Rehash #291
by Mount Me Faster

Going to the chapel and we're
Gonna get maaaarrrriiieeedd
Going to the chapel and we're
Gonna get maaaarrrriiieeedd
Gee, I really love you and we're
Gonna get maaaarrrriiieeedd
Goin' to the chapel of love…..

Hey wait! This is a hash we're talking about, not a wedding. A wedding always brings out the best in people, and in this case, it brought out the… never mind. It did cause many old faces to appear out of nowhere to make an appearance for this blessed event. We got to see Schmegma, Little Ho' On the Side, Jeweless, Damaged Goods,Fag Hore, , and many others whose names I don't remember, but of course Stinky does!

Who EVER thought that going to a hash would bring the pure, symbolic meanings and traditions you would normally find at a wedding? Well, it may be a hash, but we certainly did try.

The time of the hash: Our hares only TOLD us four o'clock because, knowing hashers the way they do, they just KNOW that no one EVER shows up on time. Since it's traditional to start a wedding at the thirty-minute hour (so that you don't start your lfie together on a downhill swing), our HARES even showed a tad bit late to ensure that our bride and groom could start the hashing progress at 4:30 – not 4.

A veil for the bride: covered in colorful condoms to represent the many positions to be experimented with 'til death do they part

A tail for the groom: nope, not the kind you'd find on a tux, but a trail of beer cans dragging on the ground so that the beer, er, the groom, can always be found by following the sounds.

"Formal" wear: Shirts identifying the other as someone else's property. Yeah guys, no more of that independence crap. You will now be subscribing to the I-now-have-to-check-with-you-before-I-breathe theory of nuptial bliss.

Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue: Well, old shoes, new shirts, borrowed veils and tails, and the bride even had her own bouquet of blue flowers to carry.

You would think that at this point, our hares would have everything covered but…

Kudos to the hares for coming up with the brilliant plan of giving Fudge Tracker & Dingleberry CAMERAS so that they HAD to stay on trail and take pictures. Those hares thought of everything – except they didn't give a camera to Slut. Where's the logic in that I'd like to know?

Pinocchio Fucks Chickens

Wouldn't you like to be In-Joy

The trail: (now a symbol of the path it takes to find your one true love and the ups and downs and trials and tribulations of making a relationship)

It started off easy enough until we hit the railroad tracks – which we ran and ran and walked and walked until we finally hit our first beer near. Apparently, there were no cups for the water. Doesn't matter though, you drink beer at weddings.

Off into the neighborhoods where a friend of the bride and groom offered their backyard for the rehearsal dinner a.k.a. our second beer near. Two Warsteiner kegs, chips, salsa, and chex mix – which found itself on the driveway in a matter of minutes (much to the pleasure of the resident dog. Slippery Asshole and Hot Tub Slut FINALLY showed themselves at this point in time. Slippery seemed to forget that Slut goes off trail for the pure enjoyment of running in any direction but the trail. Fudge Tracker showed up late too, but he actually had valuable information – he told us which direction trail HEADed after the rehearsal dinner. Fudge got lost while ranging as well, got all mixed up, and had to follow it backwards in order to participate in the rehearsal. Somewhere along the way we lost '38 Special and Tight Box – we decided (correctly) that they bailed out somewhere in Hyde Park and decided to get a HEAD start on the ON-IN (I mean reception).

There was also talk of whether or not the trail would ever end. No one knew if it was an a to a trail or an a to b. There were lots of concerned hashers about how far they would have to run if it was an a to a. Surprisingly enough, no one was called on their incessant WHINING. Trust me, I'm not complaining, I'd have to drink an entire pitcher of down downs for the amount of times I complained: hills, distance, hills, humidity, hills, want water, did I mention hills? I'm so glad no one listens to me while I talk.

The ceremony: (now a symbol of the joining of a male and female in the positions of, oh wait, the joining of a male and female in a life of love and, yeah right…)

Ault Park, Gashole presiding. Sang a lovely little song to the tune of "cumming round the mountain" and listened to PFC promise to give In-Joy plenty of time before he farted in bed. Yeah right. But hey, there was a lot of champagne going around so all was happy!

The circle: (now a symbol of the continuous cycle of love and ownership that goes round and round without having a beginning, a middle, and an end – it's simply never-ending – just like our supply of beer. Well, anyway…)

Crimes:

Mount Me Faster for talking during the introduction of our virgins.

The Unalicker, Fourgasm, and Gashole's wife for cumming late (good thing Susan showed up so we didn't have to rush the circle!)

The typical mother-given-names crime – another time I wasn't caught – but all of the old folk who actually made an appearance were – maybe if they'd HASH again, they'd get into the habit of using hashing names.

Missing in Action Folk:

$3 a Minute: Is ANYONE concerned about her take on reality? She's impressed by three inches and an inch diameter. Of course, she's talking blackberries, and well, our minds are too concerned with the gutter.

Awards/Prizes: The CRUTCH was awarded to Two Pricks and a Pussy, who just recently bragged about never, EVER finishing first. Be careful what you brag about Pricks, it obviously comes back to haunt you. Homer and Wiley stayed with their current owners.

Analversaries: Tight Box and Neon are now way into the 100's – Tight Box insisted on making the point that Neon started hashing after she did but has more runs tallied. Her point was to make it look like Neon had no life but I think I heard a hint of jealousy in her comments.

Waxie – competitive for the Morning Glory

Neon forgot that her birthday was in 2 weeks. Ziggy zaggy.

Virgins: Andy who will die for requesting hills on trail and Patricia, whose whistle was a sucker that she sucked 'til it literally disappeared. In fact, she was almost named. The possibilities were Sucker sucker, Sucks it Dry, Sucks but can't Blow, Sucks it HARD, Sucktion Cup, and many many more. We couldn't decide – naming postponed.

The party: (now a symbol of the celebration of love and marriage in its finest state – drunken stupor)

Kremey in the Middle came, well, arrived, sporting a fancy new "do" which everyone adored!

'38 Special mentioned the dilemma she had with her accent and men being afraid, very afraid, of something different and new. Now COME ON!!!! Women can't STOP talking to men with an accent! Women with accents should get the same privilege!!! Where's her attention, boys? I don't think Kunt Hunt ever ran into this dilemma.

Lots of loving going around. Gashole forgot his RA responsibilities and started making out in circle, Typical butt-grabbing by men wanting to get a quick feel of the passing fannies. I'm sure women were guilty of something but who cares?

Schmegma made his toast by telling us that KFC was named PFC because of his wooden appendage that gets hard every time Joy is around. He lovingly referred to it as his Joy-dar. I was talking so I don't know if I missed the explanation of PFC's attraction to chickens. Shouldn't In-Joy be a little concerned here if they should ever get a pet? Or do they already have one? Fudge made no comment on getting wood hard and for being a self-proclaimed dirty old man, I was personally very disappointed.

Fudge thought… okay, this was a note I was making to myself before I started writing the re-hash. Obviously, the sentence wasn't finished but Fudge thinking apparently was a unique enough experience to be noted.

Be that as it may, fun was had by all, the beer was drunk without a problem, and everyone went home happy. Maybe the song should really be sung…