Hitting save is very important... database sync isn't working and I am lazy
|What:||Hockessin Hash #162|
|When:||March 7, 1998|
|Where:||301 Rocky Run Parkway, Wilmington, DE|
|Nothing here yet||Hashers|
|Achey Breaky Balls|
Do Me On the Beach
Lick It Clean
Slap My Butt & Call Me Sally
|Hockessin HHH Hash #162|
Hash Trash 7 March 98
Shootout at the Lone Star Saloon
On this cool, comfortable, and overcast day, about 40 hounds from our H4 kennel met in the parking lot behind the Lone Star Steakhouse on Concord Pike near the Pennsylvania-Delaware border. We were unleashed at about 3:15 by our hares, Spand-Ox and Rose Butt. We were quickly into the shiggy so as to avoid getting the PA state police pissed-off. They are constantly on the lookout for DE hashers who are trying to smuggle booze into PA or trying to sneak across
Anyway, our incredibly good-looking and intelligent...(whoa!...I'm hallucinating again...OK, Whew!) crowd included: Stun Gun, Slap My Butt & Call Me Sally, Do Me on the Beach, Devil Woman, Gomez, Doggie Style, Slutmaster, Dung-Ho, Dead Head (and his uncle ,Bill Folger, who took the polar bear plunge!), Mad Hatter, Hornblower, Cupcakes, Crib Snatcher, Country Sausage, Lick It Clean, Hard-On, Lt. Dan, Bunion Butt, Roadkill, Groper, Groucho, Himalaya, Queer Balls, Achey Breaky Balls, Beeper, Banged-Up, Flaming Asshole, Ass Wipe, Gay Blade, Art Cassata, Wet Spot, G-String,Woodpecker, Fungi, Alotta Fagina, and Kim Schaeffer.
The course was short and the last hound came home in less than 45 minutes. But the course was pretty and the shiggy made us run with caution. We were off-trail for about half the distance and the footing was tricky because of the large number of small rocks partially hidden by fallen leaves. The few water crossings presented no great challenge so that despite the warning about the need for dry bags, very few of us got our footsies wet. There was nothing in the way of steep hills, thorns, or deep mud. The most memorable event, totally unexpected, was our spooking of a huge herd of deer who had no intention, whatsoever, of hashing with us. They probably assumed we were animals, but looking much too hungry for comfort. They were a beautiful sight and our reward for staying away from the asphalt.
The Apres was just across the road from our ON-IN at the Lone Star. We piled into Scrimmages Saloon for our pitchers of brew and pizzas that slowly found their way out of the oven. We had our DOWN-DOWNS shortly after. The hares sponged up their suds and the assorted Hashus Interrupti were dragged up for their well-deserved punishment.
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