as a reminder during warmer times. But I digress.

This is all about Just Dustin. And when I say “all about Just Dustin”, I really mean this is all about everything butt sex.

 
Watch your cornholes, hashers – Everything Butt Sex is on the loose!

Enough about the trail, on-on to the circle, where we had another round of new Hash Namings! First off there was those two “wild and craaazy guys” from eastern Europe: Just Jakob and Just Nikola! Here they are in Hawaiian shirts. Notice the green bottles they’re drinking; what is that, Heineken? Czechvar? You and your imported pilseners… just for that they shall now be known as Check My Small Cockia and Eastern Cock Block! Then we had Just Kessyn who also had a pre-cooked name. Don’t ask me how or why, but he shall forever be known as Pusti Malaka (sp?), which means faggot masturbator in Greek, of course. Next up was Just Kristen, for whom we had a flurry of names: Tightens When Wet, 30-year-old Boobs, Cums With Camo… but the theme of cold and wet stuck, and we finally settled on Shiver Me Nipples! Also, a bonus: we got to name her dog Camo Toe. Last but not least we had Just Juan, who’s been running with us every so often since the earliest days of the VooDoo. And he still isn’t named, can you imagine that? We pulled this sinner into the circle and had his girlfriend Haf-Wax tells us all his most embarrassing stories, which involved urine way too often, for one thing (and yes, Wee-Blow Master’s camera just happened to catch him in the background “adjusting” himself). We had some great suggestions bounced around, like Polly Pissy Pants or Wet Dreams, and the final winner was Nocturnal Pisscharge! Congrats to all the newly baptised hashers!

Whew, that was a lot of work, all that naming! I think it’s time for a cold beer…

On-On,
Lack-a-Virgin, Hey!

P.S. When you sausages get named, don’t forget to change your name on HashSpace, and if you’re not on HashSpace, give someone your email and they’ll shoot you an invite. Also, give Pastor Bait-Her your email if you want him to change how your name appears on the weekly Evite.

P.P.S. Tomorrow while you wankers are hashing I’ll be northbound on I-85 somewhere. Y’all had better look me up if you’re ever around Boston. It’s been real, and I hope to come see you all again real soon!

And by Just Nora, I really mean Erectiaphobic!

Turns out that was kinda clever! Go me! Okay, maybe it wasn’t. You may now go back to biting me.

From now on, Just Missy is to be called Lick a Lotta Cock

And our Just Tara is now Bloody Hole

Go forth hashers, and be merry! Spread the word of the VooDoo!

Like I said, another week, another hash, and another naming.  “Wait, what?  Did he say naming?”  Yes indeed, wankers and wankees, last week’s hash became an epic baptismal hash-naming spree! We interrogated 5 of our most recurring new lunatics, and named THREE of them!!  Wow!  But in the tradition of a good prime time network news show, I’m not going to give you the full story (and I’m not going to tell you their new identities) until the end of this post.  Because first, you’ve gotta come back with me.  Back where?  Back to 1985.

This week’s hash was totally tubular, I mean like super rad and bodacious, man.  That’s because this week’s theme turned the clocks back to nineteen-eighty-something, and forced us to shift our ponytails, pull up our neon tights and leg warmers, and strut our stuff as, like, the most gnarly-looking pack o’ hounds the world has ever seen.  I have never seen so many jean skirts and neon scrunchies in my (admittedly short) life!  Our two hares were appropriately decked out in “period attire,” and many of the harriers and harriettes were similarly donning their most bitchin’ clothing.  I may have to go out on a limb and say that Show Me Your Posse took the cake with her jean shorts, a.k.a. jorts.  Just the same, everyone’s costumes were fantastic.  There were so many sunglasses being worn at night, passersby must have thought we were from L.A.  Though I am a bit miffed that no one even got to eat the hares’ shorts!

The struture of the 80s trail was fairly standard, although these two harriettes did take advantage of their collossal 20-minute head-start and gave us a trail that was abundant with falses!  While the format of the trail was familiar, the hash marks were specially-formulated with eighties goodness: the checks were in the shape of Pac-Man, the falses took the form of his formidible ghost foes, and I guess the hashmarks were supposed to be those little pills he eats.  Ingenious!  But where’s the Bonus Cherries??  Oh well…

Trail was fairly short this time around, in order to make time for naming interrogations: it was a mere three miles–for most of us, anyway. But some of us must have decided that just wasn’t enough.  Yes, Lack-a-Virgin once again went in completely the opposite direction, and led Just Olin on some epic lackscapade that took them traipsing all over Old Metairie.  Good grief.  Come outta the closet already.

Well, that was fun, wasn’t it?  Don’t you wish you were there?  Yeah you do, especially because you missed out on the namings! So here it is, you lazy backsliders, as summarized in an earlier post:

Just Bea, our radical rollergirl representative, apparently gets a little ‘grabby’ when she has a few drinks in her.  Therefore she will forever be known as:
UDDERLY RITITULOUS!

Just Brian, our pool-building maven, was tricked by fellow hashers into making his car (and everything in a 5-block radius) smell like rotten fish boil leftovers.  Therefore he will forever be known as:
CHUM DUMPSTER!

Last but not least, Just Olin, avid runner and avid hasher (though that sounds like an oxymoron), has the unfortunate task of taking air samples around the city to ensure the dank mustiness of post-Katrina New Orleans is safe for human intake.  Therefore he will forever be known as:
QUEEF METER!

All in all, it was a very productive circle, after which we rewarded ourselves with some good ol’ fashioned pub grub (a.k.a. HASH) at Winston’s.  Some food, some drink, and a rousing rendition of “Jesus can’t go hashing…”, and we were ON-OUT!

On-On,
Lack-a-Virgin