Well it's March coming in like a lionbitch having us hashers standing around freezing our bums and titties off, being called to the Hash by Madam Icecold. And an amazingly ample turnout we have here for such a shitty day: over twenty Oakville oddballs, TO trespassers - it being Shadow and BirdBrian, Omar from Edmonton plus two hasher types from Trinidad or Brampton, who came late, were hardly seen on trail and left early, being supporters of Manchester United, another penalty against them, yours truly and Phart having reached the scene of the crime by following the Black Widow black Hashermobile madly down Mississauga roads. It being too cold for lengthy chitchat off we go on a course through the waterfront marshpark remembered from a former frolick but then counterclockwise and 30° above and not below zero, the trail having been priorly piloted by Icecold and her imperceptible pal Pussyfoot with invisible black birdseed and other markings. Well it was windy and it was cold and coming to the lake we heard the sound of a hundred waves crashing, leading Phart to boast to Shadow that our waves were bigger than TO's to which he riposted that theirs were cleaner, but that's because Mel has trucked his garbage down to McCallion's shores. Front Running Bastards taking off very quickly were never seen again till drinking beer at the end, despite the repeated and very loud screaming by the hare to hold all checks to which no one paid heed it being too cold to footle around. Cognizance was however conferred to a plaque commemorating the wealthy benefactors of the waterfowl marshpark, but that's easy to do if you gots bucks but who goes around in spring to clean up the candy wrappers and used rubbers not them in their fur coats and tuxes you can bet your bottom stock certificate on that. Well to the good part, although who wants to drink cold beer on a freezing day, enough or so it seemed and thus we have the usual harassment of the hare for the shitty run, and no pussy pal to share the honour or the chalice, for Lubricunt for pissing on the trail, only being bested by Black Widow for pissing farther, longer and hanging his business over a handrail the word hand being used loosely. Beer for Bumsteer, Bottoms-Up, and here's one for Headmistress for having the most Oakville Hasher runs at 352, which caused her to throw her beer back at Black Widow but hitting Phart, although it seems to me that there was a previous person who might have had more runs but was crossed off the list and no longer exists in the record books and in some minds for not sticking to the rules but I thought there was no rules. A christening for Mark now Joystick and whether he is a joy to his mother or to anybody else is still to be determined, although PNGuin did admire his tattoos, but only after he took his clothes off. In the changing of the guard between Skewbic Hare leaving on a jet plane here enters a civilian, it being Mucky promptly being castigated for bashing without hashing, and although some reference was made to her stylish new pumps, she escaped that lot, but made me reminisce about a long-ago party where a handsome young buck drank champagne, oh no beer, out of my pump on the dance floor, but sorry I digress. So a birthday for Woodpecker, who doesn't look a day over 300, and accusations for 2-Jugs and Icecold who seem to mispronounce Mississåôauga the wrong limey way, or so Headmistress says and she knows because she teaches DP's with the same problem, but I'm not getting into that one because there's lotsa words I mispronounce, but I can do it in 5 languages, so shutta up eh. Andale, andale, off we go to the Asylum of Icecold for the Annual Mismanagement Meeting, to which not all were invited but most came anyway making it a bitch on the scarce parking spots, and further events to be found in the mismanagement minuts.