Flash forward to April Fool’s day, Indicksion (that dead hare bitch) was caught pre-laying trail and being an over achieving bastard by running extra laps around Audubon park at the beer near while everyone else was consuming alcohol. For an April fool’s prank, all the harriers and harrierettes piled into a couple of trucks at the beer near and rode back to the On-In and continued drinking and singing hash songs. Meanwhile, back on trial, Indicksion and Dickie WongStockings ran a couple of miles laying flour for no one to follow.

Then circle happened. Who knew so many virgins lived in Marrero? I being cereal bra. Why would Cold Wet Douche bring new shiny boots? I realize you need to add flavor to bud light, but there has to be a better way. Who could have guessed Pick Up Fuck would cum late again? At least this time she wasn’t caught, on her knees, with her mouth inside Grandpa’s feet’s underwear…AGAIN. I’m going to have to remember that necklace hiding trick he has. Most importantly, we named our longest running “Just” in the hash. Hench forth, Just Kim will now be known as Shitty Titty Gang Bang and Just Barbie will now be known as UnderCummer.

NEXT WEEK – We have a special hasher visiting the city. See you wankers on Thursday. ON-ON,
Everything Butt Sex

Here is a link to the songs passed out last week. Also, check out the Voodoo SongBook

tl;dr pastor udderly married, hashers skipped trail for April fool’s; pick up fuck cums late, but often; douche drinks from his shoes; 4 namings – Shitty Titty Gang Bang, UnderCummer, Pump me Brewster, Urine Jail; visiting hasher.

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

Sorry about that, I promise it won’t happen again. I … I just don’t know what got over me. Oh, wait, yes I do – last night was a Hasher Naming Extravaganza!

Ladies and gents, please allow me to re-introduce you to:

Just Bea, now known as Udderly ReTiTulous:

Just Brian, now known as Chum Dumpster:

And, Just Olin, now known as Queef Meter:

Here’s to fellow hashers, fellow hashers, fellow hashers …