!! NUDE TRASH !!

What: NUDE 2017 (14th NURD)

Where: That girl scout camp

When: May 12-14

Who:

Piggy, Decy, Tapp, others who will kill me when they read this and find out I barely remember their names after all these years...

FRIRAGE

(The nice day)

I arrived at the camp just after 3 and was greeted by some friendly visitors from flour city who very nicely reminded me of the rules, etc, etc, I pretended to pay attention, but was really jonesing to get unpacked and start raging!

Quickly after setting up camp behind the manifest destinied manifest cabin, I reacquainted with my old friend Two Minute Ride who informed me that he was about to roll a blunt. I replied that I hadn’t smoked one of those since college. However, the process to roll said blunt took long enough that I was able to pass my greeting to those who came by, always feeling bad for the late arrivers who’d arrived mid-rage.

Whore dock was well populated, but I decided that I should best make my introductions carrying a pitcher of beer for the dock. My actions were not as well received as I should have hopped; as the dock was well beered, but my friends on the shore were sad to see me pass by before returning to fill them up. Counterfeit, for no apparent reason, wanted to see how many people it would take to submerge a section of the dock, the answer was surprisingly not many.

Getting bored, and fearing for our sobriety might be harder to vanquish than we thought, Piggy announced that it was time that we re-baptize the no-longer broken Kursty in the cleansing waters of Lake Minnetonka...so we cleared the dock and a naked - not sure that’s needed, but just incase you couldn’t figure it out - Krusty sat in the now dick-less wheel chair and was pushed off the end of the dock. There was physical evidence of the temperature of the water, and we cleared the dock and went back to the pavilion to get more beer.

Dinner was called - surprisingly since we were suggested to feed ourselves and I made the first of many voyages up to the pavilion - now with beer for 2017! The dinner did not make my notes but I believe it was something with meat between slices of bread? Really I have no idea, Two Minute and I housed that blunt on the way up to the food and my memory’s pretty fuzzy until we get to the puddling shots in a half dozen paragraphs or so.

Returning to the fire pit after dinner we continued to rage and greet newcomers until trial was called and we followed lines of glow sticks into the woods past the platform tents. Trail crossed a bridge and there was a harriet telling people not to walk into a pole. Apparently someone hadn’t realized that the pole was immobile last year and walked into it. Did that actually happen? Does it matter? It makes a good story. Honestly, I needed to helpful reminder and I was quickly getting rather high. The first shot check was unimpressive, and we walked around the woods to the second check which featured me filling my vessel almost entirely full with some sort of lemondrop concoction. This was a bad idea, but I soldiered on. Trail continued into the woods until everyone stopped. The hares were lost. Wikilost. We backtracked and found trail going to another cooler full of shots; my vessel still being full with lemondrops, I had to decline this one, and instead sipped, regretfully on the alcohol citrus juice in my vessel. Shortly trail emerged from the woods - much to my relief as I literally had no idea where I was - to the registration tables which were repurposed to hold pudding shots. I decided that pudding shots I could do - though Bill Cosby isn’t dead - so I poured out my lemondrops, refilled with beer and remembered how glad I was that I had trimmed my beard and was not therefore entirely covered in pudding. After the majority - though not all - of the pudding was consumed, Krusty jumped on the table and announced that PANTS OFF DANCE OFF was starting at the Disco Shelter and scampered off. Word spread like wildfire, but we all stood around and drank more until we heard the pulsing beats of DJ Dark Moves flowing across the lake and we made the trek down to the dance floor.

One the way back I decided that the blunt had worn off - I believe I was able to judge this because I regained the ability to have coherent thoughts, and decided that would be a great time to give out the rest of the Butler cookies I had squired away after Moom Fight Club. I believe I gave some to Udder? Maybe Easy? Maybe Butler? Maybe someone else? I don’t know, but I found an empty bag in my pocket the next morning. It’s also entirely possible that I ate all of them myself.

Following the music - and the glowsticks - to the dance floor, where everyone was dancing and marvouling in how shinny the dickhelmets were, we all danced for a very long time. Or not again, time dialation is a thing.  At some point I walked over to the fire pit which had been lit after the shot-trail, and watched the flames consume all the wood in the teapee. I should note that I’m listening to the NUDE playlist, and I’m not entirely convienced that this is what we were listening to. I feel a significant wiki-influence might have been filtered out...not that I’m complaining  - not everyone wants to dance ATR.

At some point there was an UGH - i mean, not at some point, I’m pretty sure it was at, or after midnight, and I’m pretty sure that CEP and Pussy Passport hared it, and I have a rough memory of trying to RA circle, but instead saying some form of “fuck this, I’m going to bed” and walking away...except I didn’t go to bed, because I got lost and went back to the now much emptier dance floor and danced some more. It was actually at this point that I came to the conclusion about the playlist and eventually went back to the pavilion to have some water and watch people play drink ball, while thinking “yeah, there’s no way I’m drinking anymore” before eventually finding my tent and going to bed.

All in all, a fun friday night; great weather, great company great trails, dancing and rage...if only the rest of the weekend were like that.

SATURAIN (rage) -

I awoke before the rain and thought, innocently, that perhaps it would all blow over. Talking around the fire I recovered my vessel from where I had left it after the UGH the night before (see above) - apparently, i couldn’t find my tent because I turned the wrong way off the road, but, whatever...anyway, after regaining my vessel I decided to test it to verify that it still held beer and, gentle reader, you will be pleased to know that it did. Vessel properly charged, I migrated up the hill towards the food pavilion to fill my face with the standard breakfast fare of rice and beans, and various forms of scrambled eggs with things in them. There was also coffee, something which I would be remiss to leave out. The left over pudding shots were placed next to said elixir of life and proved to be a very nice substitute for cream.

Having filled our stomachs we, the royal we, made our way back down to the fire pit and stood around it for a while before decided that perhaps we should go under the pavilion since there was also a fire there and it wasn’t raining. Oh, yes, Spank Me came through on a mission to find his pants, some one suggested perhaps that he check his tent, which he said he had, then it was suggested that perhaps he check the tent that he ended up in. He came back a half-hour later with his pants and a small grin. This story is at least 50% true, which, given the conditions in which we find ourselves so often these days, should be taken as nearly Unquestionable Divine Law.

We were kind of milling aimlessly about for a while, and it was decided that if we were going on trail, it would definitely be announced at the fire pit, so we should change into trail clothes, but remain in the area. It should be noted that Udder Whore, far from being the sweet and innocent paragon of classic femininity, poses a high-kick which can reach over my cranium. The ability to effortlessly execute this kick is a requirement of all of her pants. She has been added to my list of people to ph34r, as she demonstrated this ability multiple times, then laughed, heartlessly when my effort to do the same resulted in the effortless triumph of gravity and my reunion with the forest floor. I brushed myself off, filled up my vessel and waited for trail.

Trail was called that it was started from the pavilion, and I quickly decided to join team Nature Walk - having learned my lesson multiple times over that they are normally the rageier, and therefore wiser choice. I cemented my decision by filling my vessel with sweet nectar to keep me hydrated on what was sure to be a long and arduous trail. Quick note that the hares were Piggy and Willy. There was a very important announcement at chalk talk, that I didn’t hear - more on that later, and we eventually scampered off after the hares.

TRAIL Pt 1: A stroll through the Woods

The FRBs came back and reported that trail did not, in fact go over the bridge to the shots like it did Friday night; instead trail turned right after the out-house and followed, for a brief moment, in the path of the trail last year. There was an, in hindsight, hilarious attempt to try and walk around the mud and water that trail led us through on a long loop around the swampy-pondish thing that the bridge eventually took us over. Having refound ourselves on solid ground, the FRBs took off running. I sighed, sipped my beer and let the pass. I was in a strange no-mans-land between the running runners, the walking runners and the walkers, but this is a place I’ve spent many a trail, so I strolled along in silence.

Trail eventually led to the road, and since my beer wasn’t finished, and i could see traffic in the distance, I decided that perhaps discretion was the better part of valor and dumped the now quiet flat (i mean it was coors light to begin with) contents of my vessel on the road and took off after the runners, who had turned back into camp to take off some layers [RAGE], then turned back on trail, which continued along the road for about 100 yards after camp, though the hares took pains to not mark on the roads, instead using trees offset by a couple of yards, before turning and heading down a ravine-ish thing into the woods. There were gleeful shouts from the front as the FRBing runners found the beer!

BEER CHECK #1:

There was a crate with 4 gallons of beer. There might have been orange food, but I wasn’t paying much attention.We stood around for a while, talked of things pithy and profound and commented that trail so far, hadn’t been that bad. A few beers laters I decided I wanted to go back to camp - being that it was cold and wet - so I did what all good hashers do when they are on trail and want to get to the ONIN, I quietly left the check and started following trail.

Trail ... um ... Part 2: I guess we’re doing this?

I might as well state this here; it was not my intention to go on this part of trail, but I’m an idiot, and I take full responsibility for my actions. I will attempt to keep the whining tone down, but - bad decisions aside - I had a great fucking time. SHIGGY!

I left the beer check early, hoping to get a jump on the rest of the walkers, and headed into the woods. The woods quickly became damp, and the damp woods quickly became a light-swamp. You know, the type in which trees still grow, but there isn’t really much solid ground between them? Trail was laid pretty much straight through this, though pack splitted into a “line abreast” formation for reasons that I don’t understand; the path of least resistance was to take the path which the hares, and FRBs had trodden. This trail lead to something on the horizon which I hoped beyond hope was a dirt road leading back to camp since after about 10 minutes, I had had about as much of the shiggy as I had planned for and was quickly coming to the realization that I was on the Eagle trail.

The road ahead of me wasn’t a road, just a random dry-ish patch - a return to “damp forest” from “trees in water.” There was a clearing visible through the trees and I had a sinking feeling that I knew where we were headed, but could see no other way. I tucked my vessel - remember I brought it with me because I thought i was doing “team nature walk” - into my hoodie, zipped up my coat, took a deep breath and turned left to follow trail. There were maybe a hundred yards of dry trail for me to mull my fate over in before we turned quiet abruptly to the right and into an actual swamp. Trail is rather visible from space, as if you zoom in far enough on google maps you can see the observation deck then the expanse of swamp/bog/whatever in front of it. Or, if you were on eagle trail last year, you guys did the other half of that damned thing.

However, this wasn’t last year. This was this year; a NUDE in remembrance of those we lost, and the hares lived up to that billing trying their hardest to lose pack in the swamp. There was a true trail pointing in, then nothing, then a few orange ties on bushes on the other side of a gently flowing stream, surrounded by patches of swamp grass. In we went. I journeyed in with the guy who’d eventually get naked and trip over the course hazard on the Beer Mile (see below), and Twinkle Toes; I think there were people behind us, I mean I know there were, but I was focused on what I learned from We Sing Silly Songs - “When you walk in the swamp go swish not stomp!” Continuing forward momentum was the best thing going. I learned quite quickly that channels had to be entered gently - Twinkly Toes preferred the Jump In and Splash Around method, and the other guy laughed at us. There were times again when Twinkle and I were used as human-yard sticks “this gets about waist deep on wiki here!” or “watch out for that area; wiki went chest deep!” I will point out that I didn’t go chest deep, but that my foot was stuck and I threw myself on a tuft of swamp grass to lever my leg out, then adopted the strategy of “stick to the channels.” In future, I’d recommend this, you get more wet (not like that mattered), but the mud and depth were more consistent and the constant falling into, then climbing out of mud canyons was quickly getting annoying.

At this point in the narrative, we were just about half way across the swamp and could see the observation deck teasing us in the distance. However, due to the weather (the hares dispute this, but i Iike the story better this way), the walkers had abandoned the second beer check and returned to the food pavilion leaving us Eagles to slog through the swamp for no one’s glory but our own. Trail, or rather, slogging through the swamp, continued for another swamp-length (whatever unit that is), as we slowly turned away from the observation deck and headed towards shore. There was a song check “Them them, fuck them” on the road which lead back to the deck and the sports field, however, despite extensive and wishful scouting by your humble narrator, trail did not go that way. Trail turned right and continued into the woods.

There were some gentle hills and we left the open of the swamp to the cover of trees - mainly pine as my memory informs me - and trail continued through the woods. I had started walking trail as there are frequently, um, how shall I put this, comfortable consequences to running in wet, muddy kilts - at least for me. It was a pleasant stroll through the woods, though I wished that my vessel wasn’t tucked into my hoodie and instead filled with beer; also I wished that all the runners would stop running past me so we could walk and chat or whatever. Enough of that, back to trail. The hike through the woods was relatively unremarkable with the exception of the part in which the hares played “how many times can we cross the same river?” I lost count at over a dozen. Eventually, though, we stumbled out onto a recognizable road and ran uphill to the beer check, which was in the same location as the first beer check last year.

BEER CHECK #2, and a walk down hill.

Yeah, I bailed on this like a paratrooper over Normandy. Is that a joke? Maybe? It feels 20% right, 30% wrong, 50% wierd? But I’ll go with it. I grabbed a beer and followed spank me and we wandered down the hill back to camp, and stumbled out of the woods.

END OF TRIAL

With the wide-eyed look of someone who had survived something they hadn’t meant to, I wandered around the camp until I found a group of people playing cards under the pavilion, and joined them. We played asshole until we had gathered a crowd almost as large as the game itself, and I must admit that my heuristics, or strategy, or whatever, for this game were horrible; I was asshole once, veep once, and alternated between the top and bottom of the group the rest of the time. People were walking by and tossing candy on the table, which was nice, but they never filled our beers, which was the job of Peepers, because while she wasn’t always asshole, she was the best. There competitions as to how many times we could skip Bleeps or Just Sean, and I just bumbled around trying to figure out what was going on. Eventually we tired of the game - mainly because there were too many people and dealing cards was actually quiet difficult in those circumstances. With our hunger not satisfied by candy bars, we slowly shuffled our way up to the food pavilion and ate sandwhiches, left overs from last night and chilli. Over lunch we talked of many things, most notably Gerald, the elephant in the room. I fucking see you, Gerald! But growing tierd and cold in our (my) muddy and wet clothing, we retired back to camp to change and figure out what was going to happen next.

After getting into some dry clothes we reconvened around the pavilion and talked, drank beer, and planned to take over the world until Disco showed up! There bets were 7/3 (I have no idea what that means) against, but she just strolled up as if she’d been there the whole time. She quickly made friends by handing out weed cookies, and was welcomed into the conversation.

Krusty came in and announced that the beer mile would be happening at 5, so we all trudged up the hill to the food pavilion to watch Krusty, Little Wang, a just from Boston*, the guy who I went through the swamp with, and Boner Doner do a beer mile. Bets were taken, such as who would win the women’s division - No Man was the odds-on favourite, who would win the men’s, and how many wipe out’s there’d be. The race started and No Man declared that she wasn’t running, so I started drinking. After the first lap, the just quit - something about not like humping turtles - and the race continued. With no one having fallen after first two laps, and since everyone had money riding on at least one hash crash, I ran into the woods and tossed some sticks in the middle of the course as a hazard. The runners generally ignored this, except for one - the guy from the swamp - who “fake fell” but ended up being covered in mud anyway - the judges counted that as a trip and we all drank. Krusty won - I think - and we all retired to either the food pavilion, with it’s fire for warmth and long, hipster table, or the smaller pavilion with it’s weird game and beer.

The pavilion had a much better game; Come Up With New Ways Of Drinking Disco’s Alcohol. Disco brought hard alcohol, this should shock no one, but what should be shocking is that no one else did. So a group of us sat around the tables drinking it in ever more sophomoric ways. The first, and best, was the idea of pickle backs. Everyone loves pickle backs, right? Well, Wanka had brought some horseradish pickles, and disco had whipped cream vodka...so picklebacks? I said I’d do one, and after dumping my beer and getting water for a chaser I bored myself a shot of each, held them in front of me, and down they went. I waited for the predicted vomit, but nothing happened, so my face went from nervous, to scared to, well, meh, oh, that wasn’t bad at all looking. And NO ONE believed me. So I dared No Man to drink it, because I didn’t make a face. So she did, and she didn’t make a face. Then she dared Udder to drink it, because No Man didn’t make a face, and she did; and so the game went; no one who drank it reacted negatively to it, but no one who hadn’t drunk it believe that it wasn’t the most vile thing in the world. This game continued until food was brought out and we paused, briefly.

Dinner was pulled pork (or chicken, doesn’t really matter), and left over chilli and potatos. The potatos are important because they were key to the next game...

You Are *clap*clap* the Best Drunk *clap*clap*

I could never get the syncopation of those claps down, and neither could anyone after the game was over so it doesn’t really matter; honestly none of this dose, but we’re seven pages in and haven’t even gotten to circle, so we might as well keep going. The point of this game was to see who could drink the most, weirdest things. We had a limited supply of booze and needed to ration it to those who earned it - like those who’d take pulled-chicken shots, or potatao-and-butter shots. These are exactly what you think they are, and it was quiet a game between between Krusty and Harlot, thought there were others. Easy played for a while, then ran off to join “the other game” - which, as far was we could tell - involves standing around table and sometimes running around it naked. Was our game better? Who knows. After running out of things to food with the whipped cream vodka, Harlot poured everyone a ground a “Creamy Codders” to serve as a base as the game continued. Mansauce provided a set of potato-funnels to facilitate drinking; I tried one (twice) and ended up just pouring alochol all over my face. With our shots running low, we started handing out “pre-mixed cranberry juice” to everyone who came up asking for shots. Only the just figured out that it was juice everyone else remarked “wow, you can hardly taste the vodka.” Enough of this, circle.

CIRCLE

Piggy called everyone to the food tent and got the hares into circle. It was a good trial, and they drank. Next all the “kitchen bitches” who worked so that we could rage were called in - THANK YOU! We’d be cold, drunk, and hungry were it not for them! Virgins were called in - Yes, there were Virgins - and we demented them; they had (have) no idea how (or why) they spent their weekend in the woods and are probably still questioning their life choices. NURD virgins - first time NURD/NUDErs were called in and for a second we thought that this was going to be the beginning of the famous 3-hour circle where everyone from 1 to 14 was called in. I believe that they got through first and second timers, then called in everyone who’d been to all of them - which I believe was just Piggy (maybe Deccy too?). They need to get a life. Old-timers were called in - Tub Slut and Dancing Fool - and asked to sing us a song which no one remembered anymore. They did, and I had no idea what it was. They then called in anyone who had been born after 1987, the year Tubby and Dancing Fool started hashing, and a surprising number of people were. Anyone who ran the beer mile was called in, including the just from Boston, who baled after one lap. Disco yelled out “hey, get outta circle, you quater  mile queer!” Silence fell on the pavilion, and quorum was granted from Boston for Piggy to name the just “Quarter Mile Queer.” So, whoever that Just from Boston was, he is now “Quater Mile Queer.” The beer milers then drank. It being mother’s day, all mom’s drank, after ordering themselves in various ways. Circle was briefly opened to accusation and apparently I lost some shit in Butler's car, which he made me drink for. I tried to accuse Udder of punching me in the face but was told that was hashman like behaviour. I’m sure other things happened, but those pre-mixed cranberries were really piling up, so we swung low.

The Virginator took over for Krusty on the dance floor and everyone broke off to either dance or find somewhere warm.

Oh, Harlot and Udder can’t walk in a straight line and there’s a pueblo village in Harlot’s toes. Midnight came around and everyone was too cold to UGH, so we (I - the royal we) went to bed.

We all woke up Sunday morning and pretty much raced to see who could pack up their tent and get home into their warm and dry bed fastest.

Also, Gimp had a heart attack, or something. He’s okay, but has a new TV, and if I know a joke you can play on him involving a plug...

ON - NUDE NUDE NUDE NUDE NUDE NUDE NUDE NUDE NUDE NUDE NUDE - ON
-Wikipedophilia

ANNOUNCEMENTS:

July 14-16: Burlington H3 -> INVIHASH! It’s like NUDE, but marginally warmer in Vermount. There might be fewer swamps on trial.

http://burlingtonhash.com/wordpress/invihash/information/

Itheca as a camp out weekend in August, but I don’t know the dates or the link...reply to this and I’ll update the posts.

Flour city might have something too? See above; reply and I’ll update.

RAGE!