Date

Up Yours Santa

Thanks for the shitty trail. I sort of recovered late this morning and went out to fish off my hangover. Fishing off a hangover? Is that an oxymoron? Anyhow on my first cast I caught a trout and I called it a day and I could go home.

The lying sack O shit hares said the trail was A to B. They alluded to last years trail. This year wasn't as shitty because the trail actually had a beer check after a couple of miles. It was a fine brew that, I wish I could rhyme tasted and shit, was Schlitz. Mmmm, good beer on trail!

The pit bull that we saw with 6 tits almost dragging on the ground was one of the moments of the day. Some hashers wondered if the doggie brestsess were manually or womanly stimulated and maintained for somebody's human pleasure.

The lying hares were proved right when we went back to where we started and had to deduce that the HHH was back at the Forest Inn where last year the now named Drama Queen fell through the doors of the back room that the hash was designated. Fine Coney Island Hot Dogs were served with extra trans fats exported from New York City were served. Santa arrived to grope bimbos and goose wankers as he was giving out gifts. As for myself, I recieved a finely made porno video, booze, and magnetic penguins. I'm not sure if the penguins are gay. I placed the goody bag on top of the TV and this morning my wife asked if that was her Christmas present. I told her that it was a marital advice tape and we need to watch it together.

Just Garry was named something like Head Banger, relitive to his getting 13 stitches from somebody closing a back van door on his head. Shit, he could have been named "Back Door Man". Just Kelly was named too. I'm not sure if this can be translated into words but, Bluuubbb Bluuuuubbbbb. You had to be there. I guess OE can figure out the spelling.

Ship High In Transit

Fart Connor