15 July 2008
92. Slogfest
Black Sheep H3 - 6 July 08
A Southern Comfort hydro-hash on Friday. A long downpour in the middle of Pine Lake on Saturday. Obviously, I didn’t get enough water during the weekend and desperately needed more. We got plenty on Sunday.
Warning… Nerd Alert… Actual facts ahead…
Here’s the deal on all this rain: Atlanta is considered a rather large Urban Heat Island. Fewer trees and all the assfault and all the heat generated from so many people and things that they use creates temperatures that are much higher than in the outlying areas. And Atlanta is in the Humid Suptropical climate zone that typically sees rainy summers anyway. All that extra heat rises and forms clouds, and cooler air is sucked into the area and thunderstorms are created. And don’t think they all have to be late-afternoon storms. They carry over to the morning, too. In fact, it’s 10:30a as I’m writing this and there’s a storm blowing through right now. NASA has even shelled out money to study all this crap.
OK, you can relax. Back to the stuff that’s only partially based on fact.
The first drops of rain hit at 1p, right at the start of Atlanta’s annual Gay Pride parade. It got really dark and the sky opened up. Parade attendees later said the drag queens were in pretty bad shape because of all of their running makeup. As for many of the Black Sheepers, we got caught while motoring to the start; lightning overhead, giant claps of thunder and driving rain pelting our cars while we futilely attempted to see out of our windshields. The wipers never had a chance. Traffic on the interstates and side streets slowed to a crawl as the hares were regrouping at the start, quickly trying to mentally piece together a trail that would keep people from drowning.
Welcome to Baastard Day 2008. Foreign Lesion and Bwana talked amongst themselves while the surprisingly large pack slowly tricked in to the abandoned Toys R Us at South Dekalb Mall, off I-20 and Candler Road. The lightning and sheets of rain kept people in their cars or pushed beside the building. Finally near 2p we got enough of a reprieve for Sani to start taking money and have us all circle up for the on-out.
The rain started falling again just as the hares were receiving their blessing. We waited our five minutes in the downpour and scampered off to the visuals of already-dissolving patches of flour. The first section of our slogfest was under a thick canopy along narrow r*nning paths, and featured a false trail that made me the solid D.F.L. behind a single-file backup of hounds. This wouldn’t do. I slowly started passing everyone by crashing through the thick shiggy on the sides of the paths and leaping over piles of deadfall. By the time we climbed up to the edge of an apartment complex, I was among the FRB’s, and the only thing to show for it was my own idiotic sense of accomplishment and the long, bloody scratches on the underside of my arms.
We were in some fast-moving creek when we found out where the hares split their duties. (Heh, I said doodies.) We were approaching a tunnel when we looked up and saw Foreign up on the overpass, throwing clumps of flour at everyone. We threw verbal barbs at him in response, but they obviously weren’t effective. Even the typical Baastard Day make-fun-of-the-French jabs didn’t phase him. Actually, some of us thought he was there to assure everyone that they wouldn’t die when they dove in to the tunnel. The water rushing in was pretty intense, and the water on the other side was pretty deep, but it was manageable.
The rain ended by the time we hit Bwana’s part, but we were constantly reminded of the storm at every step. Mud, slippery vegetation, hounds falling, powerful bodies of water. My GPS crapped out, so the locations of our travels is unknown. All I know is that it was wet. Very. Wet.
The first rays of sunlight greeted us at the end, and most of the clouds were gone by the time we started circle. This is where we found out that we were treated to a circle jerk somewhere on trail. Apparently, all of us passed the bimbos but were blissfully aware of their location right next to us; all sitting there quietly, partially blocked by a construction dumpster, all snickering at our tunnel vision.
I can’t remember whose Boxer puppy that was, but that dog was one of the cutest ones I’ve seen in a long time. And as a bonus, it didn’t mind we were swearing and throwing out tons of sexual innuendo in its presence. One of the walkers even brought it trail treasure: A 2 1/2-foot hard-plastic Barbie-type doll, complete with a full cranium of matted hair and an extreme lack of orifices. The dog turned it into a giant chew toy while the large group of us humans engaged in an extended Trail Trial. Foreign Lesion got up when it was over and showed us that he can leave a rather distinct ass-print on the ice. Poonshine sat down for some random offense and noted with disdain that the doll didn’t have knees. No services rendered here.
Of note was the hares’ song, which was a quick limerick about Foreign that morphed into three other limericks about three other Black Sheepers. Looks like we’re to a point where we can do an entire circle just singing songs about our own loyal ilk.
Two of our newer members got called up as first-timers even though they did the 97-degree death march a month earlier. Bwana decided that Walt Jizzme and Steady Downward Thrust were still first-timers since he hadn’t seen them before. Yes, he misses a hash once in a while. And when these second-timers complained about the repeated newbie label, Bwana instantly gave them a second down-down for not having sat on a true ice block their first time around. That leads us to today’s lesson: Don’t turn Bwana into a Bitch With An Attitude. You will pay for it one way or another.
Our drought makes these summer thunderstorms rather welcome, even if we have to have a shorter trail once in a while. But a little less water might be nice next time around. You got that, G? Cum see what transpires on July 20th when Wee Little Bit does the honors.
May the Hash Get a Piece
A Southern Comfort hydro-hash on Friday. A long downpour in the middle of Pine Lake on Saturday. Obviously, I didn’t get enough water during the weekend and desperately needed more. We got plenty on Sunday.
Warning… Nerd Alert… Actual facts ahead…
Here’s the deal on all this rain: Atlanta is considered a rather large Urban Heat Island. Fewer trees and all the assfault and all the heat generated from so many people and things that they use creates temperatures that are much higher than in the outlying areas. And Atlanta is in the Humid Suptropical climate zone that typically sees rainy summers anyway. All that extra heat rises and forms clouds, and cooler air is sucked into the area and thunderstorms are created. And don’t think they all have to be late-afternoon storms. They carry over to the morning, too. In fact, it’s 10:30a as I’m writing this and there’s a storm blowing through right now. NASA has even shelled out money to study all this crap.
OK, you can relax. Back to the stuff that’s only partially based on fact.
The first drops of rain hit at 1p, right at the start of Atlanta’s annual Gay Pride parade. It got really dark and the sky opened up. Parade attendees later said the drag queens were in pretty bad shape because of all of their running makeup. As for many of the Black Sheepers, we got caught while motoring to the start; lightning overhead, giant claps of thunder and driving rain pelting our cars while we futilely attempted to see out of our windshields. The wipers never had a chance. Traffic on the interstates and side streets slowed to a crawl as the hares were regrouping at the start, quickly trying to mentally piece together a trail that would keep people from drowning.
Welcome to Baastard Day 2008. Foreign Lesion and Bwana talked amongst themselves while the surprisingly large pack slowly tricked in to the abandoned Toys R Us at South Dekalb Mall, off I-20 and Candler Road. The lightning and sheets of rain kept people in their cars or pushed beside the building. Finally near 2p we got enough of a reprieve for Sani to start taking money and have us all circle up for the on-out.
The rain started falling again just as the hares were receiving their blessing. We waited our five minutes in the downpour and scampered off to the visuals of already-dissolving patches of flour. The first section of our slogfest was under a thick canopy along narrow r*nning paths, and featured a false trail that made me the solid D.F.L. behind a single-file backup of hounds. This wouldn’t do. I slowly started passing everyone by crashing through the thick shiggy on the sides of the paths and leaping over piles of deadfall. By the time we climbed up to the edge of an apartment complex, I was among the FRB’s, and the only thing to show for it was my own idiotic sense of accomplishment and the long, bloody scratches on the underside of my arms.
We were in some fast-moving creek when we found out where the hares split their duties. (Heh, I said doodies.) We were approaching a tunnel when we looked up and saw Foreign up on the overpass, throwing clumps of flour at everyone. We threw verbal barbs at him in response, but they obviously weren’t effective. Even the typical Baastard Day make-fun-of-the-French jabs didn’t phase him. Actually, some of us thought he was there to assure everyone that they wouldn’t die when they dove in to the tunnel. The water rushing in was pretty intense, and the water on the other side was pretty deep, but it was manageable.
The rain ended by the time we hit Bwana’s part, but we were constantly reminded of the storm at every step. Mud, slippery vegetation, hounds falling, powerful bodies of water. My GPS crapped out, so the locations of our travels is unknown. All I know is that it was wet. Very. Wet.
The first rays of sunlight greeted us at the end, and most of the clouds were gone by the time we started circle. This is where we found out that we were treated to a circle jerk somewhere on trail. Apparently, all of us passed the bimbos but were blissfully aware of their location right next to us; all sitting there quietly, partially blocked by a construction dumpster, all snickering at our tunnel vision.
I can’t remember whose Boxer puppy that was, but that dog was one of the cutest ones I’ve seen in a long time. And as a bonus, it didn’t mind we were swearing and throwing out tons of sexual innuendo in its presence. One of the walkers even brought it trail treasure: A 2 1/2-foot hard-plastic Barbie-type doll, complete with a full cranium of matted hair and an extreme lack of orifices. The dog turned it into a giant chew toy while the large group of us humans engaged in an extended Trail Trial. Foreign Lesion got up when it was over and showed us that he can leave a rather distinct ass-print on the ice. Poonshine sat down for some random offense and noted with disdain that the doll didn’t have knees. No services rendered here.
Of note was the hares’ song, which was a quick limerick about Foreign that morphed into three other limericks about three other Black Sheepers. Looks like we’re to a point where we can do an entire circle just singing songs about our own loyal ilk.
Two of our newer members got called up as first-timers even though they did the 97-degree death march a month earlier. Bwana decided that Walt Jizzme and Steady Downward Thrust were still first-timers since he hadn’t seen them before. Yes, he misses a hash once in a while. And when these second-timers complained about the repeated newbie label, Bwana instantly gave them a second down-down for not having sat on a true ice block their first time around. That leads us to today’s lesson: Don’t turn Bwana into a Bitch With An Attitude. You will pay for it one way or another.
Our drought makes these summer thunderstorms rather welcome, even if we have to have a shorter trail once in a while. But a little less water might be nice next time around. You got that, G? Cum see what transpires on July 20th when Wee Little Bit does the honors.
May the Hash Get a Piece
# posted by L&F @ 5:20 PM 
