Run #1042

(the truth, revision 1.43a)

April 8, 2002

Hares: Dreary, plus virgin co-hare(s)
Where: Dog and Duck Pub, 5340 - 2 Street SW
Attendance: 58

Click here for Photos!

Monday evening?
Time on your hands?
No life?
Lack of social skills?
Non recoverable alcoholic?

We've got the place for you, and it's not Claresholm!
Yes folks, just one call to a magical number (your identity will not be revealed, as aliases WILL be used) and you are instantly transported to a different emporium of wonder. EVERY single Monday night!

What's more, this new cult, er, club, is open to everyone.
We don't care if you're gay, straight, or Australian. We take anyone!
Even castoffs from real running clubs are welcome, if they can drink.
Come aboard, stay a while, your troubles will simply disappear (until the next mornings' guilt awakens).

Yes, for the low, low price of 3, yes, THREE dollars each Monday you will be witness to the vast entourage of low, low, lowlifes who think they are runners, but are in reality...... just hashers!

For instance, LAST Monday (of all things), at a PUB (of all things), called The Dog & Duck (of all things).

Well, it WAS a house, and it WAS open to the public so...... it's a Public House, and nicely done it was too. (although not having Tartan Bitter on tap anymore is near unforgivable)

61.5 "hashers" (actually, 15 hashers, and 45 runners) assembled in the parking lot of a nearby mortuary to hear the interminably boring announcement marathon...... yadayada, another run, yadayada, bullshit, yadayada sperm donor, yadayada . Snore.

But wait; in an amazingly stultifying display of vacuous boredom, the herd began auto-segregation, and discrimination abounded! Colours of jackets were chosen as the method of clanning, and simu-racism. If we waited anylonger, someone'd lob a scud.

Thankfully, the hares explained the trail briefly, and the entire gaggle wobbled off in the general direction of 30 auto-body shops (Dreary obviously thought that Body Shops were something else entirely).

So anyway, the highlight of the run was a delicious smell emanating from the bread bakery, oh, and the one Body Shop, unfortunately called "The French Maid". A bus load of Chinese tourists was obviously confused as to the content of that particular establishment's stock in trade.

Industrial, yes that would be the description of this run. Confusing could be another. But they're supposed to be that way, I think. (No, I don't, actually). Tunnels, trains, cars, malls, stores, cars. Oops, we're back to the bar.

The intrepid and extraordinarily lazy RAs decided that they were too pooped to do their duty tonight, and so enlisted a flock of hapless hashers who like to rat out their fellow aimless "road & stream warriors".

So, anyway, I get to drink beer that tastes like poop from a lightly used plunger because I picked up No Blue Balls's brownies that she left on trail. So now I have a weapon with which to accidentally whack Doris "fucking rat" Day.

The other members of the rat-out club were so despicable that I can barely bring myself to remember their onerous crimes against the hash. Oh, maybe I can remember how Crash Test Dummy can make any man come. Hey, I just about came.

Some things just get burned into an alcohol soaked brain.

Speaking of alcohol soaked brains, Thanks go to the hares for marking trail, and choosing a decent pub.

Speaking of alcohol soaked brains.............

Purple Green snot & Yellow snot Red Blue White Green Black

Go Team "Green Radioactive Elephant Snot", Goooooooooooo! Fuck all those other colour teams, who do they think they are? Do they imagine that they are superior to us? I think I feel them smirking right now!

They obviously have inferior fashion style, lack intact genetic makeup, suffer from severe personal hygiene deficiency and should be put out of our misery as soon as possible. WAR is good, death to the infidel.

We should play football with their severed heads.

Head, who said head, I'll have some of that, and I did, and it was goo

On On!

Hot Dog? Pole Vault?

Click here for Photos!


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