Run #1287 - 3rd Anal Proctologists Run

June 27, 2006

Hares: Dr Fill
Where: Coach & Horses Ale Room, 150 Millrise Blvd SW
Food & Booze: $12 Jugs of Big Rock + GST + Tip; 10% off food
Attendance: 37

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NORTH LETHBRIDGE -- Today's geography lesson comes courtesy of Dr. Fill, the solo hare on the 3rd Annual Proctologist Run:

• Fish Creek Provincial Park is not in North Lethbridge, nor is it anywhere near North Lethbridge, assuming North Lethbridge even exists on a map. You can't see the windswept coulees of Lethbridge from Fish Creek, and the Montana border is way beyond the horizon.
   
• Macleod Trail eventually takes you to Fort Macleod, but that southern Alberta town is far, far away. There is plenty of Calgary civilization south of Glenmore Trail.
   
• The south side of Calgary actually has running water, working electricity and doesn't take three days by covered wagon. Even the LRT runs to south Calgary, and can let passengers off at Fish Creek- Lacombe station.

Those hardy pioneers who trekked to the Far South for the Proctologist Run found abundant sunshine, a lovely breeze, scenic Fish Creek and even a water crossing -- not to mention ample beer and food at a brand-new pub.

Ahhhh.

Dr. Fill almost got the run off to a somber start when he said that Dr. Ho, one of the prior hares for the Proctologist Run, was no longer with us. But the eerie silence ended when Dr. Fill revealed that Dr. Ho wasn't dead, he'd just moved to Ontario, which, come to think of it, is pretty much the same thing.

The visibly relieved pack then headed off looking for trail markings, knowing full well that there'd be shiggy or a water crossing, or both, in Fish Creek Park. And there was, and it was good, or so they say.

Right Pee-On?

"Blub, blub, blub," said Pee-On, as the water rose above her waist, maybe to her neck.

How about it, Hottie?

"Blub, blub, blub," the other Diminutive One said, her high-pitched voice muffled a bit by the raging waters.

Fortunately, Pee-On and Hottie -- as well as everyone else -- returned safely to the bar without becoming waterlogged food for Fish Creek's coyote population. Back at the bar, merriment and mirth ensued. For instance:

• Xena drank a down-down shot for her 200th run -- a Multiple Orgasm On Some Far-Away Exotic Beach Sinful Alcohol Creation. She drank it quickly and seemed to enjoy it, and even feigned smoking a cigarette afterward.
   
• Speaking of cigarettes, an older couple behind the hashers was smoking like proverbial smokestacks. But Rubber Made, to her everlasting credit, managed to make the couple go away after just two minutes of her lewd, rude and disgusting banter. Well done, Ms. Made.
   
• In contrast to Xena, Duke of Hurl got to suck on a lemon instead of down a beer for his 69th run. No, wait, the lemon was for having the good sense and exquisite timing to avoid crossing Fish Creek and not getting his shoes wet -- one or the other. There was a lemon and there was a beer, both of which were quite good.
   
• Dr. Fill passed on the opportunity to send the pack past the nearby murder scene where Dreary allegedly found the dead body after a hash three weeks ago. So there was no Dreary Re-Enactment. No CSI: Shawnessy. No Jaws Passed Out While All The Excitement Was Happening. No Nothing.
   
• Grandmama Extraordinaire Over Done's other half is now known as Wet Willie, for some reason or other that got lost in the din of the bar. He had hoped to avoid getting named Monday night, but with no hockey to distract the pack, no luck for Mr. Willie.
   
• Now that hockey is over and the CFL had the good sense not to play on Monday night, the bar TVs cranked out drivel like baseball and poker -- all of which allowed Ms. Made to ply her trade without too many distractions. She conducted business in a snappy, semi-professional way and got done in plenty of time so many hashers could make the long trip home and actually get there before daybreak.

On On!
Duke of Hurl

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