Blue Moon Hash #2

Hares: Cocksmith, The Crying Gay
Bag Car & Navigator: Just Amanda, Vagetarian
Pre-lube: Red Hat Cafe near Government Center
Weather: Clear and cold (20s)
RA: SUPER Teflon Dong
 
Pack: Glitorus, General *ss Pounder, Cum is Kosher, Mr Papagiorgio, Invisidick, Saskapoon, Bloody P*ssy, Peppermint P*ssy, Hoover McSuck'n'F*ck, P*bic Service Announcement, Octop*ssy, Father Shishkaboob, Just Mike, Crucifux, e=I'm a Douche, Nipples Erectus, Time of the Munch, Tampon Jelly, Bondage Barbie, What Can Brown Do To You?, Schindler's Fist, Tw*t My Mom

Wangers –OR– People That I Don't Recall Seeing On Trail Or At Circle But Who Did Show Up Either Before The Hash, After The Hash, Or Both: Wang Chunks, An*l Beads, Dirty Latte Sanchez, Catheter the Great, Dude Where's My Virginity, Beat By A Girl, Krusty the Meat Miser, Shawsk*nk, Redtail Swallows, Stretch P*ssy

So it turns out that this may not have been a real blue moon. I am no longer in any way sure what a blue (blew?) moon actually is so I'm just going to shut up and talk about trail. Blue moon or not it was the last Boston-area hash of the year!

A very large group of hashers congregated at the Red Hat Café much to the bemusement of the locals (oh, wait, that isn't news. Moving on …). The Red Hat did have red jello shots, upon hearing which SUPER Teflon Dong immediately ordered 5. Not all for himself. Really.

After extricating the runners from the drinkers, the pack left the lovely Red Hat Café and spontaneous RA visiting from goodness-knows-where-anymore SUPER Teflon Dong led an energetic rendition of "Michael Jackson Likes Little Boys." Saskapoon was already drunk at this point. Remember this fact.

Pack found trail pretty quickly, through a parking lot, behind the State House … and through the winding streets of Beacon Hill. Somewhere along the way we managed to lose trail for no good reason except that it looked like trail would go around a 20-foot fence. Oh and those false trails didn't help but we pretty quickly learned that all the flour trails were falses and started ignoring them. At least until they stopped all being falses. Trail wound back over Cambridge Street and past a bunch of cops and the Whole Foods before taking us on a guided tour of a bunch of hospitals. Right about when I lost my bearings there was a turkey-eagle split. The eagle leg led up some stairs and down into the parking lot for Mass Eye & Ear, location of the first beer check.

Bag Car wasn't at the beer check because she had gone to find a parking spot. Unfortunately all the way around, she was delayed getting back due to parking in a garage and losing the ticket in the dashboard of the car … and while Just Amanda and Vagetarian's hands may fit some other places just fine, they didn't fit down the dashboard of the car.

Somewhere on trail Tampon Jelly had found a frilly pink …. I don't know – dishcloth? He said it must be a harriette's negligee. Well it did have satin on the outside. Perhaps in his dreams harriettes wear square pieces of cloth about 1 square foot in size for clothing but not on a cold December night!

Also at this beer check, Saskapoon announced "I wish I were a smokin' hot chick!" In his defense, he was drunk at the time. Remember this fact.

Pack took off because we were cold and had been there for at least 15 minutes. Trail led down Storrow and did *not* go over the pedestrian bridge but instead wound through more of the West End. At one point there was a turkey-eagle split and the FRBs announced that the eagle trail was a YBF. Tricky hares!

After dangerously proceeding through Leverett Circle (a few hashers jumped out in front of cars, a particularly bad idea at that intersection!) we found a park with the second beer check. Rather, we found the hares claiming that this was the location of the second beer check. But bag car wasn't there. Apparently the pack isn't supposed to leave until bag car leaves or something. Whatever. We were cold. And were cold again waiting for beer – but the beer arrived and all was well. At this beer check GAP shared a couple tricks of the trade including how to make beer float.

Eventually we realized the hares were away and since we were cold again, took off.

Trail wound through the park then towards North Station. When in doubt, trail goes through … as it did in this case. Trail was marked with yellow sticky notes; emerging on the other side the pack pretty quickly figured out that trail did not go over a two-story concrete wall but instead led around the wall, over the dam by the state police and to the no-name park under the Zakim Bridge.

Pretty sure our RA was drunk by the time circle started so there was much craziness, singing of songs, and handing out of tags to people who attended both blue moon hashes.

Accusations:

1. Hash crash – Bloody P*ssy (enabled me to say the word eponymous in a sentence, never a bad thing!), Bondage Barbie, The Crying Gay, P*bic Service Announcement
2. Dumping beer (alcohol abuse!!!) – Tampon Jelly
3. Moonburn – Bloody P*ssy & Hoover McSuck'n'F*ck
4. Serious situations (or some such) – Crucifux for her engagement to I Eat C*m, and Immaculate for his son's bar mitzvah.
5. FRB/FBI (aka cheaters, apparently??) – Father Shishkaboob and Octop*ssy
6. The hares were made to shotgun beers because bag car was so late to the beer check.

Then Tampon Jelly danced around with his pink thing.

Finally all attendees of both blue moon hashes partook of the bottle of Blue Moon Grand Cru that was provided for the occasion. Nice of them to make a special edition drink in honor of our hash!

At some point along here Saskapoon wanted to say something about the hash drunk, whose birthday it was that day. Saskapoon was drunk and apparently forgot that the Boston Moon Hash is *not* the Boston Hash, whereupon Saskapoon was nominated as hash drunk of the Boston Moon Hash. The pack roared in approval, and we now have an official hash drunk!

Finally, realizing it was cold and we were due at The Cellar for on-after, circle ended and we were out.

- Bloody P*ssy

Blue Moon Hash #1

Hares: Bloody P*ssy, Bondage Barbie
Bag Car: Hoover McSuck `n' F*ck
RA: Glitorus
Pre-lube: Victory Pub in East Boston
Weather: Clear and mid-40s (some light rain started up as circle was ending)

Pack: Octop*ssy, I Eat Tea Bags -> The Crying Gay, The 2nd C*mming, High An*s, Invisidick, Just Amanda (Houston transplant), Just Amanda (Stuttgart transplant), Cocksmith, Bring Out the Gimp, N*pples Erectus, Hash Mattress, Inspector Gadget, Chunnel (I heard she got renamed but she was Chunnel that day), D*ck Jockey, Just Melvin, Far From F*cking, F*cks All, Just Ben, Mooseknuckles, Peppermint P*ssy, Father Shishkabob, Just Mike

Not the brightest idea in the world to have the hare write hash trash but I guess that's what you get and, after all, never let the truth get in the way of a good story. Sooooooo …

From Victory Pub, trail headed down to a not-at-all-dangerous-to-be-finding-trail-around rotary, and from there a couple of blocks to the base of a hill and then UP three flights of stairs to the Madonna Queen National Shrine, perfect location for a t*t check, followed by a d*ck check 1 block later before trail headed DOWN the same hill the pack had just run up. Suckers.

From there trail went around a curve over, and through the Suffolk Downs T stop. On the way, one hasher (to remain nameless) just HAD to write their hash initials in wet pavement. Leaving our mark in East Boston … the first beer check was just after the T station in Belle Island Marsh Reservation. The beer check location was particularly notable due to the planes landing at Logan flying about 200 feet above. Invisidick was the first runner to the beer check, mainly because he managed to get lost on trail and zenned his way to the beer check. While we're on the subject of Invisidick, he managed to show up for a moon hash with advertised shiggy without a cranium lamp, OR a cranium cover. Oddly enough, he took up Bring Out the Gimp's offer to borrow a spare cranium cover, but not fleshlight. Wish I'd remembered that when I was filling out nominations for the Hash Darwin award.

After the beer check, trail wound through the reservation with a false trail over a bridge ending by some crazy-looking structure … maybe a lookout tower or something, before heading back to the main road, through a ball field, through some tennis courts, up a hill, back down a hill, and then straight through the marsh. Luckily it was not high tide but nonetheless I managed to take a wrong step and sink in up to my knee (luckily I could get out, stranded hare would make for a fun snare for everyone involved but me!), and one of the other hashers managed to have a marsh crash as well. This segment of trail was accompanied by much whining about potentially toxic sludge and the potential presence of rotting mob bodies.

Trail continued down an access road, near the beach and paused for a song check at the bottom of a hill by a highly decorated house. After climbing up the hill, trail wound around to give the pack a lovely view of Boston before heading back down the hill. At this point Cocksmith decided to cut across the lawn which was not received well by the property owner who promptly shouted "No no no no no no no Get Off My Property!"

After this, the pack followed trail through puddles, a stand of sumacs, a bunch of construction equipment, and over a fence before continuing through the projects and then through some very, VERY dark streets in Winthrop. I mean, what up Winthrop can't you afford ANY street lamps except on major roads? Sheesh … anyway the pack eventually emerged for beer check #2 which was at the other side of Belle Island Marsh in some scrub grass. At this beer check, the beer was supplemented by some blue Gatorade with blueberry vodka.

Due to sh*tty planning by the hares, we nearly ran out of chalk and had to borrow some from the pack but I was somewhat redeemed by storing said chalk in my bra. Not sure where Bondage Barbie put hers.

Following a sufficient pause, the hares departed leading the pack past a bunch of boats, behind a carwash and Dunkin' Donuts, past Belle Island Lobster & Seafood, and over to the ritzy neighborhood facing Logan Airport (no, that's not a contradiction in terms. There is water in between the two). At this point there was a turkey-eagle split, with the turkeys running on the road and the eagles descending to crawl along the rocks by the water. Trail reconvened by the Orient Heights Yacht Club, site of another d*ck check (apparently missed by the pack, sadly ….), and then ran along Constitution Beach in true Chariots of Fire fashion, ending between the hockey rink and the ocean. Somehow the pack got lost for about 5 minutes at a check about halfway along the beach, but eventually made it to the end.

Songs sung on trail included End of the Month, My Girl's a Vegetable, and I Used To Work in Chicago (when not being interrupted by planes flying overhead).

Here is a map of the trail, with some of the high (and low…) points noted

Notes on circle are a bit spotty but here is what I remember:

Hares' song: Free Beer for All the Hashers

DFLs: The moon GMs, Cocksmith and I Eat Tea Bags ambled in after circle started. Not entirely sure what was keeping them together on trail so long. Planning the next moon hash, perhaps? Yeah, that must be it….

Comments on trail: Not enough planes, checks too small, not enough marks with a smiley face and "BB" next to them, not enough d*ck checks, not enough t*t checks, no one ran on the Eagle trail, too much Air Lingus and not enough c*nnilingus

Winner of best spandex: Hash Mattress. Winner of worst spandex: I Eat Tea Bags.

Since I Eat Tea Bags was a moon GM without a moon name, the decision was made to name him. I didn't follow all the ins and outs, but The Crying Gay beat out I Prefer It in the Rear. I Eat Tea Bags will henceforth be known at the moon hash as The Crying Gay.

Due to sh*tty planning by the hares, there were only about 45 beers (including 12 Blue Moons, let it be known!) 30 blue jello shots, and the remaining Gatorade/vodka for circle, so Hoover volunteered to go out and get more beer. Before he returned with an additional 60 PBRs, the pack had been reduced to drinking blue Gatorade mixed with vodka for down-down drinks. Which would have been fine except that the ratio of Gatorade to vodka was about 69:1.

Following circle, the hash attempted to fit all the trash into the solar-powered trash compactor. It didn't work. A hardy contingent headed back to the pre-lube for the on-after but most hashers headed home. I later heard something about a "hash crash of the year" involving Hoover, a bunch of other hashers, and the 2nd Cumming's bag, but I was too busy downing free drinks at Victory Pub. I must say the locals at this particular bar were very bemused by the hash, to the point of insisting that Chunnel not leave on her own when she was clearly leaving with a decent-sized group. Good to know chivalry is still alive and well in East Boston.

- Bloody P*ssy (with help from Cocksmith and Bring Out the Gimp)