Richmond Hash Trail 685 – Post Marathon Something or Other – November 12, 2006

Ok. It appears that some people actually read this crap. In an effort to reach out to new hashers and prospective new hashers I am going to start giving actual stats about the trail. JK I expect histograms and ANOVA tests in order to obtain statistical accuracy and significance. Also, I am not hung-over or drunk so don’t expect anything funny.

Location: 37° 31' 43"N, 77° 26' 41"W (Flood Wall parking lot).
Hares: 71-1 and Coppenbooben
Weather: Cold, Rainy, Windy, 10 Celsius degrees
Shiggy Factor: 3 of 10 (due to rain)
Trail Length: ~4.8 km
Beer Stops: 1 (Siné Irish Pubbyesque place)
Wankers: 9 on trail, 10 in circle (*fist shake at JK)
Virgins: 0
On After: Legend Brewery
Cataglottis: 0

Due to inclement weather and all of the wealthy people being in IrishLand we had a poor showing. However, if anyone had to show up I’m glad it was me. Statistically, there was very little opportunity for hetero-Frenching.

Trail started as usual with Quacky leading us in that song about the strange Old Testament family from Ur and their patriarch, Abraham, who did nothing but go like this. I would think that the founder of Judiasm would have better things to say than DOOO-MEEE but what do I know? I’m just a drunken gentile and you are all irreverent pricks. Maybe more religions should be based on children’s songs. I dunno.

The runners actually came out yesterday. Trail started at 3:15 or so and in point of fact ended right around 4:30…nice job Richmond, I didn’t even get a buzz on trail...You fast misterfalcons (see: Die Hard, edited for television) ruined my Sunday drunk. Gus Gus, you facilitate my drunkenness by walking. I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you for that. I doubt I will. Phantom, Coppenbooben, and I take off across the Manchester Bridge. I realize that this bridge is named after some sort of war hero or governor. Has anyone actually considered the name? Man Chester sounds sort of gay to me (no offense Twue).

So we are like running and stuff right? Comatose, Twue, R.U.D.Y., Ru.F.U.S., Quack Qacker, Bill S. Preston Esq., Ted Theodore Logan and 71-1 are close behind. Actually, 71-1 wasn’t close because he short-cut straight to the beer stop. It felt like we were guest starring on that show about people fishing in Alaska…The Most Dangerous French or something to that effect. Seriously, the wind was blowing so hard that in the words of someone who was there, “It was really windy.” Whatever, sack up Dennis Connor. At least you weren’t dressed in spandex on roller blades like R.u.F.U.S.

We run around downtown for a brief period. Good work on laying a trail more than 100 meters from your house 71-1. I guess the medication is helping the agoraphobia. I’m all about metric; it makes my manhood sound bigger when I measure it in centimeters. Yeah baby, I’ve got your 20 cm (or 2 decimeter or .2 meters) right here. Combine that with my extra visual 2.5 cm due to proper grooming and you have a virtual Jon Holmes. I say virtual because my genitals are in fact computer generated and projected from my taint cam.

Trail goes as expected, shitty. My collarbone gives out right after the bridge and I slow down because I forgot to take my skirt off. We run down a hill and get beer in Siné. The conversation is titillating as Phantom and I relive our days of skiing under the influence. CONGRATUALTIONS to Coppenbooben for passing the bar. You can never have too many lawyers is what I always say…but only in reference to hot female lawyers who want to euphemism my euphemism. Now that you have passed the bar do you want to try and pass my rod exam? Don’t answer that.

Some strange drunk started talking to us. Apparently he is a bartender at Bank so Comatoes was trying to recruit him for free drinks. Next time show some skin. A little cleavage is a small price to pay for me to get free drinks. Heh heh heh. Phantom wouldn’t mind. Speaking of which, there have not been nearly enough breasts exposed on trail lately. Ladies step up! I’ve got a dry spell coming on (apogee) and need new material. All of my porn is starting to look the same…midgets midgets nothing but midgets.

Trail continued down across Mayo Island and the flood wall. Yet another strangely named Richmond landmark. I suppose there was a civil war mayonnaise factory here. Well I’ve got news for you, this mayonnaise factory is still in operation. Where we saw some dude some people know and his remote controlled Bichon Frise slowly drowning in a puddle. Apparently he was a Navy Seal. The wind was actually flaying the skin off of our faces…luckily R.U.D.Y. picked up our skin and wore it back as a mask a la Silence of the Lambs.

We head back to circle and some homeless guy starts waving to us. I like making friends. Phantom cracks an off-color joke and we laugh only to realize that the homeless guy is 71-1. 71-1, if you find that you need some help let me know. I’ve got plenty of room on my couch until you get back up on your feet. After a failed attempt at mooning (I left my ass at home) Quacky, Twue, R.U.D.Y., R.u.F.U.S., et al. we do our hash thing with down downs. 71-1 was FRB and someone else came in last. No milestones since JK left us to fend for ourselves while he sat in a hot tub reading romance novels and sipping on strawberry daiquiris. Calgon totally took him away and I don’t think he’s coming back.

On-after was at Legend where I hit on a 13 year-old girl (who had an ass like an 8 year old boy). Damn those wings were good…so at least I had that going for me. Chocolate Porter is also in season so Legend, I’ll be seeing more of you baby.

Can you French a Chocolate Porter? I can.

Speaking of Frenching…Next week’s trail promises to be the most offensive ever as we commemorate the Jonestown Massacre. BRING A FRIEND! As the Kool-aid Man says, “OOOOH YEAH!”

Oh, since there were so few of you here is my shitty Photoshop family portrait.

~Gammy McProlapse
    Official Word Bitch and Frenching Joke Horse Beater to Deather