At the sparsely attended but thoroughly enjoyed hash ski weekend (skis and ski lifts: optional, snow: mandatory, plumbing: outdoor) the abbreviated circle tapped the nonfunctional prophylactic to set the trail for the following week, not realizing that the bodybuilding rodent had already designated the fuzzy yellow insect for the same task; and after a flurry of late night telephone tag, the pack arose from its stupor and retreated from their bottle-strewn bedroom floors to the safe bosom of Mad Murphy's only to discover that not one trail, but two, had been set that very morning by not two, not even four, but by a total of not less than six hares-- two of which were virgins!

Faced with this thorny dilemma, the pack voted to proceed with the On-Onii venue chosen by Defective Rubberii and Nameless Sasha, as their was not averse to guests bringing their own beverages and was rumored to have good shashlyk. (On these counts it may be noted here that the rumor was true, but that the acceptance of a BYOB policy ended up being a nonfactor, as the pack consumed the entirety of two cases of the golden ambrosia that is Tien Shanii within the circle, and had none to bring with them to the On-Onii. Such is life.)

However, the trail the hounds would follow would be that set by Nameless Tatyana and Bumblebeeii, who, having spent the previous two days locked in such whirlwinds of revelry that they could not motivate themselves beyond a walking pace, drafted two virgins for the setting of a runners' trail, and then abandoned them in the circle before going to meet the pack at the house of the insane irishman. Shivering in the circle, sans sotovuy telephones, the dogs had no choice but to abandon Defective Rubberii's trail in order to rescue the not-so-hapless virgins.

Beginning from Abai Pravda, the pack soon re-discovered the joys of in-city hash runs during the springtime, at least insofar as "joy" is a synonym for "mud". Fearless, intrepid and recurring run discusser Make Me Comeii would disallow the use of this word for the trail while in the circle, but while safely ensconced in the safety of the DildoCave high atop New Square, I can use the word with impunity: there are very few words more appropriate for this run than Mud, and most of those would be ice, snow, water, or wet socks, all of which are related to Mud. Or at least very good friends with Mud.

The runners soon found that while the trail-setters may have been virgins, they were no fools and they were not born yesterday (no matter what it says on their passports). The trail was challenging, yet not obfuscatory; runnable, but not obvious; tasted great and was less filling. It was the Feel Good Run of the season! I gave it two thumbs up! And no, you can't ask where the other one is.

The runners-- nameless Sasha, Pumpkin Eaterii, Make Me Comeii, and your own faithless scribe, Digital Dildo-- soon made mincemeat of the trail, urged on by the apparently groundless rumor that four candy bars had been buried along the trail. We must have mistaken them for pieces of mud, or similarly colored substances. Deprived of sustenance, there was nothing to do for it but to press on, slogging through meter-deep potholes filled with water that would make the Ganges look like the Hyatt's swimming pool, chasms in the pavement that looked as if they ate Ladas for lunch, and probably have. NOTE: It was later revealed that it was, in fact, Defective Rubberi and Sasha who had left chocolate on THEIR trail.

The pack arrived together back at the circle after a mere hour without twenty minutes-- that twenty minutes without (such much?) spent waiting for the walkers, who had proceeded at a much more leisurely pace, despite the fact that Never Puts Outii was holding our passes to everlasting pleasure in her pants pockets at that very moment. Besides that, she had the car keys we needed to get access to the beer.

With the wayward walkers returned, the pack circled to hand out the down-downs; they were many indeed both for virgins and returners. Pumpkin Eaterii was pleased to perform the duties of RA Horny Hasherii in his absence, and recorded what may have been the first instance of a majority of white socks in the circle, not to mention a goodly number of those wearing green on some part of their anatomies in honor of St. Patricks Day; some said parts even suitable for public viewing, but not for those under 18 without a parent or guardian.

The violation du jour proved to be Sex In The Circle (or on the run) as Pornographerii was caught red-handed in a flagrant Public Display of Affection while on the walk, and as-yet-unchristened Saule simply could not do anything but keep her hands to herself (selfish Saule!) and was given not one, not two, but three down-downs for sex in the circle. We should all be so lucky!