Chester Cluster Truck and Deep Throat both had that certain look tonight. That post coital pre hash buzz about them that said fasten your seat belts because it is going to be a fun ride. About 30 hashers gathered at the Low Brow on a perfect early fall evening. The Low Brow had their rules Just Whitney got nailed for not having ID and Hot Buns got scolded for drinking outside. He doesn't even drink. The hares were nervously off at 6:42 and the hash followed a mere 20 minutes later.

A Ken Doll is Born
At the first check a crazy semi new Rocket Surgeon hasher in a Hawaiian shirt sprinted to the first check and went out looking for true trail. As is customary he came back to the first check with a dumb look on his face and "God" asked him what did you see? His quick response was "I don't remember." Oh shit this night was off to a rip roaring start. He later got named Ken Doll for being a trophy with the brains of a blond dating a plastic doll. He got stupider later.

True trail then went down to the riverfront and surprisingly across the BroadWay bridge. Just Sopah (shes a crazy one) led the pack down toward interstate as Snotty Balls soon took over and lead us back over the Steel bridge. We were going no where in a hurry. A few turns and soon we were on the river drinking beer. Plenty of beer, plenty of friends on now what was a starlit evening. James Riddle and DownTown soon led us on a mad dash around the Pearl. But the guy in the Nascar Shirt with inside information soon led us up the elevators of a swank Pearl condo unit on 12th. Yes we ended on a rooftop in the Pearl on a crystal perfect night. Damn things were starting to look up as we looked over the city.

Some local was cooking chicken on the rooftop and we warned him there would be naked woman and drinking pretty soon that he should be forewarned. Damn if he didn't stay up there and cook that chicken for an hour. He could have choked it quicker. He witnessed a pretty cool thing.

The Hares had the audacity to cook a large vat of warm chicken lentil soup with crusty bread and freshly brewed keg of Beer. Damn this night was looking good.

The founders met briefly and decided some namings were in order and we elected (well bullied) fore mentioned soon to named Ken Doll into doing religion (For those who haven't run Kahuna and would like to in the near future, newbies often lead Religion at Kahuna) and it did not go well. Big Shiiter whispered into his ear what to say and when to say it and then he forgot what Big Shitter had just said. Somewhere along the lines the Hares drank and then we got into namings.

BrokeBack Bitch

Its crazy funny she never got a name. She is always flashing and slurring and pretty girls always get named quickly. But she never has done anything stupid. Well apparently tonight she did. As we traversed the Steel bridge somebody got stuck going over a guard rail and in a pure made for television moment mounted the stuck hasher and implored (well bitched at him) him to get over the guardrail as traffic backed up on the Steel bridge. So of course there's a time in every hashers life that one endures the rite of passage of doing something noteworthy and has a name for life. She did her down down on her knees and she savored the golden nectar lustfully and with gusto. She seemed to say F*** You all I can live with that name. Along time cumming for Brokeback Bitch .

Fucked Up Phonics

Also got named and for some reason I forgot her Just Name. And guess what I somewhat forget why she got named that. I feel like Ken Doll. But I remember running with her and her telling stories about how she would love to move to Memphis. That explains a lot.

And somewhere along the line Mudd Butt fell in love or maybe he fell down. It was that type of night.

Crazy Monday Night Hashers

Sometimes the paradox of the Monday night hash is things don't get out hand all that much. Tonight it did not really but it could have. There was a water tower on the rooftop where we ended. WTF it was doing there is beyond me. Several hashers scaled this water tower via treacherous beams that sat 13 stories above the Weird City. I included a somewhat murky photo of the event.

Chester and Deep Throat thanks for a five star S-H-I-T-T-Y trail and On In. You have set the bar pretty high much like those crazy hashers high atop the Water Tower. That's why we hash, expect the unexpected and be surprised when it doesn't happen.

Kahuna Hash 8/24/09

Screams Her Own Name -Chum Guzzler
Beaverton, Oregon



Penned by Author to Be Wet Spots -Thank You



I knew it was going to be fucked up when Chum Guzzler began the evening telling of his $250 ticket for drinking in public. The encounter had set him back, made him a little cautious about venturing out into the wilds of Beaverton. He didn't want a second ticket. Would two drinking-in-public tickets equal one DUI? As we spoke, an unmarked Beaverton police car cruised by. We all began to get a little paranoid---did the cops read our website? Do they really have no real crimes to solve in the suburbs?But Chum and his perky sidekick, Screams Her Own Name, resisted the temptation to just bag it all--they grabbed their flour bags, created an immense box for all 25 of us, and started out. The pack milled about, drinking beer on the sly, telling tall tales of trails gone by. Terry, otherwise known as Bump and Grind, asked for a hash mentor as the only other hash she'd been on had resulted in her getting lost and never finding the end. BananaCondom strutted his cute self about reintroducing himself to the eager bimbos, and Nathan and Brady brought their mom and dad to the hash. The hounds departed at 7 p.m.Trail took us through football games, cheerleading camps, and many many jogging strollers. We carried on through the crowd, calling out "Are you?" and answering "On-on." The flour led to trails and more trails. The trails led to cul-de-sacs, the cul-de-sacs led to trails. Were we lost? Whatever is a cul-de-sac? Where did that name come from? The "BN" had been sighted at least a mile back on the sidewalk. Where was this beer? Had we missed the beer check? The bastardly hares were no where in sight and neither was the beer. Nothing was left to do but continue to run, and we were convinced that we were running in circles. Hadn't we run by this house before? Didn't this street corner look familiar? Fuck the hares!The hounds eventually stumbled across the BC arrow---around the back to Vagina AleCarte's house, where our thirst was assuaged by some cheap canned liquid, water, and some other decent bottled beer which disappeared too quickly. Stinky offered Nathan a beer, but Wet Spots intervened. Phil McCracken wondered what in the world one would do at a hash campout? Mud Butt answered plainly, "Get drunk, get naked, get in a pile." The pack worried that if the second half of the hash was as long and tedious as the first, we'd be out way after dark. No one,,,,I believe no one brought a flashlight or headlight. Half minds trailing shiggy through the years....But happily we discovered that the trail led us directly back to the on - in. Kahuna's favorite on-in treats greeted us--sandwiches, hummus, chips, and beer. Big Shitter, in his tyrannical manner, ordered Banana Condom, a visitor to lead religion. Who refuses Big Shitter? So, BananaCondom led the short religion, greeting Terry who was bumping and grinding, Romancing the Stone and CockJaw, transplants from Eugene. Pabst Smear rejoiced that he was once again hashing. We sang a song from the Beijing hash and ended religion quickly. We all got the hell out of there quickly to avoid citations or other such distasteful run-ins with authority figures, whether they be the police, Pabst Smear, or Big Shitter. Speaking of that, it was a truly shitty hash.
__._,_.___

Barnacle Box Naught Eye Girl
Kahuna Run 176
"Absolutely Perfect Day to Hash"

This is usually our slot for our celebrated Smush Ball game with many a hasher sporting a Post Gold Rush Hangover but for some reason hashers were not all that lugubrious today. After last weeks death march many were expecting a debacle of epic proportions. . "I know that hash debacles make for more hash Trash Readings". Guess what it didn't happen

It was a hash with many of the faces, costumes and crazy stuff that make for a great hash run. Beer flowed freely and the hares tried to extol Hump Hash start times but the masses made them qoph (great scrabble word) their beers and be own their way. We were soon spread out by a boob check by a strip club when Screamer and Red Wings soon found true trail toward a run down apartment complex. The locals yelled and cheered us on. By this time the 3 vestal virgins (Brad, "Some Dude who later showed his dick"and Harry) had the knack of hashing soon led us down a needle infested alley. Lick My Squirrel and Man Milk paraded us over a fence and toward the well hidden beer check.

It was fantastic to hang and drink Pabst on a sultry Monday evening. TinkerBelle and his little dog, and the girl the with bruises (I love Balls) arrived on time. A Harbinger of things to come.

The Stitch and Bitch for the night consisted of Red Wings, God and a few others I don't remember. But they got an earful from a bitchy old lady in hair curlers with a tatoo that read "Back the Fu^k Off" as she screamed "GET THE F*** OUT OF HERE" from her beloved trailer trash balcony in the loudest blood curdling scream one could imagine. This drove Hare Krotchna to hijack a shopping cart transporting various hashers from check to check.

It was that type of night, everybody was just plain giddy; it seems the entire city was a bit tipsy. Mr Cream Jeans actually sat and read to kids on the curbside. Some starry eyed little girl had us sign her little notebook and parents were actually out on the streets cheering kind of wishing they could be out looking for beer with us. That's a really fun moment while hashing as we hash to escape a little from every day life and suddenly we are interspersed in some total strangers everyday life. Its a really fun moment in the hash.

And a strange thing happened as we were reunited with the golden nectar in a fantastic park on Holgate. We were treated to a great sunset (dazzling yellows and subtle purple streaks) overlooking the city. "James Riddle" (that's his Monday night hash name) was smart enough to roll the keg over to Religion.

Snotty Balls in his new position as RA for life expertly led religion, and one of the virgins showed his entire body and Brad told a fantastic Airline Crash Joke I had heard nine years earlier but its still funny on a night like tonight.

Pants off to the hares. Wacky innovative, keep the pack together trail with ample beer.

Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius -Very Shitty Hash.

Random Stuff

• Winky and Katoy toy. A warm congratulations from the Kahuna Hash. Now raising little hashers.

• The Slut Machine reached a milestone. Either she turned forty or she drank a forty. I am not sure.
• Today (The Day of this Hash) "Racist" Usain Bolt broke the world record in the 100 meter dash. His average speed was like 23 miles per hour.
• Today (Today at the Hash) hashingwe ran (kind of) past a traffic control sign on Gladstone that measures speed limits. Blast Rag recorded the same MPH (23) as the the fore mentioned world record holder.
• A sneeze travels at 100 miles per hour and the male sperm exits the body at a tepid you guessed it 23 miles per hour.
• Mudd Butt always delivers. A big thank you for getting the little things done.

On-On
Big

Hyperbolic Mister Tinkerbell
Kahuna Run 175
"Perfect Day to Hash"

As expected 30 plus hashers stood on a hill at 7:10 waiting for our hare of the day, the ever capricious EverReady bunny otherwise know as Tinkerbell. Out of the clouds appeared Tinkerbell with his Damsel at his side sporting a hatchet protruding from her head and complaining about concussion like symptoms. Something tells me they were pre laying, this course of Epic proportions. Or maybe it was a typical day in Tinkerland.

Two complete virgins were amongst the 32 half minds that took off on a 3 hour tour, much like the unsuspecting Mr. Howell and his cache of cash, and this led to a pretty predictable loop through the Park. This time traveled us to an inane circle jerk that led us to a cascading cliff of death, which some short cutted, then we started heading up. Somewhere above the tree line DownTown and Flaming Fart led us back to another treacherous single track trail that ended in car traffic. Cars whizzed by us with horns a blaring as Coitus found true trail back into the woods once again. Any half mind would deduce that the days are getting shorter and the fact that we started on Tinkerbelle time as well as were about 14 miles into this run it was starting to get dark quickly. But we were only at the beer check. (Hard Ciders, Beers and a Hefe).

EDITORS NOTE: Could somebody please give us some insurance that our beers are actually cold.

We then proceeded to run another six miles through everybody's back yard in southwest and then climbed another cliff down to to another busy road. By now Hydrolicks had enough of the foreplay and Slut Machine was sick of going up and especially down and slowly what evolved is the Beloved Stitch and Bitch. The back of the pack gossip walkers on endorphins. You set a trail long enough and the stitch and bitch will emerge.

Then we got to the second beer check. At the first beer check an hour earlier it was getting dark but at the second beer check we watched the most amazing sunset. We all drank cold beers and Snotty Balls had a look at the Hatchet still buried in "Balls" head. (That is a strange sentence).

After the last (so we were hoping) beer check we ran another 50 or so miles but the last quarter mile was epic. We were treated to a log crossing above a raging stream in the pitch black night only only lit by The Perseid meteor shower. And upon crossing the stream Gabriel Park suddenly appeared from the ashes.

And there was beer at 10:00 on a Monday night in Tinkerbell time and space.

Hash 168
Hare God
Weather (Perfect Day to Hash according to Flaming Fart)
Local -Top of Fire Lane One -Forest Park

Yes indeed it was a perfect night to hash and a great cast of characters to run it. We met in the middle of Forest Park down a dirt road in what appears to be the middle of nowhere and we should be eternally thankful to have that in the middle of the Rose City. The beauty of hashing in Portland on a summer night. It would be hard to fuc* up a run here. And tonight we had TwatSickle (Monday night name GOD) soberly setting trail for those who may not be of the same mind. Somehow she always pulls it off. Thats why we had 30 half minds gathered in the middle of nowhere just happy to be here on this particular night.

Trail headed straight toward shiggy. Reddi Nip and Skinny Bitch led the pack down a sucker false trail as little Oliva, Beck and Muddy Balls took the intellegent hight road toward an early beer check hidden away on near the nature trail.

Kuhuna Number 163

Hares - Mudd Butt

Location -Milwaukee

Weather - Warm and Sunny then Windy and Cool

A perfect day to hash. I believe many of us have hashed from this particular boat ramp about a dozen times before. (Its kind of like sleeping with the same Bimbo for eons and one day suddenly she pulls out a dazzling new rabbit out of her hat). Something you had not seen before. Well this hash was like that. That's why we lace them up and knock them back.

Mudd Butt was off at the appointed time and a swarthy group of 27 soon followed. Honest to shit he was singing the Gilligan's island theme as he headed out. Naughty Girl led the masses toward a great trail in the woods. but we were soon headed toward the river. DownTown exuded a few F bombs wondering how the trail could be headed right into the River, but that it did.

Well not in but, over the river via flour speckled rocks. HareKratchna and Blast Rag were waxing poetic how they had never run on this oasis on the Willamette. Ass2Mouth was the finder of the beer check. We learned a few things at the beer check.

1. Fat Tire comes in Cans.
2. Milwaukee's Finest Ice beer is actually made in Milwaukee.
3. What Poison Ivy looks like.
4. That Flaming Fart can work a camera.

We lingered longer than usual as CrackUp was thirsty and Wet Spots told stories from her wedding day. Big Shitter found true trail leading off the Island and then we headed into some rich guys back yard that had big signs reading . PRIVATE PROPERTY STAY THE F**K OUT. Well Pabst Smears don't read good (sic) so we headed right into this guys back yard. This was obviously the wrong way. Monday Night GOD and Mail Man soon found true trailing through a swamp.

The On In was right back where we started and the weather had changed dramatically. The clouds were black and the wind picked up. The two Beijing hashers were the first to beer and as we sauntered in Mudd Butt was already grilling wanks and links. It had turned into a delicious evening. A Feast for everybody, a trully poopy crapulous trail with enough beer for everybody.

Religion was done by CrackUp. Down downs were done from Champaigne glasses and everybody was pretty damn chirpy. Except for Gym Nasty who had to stay home.

Speaking of Gym Nasty he is the Hare next week.....WARNING, HASH ALERT, WARNING, HASH ALERT, WARNING, HASH ALERT, WARNING, HASH ALERT, WARNING, HASH ALERT.

Summer Holidays are bizarre and quirky at Kahuna. 3 years ago some Krazy lady lambasted us in Lake Oswego, 2 years ago we had the Old Bat chase us up by the zoo and last year we had another crazy WOMBAT chase and heckle us up in Christy FOREST PARK.

Long weekends and Kahuna Hashes are just that way.

On-On

Big

Kahuna Hash Number 159
Hare Cankle Sore (There is a picture of him over there)
Weather - Hawaiian

The final line of an Epic song by the Decemberists goes like this.

I figured I had paid my debt to society
By paying my overdue fines at the Multnomah County Library, at the library.

Apparently not. Fresh off a stellar haring for Oregon, Cankle Sore decided lay something this week.

A rather smallish (sic) crowd of mostly Monday regulars gathered at the Multnomah Library on Capital HW. It was worth the price of admission to hear flaming Fart say "Its a perfect day to Hash". Soon after Cankle Sore (for the rest of this write up he known as Sponge Bob Square Pants) down downed two 24 ounce cans of Hamms and set out to set his pre laid trail. The first part of the hash was a perfect Square Pants trail. 2 miles out, 2 mile North 2 miles in (well technically a rectangle) and still no sign of beer or crabby patties.

We roamed the woods, hills and trees with a sober buzz knowing Square pants was going to screw this up. The Stitch and Bitch was back (Toolbox, Blast Rag and God) in force bitching about something. Mystery Meat ran solo and still got lost in his own backyard so a hasher I forgot his name (something like Queer Guy Wearing Dresses) led us to the beer check exactly 10 miles in. He later got a hash crime for something like killing trillium's on trail. We drank Jamaican beer on 420 at the beer check and soon where reunited with beer.

In retrospect it was pretty decent excursion on well travelled territory. Very much like my prom date.

Snotty Balls did religion (he is like Steve Martin on Saturday Night Live), we ate Twinkies and drank some decent beer and most of us got a piece that night. Which we all do on Mondays.

That's what makes it special....