28 March 2006
64. It Never Gets Old
Black Sheep H3 - 17 March 06 to 19 March 06
So there we were. Friday night at Black Rock, drinking at the fire and singing that same song, over and over again.
Surleeeeee, Surly Temple, Queen of the Wild Front Queers.
People, I don't know why, but it never gets old. Especially after a few mugs of Terrapin.
THE SURLY SONG
(the extended version)
Melody: Davey Crocket
Born into a hashing family
Lays trails longer than the eye can see
His volume of drinking is beyond belief
Wore his first dress... when he was only three
Surleeeeee
Surly Temple
Queen of the Wild Front Queers
Well, at least everyone at the fire was laughing. But apparently, a few people who had accidentally put up their tents too close to ground zero thought midnight was a time that Sheepers should be sleepers. I can't remember who it was, but a rather cranky camper approached us and said "I think you guys need to stop singing now." Our reply:
"Stop singing what? [insert dramatic pause here while everyone looks at each other and takes a huge gulp of air] Surleeeeeeee! Surly Temple! Queen of the Wild Front Queers!" For some reason, she stood there while we belted out another glorious version of "More Beer" and some other classic that escapes me at the moment. Was she waiting to talk sense into a pack of drunks, or was she just amazed at how stupid a pack of drunks could be? I was laughing so hard my side hurt.
One of us: "Guys, I think we'll have to stop now."
Another of us: "Stop what?"
All of us, somehow starting at the exact same time: "Surleeeee, Surly Temple, Queen of the Wild Front Queers.”
Random Memories of Black Rock, in no particular order:
--The car-sized logs we were able to get onto the fire.
--The vast line of chili pots inside the main cabin, waiting for the hungry campers.
--The line of headlamps in the shiggy during the Shooting Star Hash
--People downwind of the fire continually turning around in pain because of the smoke.
--The short, cardboard-covered monolith hiding the cooking pigs.
--The absolutely gorgeous views we got on trial.
--Realizing how long the drop is from the lid to the drop-zone of the outhouse.
--Realizing Devo survived the entire weekend without freezing to death.
--Seeing a cornelius keg next to the Terrapin. HOMEMADE BEER! (Thanks Pussy Pilot)
--Around 8 of us discussing the joys of porn, shitting in vending machines and other delights.
--The glowing liquor luge.
--The jaw-dropping view at one of the turn-outs on the way back down the mountain.
This was our fifth year up at Black Rock Mountain State Park. I think we had 10 chilis in the cookoff, and everyone ate their fill. I had been running around most of the late afternoon and early evening getting the Shooting Star Hash together, so I didn't see who won. I think there were multiple winners this year.
The hash started at 9pm, and for those of you who are used to Shooting Star’s starting at midnight, hey, it was midnight somewhere. This year, I e-mailed everyone early and got donors for each stop. That took care of the money thing. And not only did everyone pick good shooters, everyone had their picks and the ingredients to me well before the deadline. This was important because it takes a while to make the menu:
====================================
THE SHOOTING STAR HASH MENU
Black Rock Campout 2006
Bikini Line and Citron My Face
Donated by Gasshole
We’re starting off strong tonight. Not only do you get a two-fer AND a theme, but a slogan as well: First We Wax, Then We Eat. The Bikini Line is Vodka, Chambord and Tia Maria. Citron My Face is Absolut Citron, Grand Marnier, Sour Mix and 7-Up. Get your tongue ready.
Gorilla Fart
Donated by Crack Pusher and Cums Online
Banana Schnapps. Gorilla. Get it? Good little camper. OK, so we have half of the name down. Now for the fart. No, this doesn’t smell bad. It’s the kick coming from the Vodka and Rum. Put it this way: whether a gorilla farts on you or attacks you, it’s going to be memorable.
Black Rock Antifreeze
Donated by Gentrifuckation and Martha Screw-it
If you remember our first year up here at Black Rock, everything left outside Saturday night froze solid. So antifreeze might come in handy. The famous green (Happy St. Patty’s Day, by the way) color comes from Midori Melon Liqueur. Also included are Vodka and a homemade Sour Mix that beat store-bought stuff in taste tests.
Purple Hooter
Donated by Bwana and 4 Inch Hole
There’s a reason this is a classic: it’s marvelous. The only thing better than one Hooter is two Hooters, and honestly, does it ever matter what color they are? Absolutely not. The “Purple” here is Chambord. Also included is a proof-booster (Vodka) and some 7-Up to round out the flavor.
Tootsie Roll
Donated by M.C.
Let’s give equal time here. If we’re going to obsess over Hooters, we also need to obsess over a drink that reminds us all of a tiny male unit. Sure, Long Thick Dong might be more manly, but that hasn’t been invented yet. This creative creation includes Crème de Cocoa, Amaretto, Vodka and the surprise ingredient: Orange Juice.
Sweet Santorum
Donated by Davey Crochet
Davey grabbed three random (and quite delicious) liqueurs from his house and dared L&F to create something. The result? The shot is fantastic; we’re just not sure about the name. Included in this cuncockshun is Buttershots, Kahlua, Chocolate Hazelnut Cream and a dash of Half-and-Half. Mmm… creamy.
Apple Pie
Donated by Surly Temple
The 12-step program is for pussies. Here's a 7-step program that's easier to remember and a lot more entertaining.
1) Apple Juice
2) Vodka
3) Cinnamon
4) Whipped Cream
5) Shake your cranium
6) Swallow like a good little Catholic girl
7) Scream like the drunk and happy hasher
you are: APPLE PIE!
[Extra Credit]
If you’re still standing, please look for some random bald guy with a Booze Belt. He has Ruby Relaxers ready to mix for you. That’s Vodka, Peach Schnapps, Malibu, Cranberry Juice and Pineapple Juice. He also has Chocolate-Covered Raspberry, Chocolate Raspberry/Almond and Doublemint Gum.
Thank you for getting drunk with us,
--The Black Rock Bartenders
====================================
Gentrifuckation hared our little excursion, and as with past years and past hares, he tortured the pack with a rough downhill part and an even rougher uphill part. Yes, even that close to camp, there are plenty of opportunities for pain. Mountains. Remember the mountains.
We got to the first stop and Gasshole had a box full of shot glasses for everyone. Sweet. Later at MC’s car, we were greeted to the rap song Tootsie Roll as her shooter came out. Devo (yes the dog with the transparent penis)...
Begin Tangent:
TRANSPARENT PENIS
Written for Devo by Twattoo and L&F
Guitar Riff: Original
Transparent penis.
You can see through it.
Transparent penis.
End Tangent.
...was decked out in the front seat with a necklace lined with Tootsie Rolls. I believe this was the shot that put some people over the top. There were people who got back to camp and started dispersing almost immediately. A whole group went a mile up the road to the cabins. Please hate them. They got beds and showers and heat. The rest of us froze our freaking asses off in 34 degree weather. Well, at least those of us who are wimps froze our asses off. I chose the back of the truck (Thor, with the shell), and didn’t bother putting a blanket over the inflatable mattress, so I ended up near frozen when I woke up. And I kept waking up. Oh well, I had to get up early anyway, because we had a trail to scout.
Bwana, Dribbles (the self-described old men) and the young whippersnapper (um… me?) drove up almost to the cabins and parked. It’s really peaceful up in the mountains (stating the obvious here), so the only thing making a sound was me cursing my painfully new Garmin Vista model… the CX… which had buggy software on launch. Because I had turned the tracks off the last time I used it, when I turned it back on, it wouldn’t get past the colorful welcome screen, which says…
L&F
Black Sheep H3
Charlotte H3
Carolina Trash H3
…just for your information.
So it was unusable for us. I didn’t know what was wrong with it at the time, and I couldn’t try to fix it until I got back home, so I was a little annoyed. How the hell were we going to scout this trail in a couple hours in the mountains, and split it, without a GPS? Jesus.
We decided to start off in an area we were familiar with, and our hope was to loop back with a near-circle jerk as a way to add more mileage before we cut over to an area where a certain bald guy got lost 4 years ago. We found an area where we knew we could cut back up at the end of the loop, and then hung long strings of surveyors tape for reference at whatever point we climbed back up. Then we headed out for the longish haul.
As usual, the area was absolutely gorgeous. We kept walking, and kept finding cool areas pointing away from camp. So we kept taking them. The two veterans and I kept looking off at the distance, and looking at the sun, trying to figure out how sharp we would need to cut to hit the surveyors tape. At some point, we realized we were too far away to cut, and decided that we would have to split the trail here and then make the entire trail a large loop, with a final mile down the road from the cabins to camp. At one point, there was a really obvious cut in the hill, so we figured this would be a great place to split the first and second parts of trail. I volunteered to climb the Hill of Death and poke around while the other two made a bigger loop than originally expected and find out where another hare split could be.
My trick was to get back to the tape. Their trick was to finish the loop. Their last hill was a steep one, and when they got to the crest, they saw the cabins way off in the distance. So this was where trail would go. They kept the cabins in their line if sight, and sooner or later, all three of us met back up at the car.
For the actual trail, the entire pack walked the mile up to the cabins and Bunny blessed us up there. Trail went well, and none of us got snared, even though the FRB’s started coming back to camp about 40 minutes after the on-out. I guess we lot lucky.
Circle ensued, and drinking was had by all. Then we opened circle again when the uber-DFL’s came in.
With the formalities out of the way, heavy drinking then ensued, and we were soon treated to what Niplets had been slaving over for 24 hours… two 70-pound roasted pigs. Some of us ate the eyes and the brains, because they were there and needed consuming. More beer, shooters and liquor was consumed, and at one point, I lit my cranium on fire again, but the flames weren’t as high as they were that morning. Oh, I didn’t explain the morning cranium arson? Oops. Flames. Slight discomfort. Laughter and pointing.
At some point that night, there was a better attempt at sleeping, and the clean-up and leaving mid-day Sunday. But what this manifesto needs to end with is the excellent decision by
Surleeeeeee, Surly Temple, Queen of the Wild Front Queers
to carve up the block of ice from circle and make a liquor luge. With the help of a few people, we got the block lighted with a flashlight and the channels cut and the booze ready. I’d like to proudly announce that is was the best liquor luge ever made in Atlanta.
OK, I’m sick of writing. You get the idea.
On On to Cooper River.
May the Hash Get a Piece
So there we were. Friday night at Black Rock, drinking at the fire and singing that same song, over and over again.
Surleeeeee, Surly Temple, Queen of the Wild Front Queers.
People, I don't know why, but it never gets old. Especially after a few mugs of Terrapin.
THE SURLY SONG
(the extended version)
Melody: Davey Crocket
Born into a hashing family
Lays trails longer than the eye can see
His volume of drinking is beyond belief
Wore his first dress... when he was only three
Surleeeeee
Surly Temple
Queen of the Wild Front Queers
Well, at least everyone at the fire was laughing. But apparently, a few people who had accidentally put up their tents too close to ground zero thought midnight was a time that Sheepers should be sleepers. I can't remember who it was, but a rather cranky camper approached us and said "I think you guys need to stop singing now." Our reply:
"Stop singing what? [insert dramatic pause here while everyone looks at each other and takes a huge gulp of air] Surleeeeeeee! Surly Temple! Queen of the Wild Front Queers!" For some reason, she stood there while we belted out another glorious version of "More Beer" and some other classic that escapes me at the moment. Was she waiting to talk sense into a pack of drunks, or was she just amazed at how stupid a pack of drunks could be? I was laughing so hard my side hurt.
One of us: "Guys, I think we'll have to stop now."
Another of us: "Stop what?"
All of us, somehow starting at the exact same time: "Surleeeee, Surly Temple, Queen of the Wild Front Queers.”
Random Memories of Black Rock, in no particular order:
--The car-sized logs we were able to get onto the fire.
--The vast line of chili pots inside the main cabin, waiting for the hungry campers.
--The line of headlamps in the shiggy during the Shooting Star Hash
--People downwind of the fire continually turning around in pain because of the smoke.
--The short, cardboard-covered monolith hiding the cooking pigs.
--The absolutely gorgeous views we got on trial.
--Realizing how long the drop is from the lid to the drop-zone of the outhouse.
--Realizing Devo survived the entire weekend without freezing to death.
--Seeing a cornelius keg next to the Terrapin. HOMEMADE BEER! (Thanks Pussy Pilot)
--Around 8 of us discussing the joys of porn, shitting in vending machines and other delights.
--The glowing liquor luge.
--The jaw-dropping view at one of the turn-outs on the way back down the mountain.
This was our fifth year up at Black Rock Mountain State Park. I think we had 10 chilis in the cookoff, and everyone ate their fill. I had been running around most of the late afternoon and early evening getting the Shooting Star Hash together, so I didn't see who won. I think there were multiple winners this year.
The hash started at 9pm, and for those of you who are used to Shooting Star’s starting at midnight, hey, it was midnight somewhere. This year, I e-mailed everyone early and got donors for each stop. That took care of the money thing. And not only did everyone pick good shooters, everyone had their picks and the ingredients to me well before the deadline. This was important because it takes a while to make the menu:
====================================
THE SHOOTING STAR HASH MENU
Black Rock Campout 2006
Bikini Line and Citron My Face
Donated by Gasshole
We’re starting off strong tonight. Not only do you get a two-fer AND a theme, but a slogan as well: First We Wax, Then We Eat. The Bikini Line is Vodka, Chambord and Tia Maria. Citron My Face is Absolut Citron, Grand Marnier, Sour Mix and 7-Up. Get your tongue ready.
Gorilla Fart
Donated by Crack Pusher and Cums Online
Banana Schnapps. Gorilla. Get it? Good little camper. OK, so we have half of the name down. Now for the fart. No, this doesn’t smell bad. It’s the kick coming from the Vodka and Rum. Put it this way: whether a gorilla farts on you or attacks you, it’s going to be memorable.
Black Rock Antifreeze
Donated by Gentrifuckation and Martha Screw-it
If you remember our first year up here at Black Rock, everything left outside Saturday night froze solid. So antifreeze might come in handy. The famous green (Happy St. Patty’s Day, by the way) color comes from Midori Melon Liqueur. Also included are Vodka and a homemade Sour Mix that beat store-bought stuff in taste tests.
Purple Hooter
Donated by Bwana and 4 Inch Hole
There’s a reason this is a classic: it’s marvelous. The only thing better than one Hooter is two Hooters, and honestly, does it ever matter what color they are? Absolutely not. The “Purple” here is Chambord. Also included is a proof-booster (Vodka) and some 7-Up to round out the flavor.
Tootsie Roll
Donated by M.C.
Let’s give equal time here. If we’re going to obsess over Hooters, we also need to obsess over a drink that reminds us all of a tiny male unit. Sure, Long Thick Dong might be more manly, but that hasn’t been invented yet. This creative creation includes Crème de Cocoa, Amaretto, Vodka and the surprise ingredient: Orange Juice.
Sweet Santorum
Donated by Davey Crochet
Davey grabbed three random (and quite delicious) liqueurs from his house and dared L&F to create something. The result? The shot is fantastic; we’re just not sure about the name. Included in this cuncockshun is Buttershots, Kahlua, Chocolate Hazelnut Cream and a dash of Half-and-Half. Mmm… creamy.
Apple Pie
Donated by Surly Temple
The 12-step program is for pussies. Here's a 7-step program that's easier to remember and a lot more entertaining.
1) Apple Juice
2) Vodka
3) Cinnamon
4) Whipped Cream
5) Shake your cranium
6) Swallow like a good little Catholic girl
7) Scream like the drunk and happy hasher
you are: APPLE PIE!
[Extra Credit]
If you’re still standing, please look for some random bald guy with a Booze Belt. He has Ruby Relaxers ready to mix for you. That’s Vodka, Peach Schnapps, Malibu, Cranberry Juice and Pineapple Juice. He also has Chocolate-Covered Raspberry, Chocolate Raspberry/Almond and Doublemint Gum.
Thank you for getting drunk with us,
--The Black Rock Bartenders
====================================
Gentrifuckation hared our little excursion, and as with past years and past hares, he tortured the pack with a rough downhill part and an even rougher uphill part. Yes, even that close to camp, there are plenty of opportunities for pain. Mountains. Remember the mountains.
We got to the first stop and Gasshole had a box full of shot glasses for everyone. Sweet. Later at MC’s car, we were greeted to the rap song Tootsie Roll as her shooter came out. Devo (yes the dog with the transparent penis)...
Begin Tangent:
TRANSPARENT PENIS
Written for Devo by Twattoo and L&F
Guitar Riff: Original
Transparent penis.
You can see through it.
Transparent penis.
End Tangent.
...was decked out in the front seat with a necklace lined with Tootsie Rolls. I believe this was the shot that put some people over the top. There were people who got back to camp and started dispersing almost immediately. A whole group went a mile up the road to the cabins. Please hate them. They got beds and showers and heat. The rest of us froze our freaking asses off in 34 degree weather. Well, at least those of us who are wimps froze our asses off. I chose the back of the truck (Thor, with the shell), and didn’t bother putting a blanket over the inflatable mattress, so I ended up near frozen when I woke up. And I kept waking up. Oh well, I had to get up early anyway, because we had a trail to scout.
Bwana, Dribbles (the self-described old men) and the young whippersnapper (um… me?) drove up almost to the cabins and parked. It’s really peaceful up in the mountains (stating the obvious here), so the only thing making a sound was me cursing my painfully new Garmin Vista model… the CX… which had buggy software on launch. Because I had turned the tracks off the last time I used it, when I turned it back on, it wouldn’t get past the colorful welcome screen, which says…
L&F
Black Sheep H3
Charlotte H3
Carolina Trash H3
…just for your information.
So it was unusable for us. I didn’t know what was wrong with it at the time, and I couldn’t try to fix it until I got back home, so I was a little annoyed. How the hell were we going to scout this trail in a couple hours in the mountains, and split it, without a GPS? Jesus.
We decided to start off in an area we were familiar with, and our hope was to loop back with a near-circle jerk as a way to add more mileage before we cut over to an area where a certain bald guy got lost 4 years ago. We found an area where we knew we could cut back up at the end of the loop, and then hung long strings of surveyors tape for reference at whatever point we climbed back up. Then we headed out for the longish haul.
As usual, the area was absolutely gorgeous. We kept walking, and kept finding cool areas pointing away from camp. So we kept taking them. The two veterans and I kept looking off at the distance, and looking at the sun, trying to figure out how sharp we would need to cut to hit the surveyors tape. At some point, we realized we were too far away to cut, and decided that we would have to split the trail here and then make the entire trail a large loop, with a final mile down the road from the cabins to camp. At one point, there was a really obvious cut in the hill, so we figured this would be a great place to split the first and second parts of trail. I volunteered to climb the Hill of Death and poke around while the other two made a bigger loop than originally expected and find out where another hare split could be.
My trick was to get back to the tape. Their trick was to finish the loop. Their last hill was a steep one, and when they got to the crest, they saw the cabins way off in the distance. So this was where trail would go. They kept the cabins in their line if sight, and sooner or later, all three of us met back up at the car.
For the actual trail, the entire pack walked the mile up to the cabins and Bunny blessed us up there. Trail went well, and none of us got snared, even though the FRB’s started coming back to camp about 40 minutes after the on-out. I guess we lot lucky.
Circle ensued, and drinking was had by all. Then we opened circle again when the uber-DFL’s came in.
With the formalities out of the way, heavy drinking then ensued, and we were soon treated to what Niplets had been slaving over for 24 hours… two 70-pound roasted pigs. Some of us ate the eyes and the brains, because they were there and needed consuming. More beer, shooters and liquor was consumed, and at one point, I lit my cranium on fire again, but the flames weren’t as high as they were that morning. Oh, I didn’t explain the morning cranium arson? Oops. Flames. Slight discomfort. Laughter and pointing.
At some point that night, there was a better attempt at sleeping, and the clean-up and leaving mid-day Sunday. But what this manifesto needs to end with is the excellent decision by
Surleeeeeee, Surly Temple, Queen of the Wild Front Queers
to carve up the block of ice from circle and make a liquor luge. With the help of a few people, we got the block lighted with a flashlight and the channels cut and the booze ready. I’d like to proudly announce that is was the best liquor luge ever made in Atlanta.
OK, I’m sick of writing. You get the idea.
On On to Cooper River.
May the Hash Get a Piece
# posted by L&F @ 1:54 AM 
