13 June 2008
90. The Hedon Shooting Star Hash
Camp Hedon - 23 May 2008
It was a stark and dormy night. The electrical arcs from the Jacob’s Ladder and the intense lightning outside were the only sources of illumination aiding the Drunken Scientist in his latest quest: creating delightful boozish delights for the upcumming Hedon Shooting Star Hash.
Welcum to the Drunken Scientist’s Lair, located at a super-secret location 9.4 miles from the middle of downtown Atlanta. Elevation 969. Yup, that’s 900 plus 69. Exactly a one-mile crawl on ASSfault (and a little dirt) up to the highest point inside the Perimeter: Mount Wilkinson, home of a really old cemetery. The Drunken Scientist’s Lair is where the most-requested shooters are made, and where the most infamous Bib Mix fermented for an entire year before it was dumped on unsuspecting Carolina Trashers.
Lightning, dead people, rancid liquid and lots of liquor. And maybe even a Mwah-Ha-Ha-Ha or two. You feeling the mood here? Good, let’s change it really quick.
Angels sang as gallons of liquid made their way to the 2008 installment of Camp Hedon on Friday evening. The Drunken Scientist (let’s just call him the DS for now) wheelbarrowed all his shit to a campsite, and with the help of his big-boobied companion, had everything situated in less than an hour. But it was already late, so the DS had to hurry and put the finishing touches on his three shots. Luckily, four hashers volunteered to host other stops, and that took a lot of the pressure off.
From what I can remember, the Hash started at 11p at the outdoor kitchen, after the DS made many high-energy laps around camp reminding people of this glorious event. He tried delegating the job of busting up the graham crackers for the Key Lime Pie crust, but unfortunately, the delegatees tried breaking the crackers without taking them out of the wrappers and ground all three packs into dust. Glass half full or half empty? Half full. One less thing to worry about.
Shot cups were passed out from several hired minions and the DS heard a comment that he would hear from separate people at least four more times before midnight: “It’s like herding cats, huh?” Yeah, but that’s to be celebrated when you have more than 100 really drunk people trying to get even more drunk. And let me assure you: seven stops will put some people down.
Head Nurse’s Pink Panty Pulldowns were a great way to start. Vodka, pink lemonade and Sprite Zero. Light, slightly tart and not too sweet. She made the DS so proud when she brought out a test batch the weekend before during the Hedon work party. Research? Excellent. And this big batch was just as good, and there was soooo much more. The pourers had plenty to work with, and were giving out seconds and some thirds.
The DS had his flashing jester hat on, and was finally able to get the needed attention by standing on a cooler and giving his Canadian Goose call an energetic blow. On Out to the second stop. Up to the Tiki Bar for Key Lime Pie. A quality version of Jesus Saves started at the tippy cup tables. The pourers realized it was best just to walk around and catch people who held their cups out. There was about a quart left in one bottle, and a really drunk road whore who shall remain nameless noticed the DS at a cooler full of ice, putting the bottle back in. She was later seen walking around with it, taking swigs and slurring. Yay for booze.
A twist on the Ruby Relaxer was the star of the third stop, held at Dick the Boy Wonder’s tent, because he happened to be camping at the perfect spot on trail. The original Ruby Relaxer comes from TRASHland in Fayetteville, NC. This version started off with a really strong combination of five mango vodkas, mixed until they tasted good. Next came equal parts of Malibu, vodka, pineapple juice and cranberry juice. Another quality song was started here; maybe Yogi Bear, I can’t remember. Turns out pouring and listening are too difficult to do at the same time. At least if you don’t want to spill. I remember seeing someone downing five straight shots. Ohhhh, that’s going to hurt in the morning.
Blue Juice hosted the fourth stop, and he had a new arrival to the Shooting Star lineup: Cherry Bombs. He took a gallon of maraschino cherries and soaked them in rum. It took three calls to get everyone moving from the previous stop, but once they arrived, the cherries went quick. I got reports the next day that this is where several people started blacking out.
On to stop number five. The Jax crew had pitchers of Red Headed Sluts ready for the masses. Jagermeister, peach schnapps and cranberry juice. Some people started bailing out of the hash by the time we moved on from here. But there were still more than 100 people hanging on. The area where Jax was staying is off the long dirt road that comes in from the street. It’s a well-trafficked area, and the next day, I walked by some spots that smelled like vomit. In fact, I recall an anonymous hasher puking in a trash can close by the next morning.
Stop six seemed to be the loudest one. It was held at the front of the house where registration would be the next day. This was the dessert shot, named Costa Rican Crack because it’s so addicting. Costa Rican espresso, chocolate vodka, amaretto, Frangelico and half-and-half to cut the sweetness down. Boobs were coming out, and various people were sucking dessert off them.
The grand finale was Apple Pie, courtesy of Thanks for the Mammaries. If you’ve never done Apple Pie shots, you now have a life goal. Sit in a chair, tilt your cranium back, open your mouth wide and have pourers dump vodka and apple juice into your pie hole. Then comes the squirt of whipped cream and the dash of cinnamon. Shake that cranium, swallow and scream it like you mean it: APPLE PIE! It’s good stuff, and it can get pretty entertaining, especially when the pourers or drinkers start getting naked. One comment on the cinnamon: add superfine sugar and put the mix in salt shakers. Avoid powdered sugar, and especially avoid trying to tap straight cinnamon into someone’s mouth. What doesn’t go up their nose makes the shot taste gritty.
The DS watched hashers slur, stagger and fall. Ah, life’s definitely good. And it’s all thanks to the generous fuckers who donated cash. Without you guys, none of that would have happened. You rock.
May the Hash Get a Piece.
It was a stark and dormy night. The electrical arcs from the Jacob’s Ladder and the intense lightning outside were the only sources of illumination aiding the Drunken Scientist in his latest quest: creating delightful boozish delights for the upcumming Hedon Shooting Star Hash.
Welcum to the Drunken Scientist’s Lair, located at a super-secret location 9.4 miles from the middle of downtown Atlanta. Elevation 969. Yup, that’s 900 plus 69. Exactly a one-mile crawl on ASSfault (and a little dirt) up to the highest point inside the Perimeter: Mount Wilkinson, home of a really old cemetery. The Drunken Scientist’s Lair is where the most-requested shooters are made, and where the most infamous Bib Mix fermented for an entire year before it was dumped on unsuspecting Carolina Trashers.
Lightning, dead people, rancid liquid and lots of liquor. And maybe even a Mwah-Ha-Ha-Ha or two. You feeling the mood here? Good, let’s change it really quick.
Angels sang as gallons of liquid made their way to the 2008 installment of Camp Hedon on Friday evening. The Drunken Scientist (let’s just call him the DS for now) wheelbarrowed all his shit to a campsite, and with the help of his big-boobied companion, had everything situated in less than an hour. But it was already late, so the DS had to hurry and put the finishing touches on his three shots. Luckily, four hashers volunteered to host other stops, and that took a lot of the pressure off.
From what I can remember, the Hash started at 11p at the outdoor kitchen, after the DS made many high-energy laps around camp reminding people of this glorious event. He tried delegating the job of busting up the graham crackers for the Key Lime Pie crust, but unfortunately, the delegatees tried breaking the crackers without taking them out of the wrappers and ground all three packs into dust. Glass half full or half empty? Half full. One less thing to worry about.
Shot cups were passed out from several hired minions and the DS heard a comment that he would hear from separate people at least four more times before midnight: “It’s like herding cats, huh?” Yeah, but that’s to be celebrated when you have more than 100 really drunk people trying to get even more drunk. And let me assure you: seven stops will put some people down.
Head Nurse’s Pink Panty Pulldowns were a great way to start. Vodka, pink lemonade and Sprite Zero. Light, slightly tart and not too sweet. She made the DS so proud when she brought out a test batch the weekend before during the Hedon work party. Research? Excellent. And this big batch was just as good, and there was soooo much more. The pourers had plenty to work with, and were giving out seconds and some thirds.
The DS had his flashing jester hat on, and was finally able to get the needed attention by standing on a cooler and giving his Canadian Goose call an energetic blow. On Out to the second stop. Up to the Tiki Bar for Key Lime Pie. A quality version of Jesus Saves started at the tippy cup tables. The pourers realized it was best just to walk around and catch people who held their cups out. There was about a quart left in one bottle, and a really drunk road whore who shall remain nameless noticed the DS at a cooler full of ice, putting the bottle back in. She was later seen walking around with it, taking swigs and slurring. Yay for booze.
A twist on the Ruby Relaxer was the star of the third stop, held at Dick the Boy Wonder’s tent, because he happened to be camping at the perfect spot on trail. The original Ruby Relaxer comes from TRASHland in Fayetteville, NC. This version started off with a really strong combination of five mango vodkas, mixed until they tasted good. Next came equal parts of Malibu, vodka, pineapple juice and cranberry juice. Another quality song was started here; maybe Yogi Bear, I can’t remember. Turns out pouring and listening are too difficult to do at the same time. At least if you don’t want to spill. I remember seeing someone downing five straight shots. Ohhhh, that’s going to hurt in the morning.
Blue Juice hosted the fourth stop, and he had a new arrival to the Shooting Star lineup: Cherry Bombs. He took a gallon of maraschino cherries and soaked them in rum. It took three calls to get everyone moving from the previous stop, but once they arrived, the cherries went quick. I got reports the next day that this is where several people started blacking out.
On to stop number five. The Jax crew had pitchers of Red Headed Sluts ready for the masses. Jagermeister, peach schnapps and cranberry juice. Some people started bailing out of the hash by the time we moved on from here. But there were still more than 100 people hanging on. The area where Jax was staying is off the long dirt road that comes in from the street. It’s a well-trafficked area, and the next day, I walked by some spots that smelled like vomit. In fact, I recall an anonymous hasher puking in a trash can close by the next morning.
Stop six seemed to be the loudest one. It was held at the front of the house where registration would be the next day. This was the dessert shot, named Costa Rican Crack because it’s so addicting. Costa Rican espresso, chocolate vodka, amaretto, Frangelico and half-and-half to cut the sweetness down. Boobs were coming out, and various people were sucking dessert off them.
The grand finale was Apple Pie, courtesy of Thanks for the Mammaries. If you’ve never done Apple Pie shots, you now have a life goal. Sit in a chair, tilt your cranium back, open your mouth wide and have pourers dump vodka and apple juice into your pie hole. Then comes the squirt of whipped cream and the dash of cinnamon. Shake that cranium, swallow and scream it like you mean it: APPLE PIE! It’s good stuff, and it can get pretty entertaining, especially when the pourers or drinkers start getting naked. One comment on the cinnamon: add superfine sugar and put the mix in salt shakers. Avoid powdered sugar, and especially avoid trying to tap straight cinnamon into someone’s mouth. What doesn’t go up their nose makes the shot taste gritty.
The DS watched hashers slur, stagger and fall. Ah, life’s definitely good. And it’s all thanks to the generous fuckers who donated cash. Without you guys, none of that would have happened. You rock.
May the Hash Get a Piece.
# posted by L&F @ 4:07 PM 
