So believe it or not I was actually somewhat quite my first few weeks hashing. Was trying my hardest not to get a name. And I probably got away with it for two or three months.
But on one hash the trail ended at Roll Me Over's house, near the Barfly. I had done trail, but had planned on bailing early to watch the Steelers/Brown's game. It was the first game between the two teams since Cleveland had lost their team to Baltimore, so I couldn't miss it. Turns out this chick named Twin Peaks lived right around the corner, and she gave me the keys to her house so I could go watch it (I think I still have those keys!). I watched the game, and it was great, and the Steelers beat the shit out of the browns. So I went back over to the hash to celebrate some more.
Circle was over by the time I arrived, but immediately as I got there everyone jumped back into a semi-circle. Turns out they had named me while I was away. Just to piss me off, they named me after Cleveland. Slumbag, at that time an Austin harriette, had done her best to get me the moniker "Dog Pound," but with all the hash hippies at that time I guess brownie won out.
Sometime around this period, I found out there was a Killeen hash. Known at the time as the Heart of Texas H3, they had trail every other Saturday at 10AM. At the time there were some great hounds here. Caveman, Ranger Smurf, Sizzler, Pap Smear, a few others. Not a big kennel, but it was a lot of fun.
Anyways, for a while I refused to answer to the name brownie, since it had to do with Cleveland. And I never told the HOTH3 I had got a name in Austin, I was still going by Just JT up in Killeen. So on my 5th run, when it was time to name me, the only thing they could come up with was Jizm Taster. Caveman still calls me that name when we see each other. Ranger does too, until I remind him that the HOTH3 named him Barely Touches Bottom.
Chlamydia actually tells the Sprinkles story somewhat correctly. It was at the used-to-be-annual Kurt Cobain hash, live hared by myself and Will Work For Pants. And there really is a harriette in Arkansas named Sprinkles (or is it Sparkles?), and I pissed her off at the San Antonio TXIH when I was too fast for her to catch (I was FRB on the ballbuster, she finished right behind me).
Lots of scorned harriettes have other names for me too, but that's for another blog.
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