PHHH #1148.9
Date: Sunday, May 27, 2007
Place: Sourlands Park 'n' Mountain
Weather: At a right angle, just like the trail
Hare: Sjorn Dork
Hounds: Hey YO! Paully, Pyroman, Speedbumps, Little Blue Butt tho
he's more a Medium now, Oliver the Wonder Dog, Delicate Psyche, Hand
Solo, Weepee, Queef, Chris Pilla, Keyless Entry, Lauren Dymyd
(spelled backwards is Dymyd Nerual--2nd hash, first being PHHH
#1144.9), Warren Baelen finally known as Epipenis

Seen cycling on Great Road in the direction of the start as we
returned home: Safe Sweats

I Know What I Like in My On-Ins (with no apologies given that the
free music clip doesn't even include the title line:
www.last.fm/music/Genesis/_/I+Know+What+I+Like+(In+Your+Wardrobe))

The Princeton High School Earth Sciences class had just clambered to
the top of the Sourlands Ridge in 90-degree heat on a weekend because
Mr. Pray "likes having field trips that don't interrupt our regularly
scheduled curriculum." He also liked avoiding the oversight of the
infamous Cherry Spray, but that's another story.

When they arrived, Mr. Pray was nowhere to be found. Instead there
was only several bags of flour, which were little consolation to the
parched throats of his charges.

"Man, that Pray's a bastard," said Warren Baelen. "Naw," said Dan 
Pyroman, "he's an asshole! If I ran this field trip, we'd have gotten 
here by trails, not all this hiking up over his shitty diabase rocks. . .
"Shhh, look, here he comes!" whispered Molly K. Entry, pointing 
at a distant figure approaching the class while toting an enormous
backpack.

"Hey Pray" shouted Paul Mlodzinski, "you better bring drinks cause
we're gettin pretty fuckin' dry out here!" Queef blushed even redder
than Lauren--they came from sheltered families unused to profanity.

Mr. Pray arrived and offloaded the pack, which the class eagerly
opened, only to find. . .

"Pumpernickel? Rye? What is this dessicating shit?" asked Weepee
Magoun.

"Yeah, what is this shit?" echoed L.B.B. Torok, holding a chunk of
chocolate halvah. Even Forrest Psyche, the delicate transfer from a
one-room schoolhouse in Ohio, blenched at the sight of soy cheese.

"Shut up, everybody," said Mr. Pray firmly. I like Sunday field
trips, real cross-country and uphill hikes, northern European breads,
fake cheese, halvah, and before anyone goes running to the PTA. . .
"Beer!" shouted the class in unison. "But it's. . . it's. . ."
Sue Speedbumps couldn't bring herself to say the worst word of all.

"That's right, it's Budweiser, the least organic, most mass-produced
panther piss in all the world, and until your goddam parents quit
whining about the school budget, that's what we're drinking while I'm
in charge and living on my pathetic salary. Now finish up and drink
it down so we can start building our own Plate Boundary Observatory
to match the one in Cali
(www.unavco. org/edu_outreach /earthscope/ EarthScopeNCal. ppt)."

Next: Delicate Psyche threatens to tear the very fabric of the
universe with an interpolated Wednesday 6 pm set before Sunday's
Reunion Hash!