The Someone’s Going to Drown Hash

Sunday, July 27th, 2008
The Someone’s Going to Drown Hash
Location: Lake Conestee Nature Park
Number of Hashers: Around 25
Virgins: 5

The theme for one of Greenville County’s most unique parks, Lake Conestee is “a world apart”. Hares Daily Newd and Rigor Mortis showed the other 25 hashers that there really is a another world when it comes to hashing. At the chalk talk, expectations were running high already as rumors spread through the slowly intensifying 96 degree afternoon that a “world record” would be set during the hash. Now being as it may that our illustrious group of debauchers frowns on competition, this statement proved to carry with it much apprehension as the trail began. A nice rain shower accompanied the hashers down the first trail which was amazingly “shig free” yet littered with signs telling the eager hashers to “beware” and “turn around”. What kind of danger was up ahead? Oddly enough, the danger was about to present itself. The Lake Conestee Nature Park is several hundred acres of wetland runoff from Greenville’s perpetually polluted…..I mean spectacular Reedy River valley. After a special trail mark instructing the hashers to “free range” in the traditional style of Former Grandmaster of the UHHH Pole Dancer, we arrived at the first beer stop….excuse me beer movement.

That’s right, a beer movement. Not only were we joined by the truant former GM Pole Dancer (who served as the third hare for the rest of the way), the hashers were each issued a personal flotation device, proceeded to blow them up, grab their beer and we began our journey down floating and tubing down the Reedy River on a quest to achieve a hashdom world record….the longest beer stop ever achieved. Several places along the 1 mile (it seemed like 5) stretch of river were shallow and we trudged through the mud until we could plop down and float some more. Rather than float gently down the river at a leisurely pace, some of the hashers seemed to have visions of a scene from the movie “Stand by Me” playing in their heads as the pace livened. (SPECIAL NOTE: If you haven’t seen Stand by Me, rent it and this will make sense) Although the theme of the hash was someone’s going to drown, amazingly enough we all survived tubing down the Reedy and the hashers seemed to really enjoy themselves.

We arrived at the second beer stop where the hashers deposited their river rafts and reveled in the possibility of voting the trail as an unprecedented “non-shitty” trail. This idea was quickly lost as the 2nd leg proved to be much of the same shiggyness we have so grown accustomed to…briars, brambles, poison ivy and hoping over big fences. The trail took us away from the warm embrace of natures children…bugs, ticks and leeches to our third beer stop which was back in civilization…..well kind of. Greenville’s abandoned Municipal Stadium was where the hashers one-by-one took turns emptying the mud out of their shoes, ringing out their socks and salvaging what energy they had left after being cooked by the sun along the river. Our hares then took off on the final leg of our tour in the hopes that their promise of “follow the arrows” during the chalk talk earlier would graciously come true. As it turns out the hares did not disappoint and the final leg was for the most part pretty straight forward and direct with one minor issue….as we were attempting to fjord the great Reedy River once again, Father of the Year and Hunka Hunka Grinding Love found a perfect opportunity to practice their mud wrestling skills (as it was reported to your oh so humble author and front running bastard) as Hunka took a tumble and FOTY made a chivalrous attempt to rescue her only to find himself in the mud as well.

At circle, the down-downs were plentiful as the group celebrated the hash crimes, July birthdays, FRB’s, DFL’s and recently newfound celebrities…. Chair Banger and High Chair Banger were featured in this week’s issue of Greenville’s Link magazine sporting their favorite T-shirts. As Chair Banger so eloquently put it in his interview, his wife was going to throw away that t-shirt because he earned it for winning a Frisbee golf tournament! Bravo Mrs. Chair Banger! That’s exactly where all of those event t-shirts belong….in the garbage! The vote was a real squeaker (almost) as seven votes were tallied for “good trail” to 15 for shitty trail. We met our virgins at circle. One in particular was of note. A fellow named Charles whose beer swilling techniques and choice of hash apparel gave him a striking resemblance to Cousin Eddie from the “National Lampoon Vacation” movies. (Take note for future naming) Major props go to Daily Newd and Rigor Mortis for the originality and resourcefulness it took to pull off a hash where a bunch of adults float down a 6 foot deep river, drinking beer in the hot sun and someone NOT drown? Props to Pole Dancer for just fucking showing up.

Thanks to our visitor hasher from Pensacola, FL now living in Hendersonville, Bad Dad. I liked that song you taught us….I think we were all too drunk to remember it though.

Until next time…
Skidmark

11th Anal Toys for Tots/Green Dress Hash

The 11th anal Toys for Tots Green Dress Hash is now over and the assorted weirdos and miscreants who assembled for this august affair donated a total of 38 presents to the Toys for Tots campaign. In addition, through generous cash donations from NFHN Mike P. (dude, when are you actually going to run trail?) and our esteemed No Cocky Bukake, we also collected $60 to go to TforT. I added $40 from hash cash for a total of $100 for the kiddies.

Also, it should be noted, generous hashers donated a half-bottle of Polish vodka, $10 cash and a necklace(?) to the homeless. This fine gift was left outside his/her palatial cardboard condo beneath the Hollister Highway bridge. This spontaneous gift -- and the sacrifice of the spirts -- shows the true meaning of Xmas.

Thanks to all.

Also, proving the holiday spirt works both ways, the assorted hashers in attendance were somehow able to consume two kegs of Yuengling while running a particularly heinous 3-mile-or-so trail, as well as drink a fifth of Evan Williams egg nog, half of the fifth of the aforementioned Polish vodka, and an assortment of about 20 mini bottles containing assorted alcoholic beverages. This was in addition to candy canes, chocolates and other goodies. God bless you all and I hope you've sobered up by now.

Again, it was a merry, merry Xmas for the Upstate Hash House Harriers, and hopefully, for the kids we've helped.

Stay tuned, our only other charitable effort of the year -- the 11th annual Save the Ta-Tas Red Dress Run -- a benefit to prevent breast cancer will be held on or about Feb. 14, 2009. We have brand new challenges, features and more for this event.

I now return you to your regularly scheduled debauchery, such as the New Year's Day Hash on, of course, Jan. 1 and led by Needle Thruster.

11th Green Dress Hash

Date: Dec. 14th, 2008
Location: The Greenville Ghetto (otherwise known as Old Buncombe Road area)
Hares: Daily Newd, Pole Dancer, Grandpa Yank My Dick
BTD: Toys for Twats
Attendance: A little less than 50

Well Santa allowed four of his favorite helper elves...check that hares, to take a holiday from their busy toymaking duties at the North Pole to come down to Greenville's most picturesque ghetto for our time honored tradition of laying trail for hashers in dresses made of green. A nice turnout the hashers were greeted by a cold afternoon breeze that was so cold not even a couple layers and spandex could keep them warm. However after a couple of cups of the sacred amber fluid and the hashers seemed ready to go. Thanks to some persistence, Daily Newd encouraged a few virgins to tag along for the festivities. As the hashers listened to the all important chalk talk, it was noted by this self-appointed Hash-fashion guru that the creativity level for this year's green dress was top notch. From the spring-summer frocks to the wrapping paper dresses to the green "bling" earrings to Toys for Twats' ....outfit, I mean dress...I mean unitard. I am pretty sure that was not a green dress, but I think I speak for all of the male hashers by saying "I don't care".

Apparantly in the eyes of the hares, the hashers had been good little boys and girls this year because Santa's helpers left presents along the trail for the harriers to discover and consume before moving on. Some of these presents were delicious, like the bottle of Southern Comfort Egg Nog...some were in a word....Gross! Where were our good Polish hahsers when we needed them??? The hashers struggled to polish off the cheap rubbing alcohol disguised as vodka but found delight in the other gifts such as flavored mini-bottles and Hershey's Kisses. The trail was lined with the usual shiggy...briars, count backs, YBF's, and Red Headed Slut's least favorite thing of all...fences. The hashers met some interesting people along trail, which is par for the course too. This time instead of being confronted by actual law enforcement, it was a Rent-A-Cop posing as security for Greenville County Schools. It's rather ironic that security for Greenville County Schools would be protecting and monitoring an abadoned, condemned school instead of the open ones. At circle, Pablo the dog finally got a name, there were many hash crimes and Straight Up Nasty got re-named!....again! The circle passed a new rule that when Straight Up Nasty....now known as....Cums In-frequently shows up for hashes, she gets renamed. If she does come to future hashes...I don't know how we can improve on perfection. I attached some evidence of the mayham from yesterday in the form of photographs.

The next hash will be on New Year's Day...some cum ring in 2009 with your favorite people....if you can drag yourself out of whatever hole you crash in on New Year's Eve, of course.

And that's the way I saw it. Until next time...

The Daily Newd-Chuck Norris Birthday Hash

The Daily Newd-Chuck Norris Birthday Hash
Hash No. 95

Hares: Daily Newd, Buster Hymen, Chuck Norris
Beer Truck Driver: Lady Longlegs

Harriers: I Do … For Now; BJU; Seven Seconds; One in the Pink, One in
the Stink; NFHN Steve; NFHN James; NFHN Elizabeth; Needle Thruster; I
Waited For This?; She’s Hot, I’m Not; No Fuckin’ Hardware; Chair
Banger; NFHN Thad; Busted Cummer; Meat Lover; TMI; Rubber Commando;
NFHN Blake; NFHN Monique; NFHN Ronnie; Bloody Johnson; Red-Headed Slut

The 95th running of the Upstate Hash House Harriers, a/k/a the Daily
Newd-Chuck Norris Surprise Birthday Hash, began as all hashes do, with
copious amounts of the amber fluid, in this case, Thomas Creek Ale.
Unfortunately, Santa Claus wasn’t able to be present to pour as he was
still at his winter home in St. Kitts. So a 10-year-old was drafted
from a nearby soccer game for that duty.

Our hares, Buster Hymen and Daily Newd, were gathering the harriers to
review the trail markings when the realization struck that this was a
virgin-less Hash! Notable on its own, the lack of virgins rendered
many Hashers uninterested and lethargic toward the whole silly thing.
On a brighter note, the pre-hash shenanigans resulted in many new and
exciting (not funny, mind you) Chuck Norris jokes. Soon-to-be classics
like “Chuck Norris went to the Virgin Islands and when he left they
were known simply as the Islands” and “If you can see Chuck Norris,
he’s already seen you” and “Chuck Norris doesn’t need to read a book,
he stares down the book until it tells him the contents.”

Hash humor at its finest.

The Hares were blessed by our RA…wait – No Cocky didn’t show up!
Instead, the blessing of the Hares was performed somewhat haphazardly
by a couple of random thugs. And then they were off. After a leisurely
10 minutes, the harriers sped off, tearing across highway 276 with no
thought of life or limb. The first section of trail proved to be shigg-
a-licous. Involving briars, brambles and the perennial hash favorite,
mud, this section also led to an undoubtedly interesting conversation
between Seven Seconds and his fiancé when later that evening he was
forced to explain the cuts and gashes on his private parts that
resulted from landing squarely on a very large briar tree. Red-Headed
Slut ran so fast in her sprint to become FRB that she quite literally
busted out her shoe. In the end a Chuck Norris disciple dressed in
karate duds was the FRB.

Then there were the dogs. Normally the mere mention of dogs on trail
will cause the avid reader to envision snarling, barking beasts that
threatened the very lives of our hashers. But not today. Today our
harriers were joined by hounds of a friendlier nature. Three furry
friends accompanied their masters and made the trek in record time. By
all accounts the dogs had a great time.

As the Hash continued towards beer stop No. 2, the hounds ran down.
They ran up, they ran left, they ran right. Over hill and through dale
to the little white truck they ran. In the final stretch, with beer in
sight, Bloody Johnson hoisted his dog-friend over a gate and in a
strong effort to be the FRB they ran with reckless abandon. But to no
avail; the FRB this stop was No Fuckin’ Hardware as he tore down the
trail only to seriously injure his unmentionables in a last-ditch
effort to bound effortlessly over a last ditch into the waiting arms
of a down-down.

After a long and seemingly inexplicable absence by hare Buster Hymen,
the hares set out again to confuse, befuddle and generally lose the
pack. The first attempt came quickly, at a bench at the lake where the
flour was clearly marked “CB11.” The pack retreated from whence they
had come; counting 11 hashes backward around the lake. All the pack
counted back except for four tenacious young explorers (Seven Seconds,
Bloody Johnson, Needle Thruster and No Fuckin’ Hardware) who threw
caution to the wind as they casually vaulted the fence in a valiant
effort to gain ground on the hares via an unmarked, bush-whacked
trail. As individuals these may well be accomplished, noteworthy men –
but when mob-mentality took over the ill-conceived quest began: down
unnecessary additional trail, up steep hills, through mental hospitals
and trailer parks, past meth-crazed Travelers Resters until finally,
finally a hasher’s head was seen in the distance. The beer stop was
found and Bloody Johnson earned a down-down for being FRB.

Before setting out again, the pack noticed that some hashers were
still on trail after an incredibly long time. This group of lost
hashers was to become known as “Stevenson’s Folly” as search party
after search party was sent out only to return with no signs of life.
Fear not, dear reader: Most of them survived to attend the On-In.

As the pack approached the On-In they noticed that Travelers Rest
police officers had surrounded the compound and were placing
themselves in strategic positions to observe and record their actions.
In an apparent move to throw off the fuzz, the hashers circled up in
broad daylight, in full view of the police and the world. What a fine
sight that must have been, to come across a couple dozen grown men and
women, dogs, karate students and flour-covered hares in a circle,
drinking from green-plastic mugs and singing. Many hash crimes were
punished and down-downs were downed. As there were neither virgins nor
namings, the Circle went fast. Needle Thruster volunteered a
celebratory birthday joke “Daily Newd went to the Islands and when he
returned they were known as the Virgin Islands.”

The Pack agreed that Needle Thruster had had one too many down-downs.

The hashers were invited to travel over hill and dale to the luxury
waterfront estate of Daily Newd and Lady Longlegs to further celebrate
Newd’s big day. And so concluded the 95th running of the Upstate Hash
House Harriers which should go down in the anus of history as the
first Mexican, German, tattooed dog, Olympic-quality kayaking, cross-
country-driving, Chuck Norris loving, no virgin, no naming, really
yummy Bratwurst Hash.

MLK Jr. Son of MLK Jr.

MLK Jr. II – Son of MLK Jr. Hash (UHHH Hash No. 91)

The 91st running of the Upstate Hash House Harriers -- aka, the Son of
MLK Hash -- began in a field in southern Greenville County on a windy
but warm Sunday afternoon. On a day when much of the nation honored
the memory and impact Martin Luther King had upon this great nation,
41 hashers gathered to honor the memory and impact Eberhard Anheuser
and Adolphus Busch can have on the shriveled minds of hashers.

As MLK once said himself, "Nothing in the world is more dangerous than
a sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity." Which sounds like a
good slogan for hashers if any of them were literate. But alas, no one
was bright enough or sober enough to remember anything MLK ever said,
let alone who the hell he was. So, hash instructions were given and
the hares departed.

Why does the chicken cross the road? To follow trail, of course. So
the hashers stopped traffic on U.S. Highway 25 running randomly to and
fro, like, well chickens with their heads cut off. A series of
intersections, bad trails and general slow running led to a Check Back
7 which led through a shiggy-licious field ripe with fire ant mounds
the size of basketballs and finally to cold beer.

As the hashers quaffed the sacred amber fluid, trespassing in a most
defiant way, these words from MLK surely didn't ring in their ears:
"In no sense do I advocate evading or defying the law. That would lead
to anarchy."

But break the law they did, and it was good. After many, many minutes
of drinking, chatting and drinking, the hares were off to who knows
where. Well, the FRBs (front-running bastards) did, sort of, as they
chased trail back across U.S. 25 and down a road, along a promising
false trail through woods, down a long utility right of way, along
endless roads, and other places no one ever wanted to go, until a
mysterious "BN" was seen chalked on the road. But where was the beer?
The pack was puzzled, until an abandoned house was spied through an
equally abandoned RV park and the beer truck was spotted as well. Oh
joy.

More drinking and chatting and drinking ensued. Before long, damn it,
the hares were off on the third leg. It was a tough call: Stay with
the beer truck and drain it or run? Foolishly, the pack followed
trail. Crossing U.S. 25 again and into the parking lot of a church
where the men, women and children were delighted to greet the hashers
with joyful shouts such as: "What the hell are you doing?" "Run
Forest, Run!" and the ever popular, "Ha, ha, ha, ha, looks at those
crazy white folk." If MLK had been there himself, he might have said:
"I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a
nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by
the content of their character." And what he would have realized as
hashers ran by, if he was alive and present, is that the content of a
hasher's character is severely lacking. Oh well.

The trail led back into the woods, where a fiendishly intricate trail
wound through trees, briars, across streams and uphill until yet
another BN was spotted at a -- you guessed it -- abandoned house. But
not just any abandoned house, this is a veritable complex of abandoned
houses, sheds, garages and a swimming pool. With little thought to his
own safety, Pole Dancer jumped in the empty pool and declared the
circle would be held in this very spot, much like Christopher Columbus
claimed to discover America which sincerely amused the Indians who
were standing around wondering what he would taste like.

Anyway, the circle formed and believe it or not, for the 90th time in
91 votes, the trail was declared "shitty" and the hares were honored
with a down-down. Various other crimes, real and imagined, were
mentioned and the criminals honored with more down-downs.

Just after the keg was drained, and the multiple cases of beer
mysteriously evaporated, NFHN Heather was called into the circle and
interrogated. She revealed she lost her virginity at age 13 in a
playhouse, she flashed the neighbor on her front step unintentionally
and desires to be a midwife among other things. After she was sent
away, various names were suggested: Playtime, Howdy Neighbor, Lucky
13, Wet Nurse, Battery Operated Boyfriend, and some other crap, and
the naming committee after much debate determined her name should be
forever and for now: "Batteries Not Included."

With that, the hash was closed. And once again, the words of MLK
seemed to fit: "Free at last; free at last; thank God Almighty we are
free at last."

And so it was. An On-After was held at the Hog's Head Saloon where
shots were shat, pool was shot, no one was shot, although pizza was
consumed and beer devoured. So sayeth the hash.

The G-vegas O-Limpiks

Hash Trash No. 59: (But can we really call this a hash?)
In one of the most devious and underhanded events in the
history of UHHH, Narcoleptic Noodle and 7 Seconds lured a dozen or so
hashers to downtown on the pretense of a hash and instead tried to
sell them an array of ginzu knives, time-shares and AmWay products to
no avail.
Or something like that…just read on. The G-Vegas O-Limpiks
appeared to be just like any other hash with a flier, a promise of
beer and some exercise when the usual gang of degenerates arrived
behind the popular Chicora Alley downtown.Hashers were asked to wear
gear representing a specific country (Olympics theme) as well. The
hounds started to drink heavily while the hares started to act
suspiciously. They whispered to each other. Made excuses for delays.
Filled out a strange chart system. And would vanish every few minutes
into the bar.
A half hour late per tradition, the hares called the pack to a
start. NFHN John (more on this poor soul later) noted that Noodle was
wearing sandals instead of sneakers. And then 7 Seconds drew a chalk
start line with powder and announced it was a beer mile! A beer mile,
for the uninformed, is the bastard child of a hash run and a sprint
race where the contestants chug a beer, run a quarter mile; chug a
beer, run a quarter mile; chug a beer, run a quarter mile and finally,
you guessed it chug a beer, run a quarter mile.
After some grousing by the hounds and assurances it was a beer
mile, and what a beer mile was, the event started. Prom Queen, who
drank four beers already, chugged his Busch Lite in about 8 seconds
and was the first one off the line. Prom Queen’s early lead, though,
was short lived as Peggy Pullanasti took the lead in the first lap and
led the next two as well. Virgin Scott pushed Pullanasti on the fourth
lap, but could not exceed the pride of Syracuse.
The real battle came for third place when NFHN Tanya overtook
former Michigan State University cross country star, seven-time
Transplant Olympic medalist, nine-time Transgender Olympic medalist,
and 18-time Foley Family Backyard BBQ and Jamboree champion Daily Newd
on the final hill by one second. Prom Queen finally finished fifth
with Butt Sex bringing up his rear. Piss Tumble fell across the line
for seventh while Chair Banger pummeled his way to eight. Virgin Les
popped his cherry on the way to ninth place and NFHN John came in
10th.
Virgin Melinda was the only person smart enough to just drink
and stopped running. Then came the circle where many celebratory down-
downs where consumed by virgins, hares and NFHN Tanya learned a
valuable lesson about wearing r*ce attire and shoes. And then there
was the naming of NFHN John. Daily Newd led the questioning where
slowly NFHN John’s life were unfolded like the layers of a rather
stinky onion. Revealed were a history of heavy drinking, rampant
weight loss, multiple marriages, multiple sex partners, multiple
crimes, nudist camps, debauchery, lechery, voting Republican and
several odd career choices. And that was just what happened in the
week leading up to the hash.
With all of that in mind, the pack redubbed NFHN John “Rug
Renovator.” The circle was closed and the pack retired to Chicora
Alley just in time to watch the Braves lose an 18-inning NLCS game to

The Wedding Crash Hash

Hash 73:

The Wedding Crash Hash

Hares: Piss Tumble, Titty Titty Gang Bang

Rose Holder: BSIA

Pack: Seven Seconds, Daily Newd, Rug Doctor, Chair Banger, High
Chair Banger, Rigor Mortis, Pole Dancer, Swish and Swallow, NFHN
Megan, NFHN Kathy Just Beth, Hogtown (out of town hasher)

An unusually large number of harriers showed up at the Bank of
America parking lot on a Tuesday night for a small, intimate hash. The
hares, Titty Titty Gang Bang and Piss Tumble, were nowhere to be seen.
They apparently had left for the first beer stop, but left flour with
Seven Seconds.

After some idling, the pack followed a piss-poor trail to the
Bowater Garage where they encountered a long countback that returned
them to the starting spot. They were soon off again, and this time
caught the hares underneath the Liberty Bridge.

Hash tradition calls for pantsing the hares and dumping flour on
their heads, but since TTGB was wearing an elegant white dress and
Piss Tumble was in a suit, we did something much worse!

A man in a black robe was walking by as well and offered to
help. So after a few minutes of discussing what to do, Piss Tumble and
TTGB were wed underneath the bridge. For some reason, they had family
there as well, so it may have been planned.

After forcing TTGB and Piss Tumble to stand for a lot of photos
(part of the torture of being caught) they were brought into the
Circle to do a down-down and for once the trail was ranked with a
thumbs up. Circle was then broken and the crowd went to Chicora Alley.