Montreal Hash House Harriers

Hash Trash - Run #282 - The St Paddy's Day Hash

The St-Patrick's Day Crowd

Run #282 -- St-Patrick’s Day Run

Waiting on the corner of the apparently “introuvable” Des Seigneurs/St-Patrick’s intersection, basking in the warm sunlight, standing on a magnificently marked HHH, a thought occurred to me; what an honour to be hosting the St-Patrick’s Day hash! Then somebody showed up and gave me hell for poor erections, then someone reproached my lack of prompt emailing, then the dog started whining and I was feeling ready to let the hounds loose.

 Unfortunately I had to run with them. It just wouldn’t do to have them complain about getting lost. This is one of the main reasons I may never do a live hare run again (and nothing to do with the fact that half the hash can outrun me now).

Distinguished hares: Boner & Krystal Tits

Wankers present:

6 Of 9, Ziggy the hash dog, Smile@Hash (Morocco-cum-Montreal hasher), Total F**kup, Dead Animal, Foxy Lady, Abbott, Skinflint, Blow Job, Poo Bare, Dingo, False Penetration, Julius Seizure, Pop-a-Weenie, Princess Valium Charming. Oh, and Eat Me was there too.

(Note that the stats person, who was disgracefully absent that day, forgot Eat Me)

 Wankers who were too busy wanking and drinking Bailey’s out of little green cups to go to the run: Double Fisted the Traitor, Plastic Jesus of the Holy Excuses, Witchy the Traitor, Penguin the Penguin, Flipper the Traitor.

I say this all with love. Next year I’ll be there with them.

Wankers too busy talking to boring people in foreign countries:

Dr. Delight and Mustapha Kunt. (seen below in live video feed from Amsterdam)

Moving along…

The run was rather uneventful as we stayed well away from the parade. We did keep in line with the theme however, by starting and ending from St-Patrick’s street, and running mostly in the neighbourhood formerly known as Griffintown, a primarily Irish workers’ place. Of course it is now quick becoming a land of condos and multi-media centers, but that’s gentrification for ya. Cheers.

Planning the run, I couldn’t help thinking of the big stone commemorating the death of thousands of Irish immigrants from cholera, placed right before the Victoria bridge. I also thought of St-Patrick’s church. I decided both these landmarks were a bit “out of the way” and would have made the run much too long. After the run, some were unhappy with the 1 ½ - hour run, saying it was too short. Next time, I will make sure not to hold back.

 Yup, it was a beautiful day.

 Green down downs (courtesy of Dead Animal):

I really can’t remember. Must have been all that green beer.

All I remember is that Ziggy the hash dog got an ashtray full of beer, and was much more sedate afterwards.

I think there may even have been a down down for “uneventful-ness”. Well, Smile@Hash  certainly seemed to be soaking it all in: “Oh, hashers are this silly everywhere in the world I see”. She and Dingo got a down down for visiting. Lost property *gasp* went to Dead Animal for forgetting his mug at Blow Job’s super karaoke hash. Oh yes, and 6 Of 9 got a down down for fouling the trail, proxy for Ziggy the hash dog, and almost choked on it. Proper down-down technique is not something to be taken lightly, as I hope she now recognizes. Abbott got one for a haircut. Terrible to think the person who gave him the haircut turned him in. Ah, married life.

 Song of the day (to be downloaded, printed and memorized for next St-Paddy’s day):

The Wild Rover

I’ve been the wild rover for many a year
Spent all my money on whiskey and beer
But now I’m returning with gold in restore
Never will I play the wild rover no more
 
And it’s no nay never No nay never no more Will I play the wild rover No never no more 
I went to a chanty I used to frequentTold the landlady my money was spent
I asked her for credit she answered me nay
Saying: customers like you I can get any day
 
I drew from my pocket ten sovereigns bright The landlady’s eyes opened wide with delight
Saying: I have the whiskey and wine of the best
And the words that I told you were only in jest
 
I’ll go home to my parents confess what I’ve doneAnd ask them to pardon their prodigal son
And if they do as so often before
Then I never shall play the wild rover no more.
 

On On

The on on was held at Moe’s, the Waste Islanders greatly outnumbering the Downtowners. There Yogi and Danger Girl joined us for a few pints, and (finally) my shoe christening. May I just say, drinking out of a shoe is harder than it looks.

Other interesting happenings included supporting the massive frame of one extremely drunk guy and bargaining for one of those hideous green hats people feel they can wear just because it’s St-Patrick’s day. The bitterness must stem from the fact that I did not in fact get the hat.

Maybe next year.

on on

Gulp

DA:  Hash Beer Connoisseur and Art Critic

False P. stroking a friend 

Photo Credits: The Abbot & SkinFlint,  Krystal Tits, Danger Girl