SCH4 #269 –Beach Party Hash, Part 3 Date: January 25, 2003, 3:00pm Location: Sycamore Creek Park, Sycamore Township, OH (Admit it, it’s Indian Hill) Hares: Best Blow, Gas Hole, Gourmet, Little Boy Blue Balls, “Put your lips down low, pretend it’s an ice cream cone, but stand clear when it’s about to blow…..” Small Bone We arrived at Sycamore Creek Park to find the hares had miraculously flown in tons of white sand from the beaches of Mexico. Now that’s getting into the spirit of a beach party hash! Hey…. Wait, a minute, that’s not sand… Nope, turns out, snow was still covering the ground, or as Cincinnati drivers refer to it “The White Death.” At least it was sunny. Many of the hashers came dressed in their most festive beach attire, including Hawaiian shirts, leis, grass skirts, sunglasses, and coconut bras. Even Mini-Me was dressed in his surfing suit. It felt just like being on the beach. We even had our own Mexican beach peddler, Hot Tub Slut, pushing the Beach Party t-shirts. We wankers all wandered around aimlessly in the parking lot (don’t we always) and tried our best not to use foul language, as visitor Liquor Up brought her 10-year old niece Rio along to hash for the first time. You want to talk about an unhappy virgin. Poor kid was not thrilled about being outside, and even less thrilled about trudging through the snow. We welcummed visitors Wet Nurse and Small Bone from one of the Hong Kong Hashes (can’t seem to remember which one though) and they introduced us to their virgins Dick and Gay. Really. Dick and Gay. All hashers just stood there with jaws open after hearing that. With mother-given names such as those, aren’t they just screaming for hash names? You could almost see the hamster wheels spinning in all the hasher brains, trying to be oh-so-clever in cumming up with hash names for our virgin visitors. Hashers decked out in their finest beach attire included: Anal Vice Beat It Best Blow Dick NHN Teter - Virgin Gas Hole Gay NHN Holmes - Virgin Golden Showers Got Crabs? Gourmet Hot Tub Slut Hot Wax Me Officer I Get Around Kunt Hunt Liquor Up - Visitor Little Boy Blue Balls Mystic Blow Neon Knockers On Her Knees Poo Packer Quarter Barrel Rio NHN - Virgin Scum Sucking Fecal Feeliac Sixty Nina Skid Marks Small Bone - Visitor Stinky Winkie stroX coX baXwards Suck This Sucks But Doesn't Swallow The Unalicker Titty Puppet - Named Vommitt Dog Wet Nurse - Visitor We circled up briefly to introduce ourselves. In keeping with Beach Party tradition of taking along a virgin hare, our three esteemed hares, Best Blow, Gourmet, and Little Boy Blue Balls decided that they should find a hasher who has never hared, but has completed at least 100 hashes. Hmmmm…. Now who could that be? Ummm… could it be…. GAS HOLE?!?!?! Much rejoicing from the pack as Gas Hole was given a ceremonious grass skirt to wear. Before the hares took off, we were given proper instructions as to hash marks, alerted to the possibilities of finding “beverage nears” (no, that does not mean Chardonnay Nears, Wet Nurse!) and told to collect as many miniature pink flamingo skewers as we could find. Finally the hares took off. After a brief warm-up of Father Abraham, we took off after the hares. Some of the pack went left, others went right. Turns out, going left was true trail. We began our Siberian KGB death march through the snow-covered horse trails of Indian Hill. No one was really running, even the FRB’s. I think it was just a bit too dangerous to run on ice/mud/leaves/snow mixture. At least that’s what I told myself since I was so far behind. Eventually, we came to our first Beverage Near. Inside a styrofoam cooler, we were treated to Margaritas and Pina Coladas. The hares had even left us some horse chow. At the Beverage Near, Vommitt Dog made the mistake of asking I Get Around, “So how long have you been in Cincinnati?” OMG.. I was so embarrassed for him!! How could he dare ask a question like that? Doesn’t he know what kind of response he’s going to get? IGA sputtered off something about “Fucking racist city, then this fucking racist bitch, fuck, fuck, fuck….” Good thing there were no children present. Oh wait…. On-out through more snow-covered horse trails. Eventually we ended up in the backyard of a multi-million dollar Indian Hill home. At this point, Liquor Up took off with her niece and dog Sammy back down towards the park. We quickly crossed Given Road onto more horse trials. Many Indian Hill residents cruising along in their Mercedes and BMW’s, chatting on their cell phones, slowed down a bit to see why beach-attired joggers were running around their backyards, but luckily, no rangers showed up. Good thing Quarter Barrel still had his shirt on. Soon enough, we came to another “Beverage Near”, where the hares were nice enough to provide quality beer from Mexico (Corona’s) and Jamaica (Red Stripes). I suppose if I closed my eyes tight enough, I could imagine I was laying on the warm, breezy beaches of Jamaica, but alas the cold got to me. Here at the BN we found Butt Digger and Eats it Raw, who were late cummers. Butt Digger grabbed all the pink flamingos that were laying around the beer, correctly guessing that they would bring her some fortune in the circle. With all those bottles of beer, surely the hares left us a bottle opener…. Nope. Now there’s a hare crime. On out. More snow covered horse trails, then down across a stream. Luckily, there were some patches of ice we could hop on to cross without getting our feet wet. D’OH!! Crap… I broke the ice when I stepped on it and heard much bitching behind me. Guess I gotta start working off those Christmas cookies. After crossing the stream, we had to climb up hill, then across the railroad tracks, down the hill again, and then we passed by the sewage treatment plant. AAAAhhhh – such a pleasant aroma wafting from the containers. Picture check in front of the plant sign. However, Scum Sucking Fecal Feeliac, the hasher most “at home” in these surroundings missed the picture check! A down-down awaits Fecal. Eventually, we made it back to the park after crossing the snow-covered soccer field. Much rejoicing. An impromptu circle was held under a covered platform, but that sure didn’t keep out the wind. First Circle: Virgins: Dick and Gay. Who made them cum? Visitors Mike and Sandy, oops! Small Bone and Wet Nurse! An extra down-down for mother-given names. Visitors: Small Bone and Wet Nurse from Hong Kong. Hare Crimes: Over-utilization of asphalt. Not having Gas Hole’s name as a hare on the t-shirts, etc. Small Bone was asked to share a hasher song. We were treated to a lovely song about all kinds of body excrements and what you can do with them. “If I had head lice, I’d swish it forwards, I’d swish it sideways, and I’d swish it all around.” Substitute “head lice” with ear wax, boogers, belly fluff, dick cheese, and hemorrhoids, and you’ve got yourself a chorus! Pack crimes: Poo Packer for finding poo on trail; Accents on trail: The UnaLicker, Little Boy Blue Balls, Beat It, and Kunt Hunt; Missing Beer Nears: Butt Digger, Eats it Raw, Hot Tub Slut, and Quarter Barrel; Wearing drapes instead of beach attire: Vommitt Dog; Claiming to be wearing a bikini, but not making it visible to the pack: Butt Digger. Down downs for all! Analversaries: Poo Packer 80, The UnaLicker 85, Scum Sucking Fecal Feeliac 85. Get a life! REALLY needs to get a life: One of our esteemed hashers, Hot Tub Slut, celebrated his 200th hash today. In honor of this momentous occasion, The UnaLicker wrote a charming little limerick: 200 hashes of down-downs, equals how many beers? "Get a life", has sounded WAY too many times, over the years. Formally known as Tan Man, until decadence in a tub... From there on after..."Hot Tub Slut", we then did dub. Congratulations and On-On to 300...the pack now cheers! For his dedication to the SCH4 hash, Hot Tub Slut was rewarded with the coveted plastic bag, which he proudly wore. All hashers were green with envy! Yes, someday, if you hash with us 200 times, you too could get a trash bag. At this point, the hash circle closed and we reconvened at the On-After, which was Shady O’Grady’s, just down the street. Best Blow brought all the festive beach decorations. Hashers were relatively quiet and subdued, which is pretty typical when they are stuffing their faces with snacks. Soon after the feeding frenzy stopped, we opened the circle again. Latecummers were called into the circle: Pubic Zirconia, Fourgasm, Butt Digger, Eats it Raw, Neon Knockers (?) Cumpetitive Media Exposure: Hot Wax Me Off, for appearing in the “Inspire Cincinnati” magazine! Most flamingos picked up on trail: Butt Digger Best Dressed Couple: Sucks But Doesn’t Swallow and Poo Packer, who couldn’t help but rub it in that they went to Turks and Caicos for their honeymoon last year. Worst Dressed Couple: Butt Digger and Eats it Raw. Apparently, they read the directions on how to actually GET to the hash, but somehow missed the obvious theme of it being a BEACH hash, which in retrospect was kind of hard not to notice, since didn’t Butt Digger design the t-shirts???? What happened to the shark costume from last year? And…… last, but not least… We had a naming. Apparently, Vommitt Dog didn’t learn the old, “Keep your hands to yourself” rule in kindergarten, and therefore, he frequently finds his hands wandering down the front of Heather NHN Bolton’s shirt. This being observed, Anal Vice suggested the name Titty Puppet. All in favor of TITTY PUPPET say “Aye.” All opposed say, “Aye.” The ayes have it. Henceforth, Heather shall be known as Titty Puppet. The circle kept going on and on and on and on and on (is that where we get the famous “On-on!” exclamation?) because when ONE (fill in the blank here with whatever you want … grand master, grand mattress, hare, visitor, centurian, couple, religious advisor, late cummer, etc….. it really didn’t matter at this point) drinks, ALL (fill in the blank here with previous title) drinks. I don’t think anyone escaped being dragged into the circle. At long last, however, the circle was closed with a rousing rendition of “Swing Lo.” Until next year…. stroX coX baXwards (Triple-X)