Mountains out of Mole Hills KMHHH #47

There were around 17 runners and a bunch of dogs on this, the 47^th running of the San Antonio Kiss My Hash House Harriers. Although a virginal HARE, LA FEMME NICKITA did a most excellent job co-haring with me, IMMACULATE MARY, on this four-mile tour of San Antonio’s mountainous terrain. In fact, he did such a good job we didn’t even lose DEEP THROAT! Of course, his wayward pal, DRY HUMP, maintained the tradition of getting lost bigger than shit and was the DFL for this week’s run. Nonetheless, the hounds gave us a thumbs up and we gleefully accepted it after LA Femme returned from searching for DRY HUMP for two hours. (He had run to a completely different park!) We heard most of the trail was pretty uneventful, there were no grumblings despite the treacherous terrain and the rocky stream beds. There were almost no injuries, except for our most graceful hound, MASTER GATOR, strained his ankle on the only stretch of flat ground on the whole trail (maybe he can put one of those expensive throat lozenges on his ankle to soothe the swelling). Even our VIRGINS/TRANSPLANTS (REAR ENDER, JODY, BASTARD BUNNY, & SEX SLAVE) seemed to enjoy the trail. The Front Running Bastard (FRB) was none other than BACK DRAFT—I know that is a big surprise! The MULTIPLES were UP AND OUT (5) & Brad (5). UP AND OUT wanted to maintain his original name since it is still appropriate, but we did get to name Brad on this occasion. It seems Brad has a small deficiency in navigational skills having been around DEEP THROAT for too long. Also, Brad made the unfortunate announcement at the last hash that he doesn’t come in the rain. (I think his wife examined the average annual rainfall for San Antonio before they moved here.) Anyway, because of these two things, we submitted the following names for your disapproval: ZEN MASTER, ZEN JEDI, ZEN REJECT, BONEHEAD, DRY COME, LOST IN SPACE, GPS, & DR. SMITH. But these weren’t good enough, so Brad will now and forevermore be known as DRY HUMP. The MOP SQUEEZER title is awarded to the individual who does the most whining, quibbling, or is just generally obnoxious. There were several nominations, such as, REAR ENDER for whining about money, FILTHY FAUCET FEASTER for going on about his dog, and UP AND OUT for complaining that the trail was "too choppy." However, the recipient of the coveted moldy mop award was BASTARD BUNNY for not paying attention and attempting to make her spousal unit enjoy a beverage for following hash traditions! The VILOATORS were not so multitudinous on this evening, probably due to the excessive time we had to enjoy our beverages while awaiting DRY HUMP’s arrival to the DOWN DOWN. We just asked POPE and BASTARD BUNNY to kindly imbibe in a beer for their heinous violations of hash tradition. The HASHIT was awarded to the person who performed the most vile and anti-hash action of the evening. I was nominated for not being able to hear LA FEMME NICKITA speaking to me on his cell phone from the bottom of a canyon, but that was lame. So we allowed our newly named DFL, DRY HUMP, to assume the position while we sang a really cool song. Those of us who could not find the courage to make an ass of ourselves in front of the pack were recognized through the NON-APPARENTS portion of the evening. SCRATCH N SNIFF, FILTHY FAUCET FEASTER, LI’L WOODY, & PEP BOY partook of a barley & hops beverage. Although darkness set in, and I could no longer take notes, the BAD JOKES were revealed. No Name Jody had a bad hare joke, LA FEMME NICKITA had an old fly in the beer joke (truly a classic), LI’L WOODY had a joke about something which I don’t recall, DEEP THROAT blasphemed our Commander and Chief, SCRATCH N SNIFF told something about flooding and civil defense, but FILTHY FAUCET FEASTER was the winner with the story about the emu. Finally, we all retired to the new GATOR home, where GATOR ATER gave a world class going away party for MASTER GATOR who is going to serve our country in another time zone for four months.