Run #1516 - Trust Me. I'm a Doctor

May 24, 2010

Hare: Dr Fill and Lost In Space
Where: Chelsea's Pub & Grill
Big Rock: $10 Jugs of Trad!
Attendance: 32

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The 7th Anal Proctologist Run included a scenic tour of the mean streets of northeast Calgary, a bajillion 1-cent ribs and co-hare Lost in Space doing his best impression of a supermodel preggers with twins.

Oh, and in an event that's becoming as common as the San Jose Sharks choking in the NHL playoffs, newly named Dementia got the Hash Thingy stolen for the second straight week.

Ah, yes, the gift that keeps on giving.

A gaggle of hashers gathered at Chelsea's bar to mark the end of the celebrations honouring Queen Vicky, better known as May long weekend. Hashers put down their ski poles, bikes and beer long enough to follow a trail set by Proctologist Extraordinaire, or so he claims, Dr. Fill and his aforementioned Little Buddy, Lost in Space.

Surprisingly, there were no sounds of gunshots or police car sirens as hashers wandered the streets, searching for playgrounds and a beer stop, before heading back to Chelsea's for mass quantities of food and drink.

Hyena had agreed to serve as Guest RA for the evening, but since he has the attention span of a mosquito — and often is much more irritating — and forgot to show up, the RA duties fell to the overworked and under-penised FIGJAM.

• Since Ms. JAM is a total control freak, she decided to bypass a formal choir and kinda lead songs herself. Then again, the choir is usually so horrendous, it was probably an act of mercy to skip them.
   
• Men-o-pause, who may need to have his name changed to Pussy Pause because there's little manly about him, and Buried Pleasure were busted for backing out after they promised to serve as hares. Rumour has it they both repeatedly had their report cards marked in elementary school with pathological liar.

  
   

• Shack Shock, the self-proclaimed Sex Machine, also got a down-down for always being too busy to hare — or even call out on-on, for that matter.
   
• Sticky Lips and Pull My Woody, both of whom were walking like a parenthesis, drank for gamely showing up after riding 330km in the Golden Triangle over the weekend. They claimed their gimpiness was a result of a bike ride, and heatedly denied reports that they actually spent the weekend in Calgary, engaging in, well, use your imagination.
   
• The hash marked the return of a vaguely familiar character, Serpico Lite. When asked how she spent her Victoria Day, Booty Camp simply replied: Sexing Serpico. Enough said.
   
• FIGJAM pulled off some namings, including Cheeky White Bottom (something about white shoes), Good Swallow, and Dementia, who keeps forgetting to keep an eagle eye on the Hash Thingy.

  Dementia lost it last week, and was only able to get it back when she shook down (wink, wink) thief Krusty. But this week she was defiant after it disappeared, saying she didn't care and wasn't running with it again. For the record, Krusty didn't attend this week, so he didn't steal it this time.

  
   

• For the first, or maybe second, time in her life, Ms. JAM was complimentary toward another human being, in this case Blue Balls. She said Mr. Balls was extremely nice to her when she forgot to pay hash cash, so she rewarded him with a beer. Take a snapshot of that whole scene, since it probably won't happen again.
   
• Roaring Nancy was cited for running over marks and not telling anyone, then whining that no one would follow him. So he got to lead the group in his down-down song, just so he would feel better about his Irish self.
   
• Abandoned Pussy and Baby drank for a tawdry tale in which the Bruneian sex god complained that his horn wasn't tight enough for him to blow, which set off a chain reaction that resulted in talk of threesomes and foursomes and, ick.
   
• Twisty briefly held the Hash Thingy for a disgusting story about a tennis ball, but then relinquished the Sacred Plunger to Dementia, who really, really wants to win it every week.
   
• Peeler got a down-down for telling FIGJAM she had a nice bush, when Ms. JAM doesn't even play for that team. Nor does Twisted Spritzer from the Red Deer hash, who decided to show up in Calgary for some unfathomable reason.

All in all, the night was kinda like House on acid, or maybe Grey's Anatomy, only with better acting. Oh, and nobody twisted an ankle or cut themselves, so there was no need for any medical attention.

Thank goodness for small favours.

On-On!

Duke of Hurl

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