DBH3 Hash #693

OK, this trash may be a bit odd and long. I am not as good at this as Cockpit ... However, she doesn't head over to the DeLand Hash very often :-). Someone needs to get this important recall out.

The hash on the 19th of February, 2003 was a bloody mess. 30 hashers, including a virgin (Who deserves her own story here), took off from the Howard Johnson Hotel around 7:30, shortly after Momma and No Blow took off in an obvious direction down the dirt path, yelling, "On out!"

he hashers, believing Momma and No Blow were magicians, took off in the oppostie directions towards the front of the hotel and roads ... Duh, No Blow is haring! After walking around in circles for a good fifteen minutes, they figured out the correct way to go into the woods ... the direction the hares went.

The trail had a great variety of terrains. After running (or walking) through a nicely groomed wooded path, the hashers were taken through what appeared to be a wheat field, followed by a muddy raod that turned into a muddy stream, past a few hunter's stands, and into the fields of death. The fields of death were full of watery areas that were waist deep, slicing palms, hidden webs, water moccasins, and more. This area, by the way, was the last point anyone really remembers seeing the virgin. She attempted to stay out of the water with a strange balancing act, and ended up face-first in the mud. I hear the virgin then stood up crying, took another hobbled step, and did another face-plant. Noone told her we were going to have beer at the end, so she drank twelve of them before we left. She and CreamAbdulledMyPie or KareamIDroolMyPie or ... You know ... tall mother f*cker ... were left for dead.

After getting out of the cuss-filled field, the hounds ran some more wooded trails, some %$$#%$# sugar sand, a long sink hole, and up and over a mountain (by Florida's standards). On the other side of the dirt mound was a wonderful sight ... BC!!!! A cooler full of Miller Lite ... no Red Dog ... no Shitz ... no Beast ... mmmm mmm good.

Following the BC was another long sink hole, 1/20th of a mile of road, a destructive maze of toilet paper through an overgrown orange grove (Momma got a bit confusing in this mess), and then on to the BN.

The first group of hounds into the end was littered with many of the Orlando people (Dirve, Jethro - who complained consistently that he should have worn chainmail or kevlar, Fish and Clits, Toys 4 Twats, Gucking Foofy, and Mt. Dora were in this group). Sunken Shit came in near the front with a red sock. It seems he really needed a first aid kit on trail. He imbedded a stick an inch or so into his shin (I guess it penetrated bone).

Fifteen or so more people came in over the next hour. "Where the hell are the DFLs?" we asked ourselves. Luckily, Skinamax had his cell phone on. No Blow went down the powerlines and picked up the walkers who had went the wrong way (OK, so they were given poor directions!)

I know you've been thinking for a paragraph now ... "There is no way Mt. Dora was in that FRB group." True, I lied. I was just seeing if you were paying attention :-).

Circle was relatively short and ended after 10 pm. Some accusations included ... stupidity for Flash. It seems he heard Gilligan say there was no beer on the other side of the dirt mound, so he continued on trail. Why stupidity? He listened to Gilligan - heh. DFLs, FRBs, Gilligan's unemployment down-down, out of towners, birthdays, and a few others were also given out. Momma's blood-on-trail accusation left two people to sing.

After trail, about 15 people went over to the house in Cassadage to burn a Christmas tree, eat hotdogs, and to destroy some carpeting.

Just PAM, thanks for making the dogs. They were great!

Way Beyond Gay, thanks for getting the food and helping with the fire. It will be months before all the generic chips are gone ... even with Bike Week.

Bryan and Old Ironside, thanks for being there ... at least until you weren't.

-Momma and I are appreciative.

Last modified: Saturday, 2009-Mar-07 05:30:58 PM EST