Rehash #106: Cortland TBA


First, there are two things one needs to know about Ass Full of White Man. He does not do YBFs. Oh, maybe once in awhile, but not in general. No. He just lets you run following flour until they suddenly stop and you finally realize it was a false trail. The second thing you should know is that he likes checks. No, maybe that is an understatement—he loves them, is obsessed with them, in a will hug them and squeeze them and call them George kind of way.

With that out of the way, let’s talk about Trail # 106, or TBA. No name, no theme. Just TBA. Yup, TBA in Cortland. Since much of the hash regulars were away on various road trips and the distance to Cortland deterred others, it ended up a pretty small group. We did have some notable visitors with IH3’s Thank You, Cum Again and FCH3’s Harry CockHer.

The fall afternoon had turned out to be quite nice, especially when the sun was out. Seventeen of us milled around the parking lot of Beaudry Park and enjoyed some tasty pre-lube beer. Okay, let’s rephrase that—we drank hash beer. PastorBator called circle together and we did introductions since we had visitors and a lone virgin. Ass Full and Just Lucien gave a chalk talk that was pretty light on flour and details and then we were off.

Or at least until the first check. And then we were on again. Until another check. And on-on into the thorny trail. And checking again. And on-on. No, wait—checking. On-on. And big shocker: checking. There was a false trails thrown in for good measure and an R at the top of a hill, but “Checking from here” was the theme of the day. Trail headed out of the woods and back to the city streets and— surprise, surprise, we were checking again. And then there was a Turkey/Eagle split. Ass Full had said at chalk talk that the Eagle Trail was actually pointless so most of the group followed Turkey, though some wankers ran the Eagle to be overachievers.

After checking a few more times, or more accurately a lot more, we ended up on SUNY Cortland’s campus. One check had us going right past a police car, which though running was fortunately empty. I’m still surprised no one tried to take it for a drive. So back on-on/checking/on-on/checking, etc. We made our way into a cemetery and began ascending. Surely there had to be beer in here? Yes, but not before a few dozen more checks. At last the “Checking” was replaced by the magical sound of “Beer Near!”

We made ourselves comfortable around the Sweetlove family plot. Many of us were resting comfortably on various headstones— though thankfully not as comfortably as the Sweetloves, and enjoyed the lovely views of the Cortland County hills and the beer. It was actually quite a long Beer Near as everyone enjoyed being on Saturday time without worry of fading daylight.

But, alas, the hash had to move on. Ass Full had a special surprise in store. So on-out and towards downtown. The trail was mostly downhill and ended up at the Cortland Beer Company. Everyone got a sampling glass and could choose one beer to taste and have the option to buy more. And this time it was tasty beer. Very tasty indeed. It was pretty cool. Before we left we had a bartender take a group photo by the billboard outside. She thought we were insane and she might be right.

From there it was a straightforward jog back to the On-in, although there was a notable arrow pointing to a sign that read “Tomato Stakes or vampire stakes?” I’m not sure what the right answer was, and though all arrows were true, I am pretty sure no one followed it. There was also some silliness with a mismatched piggy back ride which fortunately injured no one.

At the On-in beers were cracked and everyone circled up. The hares were given down-downs for the ridiculous check-fest. It was also discovered that Ass Full does not follow proper hash form on down-downs—as his beer was not emptied and his head remained dry. The lone virgin was given a pretty lukewarm reception by the five females present. There were other accusations for Ass Full’s lack of down-down etiquette, peeing on trail, tech on trail, and for sitting in a trunk during circle. It was a pretty mellow circle and soon we were going in peace to get a piece, and heading for food and beer at the On-after at Central City Grill. TBA was a good time overall!

Respectfully submitted,

Came with a Fake Name

Rehash #102: Happy Birthday Twin & Triplet Hash


Happy Birthday: F*ck you!
Happy Birthday: F*ck you!
Happy Birthday Dear F*ckWOD!
Happy Birthday: F*ck you!.

We had twins at our hash,
We had twins at our hash,
Doublemint, Wonder, and Siamese,
We had twins at our hash.

Chalk talk made no sense,
Chalk talk made no sense,
The hares made up random checks,
Chalk talk made no sense.

Down a hill to the woods,
Down a hill to the woods,
First Beer Near in the woods,
Down a hill to the woods.

Some people fell in the creek,
Some people fell in the creek,
And by some people I mean F*ckWOD,
Some people fell in a creek.

Through the shiggy we ran,
Through the shiggy we ran,
To the Jameson Shot Check,
Through the shiggy we ran.

It was getting quite dark,
It was getting quite dark,
As we wheelbarrowed twins,
It was getting quite dark.

Yes some people ran up a hill,
Yes some people ran up a hill,
Just to roll back down a hill,
Yes some people ran up a hill.

Games at the second Beer Near,
Games at the second Beer Near,
Whipped cream and bubble gum,
Games at the second Beer Near.

A shitty trail was set,
A shitty trail was set,
You should never trust Tweedle,
A shitty trail was set.

Virgins came to our hash
Virgins came to our hash
Hello baby, Dear Virgins
Virgins came to our hash

Accusations were made,
Accusations were made,
No twins, racists and Tweedles,
Accusations were made.

(deep breath here)

Just Susan and Just Becca are gone,
Just Susan and Just Becca are gone,
Hello Deep in the South and Anne Frank Spank,
Just Susan and Just Becca are gone.

The hash went in peace,
The hash went in peace,
To get a piece at Pizza Man,
The hash went in peace.

Respectfully submitted,
Respectfully submitted,
By Came with a Fake Name,
Respectfully submitted.

Rehash #100: A Non-Fictional Novel


Chapter 1: 100th Hash
by FuckWOD

As the hares and a small contingent of hashers returned from dropping off cars at the on after location, hashers started to show up left and right dressed in their best lingerie and stripper clothes at the Inn Complete on South Campus of Syracuse University. While FuckWOD collected hash cash, Tweedle Me was given the task of writing 100 on the unexpecting hashers in various locations. She utilized this opportunity to draw a giant penis on Spermislide’s back and he returned the favor by giving Tweedle Me her own penis to sport throughout the hash. Kickstand also provided the hashers with temporary tattoos and PO was passing out beads for all hasher to wear that would come into play later.
As hashers like Rectal Retriever and Spermislide showed up in their best lingerie, circle was called to order by Slip and Swallow. As virgins were introduced to the typical hash marks, they were also introduced to at least one new one a POPC, apparently a PO picture check. Then Slip announced we would all be given one additional tag that we would be known by for the rest of the day. Since this hash was all about the 100 ways to DO IT…they were all tags with pictures and names of various sexual positions. Some of these were well known ones including reverse cowgirl, while some were more interesting like Fleshlight receiving The Slip, which Golden Snowball did not appreciate because apparently Fleshlight would have to do Slip the rest of the hash. Circle ended with PO announcing that he had some “clean” boxers (because they had tags on them still) to give to the last hasher to sign in (Kneegina), the 6th hasher to sign in (Dr. Camel Shrinker), and the 9th hasher to sign in (Upper Decker Wrecker).
Once the laughter and revelry from circle was finishing up, the hashers started to head out on trail and ran past some SUNY ESF freshman that seemed quite confused about seeing people running past in lingerie, but they had no time to ask questions. As we ran through the ropes course on SU’s campus, we ran past many more ESF students, including one who apparently thought it would be appropriate to videotape us on his cell phone. Luckily, he cut the video just before too much incrimination could be obtained. Magical Dickslit even showed his gentimanly ways by asking this random student to not take any more photos of the group just before some of the more scantily clad ran by.
As trail got away from the ropes course, we ran deeper into the woods behind South Campus, the hash crashes and sliding down hills started as the FRBs too hashers down trails without marks and one of the longest falses ever set by the hairs. When we had finally realized what happened, we ended up back on trail and at our first beer near behind the Skytop Building. As the merriment commenced, hashers started to notice that Tweedle Me and Spermislide were missing. This was not unexpected but concerning as we knew that there were people setting up the Juice Jam concert right nearby. As the virgins were being entertained and Tweedle You started a war by secretly putting briars all over Kneegina, who proceeded to use those briars against Tweedle Me and other harrierettes by putting them on their nipples and throwing them around. As this finished, the announcement was made that whomever had the most beads by the end of the hash would win a great prize from PO. This caused a couple harrierettes to use whatever means necessary to get beads away from the harriers as quickly as possible. One even walked around and showed every harrier she saw her boobs to get their beads. As we were about to leave the first beer near, Tweedle Me and Spermislide returned to announce that they had mooned the concert workers and that Spermislide would have to see them the next day since he would be working Juice Jam. This made for a very funny run by the Juice Jam area, especially since Spermislide was now sporting a leaf to cover up a big hole he obtained in his stripper clothes he was wearing.
As we headed off back into the woods in search of our second BN, the group started to split up a bit between the FRBs, the walkers, and the DFLs. The group caught back quickly with each other just before entering the woods due to an unexpected clothing swap and a picture opportunity with many of the harriers deciding to switch clothes with harrieretts. This left many harriers with too many body parts hanging out or showing. JackOff obtained Shits and Spits underwear, while FuckWOD decided against putting on Tweedle Me’s dress for fear of ripping it. This did not stop Turtle Dick, however, who got into Tweedle Me’s dress with the help of a few of his friends. As he got the dress on, he realized that the brown bra he was wearing would potentially be a problem, so they tried to work it off of him without having to take the dress off. Needless to say that bra could not be worn again without a lot of saggage. As the DFLs from the clothing exchange approached the champagne stop, the champagne had already been consumed, but saw the other hashers hanging out by a quarry and throwing rocks. At the bottom of this quarry was Dry Spell playing with some rocks, while trying to avoid being hit by other rocks thrown by Bushey and other harriers who were having fun at Dry Spell’s expense, to create a penis and the statement I love SOH4. Some hashers commented on the shape of the penis he was creating saying the balls and head were huge but there was no shaft. They also commented on his use of stool to “mimic” cum. Most harriers stated that just looked more painful than cumlike. Finally, we saw him trying to pull bushes out of the ground so he could make the balls harrier, but he seemed to be having trouble. Tweedle Me and JackOff decided to come to his rescue. First, Tweedle started going after the same bushes Dry Spell could not pull out the ground, so instead she decided to help him just grab other plants to use in their place. JackOff then intervened and distracted the Tweedle with things going on further down in another part of the quarry and off they went. As the hashers noticed some onlookers, they decided it would be a good time to take off back into the woods.
In short order, the hashers found beer near number two in an old, abandoned garage. What most hashers neglected to notice the wide open door they could use, most decided to climb between the rungs that used to hold the glass. Except for one harrier, who now looked very fashionable in his newly acquired dress. Pom Pilot, thought it would be extremely appropriate to break apart the runs so he would not have to bend over and show off his ass to the world. That is when people finally noticed the door and started to laugh. As beer was being consumed, PO and Utica Chub ran off to start getting things ready for ending circle and the on after. When the virgin hare Pastorbator finally called on out to start locating the on after, all the hashers left quickly because they knew there was more beer to be consumed and some fun to be had. The final leg of trail had them come across a NYS DOT area, where they had to climb over a fence or climb around a fence to get around to get back on trail. Two things were noticed near this fence. The first being the lovely video camera sitting right near the bridge probably taping everyone as they ran by and the giant no trespassing sign on the gate that also had the POPC in front of it. We took our picture and realized it was on in from there to Candie’s where we would have the on after.
Captain, Fakey, and a couple other bobbits joined us for ending circle where the traditional accusations were made and the subsequent down downs doled out. Near the end of circle, PO was given the reigns by RA Slip and Swallow to first figure out who had collected the most beads. Analyze This and Water Pussy were called into circle to have their beads counted. As this was happening, hashers were running into circle to add their beads to each contestant’s collection. Since it was too close to call, the hash decided that this needed to be settled on the pole inside. Yes, the bar has a stripper pole for patrons to use. It was just about the time that the clientel of Candie’s started to become intrigued by what was going on outside their bar. To end our circle PO wanted to recognize a few of the hashers for helping keep the hash alive after he moved away. He called OTD, Slip and Swallow, Golden Snowball, and Pink Penalty. He gave them all special prizes and the hash went off to get a piece. A piece of juicy steak purchased by PO and to get beer from the beer fountain.
The on after was filled with revelry and merriment. The focus of the night is who would be the most entertaining on the stripper pole. People like CWOP, OTD, and Assfault were all very entertaining. However, I think the winner of the stripper pole challenge had to be Cummando Cobbler, who just so happened to be wearing Shits and Spits underwear under his kilt. Knowing what the entire hash saw that night, I am sure Shits will have to wash those if she ever wants to wear them again because as the hashers who were watching the entertainment saw, Cummando had a little bit of trouble keeping it all packed into the underwear.
The beer was a flowing and the food was plentiful, all in all, the hash definitely got a good piece and good memories for its 100th hash.

Chapter 2: In which the beer runs out twice.
by Fleshlight

As the night fell clothes were replaced, the keg slowly emptied, and, perhaps most tragically, the stripper pole was removed. Slowly without alcohol and strippers a discontent fell upon the revelry. While some plotted a return to civilian life others directed their efforts towards finding the mythical “Irish Festival” an unexplored mecca of Guinness, loud noises, and possible shenanigans.
Among these brave souls venturing to find more beer on the magical streets of Syra-Cruz were Fleshlight the Vigilant, Kicky the Upstanding, Snowball the Shiny, Lips Dick the Brave, Kneegina the Moist, JackOff the Drunk, Camel the able to carry lots of water, and Turtle the guy that apparently made out with Pastor the Also Drunk. As the fellowship held counsel and discussed their plans to sally forth, Sir Kneegina exchanged pleasantries with the local muggle population.
Their leader, an unnamed matriarch sook to understand the ways of hashers which were heretofore foreign to her people and the two quickly built a rapport. “Why bother running?” she asked, “could you not simply drink your beer at the bar? To me these ‘hares’ you speak of seem a devious lot hiding your beer rather than bringing the coolers to a simple porch or even a picnic table”.
“Ah, such is the holiest of hash mysteries”, Kneegina responded knowingly, “Long ago our forefathers drank too heavily from the font of life. They found life meaningless without its nourishing fluids and so as they drank more they only developed a greater thirst. Such it was that the font began to run dry because everyone was drunk and didn’t bother brewing more beer. The Hash Gods grew fearful that such unchecked consumption would bring about a dark age of sobriety when the great keg in sky finally kicked. And so the Goddess Genny placed a curse upon all the peoples of the earth that after drinking too much they would experience headaches, fatigue, thirst, nasea, poor or decreased sleep, increased sensitivity to light and sound, dizziness or a sense of the room spinning, rapid heartbeat, red bloodshot eyes, shakiness, decreased ability to concentrate, and according to the Mayo Clinic mood disturbances, such as depression, anxiety and irritability.”
The muggle chieftain’s eyes stared into Kneegina’s fascinated by his tale, “So it is that we hashers run each Monday (Saturdays in the winter) to rid ourselves of this curse and in doing so work up a good thirst and, in dedication of our forefathers, satisfy it in beer.”
In relaying his tale, Kneegina had lost track of time and was surprised to be interrupted by Fleshlight and Snowball, “We must journey forth as much of our company has already departed”. As they gathered their wits and bid farewell to the remaining hashers the muggle chieftain took her leave from the bar accompanied by her noble warriors and was soon lost to view in the exodus happening around them.
Finally, the remaining members of the “Irish Fest” fellowship had bid their farewell and set out. The scamp Kneegina had one more trick to play. He approached the door of the nearest car and threw it asunder hoping no doubt to see some titties or at the least a penis. Alas, it was the muggle chieftain’s door! Her warriors fell upon him with such suddenty that the valiant chieftain could not stop them before the brave Kneegina was sodomized several times. When they were finally reigned in she apologized thoroughly and wished the hashers farewell.
Armed with the muggle chieftain’s favor the final chariot traveled with unexpected ease out of the misty meth forest and reached the sparkling square of Clinton where they quickly subdued the beer tent and acquired the mythic spirit of Guinness. In short order the fellowship reformed about the sound tent, discovered new compatriots, Lady Anal of the bitchy face, and Dry Spell of crooked nose and the festivities resumed. Guinness was consumed by all.
But as even the cheapest of hookers eventually catch herpes, all parties must come to an end and such was the case with the Irish Fest. As the crowd dispersed the company retreated (along with some free beer) to the nearby Penny Pub to, of course, drink more. This time the honorable Fleshlight was waylaid in conversation with another of the muggle tribe.
They lingered long at this street corner trading tales of their exploits with the muggle as the hashers were not yet finished with their beer. Although more was forgotten of their conversation than was remembered one exchanged became lodged in Fleshlight’s head. “Do you like porn?”, the muggle asked. Before, Fleshlight could respond, the muggle continued, “I love porn, especially stuff with strapons. I once met Richard Gere’s Brother at Adult World.” This time Fleshlight interjected, “Why, do they have hamsters there?” he blurted stupidly but was again ignored. The Muggle continued unfazed “At least he said he was Richard Gere’s brother, but who knows right.” As Fleshlight’s attention wandered it was shaken back when the muggle uttered the phrase “I guess he never gets hangovers somehow”.
“What do you mean he never gets hangovers?”
“Say have you ever-”
“Dammit man! Listen to me” Fleshlight’s eyes were lit with apprehension. “What affront to the gods is this!” He stepped forward meaning to grasp the muggle’s lapel. Screaming now, “What do you know of this man!”. Suddenly, a beggar rounded the corner and pushed his shopping cart between Fleshlight and the muggle. In the confusion of denying that he had any change and offering alms of half of a beer to the homeless man he lost sight of the muggle in the crowd and suddenly Fleshlight was alone on the moonlit corner without answers and with a sinking hopelessness growing in his chest.
Surely it was impossible, no one could drink all he wanted and evade the effects of Genny’s curse. It was more power than any man could wield. Without repercussion surely such a man would consume all of the alcohol in the world leaving it a barren sober wasteland. Such a thing cannot be true.
When he arrived at the bar he relaxed and assured himself that the man was surely a bedlamite and not to be trusted. Surely only madmen like porn with strapons after all.
Soon Fleshlight was returned to his normal chipper state as Jack Off said, “Hey, nice hair I owe you a shot.” The two took their shots and joyously greeted Gay Steve and Gay Steve’s Brother.

Chapter 3: In which a crucial decision must be made and vomit is produced
by Fleshlight

After a rousing rendition of the National Anthem (why is that on the jukebox) Fleshlight retreated to the outdoors hoping to clear his mind of the night’s events and so when Gays Steve’s brother offered him a smoke he was happy to accept.
Upon inhaling the fetid vapor Fleshlight felt his consciousness fade and a peace washing over him. Suddenly, however, as if coming from the concrete itself a hand dragged him by the hair into the cold pavement. Pain flashed through his mind like a hot iron locomotive. A second hand reached out and pulled him deeper, through the concrete. The sharp pain faded quickly as he tumbled down into a fleshy pink abyss. A brief look upward showed the Penny he knew engulfed by an oval shaped orifice shrink as he fell deeper into its depths.
Either the hole was very deep or he was falling very slowly for fleshlight had plenty of time to take in his surroundings. He was too inebriated to wonder what was going on. First he looked down and was satisfied that he would not immediately collide with the bottom of whatever this pit was. He then looked to either side and noticed that they were made of a smooth pink fleshy substance which was excreting a curious smelling fluid. He reached out and brushed his hand on the wall which reacted with a slight quiver and the entire cave contracted momentarily.
“Well!” Fleshlight thought to himself. “After such a fall as this I shall think nothing of crashing at a hash. How brave they’ll think me at SOH4!”. He continued thinking in such a vein until he presently landed on a soft pulpy cushion not a bit hurt. Blinking his eye’s he would have been happy to sleep there forever if it weren’t for his piqued curiosity. He first took account of the room (if that was a proper description at all) he had landed in. He was lying in a sunken area along the circular wall of the pit. Atop the hill in the middle was a narrow opening in the floor almost totally sealed by its own elasticity. He tried to squeeze through by pressing both fists through the opening and pulling outwards, but the hole was much too strong and resisted his entry.
Perhaps there were others holes? The room was quite large and Fleshlight walked the whole circumference looking into every corner finding no place to go at all. He walked sadly back to the middle wondering how he was ever to get out again. Suddenly he spotted a little three legged table in the middle of the room. “Curious, I was certain that I hadn’t seen that before”, Fleshlight said aloud. On top of the table was a single perfectly ripe peach with a sign that said “Eat Me”. Fleshlight thought this a bit strange and was hesitant to eat an unknown fruit, especially one he found near the Penny, “Who knows where this one has been”, but since he had no other ideas he plunged the wet fruit into his mouth and drank its sweet nectar.
This act made Fleshlight very excited and with juices dripping down his face he began to masturbate with reckless abandon. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself”, said Fleshlight “a deviant you are, to go on masturbating this way. Stop this moment I tell you!”. But Fleshlight went on masturbating and masturbating, but he went on all the same shedding gallons of semen on the floor.
Finally he got tired as sperm number 178,895,362 escaped his urethra and began swimming towards the tight hole in the center of the room. As Fleshlight collapse exhausted in the corner of the room #178,895,362 plunged down into a second abyss.
#178,895,362, more courageous than Fleshlight plunged ahead into the wet cavern ahead of (him, her?). There was no time to examine chromosomes, the semen race was on! Ahead there was marked out a sort of race course, but with no direction specified. Small dots on the ground were the only source of direction with occasional crosses and BN’s. Semen was scattered about here and there along the course. There was a quick On-On which seemed to signify the start of the race, but they all began swimming when they liked and left off when they liked. It was not easy to determine when the race was over. But after a time they all stopped to partake of some Genny Cream Ale. The most Jewish of the sperms began swimming off before the rest had finished their delicious beverages, but it did not matter for everyone was having a splendid time.
This proceeded for some time until #178,895,362, who was now very drunk on the Cream wandered away from the group. A bit confused he/she discovered in the far wall, much removed from the entrance there were two doors both made of the same flesh substance leading in opposite directions. Between the two doors stood a tall figure with the stubble of a not so recently shaved beard. He was dressed in a green gown and held a sprig of barley in his right hand.
“I am the Goddess Genny,” he proclaimed. #178,895,362 was in awe at the sight of the best beer ever in person. “You are now faced with a choice little sperm! To your left is an egg predisposed to drinking to excess and having lots of fun. If you take this path you will find much happiness, but also many hangovers. To the right is an egg which will grow to drink in moderation. This path will lead you to joy in watching your friends get drunk and make fools of themselves, and you will not have hangovers.”
Sperm #178,895,362 became confused and hesitated long before asking the Goddess Genny, “Is there a way to have both. I want to both drink in excess and be free of hangovers!”
Genny smiled and laughed a bit at the sperm’s stupidity. “Such a thing is impossible people who claim that they don’t have hangovers just don’t drink enough. They are little fakers who pretend to get drunk for attention, but really stop after only a few beers”.

8 Hours later Fleshlight blinked his eyes in the bright sunlight and realized that he was still on the street corner next to the Penny. It had all been a dream, but he wasn’t worried anymore for he knew that Richard Gere’s brother was just a little faker. Then he threw up.

Respectfully Submitted,
FuckWOD and Fleshlight

Rehash #97: Let’s Get Lei’d


She had been imagining this moment as long as she was a hasher. It should have been special. And yet when it was all over, she was left feeling disappointed, betrayed, and used. This is the story of Porn Free’s first lay.

The bright eyed virgin showed up to set trail with Came with a Fake Name—forever to be remembered as the one who stole her virginity. Butt Her Balls also had a hand in the deflowering. It was a beautiful day, the theme was so romantic—Hawaii. There would be drinks, food, and games. She had made special shots and was ready to do it!

Setting trail was a long arduous process—so much more complicated than Porn Free expected. She thought it was going to be so easy and natural. Was Fakey even doing this right? But she had to trust her. Still, she was hopeful that the first lay would turn out alright.

It took a long time to set trail and they got back to prelube late where her hash virgin had been waiting only to find angry hashers deprived of beers that was still locked away in Porn Free’s car. And there were so many of them—not the mere 35 that Meetup had promised. Could she handle that many? It was so overwhelming. It was awkward, but soon the beer was flowing and everyone could relax a little and just let things happen naturally. Then the beer ran out and things got a little tense again.

Everyone was antsy and things were a little slow to start as Chalk Talk was delayed while the Beer Near coolers were dropped off. The mood wasn’t right. When Chalk Talk finally started, they tried to reset the mood, and then the hash was off like a prom dress. At that moment Butters reminded Fakey that they had no snacks to satisfy the hungry masses, so she went to pick some up leaving Porn Free to fend for herself.

It was a fast bunch for sure with Dry Spell leading the way. They blew past false trails and found true trail easily and soon arrived at the shot check. Why couldn’t they slow down and enjoy this? Where was the slow build up? The thirty-five lovingly prepared pudding shots were rapidly consumed and empty plastic cups discarded before Porn Free even arrived. And the first Lei Check, a scavenger hunt of leis on a playground, were snatched up without thought or regard for the effort it had taken Porn Free to carefully place them. She felt so used.

But it was okay. All was not lost. There was still a lot of trail. It could still be special. Or at least Porn Free hoped.

Trail continued and the FRB’s blazed along and tore through another Lei Check with wild abandon. The only thing that slowed them down was a BJ Check. Fakey had convinced Porn Free that a BJ was a great idea for her first time. Who doesn’t love that? Upper Decker was the first FRB and dutifully blew and blew. The hash got restless. When would the DFLs finally come? Eventually they arrived—a pair of Tweedles. At last Upper Decker and the Tweedles could finally swallow the shots.

And then they were off again. The hash was getting cranky. There weren’t enough shots, trail was too long, where were the Beer Nears? So much complaining. And they hadn’t even arrived at the R-9. But alas, after the Reverse everyone was on their way to the First Beer Near at the Westcott Reservoir. Finally Pron Free could relax a little with the hash satisfied by the promise of beer.

And then Butters water balloon assault started. A lot of people were surprised to get so wet—not everyone gets that wet their first time. Porn Free was going with it. And the group began to relax and had fun. They played some more Hawaiian trivia, took a group photo in the form of a giant penis—all good stuff. And then the Po-po were sighted. Oh, this could not be happening.

So the group quickly picked up their scattered remants of debauchery and grabbed the coolers and scrambled out of the park. The mood had changed. The spark was gone. The group became very spread out and disconnected. No one stopped for the Playground Check. Everyone just wanted this to be over.

At last everyone ended up at the second Beer Near. The vibe was coming back, the mood improving. There was more Hawaiian Trivia, cookies, and orange food and no one had been arrested yet. But then Wet Nurse pointed out that Porn Free was nowhere to be found. What had happened to our Virgin Hare? Had it all been too much? At the On-in Porn Free was located. She had gone to make sure there was beer. She was not leaving her first time to chance—it was time for her to take control.

Circle commenced as darkness fell and the hares received appropriate down-downs for all of the mistakes—not enough shiggy, not enough shots, not enough beer. Oh the humiliation. And virgins were welcomed and accusations were made. And Just Cory, in his condom lei, was nominated for naming. After a very messy welcome, he is forever known as Spermislide.

And at the end of the night, after the rowdy hash moved to the On-after at Tully’s (a chain restaurant to add insult to injury), the empties had been loaded in her car, amid piles of beer soaked flour, condom wrappers, and remnants of cheap plastic leis, Porn Free was no longer a virgin hare.

It had to get better, right?

 

Respectfully submitted,

Came with a Fake Name

Rehash #96: The Children of the Corn Roll in the Hay Campout


Trail #96 was less of a trail and more of an event. Ass Full of White Man and the entire Ass Full family welcomed half-minds and wankers to their Homer farm for a good ‘ole fashioned camp out. The day began around 1:00 with hashers setting up tents and pre-lubing on the keg of Cortland Pale Ale. Butters and Slip both brought apartment sized tents and there was a bit of comedy associated with the set up of hers. Dogs were frolicking and hashers were drinking: a perfect start to the festivities.
Chalk Talk was short and meaningless as usual. The useful bits of information was that there would be 3 beers nears and a shot stop and was closer to four miles, rather than eight like last year. So far it sounded promising. It was also pointed out that Trail #96 is just a reverse 69.

So On-out and around the pond and through the woods—very thorn filled woods, I might add. And down by a corn field and into the woods again and right through a stream. The slick rocks may have caused some hash crashes and there was already a lot of blood on trail. After a bit the hash found the shot check—a delightful Mud Slide shot. Father Ass Full—aka Just Dan, informed us that the collapsing building was an old sugar shack. There was what was reported to be an electric barbed wire fence. After much debate as to whether or not it was really live, Bushy grabbed it and after a moment of surprise, indeed confirmed it to be a live electric fence.

And then we were On-out again and heading on hare. Pink Taco stopped to forage some mint along the way. We crossed the street into the back yard of the Ass Full Family Homestead where Mother Ass Full was watching the shenanigans from her deck. We passed the crate in the woods that was speculated to be young Ass Full’s Time Out spot and then it was on to more woods and streams, but things were about to get interesting.

The trail headed right into a corn field. Following flour was a bit of a challenge, but fortunately the hares had been merciful and used a lot of arrows to guide the half-minds. After many twists and turns pushing along blindly through the thick corn, hashers found daylight. Slip and Fakey may have been a little overly excited and were seen hugging and jumping up and down with joy and relief. And then it was more running. All of this running and where was the beer???

Into the woods and down a slope with the aid of a rope—and half-way down was the first Beer Near. Some folks stayed up on the slope with their beers and some continued down to enjoy the refreshing beverage along a refreshing stream. Butters amused himself by filling his bugle with water and playing it. There were also some nice conversations about water borne illnesses. Although it was a picturesque spot, the hash had to move on. There were still two more beer nears and an evening of debauchery ahead.

The hash waded through the stream following flour and back into the woods onto old roads. Eventually we returned to open fields and a trail of pink flags that led us into another corn field. I cannot say if there were marks but somehow everyone came out alive next to a big hay barn. The DFL pack had a little trouble finding the group—they could hear them, but not find a way to them.

Luckily Just Dan was the sweep and led them into the barn and to the ladder to the hay loft. Selfie’s dog, Just Riley, was having some anxiety on her first hash and being hoisted up the ladder by PA certainly did not help. But alas, all half-minds, both two-legged and four-legged made it to the top of the loft for Beer Near number two. There was a minor catastrophe when hashers climbing the bale town dislodged some and there was a mini collapse. The acoustics in the loft were prefect for singing so Slip led us in a rousing “Meet the Hashers.”

But there was still more trail ahead and another Beer Near, so we had to leave the hay loft. Out of the barn and into the daylight. The hash went through a backyard and met some more of Ass Full’s family. The cousins would not give ATV rides no matter how much the half-minds wanted. And then in was more woods and fields, and we ended up at the final Beer Near—in a hay wagon. The hash piled in and Father Ass Full—aka Just Dan—drove us up the hill to the camping area. We waved at the neighbors and the llamas along the way.

Back at the camping area we circled up and went through the usual accusations—peeing on trail, lots of blood on trail, cum latelies—renamed “Long time no cummers,” out-of-towners, and other silliness and nonsense. Then the real fun began: naming.

Just Dan was called into the circle and questioned. He was very animated and gave some entertaining responses that gave the group plenty to work with. Then Just Mark was questioned and was slightly less forthcoming. After Just Mark was sent away, Slip interviewed Just Dan about Just Mark. Description won’t do it justice, but there is video floating around out there. As the hash deliberated, cousin Just Eric spoke up and shared a story about Just Mark (isn’t family great?) and the hash had their name for Just Mark! So with great ceremony, PastorBator called Just Dan and Just Mark back into the circle. They were ceremoniously welcomed and shall forever be known as Daddy Cornhole and Danga Wuss.

From there the real merriment ensued. There was swimming in the pond and an attempt to set the world record for Most-Wankers-On-A Raft. There was fire and plenty of food and drink. As the drink got more plenty, so did the silliness and hashers could be heard making merry well into the wee hours.

On-farm life is fucking awesome-on

Respectfully submitted,

Came with a Fake Name

Rehash #91: Toga! Toga! Toga!


Trail #91 was another reminiscence hash. SOH4 returned to Ahern’s so that Shark Week and Morning Glory Hole could celebrate their analversary together. Fleshlight and Cummando Cobbler helped them with their virgin lay. Yep, those crazy kids waited a whole year to lay a trail!

The evening started in typical chaotic fashion—no beer, no hares, no RA and people milling about in togas. Just a regular Monday night in Syracuse for half-minds. There were plenty of virgins and some visitors from Ithaca and Flour City. It was also a rare sighting of Tits McSmart who was able to break out of her office and have some fun. The night almost became a real Greek tragedy before the hash ever got started when Puddle Humper was nearly backed over by a truck. Thanks to the sharp eyesight and quick footwork of Pocket Full of Lube the disaster was averted.

And boy, do these wankers know how to toga! While traditional white was certainly well represented, the hash was not afraid to show some creativity (as if that’s a surprise!). Slip, Upper Decker, and Puddle Humper wore a matching zebra striped ensemble. Turtle Dick and Dr. Camel Shrinker wore sheer curtains—hers in white, his in pink! The word diaphanous came to mind, which Tits thought might be too many syllables for half-minds. Pink Penalty sported a Mexican poncho toga—perfect for a humid summer evening. Mudman’s toga had Toy Story characters and nearly every color of the rainbow was represented. Perhaps the most authentic was Pastorbator in a deep purple toga, rumored to be a color reserved for royalty, and a crown of vines.

Cummando led chalk talk, which was surprisingly coherent and legible, and after the legal disclaimer the hash was On-out! The hash headed down Split Rock Road where cars driving by were curious about the toga-clad runners. As we found a check the correct path seemed to be down a dead end road. Just Lyle noted that it was S & M-Oral Road, so of course we had to go that way. Soon we were running through a narrow path that smelled strangely like…..catnip. But alas, it was a false trail.

Running around an old stone quarry meant there were some nicely “paved” trails. The hash was pretty hot and sweaty now, so arriving at the first Beer Near was a welcome stop. After some refreshment the hash had a Turkey-Eagle split. There was more running and sweating but the reward was eventually found at the Shot Check with fruity jello shots! And then that running thing happened again and we ended up at the old stone crusher and a picture check. The wankers wasted no time climbing up to enjoy the view.

And then the next series of events went something like this:

What? This was a Beer Near too? But where is the beer? Wait? Say what? The beer is at the bottom? No problem, you say? Genital Manager and his beefy virgin will throw it to us? Perfect, how could that go wrong? Wait, WTF are you aiming at? (*sound of exploding beer cans hitting rock crusher*)Hey, stop you’re wasting beer! Seriously! Stop it now.

Eventually everyone ended up with beer. And the hash learned a very important lesson…big does not mean that you can aim for shit. Yep, that’s what she said.

From there it was Turkey up or Eagle down. Most elected to Eagle and from there it was a pretty quick jog bag to the On-in. Oh wait, that’s almost true. For some people it was a short and clean little stroll. For those who ended up behind GM and his beefy virgin it ended up a dirty affair—a mud puddle smack dab in the middle of the trail. Very few escaped this encounter clean.

The hash circled up back at Ahern’s and welcomed the hares to circle. And by hares I mean Cummando as the others were MIA. So Cummando took down-downs for a shitty trail and then virgins were welcomed. The ladies were welcomed a little too aggressively by Just AJ, who nearly tackled them and the beefy virgin had more male “Hello Babies” than female. Altogether a fine welcome to hashing. And down-downs for r*cist talk, out of towners, wasting beer (talking to you, beefy virgin), and other assorted offenses.

And then the topic of naming came up. It was time to name Just Dee and Just Crystal. And by Crystal I mean Casey. Just Dee was the first victim. She answered a series of questions and was probably relieved that her sister did not share any embarrassing stories (unlike another sister in the hash). And then names were discussed. And then Just Casey received the same treatment and when they were welcomed back to circle Just Dee and Just Casey were no more and Wet Nurse and Porn Free were welcomed to SOH4. And then the hash went in peace to get hopefully get a piece.

At the On-after food was ordered, beer was consumed, and life was generally good. Happy analversary, Shark Week & Morning Glory Hole. May you get a piece for many years to cum.

Respectfully submitted,

Came with a Fake Name

Rehash #88: Red Dress Hangover Hash


SOH4’s 88th trail was the Red Dress Hangover Hash. Saturday’s RDR debauchery provided plenty of inspiration for the theme, yet surprisingly very few came dressed—even with the promise of prizes. Slip wore her husband’s red dress (how often does a girl get to do that?) and Pocket Full of Lube pinned some aspirin packets to his shirt. Mostly everyone just looked like they were still hungover.
The hares were Snidely , Just Lyle, and Just Crystal. It was a return for Snidely to an area he had previously set an infamous trail—like shigtastic and long ass, and something about train tracks…?

It was ridiculously hot and humid at the start of trail. Chalk talk was held and there were no virgins that I can recall, but Flour City’s Virginator was visiting. Marks were the usual array of “WTF is that?” and some random splotches. Captain transferred the Shovel of Shame to Bushy for his pitch fork wielding at the previous trail. That would later prove to be an unwise choice, as one might imagine.

Half-minds had been warned about a shiggy trail and to bring a change of clothes, but it wasn’t sufficient warning! It was wet. Did I mention it was wet? And BTW, it was wet. I mean wet….like shin deep (thigh if you’re UC and ankle if you’re Vagiant) and went on and on and on. And wet too. Do I stutter? It was wet.

No, it was not a dry trail.

After awhile as half minds slogged on, they became immune to the stench of the mucky water and stopped thinking about the things lurking below the surface. And what is the appropriate thing to do in the middle of a long, wet slog through putrid water? Why a clothing swap, of course. So while amidst the swampy woods clothing came off and was exchanged.

Mercifully the trail did not enter the railroad tracks—although that might have been dry— and just squished along. Meanwhile Bushy discovered the fun that could be had with a shovel—oh the trees that could be knocked over and the rocks that could be hit. Safety was not just third, it was more like 33rd. Miraculously no one was actually injured.

The two beers nears and a shot stop—appropriately some wicked spicy Bloody Mary’s—helped to cure the ailments of the half-minds and make them forget their hot, wet, smelly selves. At least for the moment. There may have been some dry sections of trail, but I barely remember them. The overall impression of trail was, in a word: wet. Sweet relief would come at the On-in at Beginnings II where there was a hose for washing off. Grateful hashers lined up to hose of the muck and slime and cool off before putting on dry clothes.

And then circle began. Hares were given the appropriate love and respect for the delightful trail. And by delightful, I mean shitty and by love and respect, I mean down-downs. And did I mention that it was a wet trail? Yup, in case you didn’t hear, it was a wet trail. W.E.T.

And now maybe my memory fails me—maybe there was a virgin…I actually don’t know. (Write the stupid rehashes sooner, Fakey, and this wouldn’t happen!). If there was, we appropriately serenaded them and guided them through the welcoming ritual. And then a host of other accusations and down-downs were doled out—blood, peeing, come latelys, hash crashes, yada yada. Down-downs were done and lnow ips were wet. And then the subject of a naming came up.

Just Theresa, often affectionately known as Baby Slip, had not managed to avoid the final circle like usual. So it was declared that this rare opportunity would not be wasted. She was grilled by the hash and asked an assortment of probing questions and sent off to wonder about her fate while the hash discussed and deliberated. It was actually a very heated discussion with some very good choices being tossed about. But when all was said and done, Just Theresa was no more and Shits & Spits was welcummed to the hash.
Then the hash went in peace to hopefully get a piece. The On-after was at Beginnings II where wings and beverage were enjoyed and new hangovers were created.

Respectfully submitted,

Came with a Fake Name

Rehash #87: SOH4 2nd Anal Red Dress Run


I watched a snail crawl along the edge of a straight razor. That’s my dream. That’s my nightmare. Crawling, slithering, along the edge of a straight razor . . . and surviving.

Over 50 of the sexiest hashers ever to wear a red dress gathered at the Penny on a Saturday afternoon. After receiving even sexier soh4 red dress socks as hab, prelubing, and a nice presentation by a rep from Vera House, it was time for chalk talk where hares Drinks, Turtle, Camel, and OTD provided explanation of several new symbols. Though the hares were tired and drunk by then, so it was probably incoherent but hey at least trail was set in rainbow chalk! And then we were on out!

Which lasted up to the second check. Which hashers blew right past. And then assumed they weren’t on trail.

At this hash things get confused out there, power, ideals, the old morality, practical military necessity. But out there with these natives, it must be a temptation to be god. Because there’s a conflict in every human heart, between the rational and the irrational, between good and evil. And good does not always triumph. Sometimes, the dark side overcomes what Lincoln called the better angels of our nature.

So we were on hare over to the fountains. Which several hashers lamely skipped. After a solid quarter mile R6 that got hashers a nice view of the liquor store, we were off to the first beer near, where we figured it was a good time to introduce everyone and for Slip to remind us the days of the week.

At this point the red dress *run* had definitely turned into a red dress walk/stumble, as everyone waited at the Pink Taco Package Check for our guest of honor. Taco, having made the mistake of desiring more package checks, got her yearly supply and more than she bargained for, perhaps.

From there it was onto regathering at… the Hiawatha overpass walkway into Destiny USA. And on up to Toby Keith’s I Love This Bar and Grill for the second beer near. And then we all wandered from there over to the carousel for a ride.

It should be noted we attempted to take 2 shifts and be out of their way in 10 minutes when they reopened from breaks. It should be noted we attempted to have parents not ride with their children. Instead…

You have a right to do that, but you have no right to judge me. It’s impossible for words to describe what is necessary to those who do not know what horror means. Horror! Horror has a face, and you must make a friend of horror. Horror and moral terror are your friends. If they are not, then they are enemies to be feared. They are truly enemies.

So that happened, and then after taking pictures with several people in the mall we were on out to the creekwalk where there were jello shots. Except for the 10 hashers who literally blew past the FTOJS check and kept going, some of whom eventually made it back.

And then we were off to the final beer near at the playground near Middle Ages, where we kicked a keg from same establishment. Evidently the most controversial set of Jesus Can’t Go Hashing verses broke out and verses we have done a bunch of times upset some unnamed hashers. Some of us were more upset that Chunks implied that Anal can’t count.

And then some hashers drunkenly wandered into Middle Ages for even more beer. From here it was basically on in to the Penny. Food, circle, and then awards followed, as well as an announcement that we had raised a sizable amount of money for Vera House. Anyone who claims to remember what happened from here is obviously lying as people misplaced piles of red dresses, whatever remained of their dignity, and quite possibly their sanity…

This is the way the f**king world ends. Look at this f**king sh*t we’re in man. Not with a bang, but with a whimper. And with a whimper, I’m f**king splitting.

On – hashpocalypse now – on and respectfully submitted,
-OTD

PS – thanks and much love to the over 20 SOH4 members who helped make this day happen
PPS – most of this day is fuzzy memories.

Rehash #85: Hashlympics


Dressed in their finest red, white, and blue in support of the USA world cup game that coincided with the hash, about 50 hashers gathered on a Monday at the Tops parking lot in Manlius for SOH4 first hashlympics trail. Well eventually. A couple hashers wandered down to Mill Run Park before finding their way to the start. Meetup update fail, whoops.

Jackoff, affectionately known now also on the lust serv and elsewhere as Jackass (which is what we call hares who set water nears), provided chalk talk for the shitty trail he sent. That, and putting down a “Happy 6th Birthday Billy” sign in the pavilion day of trail to half-assedly reserve it, were his major contributions to this trail. UC and OTD would explain that there would be hashlympic event signups once we arrived at the field.

We ran Jackass, er, Jackoff’s short trail which had two boob checks and a package check before arriving at the hashlympics arena. From there sign-ups occurred, USA-Ghana score updates were provided, and other than that it’s a big awesome blur that left us incapable of speech or sobriety in ways that clearly altered our futures, destiny, and possibly, Gispert be praised, the nature of our humanity… because hashlympic results are now on the internet forever!

2014 SOH4 Hashlympic Event Results:

Beer Mile:
-Individual Male 1. Cummando Coobler 2. One Trick Dick 3. Just Cory
-Individual Female 1. Tweedle You
-Two-Person Relay 1. Kneegina / Just Nick 2. Pom Pilot / F*ckwod 3. Upper Decker Wrecker / Pink Penalty
-Four-Person
1. Pastorbator / Butters / Fleshlight / Turtle Dick 2. Jackoff / Tweedle Me / Deflower City / Table It 3. Golden Snowball / Just Pat / Utica Chub / Same Job, Different Orifice

Father Abraham Pedometer Jiggling:
1. Tweedle Me 2. Just Lindsy 3. Butters

3-person Pod Races:
1. Cummando Coobler / Just Bryan / Captain Cock Controller 2. Just Susan / Just Pat / Just Mat 3. Same Job, Different Orifice / Golden Snowball / One Trick Dick

2 Person Pool Noodle Races:
1. Stiffy Lube / Table It 2. Jackoff O’Lantern / Butters 3. Flame Her / Poop Soup

Dizzy Bat Relay (7 person teams):
1. Pom Pilot / Cummando Coobler / Fleshlight / Curious Gorge / Just Zoe / Bushy Cholera / Chunks and Dunks

Survivor Flip Cup:
1. Turtle Dick 2. Pom Pilot 3. F*ckwod

S&M Man Verse Singoff:
1. One Trick Dick 2. Cummando Coobler 3. Genital Manager

Shot Tray Drinking Races (5 person teams):
1. Cummando Coobler / Tweedle You / Tweedle Me / Just Cory / Floppy Dicks

Pool Noodle Tour De Franzia (10 person teams):
1. Pom Pilot / Genital Manager / F*ckwod / Jackoff O’Lantern / Turtle Dick / Curious Gorge / Just Zoe / One Trick Dick / Tweedle You / Cummando Coobler

Overall Male Hashlympian:
1. Cummando Coobler
2. Turtle Dick

Overall Female Hashlympian:
1. Tweedle Me

Respectfully Submitted,
One Trick Dick

Rehash #83: The Trifucta Hash


The TriFUCTa Hash
Hash #83 was something of a debacle. It was aptly named the Trifucta Pete Hash for the abnormally high numbers of Peters haring—Kickstand, Genital Manager, and Cummando Cobbler. Our setting was the lovely Pratt’s Falls on a lovely pre-summer June night. Pre-lube and circle went without incidents and the kennel went On-out with the usual confusion about what the trifucta lie ahead.
Running through tall grass and woods and the usual shigtastic scenery and all was well—or so we thought. As everyone milled about at the first Beer Near, which was actually in the parking lot where we started, things started to get trifucted up. A rumor started to float around that we had lost a virgin. Yes, a virgin had disappeared unbeknownst to much of the hash. Now we like virgins and all, but really most of us are not all that attached to them yet. So we barely knew them and hardly noticed their absence, but someone brought them—and I may be looking at you Flesh Flaps—so I guess we kind of had to keep track of them.

As the hash went On-out and began finding checks and false trails, it seemed we had no hares who knew where trail was. Even our lovely RA who always maintains a sunny disposition seemed to be showing some frustration and dropping some F bombs. It was a Trifucta hash afterall.

Finally trail was found and hares returned with the information that the virgin left because of a tummy ache from running and drinking beer. What the Trifucta? So from there it was a typical trail of woods and water. The hash waded along through a stream and eventually arrived at the base of the Falls for the second Beer Near. It was a trifucting picturesque spot and lots of pictures were taken.

And then trail resumed and the hash made their way back to the On-in and circle. Hares were called in no less than three times for a shitty trail (or rather a trail with no hares!)—appropriate since it was a Trifucta Hash. The virgins who survived were welcomed and Flesh Flaps drank for hers who did not. There were down-downs for the usual nonsense and when one Pete drank, all Petes drank. So they drank a trifucting lot. And then the hash went in peace, possibly to get a piece.

On after was at Knoxie’s Pub where Snidely directed traffic. Food and merriement were had for a trifucting good time.

Respectfully submitted,

Came with a Fake Name