August 2005

8 August 2005

"Hello my friend we meet again (yah!) Seems like forever." So sings Creed-ah.
It's been four score and seven months ago since I last wrote, posted a picture, or done anything at all with this website. To be honest, I forgot all about it. Life has been great, and I found out that I have to take a break from it all to upkeep this website. But lookie here! 'tis finally updated.
I also have a blog. I just found out what a blog is, and if you've read my blog already, you'd already know that. It is located at www.myspace.com/24705015. Awesome name for a website, eh? Indeed it is. It is personified because my home phone number is, in fact, 247-0501...the five at the end was a mistake. (Note: this is not really my phone number. It was probably randomly assigned from the website trolls working 24/7 to keep the blogs updated.)
This site is, for the time being, about my hashing experiences. What is a hash, you ask? I'm glad you asked. It is defined as a "drinking club with a running problem," and what it consists of is a group of social misfits running amok in the city streets. We have goofy names, like "Grounded Nuts," "Sheep Thrills," "Cool Hand Lube," "But His Nut," "Studless," "Hurls for Girls," and a few others that would be inapproprite to post on a public forum intended for Rated-G audiences (which is also why I am careful as to which pictures I am showing.) Basically, the trail is laid by a "hare," which is the person responsible for--you guessed it--choosing the place to run. The hare then lays the trail using things like flour, chalk, and toilet paper. It is our job as hashers to follow the trail and make it to the end point, known as the "circle." This is my favorite part, where the crowd gets rowdy and the fun continues. It is almost a religious awakening--religious in the sense that you feel you are in a drunken church with its own traditions, rules, and songs. (I highly recommend you do not take your kids to a hash--they are intended for immature audiences over the age of 21.)
Sometimes, hashes are also pub crawls, and the end result is typically crawling (or falling.) Don't you worry, though--there is almost always a designated driver, and whenever there isn't one provided, we can get one for fee (yes, I intentionally wrote 'fee')from calling our trusted comrades or taxis.
The hash from Saturday, August 6th was our most recent hash, and some interesting things happened. About 3/4 of the way to the circle, we had torrential downpours. My phone was ruined in the fiasco, and we got a little bit lost because the toilet paper melted and the flour washed away. Eventually, we found our way back to the circle, and the rain stopped as soon as we walked into the driveway of the house. Great time indeed! Soaked from head to toe and singing "Singing in the Rain" and other soggy-weather songs was a blast, not to mention the slight buzz we all had at the time.
During the circle, I was named "Sheep Thrills." You aren't supposed to like your hashing name, but I thought it to be hilarious. I've never had a bizarre name that describes my personality, even though "Sheep Thrills" doesn't explain much more about me than my tendency to be a compulsive liar. (I was honest in "the circle" when people asked me such-and-such questions, but the sheep thing was thrown out as a joke.)
After the hash, the night ended at Ranger's and Hurl's house with a little bit of television and a few bags of tea.
I encourage all of you (all one of you...me) to check out my blog if you get a thrill out of reading compulsive lies as much as I enjoy creating them.
Later.

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