Saturday, March 3, 2007 the LAH3 celebrated what would be the 103 birthday of Dr. Seuss with a fitting treasure hunt run through WeHo lead by the gorgeous, intelligent, and adored harriettes Blows My Mind and Heine-key (well, if they are going to give me the rights to post on the blog page, you better believe i am going to take advantage of it).
All the misfits came out - including such characters as Two Guys Fing, Heine-Keys butt crack, Dr. Mikey (always a character), and a band of cheerleaders (that cost me a little extra, but you guys can thank me later).
We followed maps... yes, maps and clues without any signs of flour to 20 major surrounding landmarks in the surrounding area, such as the Frederick's of Hollywood store (Stickbytes favorite) and the Museum of Death which many people were disturbed to find has relocated. Teams scoured the area to take photos at the various landmarks, with a brief stop at the Spotlight for a beercheck, to compete for luxurious prizes. Inbred Fred in particular cleaned up winning two sought after prizes, the enema kit and Summer's Eve douche. Sorry, not everyone can be as lucky as the Irish!
The party continued at the OnOnOn Big Wangs where the University of Pittsburgh basketball team was defeated once again by Marquette... complaints of the OnOnOn location were made, but faith was restored when there was an Andy Dick sighting at Big Wangs hand in hand with one of his many underage acquintances. The hardcore OnOnOners then went on foot to the Burgandy room for the followup OnOnOn. Headaches were put firmly into place to be carried out well into the next afternoon and goodbyes were said until the next time Heine-Key and Blows My Mind set the trail.
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I was asked to be the scribe, but didn't get around to writing it for awhile (r*cing, hashing responsibilities, etc.). Here is my write-up:
Hot and Good in Hollywood
On a day too hot, but good,
I met some hares in Hollywood.
They claimed that they would lay a trail,
And I’d find beer, yes, without fail.
But Heine-Key and Blows My Mind,
Had made the trail a different kind.
They celebrated “Birth of Seuss,”
Some doctor-guy, I did deduce.
We started out in grassy parks,
Unusual though, we saw no marks,
And formed some teams that had some sparks
Armed with cameras, all for larks,
And a map, with great landmarks.
So pictures we had to snap.
This was no hash; this sounds like crap.
But I hooked up with RTD,
And Stickbite, too – the strongest three
Locals who knew the streets, and, he…
Could make us win, yes, honestly.
So off we set to well-known Pink’s.
There was a line, and hot dog stinks.
We got a pic, though Stickbite blinks.
We fall behind the Inbred finks.
Then a LONG jog to the main drag,
Where most of our best shots we’ll snag.
We pass the walking Dr. D,
And Pot Ho, Moanin’, another three,
And late starter, the Bare, Sin D.
We pose by stars, by prints in clay,
Did I just spot that 4-N Lay?
We look for shots, then bend our crotchey
O’er the star of Liberace.
Then something out of “Satanology,”
We spot SBC joining Scientology.
He lost his team, oh, golly, oh gee.
(And for that rhyme, I beg apology.)
As we jog between the cities,
Dr. Mikey looks for titties.
But finds only something sucking…
The faggy ‘do of Two Guys Fucking.
The “trail” goes on, no party rages,
So we pose by The Pantages.
The Metro, Frederick’s, and Kodak,
Then we spy Say No to Crack
A team now, yes, he seems to lack
Screw that… for Heiney in the sack.
One last shot, we hold our breath…
Where’s the Museum of Death?
Someone says the lights went dark,
Due to some asshole Jizzmark.
We couldn’t find it, what a hassle!
But make amends with some Newcastle.
Found at a beer check, near the ends
Where we make some brand-new friends.
Though none will run back to the start.
Yes, they drink beer, but have no heart.
So we return, and our team surmises…
That once they grope us for our sizes…
We will win the best of prizes.
(The guys think, ‘we rub the girls’ thighses.’)
But prizes don’t have labeled tags
The winners search through darkened bags.
Stickbite feels he is reborn,
When he draws out a brand-old porn
(Which he once gave to Horse’s Ass…
To use when Blows says, “Naw, I’ll pass.”)
I do a jig, a dance, a walk,
When I draw out some colored chalk.
(I’m drawn aside, yes, without fail…
As Harlot asks if I’ll hare a trail…)
And Inbred Fred gets prizes – Two!
An enema kit, and Summer’s Dew
(To which he says, “I was out, whew!”
And from his nozzle, it soon does spew.)
Beers are consumed, the day is done.
‘Twas not a hash, but loads of fun.
To scribe this party, I’ll be not coy,
But sign respectfully, Pillsbury Blow Boy.
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