Meandering through the mountains in sweltering heat really sounds like BACK DRAFT thought of this trail—despite the fact that he and the other HARE, SCRATCH & SNIFF blamed me, IMMACULATE MARY, for masterminding this one. We didn't injure anyone on the trail (LA FEMME NICKITA wasn't there)—and there were remarkably few complaints about the terrain! We didn't even lose our newest hasher (despite UP & OUT's efforts with his turquoise chalk), the young (he wishes!), virginal wannabee, No Name Brian. For a new guy, Brian came in from the trail pretty quickly. We'll have to make it more challenging for him next time! The person who arrives to the DOWN DOWN first is called the FRB (Front Running Bastard). It does not matter if this person runs, walks, crawls, parachutes, rappels, or drives to the DOWN DOWN. Once we recognize you as the dishonorable gazelle who arrived first, we sing this really dumb song and make you wear a sweat soaked cap emblazoned with FRB. On this fine occasion, FRUIT LOOP was the first hound to get to the beer. The last person to get to the beer is the DFL. The perspiration encrusted DFL hat was bestowed upon none other than REAR ENDER for her lack of motivation to ply herself with aclohol. There were multitudinous MULTIPLES (okay, I exaggerate, there were only three). FRUIT LOOP and his lovely companion PHOUQUE EWE (excuse the spelling!) each had five runs and are keeping their current names. LI'L WOODY is becoming quite the grizzly old veteran with 10 runs under his belt. (These days, I heard that's the only thing under his belt!) Speaking of LI'L WOODY, we FINALLY got an accusation to stick to him and dubbed him with the MOP SQUEEZER. He received this dishonor because he was whining about the fact that one of my fellow hares, BACK DRAFT, taunted him during the whole second half of the trail. Now, the next award is given to the one hound who has done something truly heinous throughout the course of the event, the HASHIT. We had but one nomination for this dishonor, POPE! It seems that when we all left to run the trail, our trusty religious advisor went to the store to get more ice for the beer (a truly noble enterprise). When he returned, he discovered lightness in his pocket (usually it's in his head cause he's a blond, so this was an odd sensation for him). This lightness was in fact the absence of the hash cash. Fortunately, someone was watching over him and an anonymous customer turned the loot in to the store manager. For this heinous misdeed, however, we requested that POPE kneel and drink from the plunger of doom while we sang a really cool song. (DEEP THROAT's harmonies were particularly touching.) We did the violators—well, we didn't "do" them, but anyway, they were REAR ENDER (using Christian and Moslem names without any regard to hashing propriety), FRUIT LOOP (pointing), DEEP THROAT (Christian names), UP AND OUT (totally misleading the pack on the trail with his turquoise chalk), FILTHY FAUCET FEASTER (for squandering his kitchen pass with whining), PHOUQUE EWE (not coming for a year and a half!), POPE (using the wrong name & no whistle), IMM (no whistle) and F3 again for wearing his dang hat in the circle of life. Whew, and with all those people drinking it was left to two of us to serenade! Oh, and due to that little feeding frenzy of violators, there weren't any non apparents. Finally, we had the bad joke portion of the evening. There were numerous and some funny jokes, but we made PHOUQUE EWE & REAR ENDER imbibe due to the Italian woman and the bunny farts. The post DOWN DOWN was held in (brave) Brian's beautiful home in the Dominion where we watched dogs eat watermelon, soaked ourselves in the Jacuzzi, and put on an eating exhibition with 3 large pizzas.