To be clear, nobody stepped in poo this Saturday at Hash #124: Moon Landing.
Moon Job kindly hosted us on his Las Condes rooftop quincho for a light, fall-weather jaunt.
We started off with some Father Abraham, as is tradition.
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| Nobody move! I dropped my diamond encrusted priceless gold watch! |
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| Little known fact: Richard Simmons has served as an inspirational role model for Kevin throughout the years. |
Then our happy hashers followed the trail around Escuela Militar left by hares
Bone Her Parts and
Cumming Up For Air.
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| "But if my socks were any lower you'd see my weird ankles. I'm self-conscious, ok??" |
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| Racists go one way, Wizards go another. |
Back at the ranch, Hashers relaxed and enjoyed the setting sun's last beautiful rays of warmth.
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| "Duck, duck, duck..." |
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| and then we were really fucking cold. |
Cumming Up For Air served as our Grand Master for this Hash. He did a fabulous job yelling "SHUT THE FUCK UP"
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| "I decree that all Hashers will be seen as equal, regardless of the color of their socks, the speed of their down-down, or the fit of their Hasher Dashery." |
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| leading by example |
Then French Polisher stepped in as Religious Advisor.
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| "Wait I know I've done this before..." |
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| "Ah whativah, I'll jist pace around in circles" |
It was Acting Semen's 50th Hash, which means that he joins the Order of the Purple Pukus. We poured a beer on his head. It was awesome.
Golden Throat graciously invited the group to her awesome Johnny Depp themed costume party afterwards; the only picture of which I have posted here:
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| Ray and I call this: Upright Planking. |
Please remember kids, next Wednesday night is the benefit even for Mariachi Mansturbator. Come on down to Flan's at 8 to watch a show and get schwastey-faced. See you there!
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