PHHH #1107.9

Date: Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Place: Roosevelt

Weather: African

Time: Oh, say an hour

Hare: Bubbles

Hounds: Ouipee, Cliffdiver, Molly Baker, Pizza Flesh, Scott Mildrum,
Alex Fuller, Queef, Eunuch, Caroline Chopko (not of the Main Line),
Mike Hay, Cums with the Turf (Rumson)

Virgins: Linda Jonavich, Nancy Zeng

Seen at the on-in: Great Sex, New to Great Sex


Where was Paully?

We could talk about Bubbles's redemption with this shitty little gem,
or the sad state of a hash where Weepea is the senior member, or the
depressing puns Cums with the Turf seems certain to repeat, or the
imminent departure of Alex who is in danger of leav ing Princeton for
his beloved Muskogee (imagesmuskogee. com/) without a name next week,
or Bubbles's single-handed subsidy of Roosevelt's party-platter
industry, or the futile effort by Great Sex and the hare to engage
even those new to the Princeton Hash in learning a third hash song, or
Caroline's tour this summer of $15 first-name-only NYC hashes, or the
astonishing equanimity of the virgins to traversing half an hour of
shoe-sucking swamp and babesiosis-infected briars at the start.

But no, the question that weighed on everyone's half mind, even Mike
Hay's as he gets geophysical on his thesis is, Where Was Paully? We
all knew he'd be AWOL next week in Ocean City, but to miss another
Bubbles hash? Even if she laid another turd, rather than have us
crawl through several, the supply of beer at the home marked by the
sign of the goddess of sheet metal is seco nd to none. Besides, there
was every chance to reprise his grope of the hostess and double his fun.

Maybe Juicy found out. Maybe he got there early and was put off by
 the hot pink ribbons Bubbles used to amply mark the trail and insisted
 she would retrieve. Maybe he got there early and that smell of
 rotting hippo that we all ran by on the boooring road part of the hash
 was . . . No, let's stop there. This was no horrorshow, even without
 Big Coffee Table, with cheerful half-minded hounds being picked off,
 one by one, by albino, web-fingered, slope-headed cannibals as we
 crawled through Roosevelt's finest underbrush. Best to look up, look
 forward, not back, because whatever got Paully might be gaining on the
 rest of us.

 Next week: Solo sets through his favorite Superfund sites in
 Edison--bring your NBC suits!