I am too lazy to update the web side but back end is up to date.
| Hash Details | |
|---|---|
| Hash Number: | 135 |
| What: | Hockessin Hash #135 |
| When: | Jan. 1, 1900 |
| Where: | Alapocas |
| Hares: | Ass Wipe Cribsnatcher Toxic Shock | Message |
| Nothing here yet | Hashers |
| Hash Trash | |
| H4H135: The Deep Dark Woods Location: Alapocas Drive Number of hashers: 30 +/- Total time: In after dark Trail rating: interesting Hares: virgin hare Cribsnatcher & Toxic Shock, with Asswipe doing a confused cameo Weather: wet and dark The weather was wonderful. The light was solid enough to grab with your hands. We started off to the east, looping down through the quiet Quaker suburb surrounding Friends School to their lower school. Here we entered the shiggy and ran a couple well marked falses, before finding true trail. A quick loop around and through Brandywine Park Condominiums took us to the Rose Garden and over the bridge at Monkey Hill. A long checkback brought us back to the swinging bridge and then over it. We went up through the shiggy to Trolley Square and then over to the ON IN at Gallucio's Restaurant. Trail was well marked with fresh flour and easy to read marks. All in all, a very pleasant way to spend a Wednesday evening. That was the way it was supposed to be. What really happened was very different. The day was wet to begin with. Heavy cloud cover and the late start destroyed the little light we had. Marks were either washed away, faint or too widely spaced. The logic of the trail baffled the most seasoned hashers. That pretty much sums up the trail. The terrain, under other circumstances was excellant for hashing. In good light we would have had a great time, with a lot of open woods running and other fun stuff. Under this evening's conditions, it was a not an easy hash. A nice suburban/urban road hash would have been great under these circumstances. As was, this evening had a lot of unrealized potential. We started off to the north, through the sweaty fields of valor behind Friends School. Into a quick cul-de-sac we traipsed. Then into the shiggy under a tight fitting fence. (This may be the way Cribsnatcher lost 30 pounds recently, wiggling under this fence.) We played forever in this wooded area, never really being on trail and never really being off either. Marks were either washed away, too widely spaced or too faint to see in the last vestiges of daylight we worked with. Eventually the pack found the beer stop on the other side of Alapocas Drive. To get here, a tunnel with a small creek and low ceiling had to be navigated. At the swimming hole where the tunnel dumped out, Fugitive washed the sweat off, with a plunge into the murky depths. He was swiftly washed downstream and able to rescue himself. No increase in hash insurance resulted and no unfortunate needed to perform CPR due to this act of incredible intelligence. Several people started circling for trail and found a couple marks and then a check with no other marks anywhere in sight, except for a false. The false was blown through by Deadhead, Rubber and Rosebutt. Trail was located a hundred yards beyond the false and the SCBs were on trail to the bloody end. At least Rubber and Deadhead were on to the bloody end. Rosebutt, being a little more cautious and trying to get the rest of the pack to where he was, was apprehended by Cribsnatcher and told to blow off the rest of the trail on account of darkness. He promptly did so. Meanwhile, Deadhead and Rubber spent the next hour on trail and the hares spent the next two hours looking for them. The Apres was the second highlight of the evening. The first being the subterranean passageway under Alapocas Road. Slutmaster and his sluts were absent from the Apres, even though it took place at his house. The food was excellent and plentiful, the beer golden. Hares were drowned and other offenses taken note of. Virgins included (the Screaming and blond) Mimi, a companion of hers and a happy female brought by the Gay Blade. Now another note in the continuing series on the proper wifely deportment towards the very reason for their existence: Minimize all noise. At the time of his arrival, eliminate all noise of the washer, dryer, dishwasher, or vacuum. Try to encourage the children to be quiet. If this ever happened, I would probably wonder if the everyone was on some strange drug trip or given a family prescription of Prozac. The norm is that the first 30 or 40 seconds may be abnormally quiet, but from there on is sheer hell. If one child is not attacking another within minutes of my arrival, then someone is having tantrums about homework. Failing that is the wife going into a fit of angry hysteria because I picked up a paper towel and wiped down a counter, instead of leaving it covered in crumbs and coffee stains. Usually, it is a 110 decibel combination of all the above. My usual response is to go for the choclate and then race to my bedroom, closing and bolting the door, praying no one has a battering ram. After a pleasant weekend of sleeping with Do Me or Cupcakes, I can count on less than five minutes of peace after they leave, followed by a nuclear holocaust. It is amazing how they can all appear so pleasant and nice as long as someone is visiting and then become denizens of hell as soon as the visitor leaves. Fantasy is pleasant, considering the reality. Maybe mood altering drugs would be even nicer still, allowing me to live in Nirvana, regardless of what is really happening. Perhaps the American Family Institute is nothing but a bunch of druggies all on mood altering substances. And to think they are against corner drug sales. Maybe the cost of the drugs is the issue. The more expensive the drug, the more legitimate and the higher the social/moral status conferred. Either that or maybe they own stock in Merck or Bristol Myers Squibb. | |
| Note: | |
| from web archive | |
| Files: | |
| 131-140.pdf | |