Run #966 - Gispert Memorial run

February 12, 2000

Hares: P'Tooie, Dreary
Where: Richmond Arms Pub, 7337 Sierra Morena Blvd. SW
Attendance: 67

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As your intrepid cub reporter mingled with the Hash regulars (and irregulars on a metamucil and bran flakes diet), a growing undercurrent of tension was evident tonight. Privately, many confided to me that though this Gispert was a very fine and noble fellow, given that he passed away 59 years ago, was it really appropriate that many sweet baboos were not receiving candy hearts, flowers and other Valentine treats because their significant others were off buying drinks to toast Gispert instead? Discuss amongst yourselves.

In a particularly touching incident, a certain very recent bride who shall remain nameless (hint: cute, blond, answers to Mrs. Knobbybun) confided that her new husband (hint: answers to "stand up") brought flowers home for his Gispert blow up doll and not her!!! tsk, tsk, tsk!

I know, I know, one really has to wonder whether the Reverend (and discount circumsizer) that married them should have spent more time with the groom focusing on the post honeymoon expectations of sweet baboos. In hindsight, perhaps he should have suggested it was time to pass on the blow up doll to other hashers, not yet involved in a relationship entirely independent of an air valve.

In any case, this valentine treat impaired group circled up in the cold and lightly snowed parking lot outside the Richmond Arms pub. Post yadda, yadda, yadda circle announcements, we did a quick tour of the West Hills shopping centre and then dipsey doodled throughout Signal Hill. By the time I returned to the on-in, your reporter-in-training counted 37 dipseys , but, only 19 doodles. Look, I didn't miss any, it was just a short run! A cautionary tale may prove useful at this point. Some hashers, while attempting to "chat up" or otherwise ingratiate themselves to other hashers (potential sweet baboos) have a tendency to look dreamily into the eyes of the sought after "hottie", instead of at what is in front of them. Well, there are posts sticking up on the pathways and as one harrierette who will remain nameless (hint: opposite of blow; opposite of yes; opposite of goodness) will attest, these posts don't bend. Enough said.

Back at the on-in, I had to really pump my sources for the dirt (Hey! they claim they liked it, especially the tummy pumps). In the "Is that a starter's pistol in your pocket" dept., when asked for her impressions of the evening's run, Groupee (velcroed to Anal list at the time) gushed, "It's never too short". Well, that may be, but, there better be some special heart shaped treats show up later or someone's new nickname is going to be "Stubby".

Do blondes get it, and more often? dept.

Cheeks volunteered that ever since she took off her blond Halloween wig, her candy count was in the crapper. Even her favourite C-train flasher hasn't been giving her the normal pre-flash flower that all the blondes seem to receive.

A little squeeze and it perks right up....dept.

Speaking of flashing, King Shit's batteries were suffering from lack of power due to excessive flashing, however, Beaver Flats noted that if she just squeezed them a little, they would quickly spring back to life. Perhaps the pink bunny should give this a try instead of always banging on that silly drum.

Hello, anybody home?.....dept.

R.A. Dreary, started the evening's down downs by having P'tooie recite a poem in Gispert's memory. Unfortunately, some in the back couldn't hear properly and thought it was a poem about the "G spot". This would explain why Right Bun and Hash Test were seen doing the wave during the poetry reading and sporting ear to ear grins.

Lakey then jumped in when an R.A. substitution was called. She downed the hares; P'tooie and Dreary, for a well laid trail except for the fishy smell around one cul-de-sac. The olfactory nuisance had many suggested origins, but, it was ultimately determined to be a hasher, running after his "best before" date had expired.

The mini shit was awarded to the finely coiffed, Pull it, for Hash web page modelling. My notes are a little difficult to decipher at this juncture as I noted a plethora of hooter flashing going on. Dreary then returned and annointed the choir, consisting of: the returning Senior Pole Vault and his comely seniorita, Hot Dog, our splendiforous reigning hash queen, We Tone, and the highly energized, Beaver Flats.

It worked fine in the movie .....dept.

007 was downed for vehicular transgressions. The suave, secret hashing agent, with a license to drink, was later seen disciplining his jeep for not stopping and parking itself as he had instructed it, prior to jumping out while it was still moving.

my soap box ...... dept.

Sexcellent was downed for finally achieving her 69th run. Stranger got in on the down down for hiring a vet to make her pussys sore. My god!!! How many does she have??? And I know he can afford it, but, couldn't he have done this himself?? And what's next?? Horny hashers standing nonchalantly next to the zuccini bin at Safeway, painting their private members green and hiding them amongst the produce hoping to be pulled, prodded, poked and petted? More on this later.

The heretofore aforementioned Knobbybuns were downed for standing too far apart given that they are still in that post honeymoon phase when they share just one underwear.

Itsy Bitsy, Krusty, Choir Boy and Shooting Blanks were all acknowledged as being Hash Shit worthy, but, due to overwhelming audience support, Shooting Blanks inherited the honourary, 85 lb., tandem axled, heavily decorated, plumber's helper from Sir Hemmoroid.

Knot this again! .......dept.

Pull it, for being in dire straits with a reef knot in her running tights drawstring just as nature was making a rukus at the door.

It's been awhile ....dept.

Mydol, for asking Choir Boy, "If I cum this Saturday night, what should I do?

That isn't what they were designed for, you know.....dept.

King Shit, for leaving his Safeway bag handles sticking out of his crotchal area, where the rest of the bag was protecting his....err....ummm......bag.

The other white meat....dept.

Pool Boy Ron, for not being able to recall which harrierette tackled him and attacked his family jewels with a snow job.

People aren't just starving in Ethiopia, they're pretty hungry here too.....dept.
Right Bun, for licking fence posts for salt. She gets the beer and Lumberjack gets the abuse for being....well.....a lumberjack. Not that there is anything wrong with that, the flooglemeister's union was heard to say.

and finally,

Uuh...aren't those red pills supposed to be blue?......dept.

Groupee and Hot on trail for discount selling of fake viagra.

As a long time supporter of PAFF (People against fruit fondling), I feel compelled to take this opportunity to comment on recent misinterpertations of the grocery store term, "in season".

This term was NEVER meant to encourage attacking, molesting and stuffing young fruits and vegetables down the front of one's pants to enhance what nature has given you. This obviously applies to bananas, so....ahem and tsk, tsk, tsk Mr. B. Robbin. Further, "in season", does NOT mean it is OK to lurk about in the produce section disguising one's Mr. Winky in vegetable coloured tones hoping for a "purchase" by a near sighted shopper. If you require "enhancement", this is what paper towels and socks were created for. I trust that those of you who need professional help to get over this deviant "fruit attraction" will seek such assistance before you are publicly humiliated and restricted to shopping only in the chips and dip aisle of Mac's stores.

your reality free scribe,

Kawky Whoreurrrrrrrrrr

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Ask Right Bun

Dear Right Bun,

,

Editors' Notes

On-On,

Yer Editors


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