Hash 144: General Annual Piss Up

Drink your beer dark, and out of a penis

Behold! the occasion for our annual erection of hash mismanagement... and an excuse for a party.

Hosts: Sir Acting Semen and Mariachi Masturbator
Hares: Sir Lady Bug (on his last hash!) and Frozen Nuts

Location: Blanco Encalada 1771 (look for 1775)
Metro: Toesca
Cost: $3.000
Bring: swimsuit/sun screen y booze/flesh/salad/snacks to share for the after circle asado

Remember to email in your preferences for your position on the mismanagement committee!
http://santiagohashhouseharriers.blogspot.com/2014/01/mismanagement-committee-positions.html

Hash 142: The Dawning of the Age of Aquarius Hash

I tried to make this caption amusing, but it just kept being seksi.

When the moon is in the Seventh House
and Jupiter aligns with Mars
Then peace will guide the planets
and love will steer the stars

This is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius
The Age of Aquarius
Aquarius! A-quar-i-us!

Howdy hermosos hashers! February first found us back at our favorite park: the only park you can drink booze at in Santiago! May Jupiter and the moon and all of the precious number sevens and every house throughout all of the world bless you wherever you may be in your various forms of decomposition, Padre Alberto Hurtado. We thank you for your splendid park in La Reina.

Our hosts were Just Mario on his naming hash and Thunder Down Under, and our hares were (1) Sir Turtle Head (on his ultimate hash before he leaves us to go get laid in Colombia), who taught (2) Arquisexual Dancewhore and (3) Last to Cum everything there is to know about setting a special trail.

Returning hasher and former SHHH Grand Master Sir Canuck Puck welcomed us to the park and to hash number 143 because our current Grand Master Sir Sump Pump was fashionably, fabulously late. And, because it was his last hash, Sir Turtle Head warmed us up in the ancient ways of Father Abraham. 

Virgin Raul has no fuckin idea what he's signed up for.

You do the ho-o-o-, ki - poky! You do the ho-o-o-, ki - poky!

Synchronization is not a strength of sober hashers.

And then we stamped our hands and emerged from the park into the nearby streets of La Reina for running and walking. Nota bien: one of the founding principles of the hash house harriers is the promotion of physical fitness.

Jesus Comes Twice arrived quite hungover after her Chinese New Year celebrations, and asked Just-Enzo to carry her, but like a football, not like a purse. You know. The manly way.

So I said to the Lord / "You promised me Lord / that if I followed you / you would walk with me always. / But I have noticed that during / the most trying periods of my life / there have only been one / set of footprints in the sand. / Why, when I needed you most / you have not been there for me?" / The Lord replied, ¨bugger off, crybaby."

The walkers bought cigarettes, debated taking another detour to a McDonald's, and then lost the trail. They eventually returned to the park, downtrodden and depressed.

The runners, as runners tend to do, had more fun.

Children are good at being displaced.

Sir Canuck Puck clenches his ass in anticipation.

We've lost so many virgins this way. Shame.

Sir Lady Bug knows he knows how to do this.

This is an image I can carry with me always.

We engaged in some relaxing before, or after, the circle. Who the hell can tell? No one numbers these pictures.  People just upload them to Facebook, and then I steal them, and then try to tell a story with an approachable narrative arch.

So anyway, we stood around and drank beer.

French Polisher excels at making friends.

While we stood, we touched each other's shoulders, and

Y'all, Just Jose, Prune and Arquisexual DanceWhore make me so glad I didn't move to some country with ugly people. Ugly people are the worst.

Just Marcia: another example of Chilean loveliness. Ugh, I can never return to the fatties in the USA.

we rubbed each other's tummies.

Mira: the cold, hard evidence.

We also prepared ourselves for the circle and the namings, knowing that only we can influence our attitudes and our behaviors and how we feel about the shitty names that other hashers give us. It's up to us to love ourselves, despite what people call us.

This is not the face of a man who will be intimidated by his hash name.

So with Sir Sump Pump finally at the helm, we circled and went about our boisterous business. We attracted new faces, and those under the age of twelve were squirted away by Octopussy, who really wishes someone had gotten a picture of her squirting water at the chest of some Chilean kid, instead of just yelling at her that you shouldn't do that sort of thing. She knows that. What she doesn't know is HOW AMAZING that picture would have been.

Oh well.

We thanked the hares for their fabulous trail laying.  

The middle of a facial expression is THE BEST PART.

We gave beers of pity to all of the folks who had missed out on the last hash.

Memorize these faces and asses, kids. There are the faces and asses of the unfortunate few who missed out of the Treasure Hunt Brewery Hash. Unleash all the pity.

We sang songs, and punished the Chileans for some misplaced grievance likely stemming from one MULTIPLE unsatisfactory customer service experiences.

Chilean people, or simply Chileans, are the native citizens and long-term immigrants of Chile, which is the country where we live.

We then punished every man over the age of 49 for being older than seven sevens, all Age of Aquarius style.

Sir Canuck Puck, Multiple Entry, and Sir Ladybug are all old-school in their manners of down-downing, but y'all, check out Sir Sump Pump's head snap. It is damn diva-enviable.

He's coming for you, Beyonce.

Halfway through the circle, we greeted Thermal Do Me when she showed up in biz-cazh apparel and pelted her escort with not one but two down-downs of envy.

Whatever you do, honey, don't look up.

We then got on our hands and knees in prayer.

Sir Canuck Puck shows Sir Lady Bug and Just Enzo the ways Peru can change a man.

  And, as is our custom, we praised beer and repeated after French Polisher words, words, so many little, difficult words.

Sleeping Beauty tries to think of less emasculating hash names; Crack My Ass wonders truly, how we all knew. He was so good at hiding it.

Then it was time for the namings! French Polisher released his rabid energy onto Sir Canuck Puck for the baptisms of beer, and he immediately ordered that Stroke My Bono and Thunder Down Under be watered for talking during the circle.

Stroke My Bono returned promptly to piss pouring in Sir Acting Semen's absence, but Thunder Down Under took her participation in the circle to a shiny new level. She joined the inner circle and refused to leave. In keeping with the hash's non-violent, but moist, ethics, a beer was poured on her head. 

Meek Canadian men have no idea how to respond to moist Aussie women.

But beer was little deterrent. Remaining in the inner circle for people receiving names, she offered wisdom and urged violence.

Some women can pull off anything, Just Dirk notes.

Eventually, Sir Turtle Head escorted her from the inner circle, making even the most formidable wrist-hold look friendly and supportive because he is such an awesome guy and we're going to miss him so hard and the hash will never be the same until he returns.

ALL YOU ASSHOLES, YOU NOW OWE ME SOME FAVORS.

We then proceeded with the namings.

We had many suggestions of the themes of being a pilot for dear Mario, but, as per usual, the most crass won out. Steve's closed-lips policy encouraged us to focus on his geographic salience.

Welcome to this strange family, Maxipad WITH WINGS and Poolboy Shagger!

Beer! It's so wet! So fabulously wet!

No lie, this is easily one of my favorite hash photos ever. Welcome, you two. I'm sorry your names suck.

Also, I'd know that crotch anywhere.

We then remembered it was Sir Turtle Head's last hash and he required ice on his bare ass!

Peru has taught him so much.

That'll teach you to leave us. Jerk.

We resumed our standing and touching and drinking. We did this long past the 6pm park curfew because the park raised the price from 3.500 pesos for a quincho to 5.000, and so there was spite in our hearts.

Also, it is because we had nowhere better to be.

Why do we drink with our right hands?

Around 11 we reconvened at Elfo's for unpleasantly and surprisingly shitty beer and an even worse selection of karaoke songs than at Flannery´s. Which is too bad, because Elfo's used to be cool. Just Marcia sang two songs twice apiece, and it was magical.

Not pictured: hashers rocking it at Don't Stop Believin'

Thank you, lovely people for a wonderful Saturday welcoming in the Age of Aquarius, especially Thunder Down Under and Maxipad WITH WINGS for hosting, Sir Turtle Head, Arquisexual DanceWhore and Last to Cum for haring, and Sir Canuck Puck for coming down here and getting all up in our faces!

Best of luck to you on your new adventures, Sir Turtle Head!