I am too lazy to update the web side but back end is up to date.
| Hash Details | |
|---|---|
| Hash Number: | 582 |
| What: | Hockessin Hash #582 - Halloweenie Hash |
| When: | Oct. 29, 2005 |
| Where: | Pencader Plaza |
| Hares: | Butthead Devil Woman | Message |
| What: Hash #582 - Halloweenie Hash - wear your Costume!! When: Saturday, October 29, 2005, 5:00PM - NOTE TIME CHANGE!! Where: Newark, DE, Pencader Plaza (old Caldor [soon to be BJ's] parking lot, Rt. 72 & Rt. 4) Who: Devil Woman and Butthead Why: Trail will be costume friendly! Wear a costume! On-After/apres/on-on-on has a costume contest! D'erections: From I-95, take the Rt. 896 north/Univ of DE/Newark exit. Take a right at the 3rd light onto Rt. 4. At the 2nd light (about 0.5miles), take a right onto Rt. 72 south. Look for big store being renovated and goofy looking people milling about the parking lot. Park, put on costume and hash. Attached is costume idea that Cribsnatcher is throwing out there. Talk to Spitbucket about how to make simulate bodily functions. | Hashers |
| Hash Trash | |
| Hashing with Halloweenies Hash #582 October 29, 2005 Hockessin Hash House Harriers It was the hallowed evening before All Saints Day, and the Hell Hounds of the Hockessin Hash House Harriers, rather than engaging in wholesome secular playacting, gathered for a masquerade of horror to summon Beelzebub, venerate unclean underworld imps, worship demonic hellspawn and enjoy some yummy sweet treats. The Kit-Kat bars were especially delightful. Before the Hash House Heathens could complete the evil chanting which might muster the unholy hobgoblins of Hades, the wise and holy Religious Advisor Butthead, doing double duty as Halloween Hare, quietly encouraged the loathsome Pack to cease their bewitched bellowing and find their way to Trail. Since the Slobbering Pack had gathered in the wide opened expanses of the near empty parking lot at the sad little once run down, then refurbished, then again run down and once more restored shopping mall near the industrial wastelands of south Newark, it should surprise no one that the earliest section of the trail was laid over cracked and crumbling asphalt. Across the dilapidated macadam tramped the costumed cavalcade. The Hounds followed the trail over rail road right-of-way, across State Highway 72 right-of-way, and eventually through suburban Scottfield’s internal street right-of-way. On the path to our Beer Check, some of the more dull-witted Hashers must have turned the wrong-of-way, as there was quite a delay before they re-joined the Pack in a family-friendly bistro/roadhouse/juke joint. Having missed out on the first round of satisfying and inebriating brew, the laggards felt it necessary to quickly pound down a few to get right, right away. For some reason, the costumes seemed immensely more clever after the Beer Break. With my own eyes I spied: A leering Pirate (Hot Pants) in hot, panting pursuit of the White Winged Fairy Enchantress (Just Jenna). A filthy, sombreroed Mexican (Fart) applying a Dirty Sanchez to a three month pregnant Eagles Cheerleader (Gomez). A bouffanted, pedal pushing, pink jacketed teeny-bopper (Cock Ring) grabbing the skinny ass of her mullet headed, gear jammin’ greaser playstud (Porn Again). A Cro-Magnon ménage à trois comprised of the animal skinned Neanderthals Mad Hatter, Devil Woman and Butthead. A Crime Scene Investigative Agent (Deadhead) collecting DNA from the mustache of a Blue Collar Carpenter (Jump Start). A second-year Resident Proctologist (Crusty Calves) having great difficulty identifying the proper orifice for examination of an alien Sith Master (Lost Boy). Costa Rican island maiden Carmen Miranda (Cuntra) chasing some Indonesian island maiden (Just Susan). Is that a banana on her head, or is she just happy to see us? A fast decaying and stiffening Corpse Bride (Wet Lay) being pursued by a fast stiffening olive-headed martini swizzle stick (Bunion Butt). A near naked (but not nearly naked enough) tiger cat (Mad Cow) running down and poised to pounce upon a near naked (but not nearly naked enough) Olympic Swimmer (Miss Pissylvania). Sponge Bob Square Pants (Doggie Erectus) locked in an illicit embrace of auto-satisfaction with Sponge Bob Square Pants (Cribsnatcher). We finished the Trail, wandered over to Butthead’s house, removed our shoes and other non-essential clothing, circled-up in the usual manner, then fiilled our bellies with delicious roasted this-n-that, comforting cheesy mac-n-that, quenching brewski and endorphin rousing candies and chocolates. Just when the now Slumbering Pack seemed poised to nod off and crash en masse in the Butthead domicile, a cry went out- “Costume Up, cowboys and c-girls!” It was over to Matilda’s Pub for further Halloween festivities. As your faithful scribe fell under some powerful compulsion which kept me from making no more than a brief appearance at Matilda’s, my reportage of what transpired that evening will necessarily focus on the imagined events and outright falsehoods culled from my fevered brain. In My Perfect World: The Hockessin Hash House Harriers sauntered into the tavern amid tumultuous applause from all the pre-assembled Halloweenies. All that is, save for the drunken and angry rascals seated in a far and darkened corner behind the bar next to the condom machine. These miscreants, irked at being upstaged by the beautiful costumes and beautiful people of the HHHH, had the effrontery to proclaim that they, not we, ruled this night of masqueraded merrymaking. Without warning, one of these miserable pessimists hurled a half empty mug of beer across the barroom and into our cluster of costumed cutie-pies. Before the flying goblet could hammer any Hash Heads, a single mighty arm shot upward from our gang and snatched the deadly projectile cleanly in mid-flight. It mattered not whose quick reaction and quicker arm it was that snagged the mug (still holding an amber slosh or two) and thus averted the certain bar fight. What was important was that the anonymous Savior Hasher took that mug and, as the rest of the Handsome Hashers raised their voices as one in a dirty ditty solemnly sung, smoothly drank the dregs Down, Down, Down! Everyone in the tavern gazed at the spectacle in wonder and then, after a full beat of absolute silence, broke into spontaneous and heartfelt cheers. A wave of communal hugs swept over the room, rounds of drinks were exchanged, and before not too long the taproom was pulsing with sincere holiday bon homie. An unseen but omnipotent camera pulled back slowly through the celebrating crowd; happy Hashers mingled with contented civilians. The sounds of raucous music and rising laughter swelled as the camera backed out of the saloon door and into the autumn evening, revealing a throng of eager, smiling Halloweenies hurrying through the parking lot and into the now rocking party pub. Postscript: For stepping up at the last moment and hosting our Halloween Hash, many many thanks to Devil Woman & Butthead. Thank you… Thank you… Thank you… Thank you… Thank you… Thank you… Thank you… Thank you… Thank you… Thank you… Thank you… Thank you… Thank you… Thank you…Thank you… Thanks. | |
| Files: | |
| Hash_Trash___Hashing_with_Halloweenies.doc | |