Headline: PC pukes and passes out and can't make it to her own party
Sub-headline: you could tell she was white-girl wasted because she was hugging and nice to people
December 31, 2016
Hares: Pussy Control and Spazz
Box: Coast 360 parking lot in Maite
On-home: road from the roundabout leading into the jungle
Trail summary: at the box, after Fucking Rebar handed out a bunch of old, unwashed wrassling singlets to anyone who'd wear them (pretty much who you'd expect), he was excitedly whispering to me that he and Beeatch had found a check earlier. "Pssst, hey, what are we going to do? I say we jump in RJ's truck and catch them." Once I told him that chariot riding to catch hares was like saying you joined the mile-high club by masturbating on an airplane, he agreed we should just run down the stairway to heaven instead. We did, and we found that the trail consisted of pavement and more pavement. Urban runs are often saved by alcohol, but beside the one jell-O shot stop (at my house for some reason), there was no beer. The hares even had an arrow pointing into a shuttered up Easy's as some sort of sick joke.
Eventually, we made it to the on-home with Dirtnapper, who didn't fly, and upon coming in, the first thing out of PC's mouth is, "WHAT? YOU FLEW?! YOU MISSED MY AMAZING ROPE AND WATERFALL!!'" I told her to stop beaking at us before we even had a beer to take the edge off, turn to Dirtnapper and ask, wait, was there a waterfall? Nope, no there wasn't. Just a rope down some dirt. PC also told the hounds at the box that the bee-wasp creatures Blowhole and co battled while saving a dog a while back had spread to other places. But, in a plot twist no one (everyone) saw coming, trail took us to the location that Blowhole had found the bee-wasp hybrids in the first place.
Darth Y'all outdid herself with a post-trail feast of seared ahi, prime rib sammys, BBQed shrimp, baked parmesan, and a 3lb bag of skittles. Religion had a full cooler of cheap champagne (I know no other kind, and neither do any of you), Drip Lip couldn't get the FNG speech right, I kept forgetting ppl's names...it was pretty much a shit show. One hound brought his own tunes with him on the trail in the form of a portable speaker, but instead of good songs, Minstrel noticed it was playing Blink 182's whiny late 90's anthem, "All the Small Things." Say hello to MC Tiny Pecker! Our Tyrant called up our last two tyrants (the ones still here anyway) because in the gift bag he inherited from BBY, he found a big black dildo and a big black butt plug. In a classic move, PC blamed BiBubbleYum for the butt plug while TTT said Lady Backwash was responsible for the dildo. Since neither of them were present to defend themselves, we have to assume it's true.
The on-on-on was the AH3 NYE party at the Pacific Star. Pussy Control organized a great party, but she didn't even make it there because she got hammered on shamp and had thrown up and was passed out by 10pm. FaceJam made it to the party, but puked in the little plants right in front of the river by the pool and then rocked up to the bar and told everyone all about it while kissing their cheeks. The required $250 bar tab we had to meet was done in like 10 minutes, so then most of us headed to the beach to drink stashed hash coolers of shamp and beers. We kept it hash PG for the most part, but any new year's surrounded by friends and hashers is a great start to the new calendar. Trampoline, Jabba the Slut, and Just Larla closed down the party at like 4am after drinking straight WHiskey with the hotel staff. NoShowBro celebrated his first hangover of 2017 and was already ready to run it back the next night. Game on 2017!
On-on to the 1804! Best trail of 2017!
"What happens on the hash, stays on the hash...except when it's written in the hash trash."