Headline: Trail literally is bullshit
Sub-headline: Reasonably-long Chili Chili trail leaves everyone confused, alive
March 25, 2017
Hares: Chili Chili and Gummy Whore
Box: Inarajan/Merizo by the Southern Methodist Chruch slash Southern Cowboys bus stop
On-home: on the beach, about a half mile the Inarajan way
Trail summary: Bullshit. That's what this trail was made of. Roughly 2 minutes into trail, the pack came upon a huge field with a massive bull tied to the tiniest, least grounded piece of rope. And there was a check more or less right in front of the bull. This poor animal was not the least bit happy that 50+ homos (short for homo sapiens, come on, don't just jump to the negative) were in its territory. To make matters worse, the first way everyone took was an on-back, which meant we all had to pass the bull again and wander around trying to figure out true trail while it attempted to charge people.
Okay, so that's the bull part, but what about the shit? Shit you want? Enter our Tyrant. He decided to mark the check with a huge cow pie. But then we had to re-mark it. With no one stepping up, enter our First Daughter, Daddy Issues, who for some inexplicable reason had already left her beer can on top of the cow pie. Without hesitation, she picked up the shit pile+beer and moved it to the correct way. What a family. We learned at religion that the First Family's shit-affinity has some history. Apparently, when Daddy Issues was just a wee lass, Drip Lip was carrying her on his back while hiking with Drip Dry. They happened upon some cow pies and Drip Dry picked one up to throw at Drip Lip. Why? Cause bad bitches don't play, that's why. Anyway, instead of dodge the poop-projectile, Drip Lip turned his back and used his tiny daughter as a human shield. Why? Cause bad fathers don't play either.
The hares promised us a virgin waterfall, but with a lack of rain, there was merely a trickle into a tiny pool that Viagra had seen already, and it took 20 minutes of schlepping through a dry riverbed full of bamboo. The payoff to this was trudging up one of the mountains (I asked Viagra in all seriousness which one, but he wouldn't answer me) to some pretty spectacular views. The best (only) good part of trail was the ridge-running between peaks where trail was about two feet wide with drops to either side. Any sort of mud or darkness and we would have had another TFI episode all over again (#1683neverforget). At the top of one of the mountains was a T/S split. That's right, according to Chili Chili, who oddly always talks in the 3rd person, S = Sparrow. Also according to Chili Chili, Sparrows are smarter than Turkeys (no sources or data cited to). the Sparrow was jeep trail all the way out while the Eagle was a few more ridges, down a trail I demanded Grundle Bundle refer to as a Tom Bombadil trail, and out to another long-ass dry riverbed with excessive bamboo. The two trails met back up at the still annoyed bull and eventually out to the road and the beach.
I write this much about trail because basically nothing happened at religion. Drip Lip's older son, jealous of his younger brother's spanking tunnel escapades, showed up for his FNG. Whiny Weanie was back and reminded/introduced everyone to why the "Rape stare eyes" and "C-R-E, E-P-Y, he's a creepy guy" are so on point. Chili and Gummy Whore must have been at the vessel 10 times each since everyone else was wiped. Chili was forced to singe his shorts (one of only two pairs that he owns apparently) for getting caught. He paid honor to the Benavente family for letting us use their land, and that's about it.
So, since not much happened, it's time for another rendition of "Who hashers become when they grow up." Here's some from last batch for reference (from the 1686):
Pussy Control --> Rip Van Wanker: ranting and screaming about god knows what is timeless
Ginger Pony --> $2 whore: a consummate flyer who will eventually grow into his weirdness and advertise Rota runs 7 months in advance
Blowhole --> Viagra: ageless and agile, Blowhole may one day grow up to lead hashers off a cliff of Mt. Schroeder. Just remember to take up the cause of stringently enforcing the "no clapping on the hash" tradition
Power Bottom (Falsetbro)--> Sex: it is with narcissistic self-loathing that I tell you (and tell you, and tell you) how awesome I will eventually become/remain
Tube Top Teaser --> Rude Boy: criticizing and brusqueness age like a fine wine (that was a little too acidic and overpriced if you want my opinion)
Bi Bubble Yum --> Cliff Cringle: happy with life at whatever age he might live to obtain
Tampon --> Tampon: yeah, that guy's not changing. C-strings for life!
And now the update:
Grundle Bundle-->Chili Chili: FRB, but seemingly never clean and gives no shits about anyone
Trampoline-->Pussy Control: doesn't seem to need much of an explanation here
Minstrel-->Bean Dad. Patient with the newbies. Can't you just see him, 70 years old, retired, doing not much but setting trail after trail.
Shite-cycle-->Bambi: oh the drama
NoShowBro-->Eager Beaver: Obsessed with own chest, constantly drowning in pussy
Just Bina-->Trail Snatcher.:Endless amounts of delicious food and love
Slurpee-->Tampon: FRB, but no one wants to be behind him and get a full view of whatever tiny garment he's wearing.
On-on to the 1816!
Falsetbro
"What happens on the hash, stays on the hash...except when it's written in the hash trash."