Tuesday, 28 May 2013

One Small Step in Poo, One Giant Smell for Hashkind...

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.

Nobody move!  I dropped my diamond encrusted priceless gold watch!  

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.  

"But if my socks were any lower you'd see my weird ankles.  I'm self-conscious, ok??"

Racists go one way, Wizards go another.

Back at the ranch, Hashers relaxed and enjoyed the setting sun's last beautiful rays of warmth.  

"Duck, duck, duck..."

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"

"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."

leading by example

Then French Polisher stepped in as Religious Advisor.

"Wait I know I've done this before..."

"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:

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!