Happy Trails

We gathered at "Pussy Wagon's Workshop" (which actually, as you will see,  was just a nice crib in tree-filled Provi) for a Pre-American-thanksgiving/yep, it's turning in to summer here in Chile disruption of the peace.  We warmed up in typical "look at us!" fashion, but this time in front of the building, just out on the street, like the attention-whores hashers are.

It took all of 2 minutes before the front-running bearded bastards had the pack following them into oblivion far away fom the trail.  (Everyone always laughs during the explanation when we say "and flour looks like this", but obviously Crack My Arse needs a refresher).  

Eventually, they would realize the errors of their ways and root for peace on the street corner.  I sure wish Veni VD Vici would have brought his giant, white, creepy van that goes along with that new mustache--- a ride AND candy... That would've been the best.

Over the bridge....

and by the Pope....

to a BEER STOP we go!!! Well, some of us... And some of us ignored all markings and ran at warp speed straight home.  The silver lining? Improper hash behavior by some led to extremely proper hash behavior by others as we finished ALL THE BEER with HALF THE PEOPLE. Sir Turtlehead also found cheesecake making his beer stop experience all the more delectable as he inhaled it sans fork.  Needless to say, the last leg of the trail was more of a meander than a run.

Back at Pussywagon's pad, we took in some lovely views of the Andes and the "Boner-Building" as we ate our weight in knock-off Cheetos and eventually had a circle.

Americans drinking... Giving our thanks for beer... As Acting Semen doles out a boisterous "f£€# you" in response to that God Save the Queen crap.

It was the farewell hash for Billy Scroat Gruff, Texas BJ Assacre and  yours truly, Texas Hornstar.  we adorned our hash crowns with "Frat boy", "golf pro", and "pretty fly for a white guy" styles respectively and prayed that the many down downs of black beer (delicious in non-chugging situations) would remain in our bellies and that we would remain in the upright position.  Highlights of the circle would include the most beautiful rendition of "Dough the stuff that buys my beer" since the Von Trapp family stuck it to those damn Nazis and a "My name is Jack" that echoed for ages.  

Then it was time for Sabrina to share her dirty secrets and join the hash family officially. Some things belong OFF the Internet.   Welcome to the shit-show Grassy Ass.  

We led the crew in one last Swing Low... Also one for the books.  There is so much happiness in this picture and at the same time so much confusion.  Pretty much sums up the entirety of my hash experiences, and I'm so glad to have met every last one of you weirdos.

Happy... Scratch that... Shitty Trails my friends.  Shitty Trails.