Hash Trash I

MONTREAL HHH RED DRESS RUN 2003
July 25th to July 27th 2003
(Montreal HHH r*ns #359-360-361)

Hash Trash by Master Gator, Boston HHH

Theme: Montreal Red Dress Run Weekend
Date: July 25-27, 2003
Place: Montreal

The weekend's events commenced Thursday evening when Velvet Pelvis, Public Access, and myself were arguing over whether to give two hashers from
Colorado and their stuffed chicken a ride to the Montreal Red Dress Run. Velvet Pelvis and I were against the idea while Public Access was in favor
of it. Since Public Access has a vagina, her vote counted five times as much as ours.

Hence, Friday afternoon saw the beginning of our 6 hour drive from hell, which took us nearly 9 hours to complete. As a result of their antics and incessant babbling, we decided to rename President Pussy and Pussy Lover, our passengers from Colorado. They will forever be known in the Boston Hash as Annoying Hitch Hiker 1 and Annoying Hitch Hiker 2, respectively. The chicken was renamed Stupid Chicken and we threatened that it would not return to Colorado any time soon. Public Access' piss-poor judgement combined with her despotic approach to Mad Libs and unwillingness to give roadhead resulted in her being renamed also. Her new name is Public Nuisance.
All these renamings were causing confusion and overloading our half minds.

Consequently, as the sun dissolved into the horizon, our brains shut down and we all fell asleep, including the driver, Velvet Pelvis, who nearly got us all killed 3 or 4 times. After a few more hours of driving, a quick shopping spree in Burlington, and a most unfortunate incident involving an industrial-sized plunger at a rest stop, we eventually arrived at the Canadian border and played a quick game of "Guess Which One of Us is the Coke Mule" with the border patrol guards.

After some good natured poking and prodding we continued our drive and eventually stumbled upon the on-in.
 

We missed what I'm told was a remarkable hash but, fortunately, there was no shortage of beer. Being from Boston our bodies were unaccustomed to the high quality beer that was being served. Velvet Pelvis, Public Nuisance, and myself were quickly intoxicated.

The Canadians then argued for awhile over who would have to deal with us. Penguin drew the short stick and was forced to take us under his wing. We crashed at Witchy and Penguin's place, defiled their house, drank their beer, and peed in their pool. 

Then we went to breakfast.

Saturday's itinerary began with a pancake breakfast (with no pancakes) at the Tyndale Community Center, which was the chosen charity for the weekend's benefaction.

As there was no beer being served, the breakfast ended quickly and we embarked on a walking tour of Montreal's finest live entertainment establishments. The professional nudity was a refreshing and welcome change from the amateur hasher nudity that some of us had the misfortune of witnessing earlier that morning when Fluffy woke up.

Generosity and selflessness was in the air that day and, therefore, Hung Like a Jew had the brilliant idea of arranging a private lap dance for Snoreplay whose new apartment, as it has been noted way too many times, is
situated near the center of an alternative lifestyle community with no heterosexual women within a 10 mile radius (16 kilometers). We were all somewhat concerned by the fact that Snoreplay's private dancer was carrying a large, black, studded toolbox as they disappeared, hand in hand, down a dark corridor in the back of the squalid and sleazy strip club.

Moving on the winds of rumor and opportunity, we all quickly forgot about Snoreplay's problems when we heard that Krystal Tits would be earning her namesake by revealing her breasts to the frenzied mob of hashers.
We went to a few more strip clubs before returning to the Days Inn to slip into something a little more uncomfortable for the Red Dress Run.

Fat Ass, who is still pissed off about the mixup at the hospital last week when he went in for a routine physical but was accidently given a bilateral
orchiectomy, was among the crowd dressed to the nines that circled in front of the Tyndale Community Center for the long-awaited 7th Annual Red Dress
Run.

The loud and vicious Krystal Tits frightened and silenced us all with her bullish and boisterous Chalk Talk. I later learned that her anger was easily justified by her tumultuous childhood of which she remembers very little despite years of therapy. The aid of deep hypnosis only managed to help her recall the courtroom in which the prosecuting attorney instructed the young and fragile little Krystal Tits to "show me on  the dolly where the bad man touched you."

Some whistles blew and we took off like hockey pucks, finding our way around the streets of Montreal's diverse neighborhoods. I was the FRB for some time until, recognizing that there's no adventure without risk, I
decided to run through a false mark and zen trail for awhile. This turned out to be a debacle of monumental proportions as I soon lost the pack and found myself wondering around an unfamiliar city wearing a red dress with no money, no phone, and a sign in French around my neck that said something to the effect of, "I am an arrogant American. Please feel free to beat me and
bum rape me, but return me to the MH3 when you are done." I eventually found the hashers again and joined the other FRBs, Plastic Jesus, Hung Like a Jew and Mom's Cumming.

After a watermelon check and a version of 'Singing in the Rain' which made some homeless guy dance, the runners and the walkers split up to head to the first beer check at Peel's Pub on St. Catherine Street. We arrived just in time to see the glorious end of the Red Sox/Yankees game. The locals just shook their heads and rolled their eyes when the Boston Massholes started chanting, "Yankees Suck! Yankees Suck!"

Public Nuisance, that little lush hound, decided that she was moving to Montreal when she saw the size of the pitchers that they were serving beer in. The fact that we
couldn't see through the beer is something that we're not used to in Boston and was just icing on the cake. After horrifying the high-paying customers with a few hash songs, we followed a bagpiper to the next beer check at Hurley's where we enjoyed a few more good beers. To our surprise, Muffolotta managed to keep
her clothes on through both beer checks. Eventually, Boner gave out all the beer tickets and told us to follow trail to the on-in.

It was our intention to bring home the gold by FRBing the rest of the trail but Hung Like a Jew, Velvet Pelvis, Snoreplay, and Mom's Cumming joined Annoying Hitch Hiker 1 as he picked up the left over tickets off the floor and ordered a few more rounds. I was too drunk at this point to run so I relinquished the pursuit to a more worthy predator.

Before long we were back at Tyndale for the on-in and party. Abbot circled everyone up for Hash Religion. The hares were summoned into the circle and asked to do a few down-downs for a variety of reasons. Quite
frankly, I'm surprised those bastards made it out of the circle after screwing us so badly with no fewer than three check backs, one of which was a check back 22. Hashers of many cities were present and a representative of each was asked to come in to the circle for abuse and a down-down.

Snoreplay was the best Boston had to offer so we sent him into the circle. I proudly represented the Jamaica Plain Hash House Harriers. There was one sweet and vulnerable young virgin, Mayela, who was requested to grab a beer and get on her knees. She quickly assumed that position like a seasoned professional and was interrogated by the dementor.

The Montreal constituency, without debate, immediately decided to allow her into their running club. After all, what did they have to lose? Have you seen their current roster of pathetic wankers?

The RA then announced that Just Wyatt from Philadelphia and Just Lee from Albany were ripe for nomenclature. Someone suggested that Wyatt be
named "Pounded By Nipstick" but he was instead named "Little F*cking Winky." It was unclear until later that night why "Pass Me Around" was offered as a possible name for Just Lee. Regardless, it was unaccepted and she was instead named "Bite My Apple."

In the first Best Dressed contest, the crowd voted for Mom's Cumming of the Boston H3 who was, according several harrietts, the sexiest motherfucker there. I typically don't like to gossip, but I don't mind saying that I was the lucky hasher that woke up beside him the next day. And since we're on the subject, I should report that Public Nuisance, despite having slept with one eye open, still woke up next to Velvet Pelvis. Furthermore, although it hasn't been confirmed, rumor has it that Boston Retahd spent the night with Stupid Chicken.

We ended Hash Religion and Montreal's fantastic 7th Annual Red Dress Run with Swing Low sung in harmony by 70 or 80 sweaty hashers. We drank and ate a bit before Total Fuck Up, that scheming snake oil salesman, managed to peddle a bunch of worthless junk to the group of drunken hashers. Velvet Pelvis paid $40 for a bottle opener, I paid $10 for an Old Milwaukee hat, and Mom's Cumming paid $70 for a get-away weekend somewhere in the middle of nowhere. But we didn't mind because the proceeds were going to a great cause. Besides, it was only Canadian money, which we were quickly becoming accustomed to throwing around like play Monopoly money anyway.

We continued to party for hours. At some point during the festivities, I somehow fractured my wrist and found myself sitting on the sidewalk outside the Pharmacia at 6:30 in the morning wearing an Old Milwaukee hat that I had no idea where I had procured.

We eventually made our way to Mr. Perfect's house for the start of Sunday's Hangover Hash. The hardcore, fun-loving Canadian crowd took off running trail like fit athletes. Velvet Pelvis, Public Nuisance, and  myself  just looked at each other bewildered. After a few minutes, we slowly ambled along trail with the sweeper, Mr. Perfect, looking for short cuts wherever we could find them.

An hour or so later, we arrived back at A for Hash Religion and some left over food. There were many songs and more down-downs for everyone. I
didn't mind getting drunk again because it meant that Velvet would have to drive home. A few late cummers were forced to do some down-downs and sing for us.

There was another best dressed contest with several worthy contestants. Krystal Tits did a down-down for being an over achiever as she has run five trails in four days. There was the Stupid Hasher contest to
award the highly coveted Numbskull Trophy to the hasher who performed the dumbest act over the weekend. Despite the stiff competition and the fact
that no one knew exactly what the hell I had done to injure myself, I was awarded the trophy and will proudly bring it back to Boston where I am
confident that I will have little difficulty passing it along.

The Boston Hashers had a great, fun-filled weekend in the 51st state and we eagerly look forward to the 8th Annual Montreal RDR. Many thanks to Montreal
H3 for such a good time!!

Announcements:
"If I have to ask it's been too long" - Velvet Pelvis
"Hash early and hash often." - Dead Animal
"eew, I got some in my mouth" - Pussy Lover
"What the fuck did I just eat?" - Master Gator
"Hashers make me giggle." - Patricia, the waffle lady
"Master Gator, this is way too big." - Velvet Pelvis
"Look, I have a penis." - Bite My Apple
"I don't run; God gave me a car." - Nerfitits
"Ou sont les danseuses nues?" - Master Gator
"Quit beating around the bush." - Public Nuisance
"Should I go down?" - Velvet Pelvis
"Yes" - Public Nuisance
"The chicken has been kidnapped!!! The chicken has been kidnapped!!!" -
The Pike's Peak Colorado hashers
"Sorry about the plunger thing, dude." - Master Gator
"What goes on in Montreal stays in Montreal, understood?" - Velvet
Pelvis, Master Gator, Public Nuisance, Mom's Cumming, Hung Like a Jew

Boston Hashers present: Velvet Pelvis, Mom's Cumming, Muffolotta, Hung Like a Jew, Sugar Plum Fairy, Public Nuisance, Master Gator, Snoreplay
The full list of hashers will be available soon.

On-on,
Master Gator

Hash Trash II

Montreal 7th Annual Charity Red Dress Run and Weekend

as recounted by K.T. MMHHH

 A f*cking prelube to the prelube?

So, sanity isn�t necessarily the most common currency with Montreal hashers. There�s proof enough in Krystal Twats�s deciding to do an extra Montreal Moon run on the Thursday before the big weekend. That, for some, proved to be the first of four runs in four days. And it was a doozie. Defying the laws of physics, the pack went chasing after the live hare and encountered mostly hills. Apparently, what goes up can keep going up and up� and up. The after-party at the selected pub, with favourite waitress Alison, was also a success, drawing a first out-of-towner, Muffalotta,  and her accompanying hostess with the mostess, Going Down.

Live hare: Krystal Twat

Hounds: Turdish Delight, Mustapha Krap, Wig Thief, Hard On, Just Poler Bare,  Boner-fied Asshole.

Also present: Just 6 Of 9, those two Swiss people, Just Going Down, Just Muffalotta, Studlicker, the three McGill people.

 The fucking prelube.

Friday night things got more serious as the run got less arduous and we moved out to Melroy�s Place , a magical land of never-ending beer and debauchery where time seems to stand still. Our host, Mr. Party Animal, was in fine form and was sporting a brash red tiger-motifed shirt to match his mood. The pack was satiated with two roving beer stops and back at the ranch before they knew it. Just enough food to soak up some of that alcohol was served and we waited for the imminent arrival of more Bostonians.

Some amusement was given by Yogi who kept laughing and smiling despite barely being able to walk and being bent sideways by his thrown-out back.

As for the circle, it was officiated by none other than Numbskull and Total F**kup, two retired wankers. Fines as per usual were given out for haring and the like. The hashit was given to Boner for being a cumplete asshole. His frustration was apparent when he didn�t get to sing any of the 500 recently memorized hash songs. Also, it seems that it was everybody�s birthday that week as we had about 10 birthday wankers in the circle.

Hares: Old Cheddar, Abbot

Present: Turkish Delight, Mustapha Kunt, Speed Hump, 6 Of 9, Krystal Tits, Witchy, Penguin, Flipper, Foreskin-So-Soft, Dead Animal, Foxy Lady, Boner, Total F**kup, Numbskull, Pinky Puss, Fig Leaf, Just Martine, Yogi, Party Animal, Hard Drive, Organ Grinder, Pop-a-Weenie, Skinflint, Eat Me, Mudsticker, PVC, Pay Per Sex, Cheap Thrills, Limp Dick, Fukloric, Just Isabel, Going Down, Muffalotta, Just Wyatt, Bush Pig, Just Sylvain, Fluffy Lockerman, Wide Open, Geiger Counter, Bird Man, Cling On, Poler Bare, B-Cupper, etc.

Oh my god is it Saturday already?

Saturday loomed large and dawn broke with frightening speed. After much fucking around with cell phones, �no, take your phone! in case we need to call each other while laying trail�, the hares were off at a quick crawl. Later�

-Ooh, I think this is a bit long.

-Nonsense.

-But, we�ve been laying for two hours and we�re not halfway there.

-Oh, it�s fine. Let�s take them through Chinatown.

Still later�

-Hey, this has the feel of a classic run.

Miraculously, all three made it back to Tyndale in time for the start of the Strip Club Walking Tour. Some people were already there enjoying eggo waffles and breakfasty stuff. Enough of that. On on to nudie bars!

What is it with porno flicks and girls with pigtails?

In fact, most nudie bars are quiet before 1pm, so the pack figured they had time for a stop at the local peep show on their way. After scaring out the only other customer/pervert from the large theatre room (what? is your thing that big that you need a 20+ seater room to jerk off??) they sat down for the tail end of a threesome how-to video. After that they were treated to a teenage girl on a trampoline. Being much too artsy for most hashers, there was a switch to the other theatre room were another more suitable selection was playing. On the way out Nefertits stood transfixed by the paper towel dispensers on the walls. But, no wet naps is no good and most other hashers simply filed past. Plastic Jesus had to leave us at this point to go do a radio interview, and the pain and anguish that he felt over missing the strip club tour was all too obvious. It takes a strong man indeed.

The first strip club proved interesting enough and a fair-lengthed stop was made. Some lap-dances were given out, some shoes were forgotten, but all escaped relatively unscathed. On to Chez Pare, the supposedly �classy� strip club of Montreal� or was that the �classic� strip club of Montreal? (where the ladies are as old as classic T-models�)

To the tune of some sappy Italian pop music, the first dance was artfully, if not over-energetically, given by a school-teacher wannabe. It went downhill from there, and so we moved to our last stop. This turned out to be the clear winner, with even Going Down getting involved and having money removed from her mouth by a pair of tits, and Just Lee getting a lap dance in full view of the whole attendance. The lesbian erotic show capped it all off in spectacular fashion and the pack made its way back to Tyndale�s for the bloody run.

The bloody run.

A masterpiece of careful planning and flawlessly executed, the run turned out to be the best part of the weekend. The hares were brilliant; eloquent during chalk talk, ever-helpful on trail and timed the thing beautifully right down to the last beer stop and the onset of mother nature�s showers. All hashers were all-smiles the whole way through, complimenting the hares at every turn. All were basking in a mutual display of affection and inner peace. Even the piper seemed transported on waves of musical ecstasy. All in all an impeccable 3 hours.

Hey, this is my trash. I can do with it whatever I want.

The fact is, nobody got arrested (not that they didn�t try), Pinky Puss collected more money than she could easily carry, Yogi didn�t get too smashed cutting up the spiked watermelons, President�s Pussy and Delhi Belly got away with wearing see-through underwear and didn�t get beat up by any homophobic macho men, and all made it safely back to Tyndale�s within a relatively reasonable amount of time.

So that�s when we get drunk.

The circle went pretty well. We named Just Wyatt Little Fucking Winky, the hares were dragged out for further praise, we all viewed ourselves on the six o�clock news, Flipper was hailed as home cuming queen of the evening for putting on such a darned fine event, the visiting wankers were doused a little (but were given smaller down downs for fear of having them pass out too early from the alcohol content in the very fine micro-brewed McAuslan ales). The sole virgin of the day was shamelessly put on display and made to suck it back (which she did, with much effort and diligence). The Colorado Chicken was brought out at some point for various offences, and the owner of the chicken bared almost all, but to no avail since at last news the chicken was not with its rightful Pike�s Peak owners, but rather with some unsavoury Ottawa wankers. Dead Animal then led the hash hymn and the circle broke up for food and dance.

Highlights from the evening:

Watching the Tyndale volunteers� faces as hashers went back for their 6^th, 7^th, 12^th beers�

Fight over jungle bar supremacy in the little park outside the center.

Watching or hearing international or inter-provincial or inter-species harmony being promoted in the washrooms and various other areas.

Watching Total F**kup brave hell and high water to get through as much of that auction as humanly possible, and then watching hashers as they stared, glassy-eyed, at their newly purchased phones and B&B passes.

Watching Just Lee get named Bite My Apple and then seeing her lie peacefully on the outside steps fully experiencing her first hash weekend.

Hares: Krystal Tits, Boner & Mustapha Kunt

Hounds

Montreal: Abbot, Skinflint, Blow Job, Brillo, OAP, Cheap Thrills, Cling On, Poler Bare, Dead Animal, Foxy Lady, Fig Leaf, Just Martine, Flipper, Foreskin So Soft, Fukloric, Total F**kup, Going Down, Hard Drive, Organ Grinder, Julius Seizure, Mr. Perfect, Snow Frog, Mudsticker, Turkish Delight, Nefertits, Numbskull, Pinky Puss, Paper Sex, Penguin, Witchy, Pop-a-Weenie, Speedhump, Yogi, Just Mayela, Just Keith, Just Jane, Just Petronella.

Ottawa: Anon, Fat Ass, Delhi Belly, Double Fisted, Plastic Jesus, Ass Blaster, Baaston Retahd, Phone Sex, Peniscillin.

Boston: Hung Like A Jew, Master Gator, Mom�s Coming, Velvet Pelvis, Muffalotta, Public Access, Sugar Plum Fairy, Snoreplay.

Halve Mein: Bite My Apple, The Hasher Formerly Known as Don, Dirtbag, McCavity.

Madrid: Geiger Counter, Wide Open, Bird Man.

Colorado Pike�s Peak: President�s Pussy, Pussy Lover.

Other assorted wankers: B-Cupper, Fluffy Lockerman, Fucking Winky, Free Willy, Limp Dick, Just Rob.

The hangover run.

As though that hadn�t been enough, some sick bastards showed up Sunday morning for yet another run, this time from the Perfects� home out in Baie D�Urfe. Montreal should seriously consider the Hogtown approach to hangover runs (around the block with a beer stop lasting about 45 minutes). Instead they were made to run around the quiet suburbs horrifying Sunday morning joggers with their bloodshot eyes and vacant expressions.

The circle started out very low key with about half the pack singing half-heartedly the �why are we waiting� bit at about 10 decibels. It picked up some as Turkish Delight decided to accentuate the weekend�s international bent and had poor hashers sing songs from their home lands. Only the Albany folk managed to impress with a �country-fied� version of Days of the Week. Luckily the Swiss contingent were not present and we were spared any yodeling.

Best dressed for the Red Dress Run was a tie between President�s Pussy and Fat Ass, who never ceases to amaze with his stunning sense of kitsch style. You go girl.

Master Gator was awarded Numbskull 14 for having broken his hand during the previous night�s festivities.

Eventually, we all pissed off and the weekend was over.

On on to Montreal H3�s 8^th Annual Charity Red Dress Run and Weekend!

Plaza Hotel, Toronto Ontario
(DoubleTree Hilton)

Julie Rowlandson
Soothing Hands 
Relaxation Massage

Carpoolworld.com

Montreal Ghost Walk Tours

Trigonelle B&B / Gite
Mont Tremblant, Quebec

Crystal-Inn
Mont Tremblant, Quebec