A chronological reminder of what you missed (our experienced but forgot) will not happen here. Instead we shall focus on the highlights. This of course means women, beer and whatever may be left thereafter. So let me show you the world through my eyes . . .

Bookmaker made the first bonehead move this Sunday by bringing Sophie. Now after 100 runs by Sophie (justly awarded in circle) you would think Dad would stop being so stupid as to offer her as a sacrifice to horny AH3 hashers. A lesson never to be learned we suspect.

Other notable split tails: Maria came as a Virgin. Not sure if she will cum again but she certainly is a virgin no longer, as nobody is quit sure what happened in that locked bathroom from which she needed rescuing! Hungry Puszi brought a Virgin as well. But by this time too many Amstel's (the shit) caused me to loose to many brain cells to remember. What can you do?

By the way, our revered (laugh laugh) Joint Master Mad Dog (sounds like a rap star's name) has told me the great honor (American English spelling) of being the first scribe of the year. Mad Dog I can smell shit a mile away and can smell yours two miles (3.2 kilometers for you European types) away J

The circle was more oblong than circular but that is common. This day's was particularly tight. You couldn't break in with an elbow. Now I can't say why this was true this day, it was not particularly cold, so it wasn't the body heat factor. I'll have to ponder on that. . . BUT there was beer. And a kudos to our Aussie friend (from the bloody American) for there was cold beer on ice. Aussie's like it cold because it is so damn hot down under and American's like it cold because our beer is such shit that we need the temperature to hide the fact.

Back to the circle. A new torture tool was introduced. A funnel. Upside down funnel beers. Someone should come up with a more sophisticated name. Great fun and mess was made with this and justly awarded for those who ignored the Odd Socks theme. Meaning most everyone. I believe I was particularly talented at consuming my fair share through the funnel of fun. (Hey I like that name). Pop-Up won the best Odd Socks Award, rainbow colored (American English spelling) with individual toes. So he won a t-shirt. The Off-Off was particularly disturbing as he changed into his new winnings.

A new beer was introduced with little fanfare. So little in fact that nobody can remember it's name or from where it came. Mad Dog protected it and rationed it out like it was a fine Cognac. (It wasn't) Sorry Mad Dog, it was warm and tasted like shit too. Nevertheless, beyond the editorial commentary, it was told that this mystery beer will be sponsoring our next T-Shirt. We all wait in ecstasy (or is it anticipation, always get those two mixed up).

Yes. There actually was a run. A run in which I was very disappointed, as neither I nor anyone else appears to have had sex on the hash. So what else is there to tell? It was flat, it was short, but really long for a Hamish run. It was a lap around the Golf Course. Can you say boring? There were dogs, traffic, hung over hashers who didn't want to hunt for the next check and there was my one female crumb snatcher that was the back runner of the day. A more inspiring run must be easily possible.

Later, in Hamish's pad much eating and drinking was enjoyed by all. Most amazing was that no one fell off the balcony. That would have ruined the festivities I think. Rumor has it that Flowery Twats father spilt food and wine on himself no more than three times (good job!) and same father tried walking through a glass window with a plate of food (good job again!). Now we have a better idea of why Flowery is the way she is. Men-in-Gitis was seen scootering round and round and round and round and (I'm getting dizzy) in the apartment on a scooter. What up with that? Doesn't all that effort take away from beer drinking time? Alex, below in head work here buddy.

So. There you have it. Another wasted Sunday in our lives but at least we flushed it down the shitter together.

ON ON

Spume