Dear Doctor Down-Down,
So there I was chatting up this cute little virgin at on-afters when a hasher interrupts our “private party.” The hasher announces, loud enough for everyone to hear, “So, Lickie, I heard you hooked up with a girl at Interhash!” Now this no ordinary sword-fight (guys fighting over a girl), no, no, no, this hasher was a harriette! I was flabbergasted and didn’t know how to react. I tried to ignore her but quickly learned that loud Irish women do not appreciate being ignored, as she began to pump me for details. All the hashers in my group know that I have little to no game (my full hash name is All Lickie, No Dickie) and need all the help I can get, so it totally blew my mind that this harriette would deliberately ruin my chances like that. Ugh. Needless to say, I didn’t score that night. Tell me, doctor, what’s up with this?
Harriettes, that’s what’s up. You learned a valuable lesson: the harriette is not just any women, she’s a very particular type of woman. What type of woman? Let me see if I can explain it. . . .
A harriette doesn’t care if you see her without makeup, or sweaty, or dirty. She might have worried about the size of her butt when she first started hashing, but she got over that long ago, and she for sure doesn’t give a damn what you think about it. She’ll drink from your mug, belch and fart in front of you, walk around naked. She’s seen you peeing, and you’ve probably seen her peeing. In other words, Lickie, the woman a harriette is like is . . . a former wife. And like a former wife, she most definitely does not want to see you score with another woman.
Next time you meet a cute virgin at a hash, tell her that On-Afters normally consist of the pack getting together at the RA’s house to play Dungeons and Dragons, then follow her when she leaves. And don’t let the harriettes see you doing it!
Dear Doctor Down-Down,
What’s the deal with down-downs? I just came back from InterHash, and they did down-downs different at every hash I went to. Is there a standard, or is it every hash for itself?
The only standard I know of is that every hash has some sort of down-down. But what’s a down-down? According to the Half-Mind Hashing Dictionary, “down-down” has two definitions:
- The ceremony of honoring deserving hashers after a trail
- The ceremony of quaffing a beverage
To my way of thinking, it isn’t a hash if there isn’t some sort of ritual or ceremony at the end of the trail, however short. As you observed at InterHash, there are lots of ways to honor deserving hashers after the trail, and truthfully, the beverage isn’t always beer . . . there are non-alcoholic hashes, although, thank G, not many.
When you do a down-down at some hashes, you have to chug a full mug of beer, and if you can’t chug it all, pour what’s left over your head. Sometimes you fill your own mug; sometimes the GM or RA pours it for you; sometimes there’s a Head Giver to hand out cups of beer; sometimes the pack passes an empty mug around, everyone contributing something to it, and sometimes the contributions are chunky rather than liquid. The mug, or vessel, can vary in size, from tiny to humougous. Sometimes there’s a dedicated hash vessel, used only for down-downs, and “vessel” doesn’t always mean what you think it does – it can be a funnel, a beer bong, a bed pan, or something you wouldn’t drink from in front of your mother, like a ceramic tit or penis.
Some hashes don’t believe in wasting beer, and you can chug down as little or as much as you want. Some hashes will let you chug water of soda. Some hashes insist you do your down-down with beer only, but will let you pour it all out over your head if you’re not a drinker.
Some hashes make you sit on a block of ice while you do your down-down, and even then there are variations, both in the block (the standard block of ice; the improved block with a nasty object frozen inside that gradually emerges as the block melts, such as a pig’s head, snout up; bags of cubed ice; ice block thrones), in the manner in which it is sat upon (totally bare-arsed, partially bare-arsed, bare-arsed for the men but not for the women, pants okay for both sexes), and in the length of time it is sat upon (long enough for the pack to sing you anything from a short drinking ditty to the full version of I Used to Work in Chicago).
There are as many ways of doing down-downs as there are hashes, almost, but there’s always a down-down of some kind, even if it’s just raising a toast to the hares. So my advice to you, Curious, is drink it down, down, down, down . . .
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