|
She Fingered Air Spankers Flaming Udder Ho trail from last night.....
Colonoscopy.
Just gives you chills doesn't it?
Even the women get the heebeejeebees thinking about it. A rectal probe is not the way to start any day, a cup of coffee maybe but surely not a bottom's up exam. Well, it's no way to finish out a day either my grossed out little friends. And that's exactly what the S.H.*.T H3 trail last night did - they lived up to the shortened version of their namesake and ended the day with a colonoscopy in the form of a tunnel going under I -66. And this was no regular tunnel it was bend over tunnel even for those under 5 foot tall. Even a midget would have had to bend over in that colon of a tunnel.
And for added pleasure the water was fungus laden, odiferous, and slimy, and sludgery. Yes, I said sludgery.
Sludgery is all the stuff still stuck in there that never makes it out. Just like the stuff in the bottom of that tunnel. Sludgery is the reason the gastro doctor makes you drink 80 ounces of FLEET several days before an exam- they don't want to see any sludgery either because I assume, even to a poo doctor it's still gross up-close-and-on-camera. That 80 ounces of FLEET says to not leave the immediate vacinity of a bathroom within 20 minutes of taking it. And they do mean 20 minutes. This stuff is not your mothers Correctol, no sirree. Once, I had been i n the field for over 8 days. This was before I started hashing which generally means you learn to do your business outside behind a blade of grass for cover. In the field, my intestines went on strike and when we got home there were still no picket line crossers so I was in a real bind (pun intended). I got a nice little bottle of FLEET and read the directions and warning and waited with no outcome whatsoever. So off I went back to the Giant to talk to the pharmacy guy when right there in aisle 9 my stomach let go with an explosive 10-day-backup-this-is-more-than-just-a-wet-spill in aisle 9 roar that shook the rafters. And I ran. Ran like a starving wolf on an injured moose. I felt like an injured moose. Yep, that stuff clears all the sludgery out, aisle 9 for sure. Well, the hares didn’t bother cleaning the tunnel out so we had to wade through the 10-day-backup-this-is-more-than-just-a-wet-spill in aisle 9 sludgery the entire way. And then half way through one of the genious’s known as wanker stopped in a grate area where you can stand up because his back was hurting, which cause a head-in-a$$ backup for the ten hashers behind him. We didn’t even know our heads were up the pe rson’s a$$ in front of us because it smelled so bad in there you couldn’t tell that you were up someone’s a$$. There were muffled cries of “WTF?” but you weren’t sure if that indeed is what was being said or not – it just sounded pretty much like it. So after 6 minutes of poo palace pleasure we were finally out and into the fresh air. But for the other 5 miles of trail your feet stunk to high heaven and every time the wind blew you were assaulted with the gut wrenching reminder of the colonoscopy you just had on trail. In fact I am so overwhelmed with it all, that I can barely remember the rest of trail. I know we circled through a fairly nice neighborhood that had a car out front with all 4 tires not actually one the car, the car was resting on the tires as if on a tire bed. The tires were perpendicular to the rims. I don’t know if someone was just learning to put tires on a car and went it to get their daddy to show them what a great job they did only to have daddy flunk them with a big fat F for “that’s the most effed up thing I’ve ever seen” to which his child will surely burst into tears. Or if that car resting on its sideways t ires was daddy getting real ly pissed off at his kid and told him no driving and he means what he says so he took all the tires off, laid them on the ground and then let the jacks holding the tires off so his kid really cant drive. If this is the case, then that’s a dad who means B for Business. And we wandered around some more neighborhoods after crossing Stringfellow 75 yards from the start, but almost 4 miles in round about colon sludgery trail miles to be on trail in some more neighborhoods to a mystically hidden beer check in someone’s back yard where there was no more water but 2 water bottle left so we filled them up with hose water and drank thirstily. At this point, Lube, myself, Milk Money and FeyLay all decided that 4.3 miles of pootastic trail was quite enough and we walked back to start, only to find flour on the path directly across the street from start so ended up on trail anyways. For us trail was 4.7 miles and for runners who stayed on runners trail after the beer check they spent 7 something miles of fun on trail. Deep DooDoo and All the Way In raced like Kenyans af ter 26 miles for a gold medal and 300,000 cash prize money. Only there was no cash money and no prize except for a rubber intertube with Nub’s name on it wrapped around their shirtless bodies for warmth. Nub got on with circle where there were many violations and announcements – with a special announcement for T.I.T.S on July 4th, 2010. On On Dual Poobags
Return to trash list
|
