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Hash Trash #1799

December 3, 2016

Hares: Foot Fucker and Just Caitlin

Box: up a road by a bus stop in Piti

On-home: just down the street at a guy named Sunshine's house (not me Sunshine, some other one)

Pubic Cervix Announcement: in case you haven't seen or heard, it's 1800 time this coming weekend. December 10. get to the PDN early to make sure there's no chaos. Bring your camping gear. First-aid kits will be there in case Spazz decides to fire jump again

Trail summary: anyone who knows this area (not me, but I heard other people talking so I pretended to know) knows that the one cool thing out here is Guatali falls. It was just a matter of how we were going to get there and where we'd end up. Minstrel and a group of old fliers found the answer to the second question soon after we broke box. They went in the opposite direction, and sure enough, not 30 yards away were marks. Minstrel hasn't been less excited about a circle jerk since his first year in college. He and Rude Boy did no-nos while Two Buck waited for the hares. Surprise surprise, he got Just Caitlin's shorts and burnt them accordingly.

The rest of us true-trailers were told that the hares got permission from landowners, and it seemed at the beginning they were flaunting their access. We ran through a backyard, some agriculture, and what looked like a weed outpost. Eventually we got into the river for forever, found Guatali falls (pretty cool), and then back up from where we came. And that's when the hares' permission luck ran out. As an FRB pack of Drip Lip, me, Grundle Bundle, Tampon, and others exited the jungle and onto the road, we were greeted by two 18 year old-ish kids trying to look hard. Who are you? who's in charge? What group are you? Why are you on our property? Are you the boonie stompers? To which Tampon said, yes, we're the boonie stompers despite wearing a shirt with a huge AH3 on the front. Thankfully Drip Lip's soothing British accent came to the rescue and they let us pass after we threw Just Caitlin under the bus for not asking them (she did, just another part of the family).

Pro tip: if you get into this type of situation, saying we're boonie stompers is the go-to, but you can also use the Guam Orienteering Club. It doesn't exist, but it sounds like it could.

At the on-home, Other Sunshine is grilling up chicken and ribs (honor!), presumably as a tribute for the return of our Prodigal Tyrant. All the stories above were told, as well as one involving Just Kevan and a thong. Two Beer Queer's thong to be exact. Who then gave it out to Just Kevan. Who then inexplicably wore it on the hash. Which unsurprisingly caused it become askew. Leading his friends to demand he place said thong back into his ass crack where it belonged. Which then caused Just Kevan to eat shit in the slippery river. Obviously there was a naming: Skid Mark Waterpark. Honor to you sir. Less honor to male to male thong sharing.

Post-religion we said so-long to Two Beer Queer. I was there for his FNG slash naming, and you could tell from the word go that this guy was going to be an honorable hasher: rarely sober, always up for a party, and clearly destined to be one of Bambi's boys. He's a guy you enjoyed seeing around the fire, at the on-on-on, or around town. He'll be missed on saturdays and sundays, but he's only going to Korea, so he'll be back. Until then, take er easy dude.

On-on to the 1800!


What happens on the hash, stays on the hash...except when it's written the hash trash."

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