25 October 2006
75. The Trash Invades Atlanta
Carolina Trash H3 - 7 Octobeer to 8 Octobeer 2006
SUNDAY AFTERNOON, A WEEK EARLIER
I was stanky, dirty and covered in dried flour when I found out the Trash Invasion to Atlanta was a go. At the time, I was driving back from a successful episode of the Black Sheep Hash, hared by me and fellow Trasher Red Breast. Our own mini-invasion, I guess you can say. We would be hosting our brethren from the Motherland in six more days. I rushed home and immediately jumped into action.
My fingers became blurs of lightning-fast efficiency as I called all the necessary players. Within a few minutes, it became clear all the bibbed Trashers from ATL would be playing a role. Bagless would be around to represent during the trail on Saturday afternoon, Red Breast would play host for an on-after, and Hole would insert himself into the equation at some point during the evening. Oh yeah. Me. Um… I wouldn’t be available until midnight, so I had to think about the day after.
I latched onto an interesting fact about Sunday. Not only was House of Boobs offering crash space, she was also haring the SOB trail. SOB stands for Slow Old Bastards, and they don’t like shiggy. Maybe I could create a turkey/eagle split and add some punishment, so the trail would more closely resemble what the guests of honor were used to.
TUESDAY EVENING
HOB called me from her car. She was driving around looking for a start and a beer stop for the trail. The end would be at her house. I was at the Drunken Scientist Lair, and I jumped at the chance to scout from home. All I had to do was get to Google Maps. I told her what streets and landmarks were close and she drove around the check them out. The satellite photos showed plenty of dirt roads and also lots of shiggy. So we picked a start and beer stop that helped us both out.
Here’s a side note about house-scouting. It rocks. You barely have to budge, you can do it naked, and drinking beer during the whole process is a whole lot easier. The best part is being able to describe to the person in the field where they are, and what they’re approaching. It turns the house-scouter into something resembling God, minus the halo and bright clothes.
THURSDAY AFTERNOON
I parked at HOB’s house and walked to the start. Trail would be wherever I walked from that point, and I ended up with a four-mile trail. Total scouting mileage for the day: 6 miles. Total scouting time: 3 hours.
SATURDAY 11:59 PM
I pulled up at HOB’s house to see Trashy and OG (since bibbed; congrats, bro) sharpie-ing two newer members of the Trash family. Passed out in OG’s SUV were Just Gabriela (since named Looking for Sperm in All the Wrong Places) and Only Shoots Blanks. When you realize they’re dating, you’ll realize why she got her name. Or is that take too much brain power? Sorry, tangent. Both of them weren’t going to wake up for anything. I watched in amazement as Trashy contorted himself into the back of the SUV, surrounded by splayed-out limbs, and successfully removed enough of his clothes to create some quality photos.
In addition to these four, American Midol flew down on her cousin’s (Landing Strip’s) buddy pass. They had done trail earlier in the day, but I wouldn’t see them until the SOB on-in.
SUNDAY, EARLY
The sharpie-ing was successful. Once that was over I had to catch up for a few minutes, and not just by cracking open the 100-proof black cherry vodka. I also needed to figure out how well the day was progressing for our visitors. It seems life wasn’t sucking too bad. So we moved on to a quick recap of life in the ‘Nam and then proceeded to drink ourselves silly. The last ones standing were Trashy and Hole, and by our craptacular math, we figured they finally passed out around 6:30 in the morning.
SUNDAY MORNING
I got up around 2 hours later and started piecing things together. A bottle of Jager was gone, apparently falling victim to a high-octane game of tippy cup. There was a line drawing of a dick on the flat-panel TV, luckily created with dry-erase marker. A camera (OG’s, I think) showed Hole/Trashy involved in same gayish-looking (but hash-acceptable) behavior, and from what I was told, there might have been ejaculate on the kitchen counter at some point. There were beer bottles scattered everywhere, making the house look more like a glass forest. There’s always a sense of pride in seeing that. But I couldn’t stand around gloating at the damage for too long. We had a trail to do.
HOB and OG gradually made their way to the start to prelay the SOB portion of trail, while I got d’erections together for the bimbos.
We gathered at 1:30 and I was off at 1:45. The only people brave enough to do the shiggy/eagle trail were, of course, the Trashers.
TRASH TRAIL, CUSTOM-MADE
The start was a park south of HOB’s house, and just south of the Little River. The beginning of trail consisted of two river crossings (the water was never more than thigh-deep) and some sewer easements. A south loop included a kick-ass all-uphill hiking trail, railroad tracks and a shiggified trip downward to the river for a third water crossing. Most of everything else to the beer stop was among a maze of dirt trails, but some were swampy or overgrown, and one piece featured a trek along a claustrophobic creek. The beer stop was where the forest met HOB’s development, at a cul-de-sac where there still wasn’t any houses yet.
From there, the SOB’ers took road to the end. But the eagle loop added some hamsterland, deer tracks, lots of deadfall and another quick trip along the tracks. There were three cool things to see toward the end, ranging from surreal to cum-in-your pants gorgeous. The first was the remnants of an old bridge that used to take an old road over a creek. The second was the creek itself, lined with rocks, which wound its way underneath a greenish canopy. Finally, after a painful climb up a steep hill to the development’s west side, the payoff: A view across a huge valley to Kennesaw Mountain and the surrounding area.
The on-in included food and (yeah, like we really needed anymore) beer. Dr. Doo Doo ran circle in the typical entertaining Dr. Doo Doo style. And to his credit, he even acknowledged the Trash in a special down-down, even though after a weekend in town, some people didn’t want to see the Trash acknowledged for anything. Those of us of the Trash variety raised our mugs just a little bit higher and sang just a little louder, to show the rest of the world we simply don’t give a shit.
Since I was something of a host, and not an Invader, I would like permission to dub the Invasion a success; from the constant acts of stupidity, to the volume of booze consumed, to the fact that all of the local Trash were able to take part. From my end, the afternoon of scouting was worth every second, laying the trail was a blast and I finally got to bathe myself in the aura of CTrH3 without having to leave ATL.
On-On to Prom and
May the Trash Get a Piece
SUNDAY AFTERNOON, A WEEK EARLIER
I was stanky, dirty and covered in dried flour when I found out the Trash Invasion to Atlanta was a go. At the time, I was driving back from a successful episode of the Black Sheep Hash, hared by me and fellow Trasher Red Breast. Our own mini-invasion, I guess you can say. We would be hosting our brethren from the Motherland in six more days. I rushed home and immediately jumped into action.
My fingers became blurs of lightning-fast efficiency as I called all the necessary players. Within a few minutes, it became clear all the bibbed Trashers from ATL would be playing a role. Bagless would be around to represent during the trail on Saturday afternoon, Red Breast would play host for an on-after, and Hole would insert himself into the equation at some point during the evening. Oh yeah. Me. Um… I wouldn’t be available until midnight, so I had to think about the day after.
I latched onto an interesting fact about Sunday. Not only was House of Boobs offering crash space, she was also haring the SOB trail. SOB stands for Slow Old Bastards, and they don’t like shiggy. Maybe I could create a turkey/eagle split and add some punishment, so the trail would more closely resemble what the guests of honor were used to.
TUESDAY EVENING
HOB called me from her car. She was driving around looking for a start and a beer stop for the trail. The end would be at her house. I was at the Drunken Scientist Lair, and I jumped at the chance to scout from home. All I had to do was get to Google Maps. I told her what streets and landmarks were close and she drove around the check them out. The satellite photos showed plenty of dirt roads and also lots of shiggy. So we picked a start and beer stop that helped us both out.
Here’s a side note about house-scouting. It rocks. You barely have to budge, you can do it naked, and drinking beer during the whole process is a whole lot easier. The best part is being able to describe to the person in the field where they are, and what they’re approaching. It turns the house-scouter into something resembling God, minus the halo and bright clothes.
THURSDAY AFTERNOON
I parked at HOB’s house and walked to the start. Trail would be wherever I walked from that point, and I ended up with a four-mile trail. Total scouting mileage for the day: 6 miles. Total scouting time: 3 hours.
SATURDAY 11:59 PM
I pulled up at HOB’s house to see Trashy and OG (since bibbed; congrats, bro) sharpie-ing two newer members of the Trash family. Passed out in OG’s SUV were Just Gabriela (since named Looking for Sperm in All the Wrong Places) and Only Shoots Blanks. When you realize they’re dating, you’ll realize why she got her name. Or is that take too much brain power? Sorry, tangent. Both of them weren’t going to wake up for anything. I watched in amazement as Trashy contorted himself into the back of the SUV, surrounded by splayed-out limbs, and successfully removed enough of his clothes to create some quality photos.
In addition to these four, American Midol flew down on her cousin’s (Landing Strip’s) buddy pass. They had done trail earlier in the day, but I wouldn’t see them until the SOB on-in.
SUNDAY, EARLY
The sharpie-ing was successful. Once that was over I had to catch up for a few minutes, and not just by cracking open the 100-proof black cherry vodka. I also needed to figure out how well the day was progressing for our visitors. It seems life wasn’t sucking too bad. So we moved on to a quick recap of life in the ‘Nam and then proceeded to drink ourselves silly. The last ones standing were Trashy and Hole, and by our craptacular math, we figured they finally passed out around 6:30 in the morning.
SUNDAY MORNING
I got up around 2 hours later and started piecing things together. A bottle of Jager was gone, apparently falling victim to a high-octane game of tippy cup. There was a line drawing of a dick on the flat-panel TV, luckily created with dry-erase marker. A camera (OG’s, I think) showed Hole/Trashy involved in same gayish-looking (but hash-acceptable) behavior, and from what I was told, there might have been ejaculate on the kitchen counter at some point. There were beer bottles scattered everywhere, making the house look more like a glass forest. There’s always a sense of pride in seeing that. But I couldn’t stand around gloating at the damage for too long. We had a trail to do.
HOB and OG gradually made their way to the start to prelay the SOB portion of trail, while I got d’erections together for the bimbos.
We gathered at 1:30 and I was off at 1:45. The only people brave enough to do the shiggy/eagle trail were, of course, the Trashers.
TRASH TRAIL, CUSTOM-MADE
The start was a park south of HOB’s house, and just south of the Little River. The beginning of trail consisted of two river crossings (the water was never more than thigh-deep) and some sewer easements. A south loop included a kick-ass all-uphill hiking trail, railroad tracks and a shiggified trip downward to the river for a third water crossing. Most of everything else to the beer stop was among a maze of dirt trails, but some were swampy or overgrown, and one piece featured a trek along a claustrophobic creek. The beer stop was where the forest met HOB’s development, at a cul-de-sac where there still wasn’t any houses yet.
From there, the SOB’ers took road to the end. But the eagle loop added some hamsterland, deer tracks, lots of deadfall and another quick trip along the tracks. There were three cool things to see toward the end, ranging from surreal to cum-in-your pants gorgeous. The first was the remnants of an old bridge that used to take an old road over a creek. The second was the creek itself, lined with rocks, which wound its way underneath a greenish canopy. Finally, after a painful climb up a steep hill to the development’s west side, the payoff: A view across a huge valley to Kennesaw Mountain and the surrounding area.
The on-in included food and (yeah, like we really needed anymore) beer. Dr. Doo Doo ran circle in the typical entertaining Dr. Doo Doo style. And to his credit, he even acknowledged the Trash in a special down-down, even though after a weekend in town, some people didn’t want to see the Trash acknowledged for anything. Those of us of the Trash variety raised our mugs just a little bit higher and sang just a little louder, to show the rest of the world we simply don’t give a shit.
Since I was something of a host, and not an Invader, I would like permission to dub the Invasion a success; from the constant acts of stupidity, to the volume of booze consumed, to the fact that all of the local Trash were able to take part. From my end, the afternoon of scouting was worth every second, laying the trail was a blast and I finally got to bathe myself in the aura of CTrH3 without having to leave ATL.
On-On to Prom and
May the Trash Get a Piece
# posted by L&F @ 5:49 PM 
