Well, it all started with the vague starting d'erections posted by the infamous Hummus My Bummus. Because, you see, there is no WM Skinner just north of JTB as the website d'erections stated. Hummus swore to the Great "G" that the info he emailed the hare raiser was accurate with WM Davis not WM Skinner. Now we all know that Cap'n Taco is a bit flaky, and occasionally known to miss something in email, but I don't believe she has ever screwed up cut and pasting d'erections...
"START: San Pablo and JTBish. From San Pablo, head (who said head?) North and make a left on WM Skinner. On the right, youll see Pablo Professional Park.. Turn right here, making sure to wave at cruiter, hoover, and Tomacock at the old folks home. Follow this road all the way back. Viola, youre there."
So, anyway, what do you do when the start location does not exist? You send AJ and the AJ cruiser to the last good intersection with beer to flag down lost hashers. Well, he found about 20 or so lost souls by the time we were ready to commence circle.
Sphincter Sicle got us all together and we blessed the hares Hummus My Bummus and Just Josh. A standard chalk talk was done with Hummus having to relieve NFHN Josh because he was putting us to sleep. They set out and the pack of 15 or so commenced to get our drink on with approximately 10 or so harriers and 6 or 7 harriettes, the hares dressed in boots and jeans scared all but one harriette (O God) out of doing trail. Apparently the hares forgot to post the need for us to wear pants for this trail... Bah, pants are for girls I say!!!
After a 10 min head start, we set out on trail. Apparently the hares decided that the use of intersections was only for chalk talk and not on their trail because within 100 yards of the start we were taking 90 degree turns without any warning, fade, intersuction, or b00bs... So there we were, VO, Pees on Teenage Small Dogs, Strip My Wood, Sphincter Sicle, Redwing Hoover, AIDS, O God, a couple NFHN hashers, and I bouncing through the palmettos tearing the hell out of our legs and trying to keep up with a trail that had no intersuctions and contractor tape hooked to trees much in the way I would expect a trail laid by Helen Keller. As much as we love some good barbed wire, we had the pleasure of climbing two 6-8 foot barbed wire fences apparently designed to keep people from visiting the Mayo clinic. Much to the dismay of the group of rabid harriers, God was able to scale up and over both barbed wire fence crossings without a single tear in her clothing.
The On~In was located behind the Publix on Hodges. The wayward soul hares neglected to arrange to have the beer brought to the end so the pack spent 30 minutes trying to arrange rides back to the start. The waiting allowed us much time to compare cuts, scrapes, and blood splatters... No Blood, No Trail... This was a trail for sure based on all the blood. After we un-f'd the On~In by returning to the start location, vessels were charged and the religion began. Okinawa Down~Downs were awarded to the hares for their shitty trail and inability to ensure beer was at the On~In, backsliders, birthdays, and of course accusations.
But then it was determined that NFHN Josh deserved to be named... Questions revealed all kinds of interesting tidbits about this Marine who beat the sheiot out of his superior officer, had sex with a Navy guy, masterbates with a sand blaster, while watching his sister get some Hummus. Some great names were tossed around more than a Jax H3 harriette at a weekend campout... But from now on Just Josh will be known as "My Sister Tastes Good"...
On~On to better d'erections to the hashes,
'Cruiter
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