PHHH #1109.9 Date: Wednesday, August 30, 2006 Weather: Not too thick Start: Institute for Advanced Study Parking Lot A Time: First wave, 34 minutes; Second Wave, 52 minutes Hares: Warren Baelen and Keeva Kaese Hounds: Wacko, Hand Solo, Hey YO! Paully, Weapi, Bjorn Dork, Delicate Psyche, Windbreaker, Hare in my Zipper, Full Moon Smiling, Queef, Mike Hay, Chris Pilla, Molly Baker nka Keyless Entry, Scott Milldrum nka Caligulate, Virgins: Shobal (very sic), Windbreaker's associate from the Wilson School Seen at 87 Prospect: Mr. and Mrs. Dork, parents of Bjorn, still leaving his dad one shy of the statistics Descriptions, Polemics and Lies Send in the Clowns And you couldn't have asked for a better couple than Keeva and Warren. Carefully tracking weather forecasts, they set the trail Monday night before trying again after two days of showers. We enjoyed fulsomely ample marks of crisp whole wheat flour, marks that substituted checks for trail: "On 1, On 2, Checkmark!" resounded repeatedly through the rich beech and sycamore forest, and sometimes the trail simply led from one check to another. A regular laff riot, especially when Paully led a few morons who should know better across the rope bridge well past a False. Meanwhile Wacko short-cutted the true trail and faked right before leading the pack left around a field, before Weepy led the crew to the on-in by the pond. And what an on-in, reminiscent of the rich revelry hosted by Rambo and SCHWA! in Ought-ought (www.princetonol. com/groups/ phhh/archive/ 757.4.txt) . There were the excited hares--"Was it shitty enough, or what? Yeah? Oh, we've got real beer, but you have to answer a question." There was the Yeungling and more Keystone Light than Nestea's beer flavored-water division has any right to sell in a year, much less a day. There was Paully showing his chops as a defense lawyer, using models to show how he didn't actually touch Suicide Watch, their lengthy discussion of what really happened, and how she really and truly assured him she didn't mind. Oh, Eartha, those Turks (www.leoslyrics. com/listlyrics. php?hid=R77ngNFl N6w%3D) have nothing on those Mormons! There were down-downs galore, so many that the mighty Princeton Hash, stalwart in its defense of its two-song list, actually encouraged Paully to sing a third, the pack was so bored. There was drinking from the Cheezy Pouf bag, which Keeva found as appealing as a yeast infection, and drinking from the Chips Ahoy tray, and drinking from bottles, where the virgin used an ancient Vedic guzzling technique to suck his dry in less time than it took to twist off the cap. There was a birthday down-down for Caligulate, who took an expert pratfall over Master Klown Keeva, and a naming down for Molly/Keyless Entry, whose nom d'Hash narrowly won over something almost as amusing and even more quickly forgotten. And there was a down-down for Windbreaker, who finally found out what her camel toe is, just before she departs for the depravities of Amsterdam's hashes. Her no-look spewing of the remains of her down-down on Delicate Psyche surpassed that of Uranus Williams on Weepea at another end-of-summer set that ran just a little longer than this one (www.princetonol. com/groups/ phhh/archive/ 732.4.txt) . We have to think that the revolution in the culture of the Princeton Hash in the last month has girded Windbreaker' s loins, if not her toes, for the demands of Eurohashing. How will the pack survive without the hormonal boosts provided by all these frisky females? Full Moon Smiling, our Resident Social Director, single-handedly livened an already loud and festive evening by dropping ice cubes in Ouipee's shorts, smiling brawdly even when she wasn't squatting, and offering her legs for free, no-obligation, hands-on inspection of their unshaven condition. Woulda coulda shoulda Llloda done likewise during her wet sweatshirt contest (www.princetonol. com/groups/ phhh/archive/ 877.4.pdf) . . . Truly, we will be in a lonesome state without Windbreaker and the Virginians this Sunday, when Count von Count returns for a guest set. Bubbles, Great Sex, Suicide Watch, why hast thou forsaken us?