Hash 143: Our Annual Red Dress Run

Cerca Valentine's Day we amassed for our Annual Red Dress Run. This special event began in 1987, when a young lady by the name of Donna Rhinehart flew to southern California to visit a friend wearing a red dress. Shortly thereafter, she found herself transported to Long Beach, where her friend intended to introduce her to a running drinking group called the Hash House Harriers. A man, noting her gender and attire, urged that she “just wait in the truck” until her host returned. With that goading, she ran into history sporting her red dress and heels.

The following year (August 12, 1988), to commemorate the event, the San Diego Hash House Harriers sent “The Lady In Red” an airline ticket to attend the inaugural Red Dress Run. Hundreds of male and female hashers adorned themselves in red dresses for a spectacle widely covered by California newspapers and TV news. In addressing the crowd, The Lady In Red suggested that Hash House Harriers hold the Red Dress Run annually as an occasion to be used to raise funds for local charities.

The tradition of the Hash House Harriers Red Dress Run quickly spread to every corner of the globe, including Santiago! Many thanks to Reverse Cowgirl in keeping the charitable tradition alive by mention the education fund set up for child Cherry Stanton, whose mother recently passed away in an accident.

Also a big thank you to Multiple Entry and No Cuntry for Old Men  for hosting us in Vitacura, and to Muffler Sucker (on her penultimate hash!) for teaching Southern Esposure and Strip, Minor how to lay the cutest trail ever.

It's a turkey! Of adorableness! Heroes love adorable turkeys!

NO THIS ISN'T

So legible! So sexually suggestive!

Tautology: Adorbs smiley faces are smiley faces that are adorbs.

The hearts are a nice touch. Dragqueen Espía de Argentina less so.

As above mentioned, we were hosted in the fancypants mansion home of the primo of Multuple Entry. Even as he was rained on by the rare Santiago summer shower, he lured us inside,

Nothing about this picture is creepy.

and we received the Chalk Talk lesson from three well dressed hashers. The talk paused for a few moments while hares Muffler Sucker, Southern Exposure, and Strip, Minor! quietly and with much sophistication debated amongst themselves the problem of universals, specifically relating to the property of cuteness. Is it that we predicate the same property on multiple entities but that the entities only share a name, not a real quality, in common? They then debated,  Toastmaster style, regardless of whether Cuteness qua Cuteness exists in reality, or only in our thought and our speech, whether (1) puppies holding ice cream cones or (2) rabbits on their hind quarters wearing even more disproportionately small fancy hats could possibly tend towards Cuteness more than their trail had, and eventually agreed that neither could. The trail was declared perfectly cute,

Maxipad WITH WINGS, Just-Memo, and Dick So Soft bide their time. One day, they will be the most beautiful belles at the ball.

and we began the important ritual of warming up our animal bodies with heat and vigor.

Here is a video of those special moments.

We then left for the trail! Runners, sucks to be you, because JustMark was put in charge of the camera! He managed to shoot eleven videos of his crotch jiggling as he ran, each terminating as he surpassed the other runners to (presumably?) snap a photo, but in practice, to end a video with the surprised and sweaty faces of the rest of you, glistening from the sweet rain and your physical exertions. Then the videos recommenced! It goes without saying that those are just for me.

The walkers had more competent photographers! Here Stain Pants captures the childlike wonder Sir Acting Semen exudes as he works up the courage to flirt.

Returned 1980s SHHH hasher Hot Rod knows this is not how you speak to a lady.

We crossed a bridge from the hike and bike trail, holding hands for safety and skipping for fun,

♫ I'm too sexy for the CAT WALK, for the CAT WALK yeahh ♫

and returned to Chez Primo de Multiple Entry for circle time! With pisco watermelon! Summer is the best.

The beers were chilled in our absence.

In the blink of an eye, unsavory underwater beer gnomes will steal half your beers. Be forever vigilant against underwater beer gnomes, my friends. Even the nice ones will break your heart.

We invited the Virgins to get to know us better and thanked Shuttercock twice for each of her guest's Espía de Argentina's bosoms.

Reverse Cowgirl and Cracked My Ass have their doubts she can do it

We then sang lustily, and not at all in a pretend way:

 ♫♫♫ We've got virgins ♫♫♫
♫♫♫ We've got virgins ♫♫♫
♫♫♫♫ At our hash ♫♫♫♫
♫♫♫♫ At our hash ♫♫♫♫ 
♫ Gonna get'em drunked up ♫ 
♫ Gonna get'em fucked up♫ 
♫♫♫ Down the hatch ♫♫♫
♫♫♫ Down the hatch ♫♫♫

Drink it down, down, DOWN, down

Maxipad WITH WINGS, Stop the Bus, and Double Stuffed Potato knew she could do it!

We welcomed back our traveling sister Daddy Bator and her smiling, radiant energy force,

Frozen Nuts and Daddy Bator sweat flowers, poo unicorns, and barf rainbows, they're so damn lovely

 but then punished her for leaving us for so long,

May the POWUHH of HASH cawm-pelll ewe!

Then came about an hour of time in which Grand Master Sir Sump Pump touched as many people as he could. This started during our largest commercial announcement to date, just before the naming.

Show them your naked chest!, he whispered softly

Sister JustMonica grabs her camera when she notes that Sir Sump Pump's legs are spread wide for superior t-shirt pressing action

All the commercial announcement announcers, all the capitalist pigs

Then came the naming! JustMark talked about his love for computers, his Canadian ancestry, and his chestnut pony Sir Butters Monster. Disgusted, we asked him to take a seat.

Though he has previously relinquished power to Jesus Cums Twice to try out the position of Religious Advisor, Sir Sump Pump rejoined the inner circle, following Thunder Down Under's ...  lead from earlier this month, for more touchings!

This is my butt, rubbing against your crotch! Ride me like you ride Sir Butters Monster!

The touchings were brief but with impact.

"I did not make him cry."
"Look at him. He's crying."   "I am NOT crying."

"If he ever touches you again, I'll make sure that he's the one crying. I'm from New York, and my grandmother is in the mafia. Let's proceed."

Jesus Cums Twice did an admirable and ladylike job as RA, circling twice to count the naming votes. She then bellowed into the afternoon rain that we would now, forever more, know JustMark as Oiler My Penis.

The penis oiling has begun!

Lucky for him, there was a pool meters away for cleansing. 

Hosts No Cuntry for Old Men and Multiple Entry then aided and abetted Jesus Cums Twice in the closing hymn, Sweet Slow, Sweet Chariot. There were gesticulations and amylase ejections,

No Cuntry for Old Men does a more minimalist and edgy iterpretation of "Swing Low."

So much spitting, so much disapprobation

Our members have so much moisture to share

Then Sir Sump Pump began his wild and crazy touchings again! Strip, Minor narrowly evaded getting dunked in the pool;

those who'd already been dunked were further moistened;

Marriage takes work, folks

we lined up for a photo posing as sloppy mermaids;

Oiler My Penis and Maxipad WITH WINGS give this photo a semi-candid air, because of what they are doing with their faces

and a good time was had by all.

Many thanks to our hosts and our hares!

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!

Our Annual Red Dress Run

DATE: Saturday, February 15

TIME: 4pm
HOSTS: Multiple Entry y No Cuntry for Old Men
HARES: Something Suckler educating Strip, Minor y Southern Exposure in the gentle ways of the hare


ADDRESS: El Fanal 6627, Vitacura
METRO OPTIONS: 
1) LINEA 1: get off at Escuela Militar, take C14 to Camino La Bodega / Av. Santa María
2) LINEA 1: get off at Manquehue, walk to either the bus stops for C7 until Rotonda Lo Curro or the bus stop for C14 to Camino La Bodega / Av. Santa María Manquehue

 
COST: $3.000
BRING: Red dress/swimsuit/sun screen y booze/flesh/salad/snacks to share for the after circle asado 

Mismanagement Committee Positions

Then get you some, child.

Email SantiagoHashHouse@gmail.com with the color of your underwear, and your interests in ascending order. These positions are alphabetically arranged.

BEERMEISTER or BEER MISTRESS: These are unquestionably the most important positions in the hash. The Beermeister and Beer Mistress share the weighty responsibility of making sure that the lifeblood of hashing is available at each and every hash event. They keep constant vigilance to find the cheapest spirituous fermenti available, always have coolers in the trunks of their cars, cases of beer in their bodegas, and reliably return the empties between hashes. This job requires a strong back and a weak mind.

GRAND MASTER: The guiding light. The GM is not simply a figure head for the hash; rather, she personifies the hash’s character (or lack thereof). She leads with a dynamic strength that permeates the fabric of the organization. Both directly, and through her mismanagement officers, she gives inspiration, direction, and vision to all. This position ranks only below Beermeister, Hare Raiser, Hash Cash, and Hash Geek in real importance to the hash.

HARE RAISER: This hasher makes sure that there are hares for each hash, and that the start location is known to the Hash Geek well in advance of hash day for publicity purposes. The Hare Raiser IS the hare if she can’t find anyone else to do it.

HASH CASH: The holder of the purse-strings. Someone needs to dash about the start of each hash begging for money. Someone has to keep track of what comes in and what goes out. These generally unappreciated duties fall on the shoulders of the Hash Cash. This trustworthy soul must withstand the whining of the Hares who have over-spent, the whimpering of those who forgot their fees, and the interrogations of those who mistakenly think there should be some sort of accounting for hash funds.

HASH FLASH: The person who captures on film for posterity all embarrassing hash moments. The hash flash must have an acute sense of the absurd to know what to take photos of, and also a small degree of reliability to bring a camera, take pictures, upload, and put only the finest thereof into the sacred photo album of the internet. Should be on at least speaking terms with Hash Geek.

HASH GEEK: This position is a masochist’s wet dream. She struggles with piles of papers, miles of computer wire, and attempts to occasionally produce a Hash Trash to keep the hash members reasonably informed. She is the official representative on the internet, maintaining the Web Site, email lists, Facebook group, MeetUp group, and other such forms nonsense. This Hasher also maintains the hash membership data base. Boring stuff to say the least.

HASH HABERDASHER: This hasher can speak Chilean, and has access to a car. Her responsibilities include procuring and selling items of apparel to the hash.

HASH HUSH: Do you love discipline and getting others moist? Do you enjoy the pebbling of nipples? CAN YOU HANDLE THE SHRIEKS? Apply within to wield a water gun in the hopes of getting other hashers to shut the fuck up.

PECKER INSPECTOR: This hasher was like Mother Theresa and Gandhi and Princess Diana all rolled into one in her past lifetimes. In this most selfless reincarnation, she gets to look at penises to verify the colours of underwear for reticent spies and virgins. Because there's nothing the hash hates more than someone WHO MAKES STUFF UP.

PISS POURER: This hasher is one whose eyes and hands may have betrayed her before, but who keeps fighting, and because of that Herculean effort, can pour beer into cups. Repeatedly.

RELIGIOUS ADVISOR: Keeper of the faith. Enforcer of the scriptures. This is the hasher who has seen the light (but not Bud light) and can taste in her soul the true spirit of Hashing. The religious advisor spreads the word and inspires the zest and zeal of the hash in all participants. Any hasher found transgressing the spirit of hashing is disciplined by the RA. She is the keeper of the sacred Laws of Hashing and comes up with sufficiently plausible lies to cover any serious questions of propriety of actions within the hash.

SONGMEISTER or SONG MISTRESS: This is a hasher with no self respect. She never lacks for a song suitable to the occasion. Her songs are risqué, lewd, and vulgar. The Songmeister or Song Mistress speaks with other hashers and hashes to acquire songs to add to the hash hymnal. The mission is to explore new tunes and new celebrations. To boldly go where no Songmeister has gone before (pardon the split infinitive.)

SUPPLY HASHER: This perfect specimen of a hasher has seen it all before, and can help out during periods of absence of other members of the Santiago Hash House Harriers mismanagement committee.