Ok, this week's email is super long. There are a bunch of details for the St Pat
hash and then Charlie has an even longer review that I'm sure all of you will
read. Anyway. Let's get to it.

In case you haven't read the St. Pat's post (or didn't read it closely enough),
we need you to submit your dinner order for 8th Street Confectionery by 11 am
tomorrow. Mark has uploaded 8th Street's menu. Since they're staying open after
hours for us, they need a good idea of we'll want so they can be prepared.

As you all know, St. Patrick's Day is unofficially the "official holiday" of the
Hash House Harriers. Why you ask? Simple… it consists of beer, ridiculous
costumes, & raucous antics. What drinking club with a running problem wouldn't
claim that holiday as its own?

With the luck of the Irish on our side, St. Pat's falls on a Tuesday, our
official drinking night! Jack will be our leprechaun!!

Jackie O' "I've Got Your Pot of Gold" Frasier will hare from 8th Street
Confectionery, which has been secured for us, once again, by Mark "I've Got
Brassy Lasses Out Me Ass" Offutt (he has QUITE the reputation with the
waitresses around town).

Since Mark's ladies may otherwise entertained, our hostesses for the evening
will be Amanda & Angela OR(thanks to Charlie) AmAngela. As your hostesses,
naturally, we have a few requests…

• YOU MUST WEAR GREEN! This is not optional. If you show up without any green,
Charlie has our permission to pinch you . . . wherever he chooses.

• The crazier the clothing the better – PRIZE FOR MOST OUTLANDISH IRISH OUTFIT!

• We will provide some special beverages (green beer and perhaps some sort of
punch-like libation) and desserts. PLEASE CONTRIBUTE, WE'RE EASY - MONEY OR A
DESSERT!

• Mark has uploaded the menu for 8th Street (check the "Files" section). Please
let us know ahead of time what you would like to order so that the cooks can be
prepared. Orders should be submitted by Monday morning. Please do your best to
accommodate this request, especially since 8th Street will be staying open past
their normal hours just for us. For those of you who fail to submit a menu
choice, you will be forced to eat whatever we find in the back of Scanlon's car.
Frankly, this could merely be various molded vegetables…or the decomposing body
of a prostitute. So put your order in!

This is also THE BIG NIGHT for those of you participating in the weight loss
challenge. Kudos to all of you for your efforts! May the biggest loser win! We
understand there is a wee bit o'gold involved, but we may have some other small
reward [and by small reward, we invite you to read on…]

There have been some rumors about Irish pole dancing, and we believe Mark has
offered to be the pole (it was really the most logical choice), so we suggest
that the winner of the weight loss challenge entertain us all with HIS best pole
dance! So get to choreographing you less-heavy hounds!

The St. Pat's hash also marks the anniversary of the introduction of one Ms.
Amanda Gates to our Hash House, so a down-down (or three or until she passes out
and/or dies) will be in order.

If anyone has any other suggestions, please let us know! Otherwise, we'll see
you shakin' your shamrocks on the trail!

A hearty O' ON – ON to you!

[P.S. This is the text-only version of this message. For a much more
entertaining view, please check out Amanda's flyer in the "Files" section!]


And here's the Charlie review of last week's hash:
All right, you demanded (!) a fresh write-up of the Greatest Hash in the
History of all Hashdom™, so here it comes!

First of all, a great big thanks to Stephen "Hard Times" Grizz, for sacrificing
himself by throwing his fine boot-ay in front of a car just so I could have the
incredibly scrumptious Nina as my virginistical co-hare. St. Stephen seemed
mobile, but he says it hurts everywhere, esp. his groin. He did say that his
gal-pal Esmerelda was taking very good care of him "down there". Eww.

The weather report called for rain all day, so of course we got about 3
sprinkles...it turned out to be 70 and sunny most of the afternoon, so the
weather could not have been more perfect, boding well for Nina's sensual
initiation into the wacky world of haring a hash. I set out the sacred Beer
Near, certain in my manlihoodliness that a ten-pack would be more than plenty
for our namby-pamby group of tee-totalers....little did I suspect that a bunch
of wanking hosers from golly-knows-where would use the fair weather as an excuse
to suck up my suds.

I arrived at Los Mariachi's seemingly with plenty o' time to spare, only to find
that no one had any chalk. JAY, our intrepid Hash-King ( de la Dorque), is so
wrapped up in roundball with the 'Eers that he can't extricate hi
s head (WHO said "head"?) from his anal orifice to remember to bring a few lousy
stixxx of chalk. Fortunately, after freaking out and finding none to spare
among the earlybirds, I managed courageously to scrounge a few paltry sticks
from the bowels of the detritis in my car. Nina kept bothering me to give her
more, but I'm only one man, and a teensy bit out of practice besides. Anyway,
leaving a little late was OK, as it appeared that some of my girlfriends weren't
showing, such as Janna "I'm NOT an Elitist!" Jackson, who is as great an athlete
as she is beautiful...too bad she's fixin' to get hitched this summer...seems
like I've a penchant for driving women to the alter. It turns out that she
thought the hash started at 7:00, although I distinctly recall telling her 6:00
sharp. Well, at 6:05 or so, Nina and I finally got around to the chalk-talk,
where I ASSUMED that I had made it abundantly clear to her the marks we would be
setting out this evening. And with that, we were off together, two young hearts
beating as one.

We got about 20 yards till I said, "Hop over this wall," to which she replied,
"WHAT?" Now NIna is an athlete, but she had little idea what she was in for
(at). We had a few abortive miscommunications at checks, but we managed to stay
together through a few tricky backchexx and falses. HOwever, when we split up
after the check at Slight Indulgence, it all went to Helen's house(not Helen of
Troy...and=2
0how does he rate such a smashing woman anyway???) in a handbasket. I
specifically told her, "Mark a turn, head down the road, then mark a big false
and KEEP RUNNING STRAIGHT AHEAD. " Apparently, she did not quite comprehend the
"run straight ahead" part....she is blonde, after all. After I had marked a
BRILLIANT trail along the creek, Socialistically ignoring the sanctity of
private property(my solemn credo: if it's not barred by chain link or barbed
wire, I can run across it), I popped out on the street again, only to espy no
sign of Nina. I started calling her name: " Nina, where are you, my Leetle
Flower???" backtracking about a quarter mile only to find here standing at the
bridge where I had told to mark a false, thus adding credence to the old hashing
adage, "If it can get screwed up, it will." No harm done, however, and after I
had chastised NIna with a stern tongue-lashing AND a spanking (that's ALL the
particulars you're gonna get, you PERVS), we again embarked on the Gratest Trail
Ever, thru the trailer court to the parking lot in back of the bowling alley,
then to the check beside Mylan. Nina's enthusiasm waned a bit when I indicated
that we were headed UP to the Hospital, but I promised her better treatment
later, and she perked up noticeably. The trail WAS kinda steep, and Terrible
Ted from Greensburg (who seems to have a thing for 19-20 year olds...I can take
'em or leave 'em) told me later that he nearly lost his 'nads to the g
uardrail at the top. Too bad, but at least he was near a hospital, which I
conveniently took the hash throu gh, at least a short bit. Then we
circumnavigated Ye Olde Med Centre, faked the hounds out at Chestnuts Ridge,
where a bunch of nuts were playing b-ball, then blasted across Ruby Blue Lot,
where evidently a number of the girlier-types decided to bail on the GREATEST
HASH of ALL TIME! None of these wimmun will be candidates for my Next Main
Squeeze...if you're gonna be with me, you gotta be able to take major
punishment, but in a nice (naughty)way.

Next was a set of skirmishes through slum-student housing off of Don "Knotts"
Nehlen Blvd., to the cool covered court at Casino (Chateau?) Royale, past the DP
stop (don't ask, you're not old enough), and then popping out at the football
practice field, around that sucka and UP to the BN high atop Law School hill.
To my manly credit, how the heck was I to know that all these newbies (friends
of Brooke's , perhaps? And by the way, Brooke, why are you dating a 12-year
old? What you need is a REAL [old] man) would show up at the last minute, the
fair-weather weiners? I put out (!) ten or so beers (so I drank a couple as a
warm up), Gatorade and a gal of water, and in the past, a six-pack usually
sufficeth, but tonight's was a much thirstier crowd....I've never heard such
whining about lack o' beer...but did anyone bother to buy the hares a beer after
the hash? OK. , OK , the girls go
t shots and frozen 'ritas( the proverbial Cuervo Gold mine) and I, well...I got
the shaft. And I liked it. Butt in a manly way.

NIna's lovely and funner girlfriend Amy was kind enough to drive my drunken
botox back to the BN to collect the mess, and nothing at all happened between
us, most notably not you-know-what. Their seriously unfun other girlfriend
Riley ( who is cute as a bug's butt but who studies like ALL THE TIME) didn't
even make it to the Apres, which means that she is still technically a virgin
(YESSS!). To Riley's credit, however, I must admit that without her having
befriended my in Spin Class in the first place, there would never have been a
Nina or Amy to honor us with their gracious and beauteous presence. Now if only
Riley will bring the rest of her sorority with her...maybe we'll meet them at
the Spring Formal Hash.

Oh yeah, I left out the part about the trail after the BN as I digressed: I
told NIna to mark it all, as I was tired from all the stuff we had done on trail
(which is none of your business, Buster!) , and I must say she did a splendid
job, taking us thru Towers and around to the ballfields, then to the Alumni
Center with some trixxx and turns before heading for home. I'm sure I learned
as much from her as she did from me, technically (and sensually) speaking.

The Apres at Los Mariachi's was cool, because I got to sit with the hotties,
except for Brooke , who insists on sitting at the yo
ungster's table.where they drank Kool-Aid and ate cupcakes. I can't thank these
young gals (OK, maybe I could if they would let me) enough for continuing to
come out…it helps to keep us old fartes' juices a-janglin'. Just as a reminder,
next week will be Angela's lame-o St. Paddy's Day hash in Fairmont, and in two
weeks we'll be back in Mo-town somewhere, I think it's Coach's at the end of
Collins Ferry Road next to Timberline Apts. It's a former strip club, so bring
your G-strings and pasties if you wanna get in on the amateur action.

I am tired now....it's 1:00 a.m., and Mr. Buns, my fluffy white rabbit with whom
I share bunk space, is ready to cuddle doon for the knicht.

Mark your calendars for the Spring Formal during Dead Week (Bringin' DRAG back,
Baby!), and I `ll see yinz all on the trails.

On-ON!!!

Love 2 All(except Sandy, who is dead 2 me),

AnalGeezus

P.S. OH yeah, almost forgot: Nina's tentative hash-name to be determined at a
later date is "Two Lines Falsie", for her mistakenly marking falses with 2 lines
instead of three...we'll leave her alone about Oh! Limp Puss! for the time
being...we can probably cumm up with something much cruder and
ruder....something "Unorthodox", as it were. This is The Hash, after all.