Or, if you can’t say anything nice….
As I drove to the ”Bye Bye Boobies” R*n, the skies opened up and unleashed an ungodly downpour. I managed to get lost trying to find a start location that has been used no less than 3 times in the last 6 months, mostly because it was dark and no one was there yet because Half Assed time generally runs even later than Humpin’ time.
As I bundled up in layer upon layer of clothes and huddled under the small bit of shelter that Lactathalon’s van’s hatch provided, Anal Rose bestowed a new job on yours truly. I had the honor (and once you’re on her…) of being Hash Cash. I actually enjoyed it! The added responsibility and my abysmal math skills aside, it was really neat to get to see everyone and meet all the new folks.
I’m not sure exactly how chalk talk was done, as a river was flowing through the parking lot, washing the marks away as soon as they were set. After the pack was away, the rain let up, momentarily, at least.
Personally, I had just gotten out of bed after recovering from Vegas RDR, and trying to stave off pneumonia, so I went to the end with all the other pansies. Not 5 minutes after arriving, Kravin’ Kimchi Koochie set off an alarm of some sort and a cop rolled up. Luckily the fast talking Splatterpussy was there, and sober, and we were left alone. It also helped that the alarm wasn’t attached to anything and the cop was dyslexic.
The circle was… interesting. There was the first appearance of Lactathalon’s new boobies, the burning of her old boobie holsters, a hostile takeover and not nearly enough beer. Just when the natives were getting restless, Salad Shooter busted out the boobie cakes! One chocolate boob, one vanilla, both with white chocolate pudding in the middle. Lactathalon cut them both to match her new scars and they were delicious. (The cakes, not her boobs, I’m not an authority on those. Perhaps we should ask Zima, Warrior Princess?)
After Lactathalon decided that she’d had enough of us and our antics, we adjourned to the bowling alley for the 2nd celebration of the evening, my birthday! I hopped in a car with Shigmata, All Roads Lead to Anal and Sucking Seabiscuit. We ended up so lost we had to call for directions not once, not twice, but three times. The rest of the hash stumbled in shortly thereafter. We took over the bar area, much to the chagrin of a table of patrons and one of the bartenders. After some karaoke and a few pitchers of beer, we finally got our lanes and bowled until the place closed down. I’m pretty sure I won, but it’s hard to tell when someone has to pick you up after you fell down on the way to the lane.
On on to staying out of the hospital!
~Here to Get Laid
Upcumming Events:
12/31 Humpy New Year
1/17-21 Tex Mex Intercourse
2/23 Phoenix RDR
2/29-3/2 Betty Ford Rehab
