The 16 or so hounds that showed up on this humid July evening were happy to finally reach the mecca of drinkers with a running problem, the DOWN DOWN. There was a bit of a mix up with the trail because of the gigantic chalk arrows on the ground left over from the 5K the previous morning, but fortunately, we were savvy enough (after 15 or so minutes) to realize they weren’t hare arrows. (Hey, no one ever claimed we were a brain trust!) The hares, DEEP THROAT and DRY HUMP, made an excellent effort in keeping us safe from heat exhaustion, they placed H20 (that’s water, Army), beer, and ice along the way for us. However, I believe they owe me and FROOT LOOP a drink, because they bet us if we did not find their make-believe hare arrow, they would allow us to ream them with our usual exuberance—but then took it back! Or maybe we owe them a trip to the violator’s circle? There were no young virginal wannabees, but we did have a namer, finally No Name Matt received his official hash name. There were some very interesting stories about the young naval navigator and his "friend" Lisa, including the time he exposed himself to two men on a bus, when he harfs BEFORE races, and his penchance for anything in a sports bra (as Lisa would say). There were many names submitted for your disapproval: LEAVES HER AT HOME, FLYING SEAMAN, HOMO RECIPTICLE, GALLOPING HORMONE, MEAT GAZER, FORREST HUMP, PAVEMENT PIZZA, HURLING HORMONE, BONOM EXCHANGER, BEN DOVER, etc. But these were not good enough, so we put all the names together (remember, we don’t claim to be a brain trust) and Matt will forever more be known as HORNY HURLING HOMO HORMONE (4H). Our FRONT RUNNING BASTARD this week was LA FEMME NICKITA, who somehow, though his excellent navigational skills (the wife of one of the hares told him) knew how to Zen to the DOWN DOWN. I think our RELIGIOUS ADVISOR, the POPE, was the only one to actually run the entire trail. (And I always accuse him of being a non-navigating bastard! I guess his skills come from all those times when he wouldn’t ask directions.) The last one into the DOWN DOWN is affectionately known as the DFL. Our normally gazelle-like hound, BACK DRAFT, was the last one into the DOWN DOWN this week. Our VIOLATORS were quite numerous, I was bogusly nominated for touching a man’s bottom (4H was coveting my good fortune), DRY HUMP & DEEP THROAT were using Christian names, CAMEL JOCKEY & REAR ENDER were the pointers, DEBBIE for not singing the songs, POPE & 4H for false accusations, and UP & OUT for being a veritable NON-APPARENT. So the 1.4 people left sang to us a really cool song and we went on to the non-apparents portion of the evening. The NON-APPARENTS were PHOQUE EWE, NO NAME PATRICK, AND FRUIT LOOP. Our MULTIPLES were NO NAME MATT (5X), LA FEMME NICKITA (15X) DRY HUMP (10X), and DEEP THROAT (25X). When we performed our WHISTLE & WHIP CHECK, we politely invited POPE, CAMEL JOCKEY, & 4H to partake in a beverage of their liking. The MOP SQUEEZER award was given to BACK DRAFT for incessantly talking to his new British buddy, NO NAME JULIAN. I, Immaculate Mary, was nominated, but the hounds saw the wisdom in choosing BACK DRAFT. Their wisdom, however, did not extend to the awarding of the plunger of doom, the HASHIT. The HASHIT is bestowed upon the hound that performs the most heinous deed throughout the run. DEEP THROAT was nominated for forcing his better half, REAR ENDER to carry his head gear during the run, JULIAN AND BACK DRAFT for their off-key warbling of the hash melodies, and DRY HUMP for his arrow error. However, these reasons were not good enough, so I, IMMACULATE MARY received the pleasure of kneeling and partaking in the frothy concoction of warm fetid crappy Shiner Bock. (We were out of Bud Light.) Finally, we came to the BAD JOKE portion of the evening. PHOQUE EWE told one about a beaver and a duck that I still don’t get to this moment, 4H told of the foreskin, DEEP THROAT had a whale story, but NO NAME JULIAN imbibed in the last of the Shiner Bock for his architect and doctor story.

, IMMACULATE MARY & NO NAME JULIAN, had gone absolutely mad when we said the trail was a little over 3 miles. We had planned a beer/water stop, but POPE was our shag wagon dude and he wasn’t able to make it, so we made do with what we could! However, even BACK DRAFT thought this trail was longer than three miles, which means it must be true. He’s the only man I’ve ever met who UNDERestimates the length of things. So the trail was long, hot, and hilly, and we led some wickedly long bad trails which seemed to trip everyone up—an excellent trail by my standards despite the curmudgeonly crowd giving us a thumbs down!! N thinks the reason the hounds didn’t snare us is because No Name Julian is so pale that they thought he was hash and didn’t bother to sprint to catch up to him. We had several young virginal wannabees on this run, to include: NO NAME JULIAN, NO NAME MATHEW, NO NAME DASH, NO NAME DEBBIE, and NO NAME TIM. The first one in to the DOWN DOWN no matter how much he whines about it, is the FRB, or Front Running Bastard. received the dishonor on this occasion. The last one in to the DOWN DOWN is the DFL (you figure out what the acronym stands for)--the least motivated hound to enjoy a frothy mug of the beverage of their choice. We made it a family affair this time—REAR ENDER was the dishonorable hare to come in last. The MULTIPLE hound of the day was UP AND OUT with 10 runs. The only veteran hound to have a missing blow job was PEP BOY—better see if FILTHY FAUCET FEASTER can give you one of his!!! The HASHIT is awarded to the hound with the most heinous activity during the hash. LI’L WOODY was nominated for volunteering (don’t you learn in the service that you never volunteer for anythying?). SCRATCH N SNIFF was nominated for his directionless directions. These were not good enough, though, so we allowed NO NAME MATT to swill the precious liquid carbohydrates from the plunger of doom for his ability to be a walking hormone, throw beer on the On Sec and multitudinous additional altercations. The MOP SQUEEZER title is presented to the hasher with the most squabbling and quibbling during the Down Down. I was nominated for some bogus charge of not wanting to drink from the plunger of shame, REAR ENDER & CAMEL JOCKEY were nominated for whining up a dangerous hill in front of our minors, and LITTLE WOODY was nominated because he lived up to his name once again and in a jealous rage, chopped the end of the mop off. We didn’t really need to vote at all after LITTLE WOODY dismembered his mop! We were especially pleased to present CAMEL JOCKEY with a whip of her own (she held it as though it was a natural part of her). From now on, she will receive a whip check when we do our whistle check. There were quite a few VIOLATERS, LIL WOODY again, for dismembering his member and then exaggerating its size, FRUIT LOOP for pointing, PHOQUE EWE for favoring only one hormonious hasher with her hug (and spilling his beer), NO NAME TIM for using Christian names, SCRATCH N SNIFF for driving illegally on the trail (?), and BACK DRAFT for not finishing a run in Germany. (Hmmm, I must have really been having a good time, because I don’t have any idea what those last two mean!!) There was only one NON APPARENT and that was our tow-headed hound, NO NAME PATRICK. Whew, there were a lot of really and truly bad jokes by SCRATCH N SNIFF, IMMACULATE MARY, DEEP THROAT, NO NAME MATT, LIL WOODY, FRUIT LOOP, NO NAME JULIAN and more. I think that NO NAME MATT ably drank to enhance his humor ability. Special thanks to our alternate RA, DEEP THROAT, and alternate ON SEC, REAR ENDER for taking excellent and copious notes for me so I didn’t have to do a DANG thing during the DOWN DOWN.