Run #494 Who Doesn’t Love A Virgin Lay

WARNING: The activities about to be documented describe actual events that may or may not have occurred during last week’s gypsy night out. Outright fabrication of the actions of key individuals cannot be ruled out. That being said, it was an omen of things to come that the trail should start at Duboce Park. Also lovingly known as “Parking Hell”, but Hashers love a challenge nearly as much as beer and soon all were gathered at the McTaco mansion. The sacred missal was given a quick spin around the block, but the reading must not have generated much interest as Escrowtum, Rhett Butthole, Udder Moron and I R Stupid were still standing around unfazed when the pack went off. Sorry boys, it seems that the missal came down with a headache at an unfortunate time. It wasn’t long before the pack was scratching their collective head. An early check marked with miles of false trail had At Your Cervix, Phone Sex, and Just Catherine so heated up they had to relieve the tension by showing Manhole that a dog is not actually man’s best friend. Having been unceremoniously dumped Otto had to trot back to the park to find some real friends. Only 3 Ball Jay and several of the “real” *unners happened to solve the check quickly, even though by accident. In what surely must be a full moon effect, the pack began to follow D’Anglin Anglin as the trail folded back on itself and turned down Noe toward Market. Fucking Shut Up in absolute euphoria from two rounds through the doggie gauntlet called Duboce Park attempted to cuddle up to Bite Size. Only quick thinking by Drill Me, who shouted to Fuck Me Father that the Castro was just up ahead, saved the pup from certain death. As it turns out, FMF was not the only one with an eye on the Castro. Likes to Lick, Sum Yung Guy, and Just Doesn’t Get It, claiming the check at Market was very difficult to solve, were spotted emerging from a dive called “The Men’s Club”. Poor Napoleon Bonerdog had a glazed look in his eye and a hitch in his gittyup. Never thought you’d see the words poor and Napoleon Bonerdog together, did ya? Eventually, most everyone made it to the beer check up in Dolores Heights, including a back of the pack group with Tongueless (no surprise there), 5150, Sud Sucking Big Foot, Fits in, Enter the Gerbil and Splat. It was noted that this particular pack spent an extremely long time in the Castro as well. Fortunately for Whippet In ‘n Out there are no animal cruelty charges pending, but the boys were sporting some fancy new leather collars. After the beercheck most of the pack bailed out (claiming an inability to find trail), but the “smart” hashers that continued found a trip around to the Randall Museum via Corona Heights and a sample of favored routes from “Staircases of San Francisco”. Missing the entire ordeal was Mr. Bone Jangles, who claimed an ankle injury. Most likely he trotted back to the park with Otto to play with the rest of the bonerdogs. Thirsty and bitching the group assembled back at the garage. McTaco, the hostess with the mostest, served up chili to go with the usual bucket, beer, and chips. Due to the unusually warm night the bucket and the beer sustained immediate and severe damage. However, that damage was nothing compared to the damage Open Wide was considering for LTL. When she revealed to Shithead her plan, he immediately offered to be her practice dummy. Now there’s no dummy! Stiffy, lurking in the shadows, overheard this exchange and suddenly was able to live up to his name. A circle was sort of assembled and first down downs went to the Virgin Hares, Go Nad and Just Sean. In fact, many down downs were provided to these young, strapping boy toys. Truth is a plan was hatched by Eager Beaver, Tits For Hire and (though not present) Scarlett O’Hairy to cause these boys to ingest great amounts of the newly discovered male date rape drug-----BEER. Once incapacitated, the harriettes would indulge in their own version of virgin sacrifice. Unfortunately, they had to survive the rest of the circle, which included a totally unnecessary revelation of the intestinal habits of Chickless Boner, IRS, and Enter the Gerbil. Apparently aware of the upcoming indiscretion Naked Hasher put his clothes on and left. Stool Sample clearly felt this was a noteworthy topic, but Just Fiona (from Dublin) thought we were all a bunch of Udder Moron’s for not getting on with the drinking. Taking Just Fiona’s cue the drinking commenced until not a drop was left. So impaired was Tongueless that he attempted to drive from the trunk of the car. Luckily Whippet In ‘n Out have recently completed the Sears Point Road Course Test and were able to jump in and get him home. Fits In clearly never noticed the difference. (Photographic evidence of this does exist) Somehow the crowd slowly disappeared without any mishap, but then there’s always next week. On On