Tuesday, 15 April 2014
Of course we were all excited to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the first beer-can to fly by Mercury, the red planet! Who doesn't love the image of a very large beer-can squirting propellant through outer space, the reddish hue of a Pale Ale, or better yet, an Irish Red Ale. We owe thanks to Pussy Wagon for graciously hosting the event at his building's quincho, which was suspiciously close to a stable orbital trajectory altitude and at least as cold once again, promoting the camaraderie and esprit de corps necessary to survive these little trials while making merry. To be fair, the RA is personally responsible for the cold, so no points lost for Pussy Wagon.
After a brief introduction, the dropping of the bags, and a good deal of organizational finesse from Prune, who handled the baggage claim with not a single backpack ending up accidentally in Muncie, IN, we offed to reconnoiter a truly treacherous trail laid by our visiting dignitary from NC, Glitter Puss, and his valiant ward NoName Joao.
And what a trail it was. One would think that in a posh neighborhood in an old Latin city, where many a century the sidewalks have seen only lightly dusted spats on elegant shoes promenading right beside the genteel clacking of fine mahogany walking-sticks, a trail could be nothing if not placid, but Glitter Puss and NoName Joao had something else entirely in store for us. It was like entering the Minoan Labirynth. More checkpoints than trail markers, constant uncertainty, and repeated expeditions in directions that led to nowhere! It was a Hitchcock thriller – the upsetting part!
Thank our pagan gods for the beer-stop. It was good, and there was beer. A second stop had to be pruned from the march due to time constraints and the loss of many souls in the treachery of the tortuous trail through the vast bourgeois savannah that lay between us and more cold beers, but hashers are made of strong stuff, and so the sacrifice was handled with very little crying and whining.
Many having forsaken the faith and made their way back to home base for safety and a little beer, we gathered for the circle, which was led with humor and grace by Sir Acting Semen, with your humble servant, Multiple Entry, performing duties pertaining to the faith. Many down-downs were administered in the wake of some lacking hasherdashery, minor indiscipline, and a most terrible(excellent, that is) trail, which garnered a spectacularly low(good) score on account of its unusual treachery and other proper hash behaviors.
Piss-pouring was handled with grace and aplomb by Prune, Pussy Wagon, and Sir Acting Semen, as virgins were introduced, and rules explained. At first some didn't get it, but they came around.
See how Our Lager makes everything better?
A baptism eventually took place: welcome, one and all, One Erection to the fold. We had a good view of the latest centerpiece in the architectural lanscape that is Santiago, the Costanera Center, tallest building in Latin America, if you can believe those measurements... Worn down by the relentless interrogation that is part and parcel for the induction into such an elite and selective group as the H3, our newest disciple confessed, under duress, that she once had a very intimate meeting in that very building with every member of the musical luminaries known as One Direction. She confided that between the lot, theirs perhaps constituted one single adult-sized erection, and so that became her knighted name.
We concluded amidst much rejoicing for the capitulation of the circle, as Archisexual Dancer and Last to Come tended the grille and provided the stuff of life: Let them eat Choripan!
Obviously, no one gets along in this group...
Once again a big thanks to Pussy Wagon for hosting, Sir Acting Semen for his flawless General Mismanagement, Glitter Puss and NoName Joao for bravely forging a trail where none had been forged, Prune and Mariachi Masturbator for baggage handling that involved no unintended reroutings to Muncie, IN, Prune, once again, for organizational and Piss Pouring grace under pressure, Moon Job for being the responsible one with assiduous record-keeping re. namings, hash cash, etc., Bi-weekly Deposit and Archisexual Dancer for beer-meistering, possibly the most important and pivotal contribution to making us worship our lager, Last to Come for the excellent photography, and once again, Prune and Stroke My Bono for handling hasherdashery duties.
In the end, the group dispersed into multiple after-parties, with all invited to every one and sad to only have the ability to attend one at a time. Some may still possibly be there...
Sunday, 6 April 2014
Since Easter is so near and dear, let's celebrate with eggs and bunny outfits! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
HASH# 147: Who Loves Easter Eggs?!
HOST: One Erection
DATE: Saturday, April 12, 2014
TIME: 14h (that's 2pm in regular talk...)
WHERE: Estadio Las Condes, Avenida Las Condes 11755, Las Condes
HARES: Scrum on My Face and Andrés No Name
COST: CLP 3000