Sunday, February 28, 2010

Olympic Hash

Hares: Necrophiliac Jack, Shawsk*nk
Bag Car: Accidentally An*l
RA: Bend Over Mommy
Pre-lube: Hogan's Run, Brighton
On-in: Jack's Sister's Place, Cambridge (NOT Whitney's Café!)
Weather: Cloudy, mid-40s, and windy

Pack: High An*s, Virgin Danielle, Tongue Me Please, Brigham Tongue, Luck Hole-ah, +2 Coon*ss, The Buttler Hit It, Mexican Humping Queen, Just Carol, Just Stan, Virgin Cassandra, Virgin Paul, e=I'm a Douche, Tw*t My Mom, Just Patrick, Bend Over Mommy, Rocky Mountain Wh*re, Stick It To the Bros, Mooseknuckles, Sugar Plum Fairy

Jack, as we'll hear later, had a birthday the day before this hash. What on earth possessed him to sign up to hare the day after his birthday is beyond me but anyway about 3:10 the hares sauntered in, and were away shortly thereafter. On a side note, my first experience with Bud Light Wheat was pretty positive. The orange was a nice touch.

We had three virgins, who listened very carefully during chalk (well, flour) talk. Then, we were off to find trail, which craniumed towards the river with a check on the corner of Western Ave and Market Street. Way to slow the pack down! Buttler nearly got himself killed by running in front of a car that was turning right on a green arrow but luckily for all involved (and spectating), the car stopped in time.

We ran over the Charles on Arsenal, then along Greenough Boulevard until a check by the Grove Street hill. After following all the false trails someone decided to bite the bullet and run up the hill, whereupon we found trail, which ran along the road for a while before going past a parking area and up a hill through some shiggy, then back down the hill. Back on Grove Street, we continued for a few blocks before running through a parking area towards some Soviet-era looking building with four very large, very yellow smokestacks and onto some abandoned train tracks. We ran about a block before emerging onto a road, with a check. By the time I got there people had gone both directions along the road, but no one thought to run straight along the abandoned tracks except for High An*s, who I followed. At the very least, it was scenic – it also happened to be true trail, and, better yet, BN!

The beer check was underneath a bridge (the road above turned out to be Mount Auburn Street). At this beer check, we learned that Virgin Paul, who is going to university in New Hampshire was down visiting for the weekend and he had just had his birthday on Friday, adding to the already large list of hash birthdays for the weekend. Since he looked like he was about 18, the next logical question was how old he was, to which he replied 21. Hashing in this close proximity to his 21st makes him officially THE YOUNGEST HASHER EVER.

Moving on… after the beer check we had to climb up a concrete wall that was probably 5 feet tall (but there were enough steel beams to help us up). We proceeded across Mount Auburn and through the neighborhood, emerging on Huron by Fresh Pond but instead of heading towards Alewife we turned back in through the posh neighborhoods, eventually emerging onto Fresh Pond Parkway and running towards the river again. Someone had suggested that we might be ending in Harvard Square, so when trail proceeded down Brattle this seemed like the logical conclusion. Happily, the hares cut off what would have been a long deathmarch by leading us down to Mount Auburn and placing a song check by the hospital. Now what else would we sing at a song check by a hospital but "My Girl's a Vegetable?"

Proceeding on, we ran down Mount Auburn until we reached a d*ck check at Longfellow Park. Bros refused to help out the ladies because apparently the cold "wouldn't look real good for the Bros." Thanks a lot, buddy. After this check, trail went through Longfellow Park where of course the dog that was out for a walk went right for the girl in the white pants. Well, I knew they'd get muddy some way or other, but this wasn't quite the way I was predicting …

Emerging back onto Brattle, we ran into the walkers but quickly left them in the dust as we kept running, and running, and running, and finally our deathmarch ended at Brattle Square with a song check where we sang "Free Beer For all the Hashers." We were at the song check long enough to spot the direction that we thought trail went, and we were right – up Mount Auburn. Now I totally missed it, because I saw a big true trail mark in flour but we ran right past Whitney's where apparently some guy was scratching out the "On-In" that had been placed there in flour. Apparently when the hares arrived, the bartender refused to let us end there because he had some problem with dirty songs being sung (despite the fact that the manager had approved it a few days beforehand). Well, there you have it people – a bar that refuses to let 25 people in who are going to drink a bunch of beer. Guess they don't need our business then.

Anyhoo, the revised trail continued along Mount Auburn for another block or so then turned up towards Harvard on the corner by Finale. Once we got to Harvard a bunch of civilians told us where to go, and we continued through Harvard Yard and past the science center then turned up Oxford and just continued along Oxford another third of a mile or so until we reached Jack's sister's place.

As luck would have it, there was some beer remaining in a keg and some mixed drinks. All was well until Just Patrick kicked one such drink over (a full drink, too!) but we got him back for that in circle.

You can see a map of trail here.

Comments on trail:
  • Not enough Mount Auburn Cemetery
  • Excellent use of mass flour dumpage area
  • More d*ck checks
  • Not enough t*t checks
  • Bigger song checks [they were pretty massively huge … that's what she said]
  • Whitney's now our favorite on-in
We had virgins! Here's what (not who, sorry, I'm not privy to *all* the details) went down:
  • Tw*t My Mom made Virgin Cassandra c*m. When asked what is her favorite sexual position when Tw*t makes her c*m, she replied: "What???" Not getting anywhere with that, she admitted that she had faked an orgasm but when asked to fake an orgasm for the group she just laughed. Apparently she laughs when she c*ms, gentlemen!
  • E=I'm a Douche made Virgin Paul c*m. When asked the square root of 69, he guessed 8. Pretty close, and he also figured out pretty quickly what the real answer meant. This one's a keeper.
  • Tongue Me Please made Virgin Danielle c*m. Virgin Danielle would stay on a bus full of lesbians.
Accusations and other circle shenanigans
  • Birthdays: Just Paul, The Buttler Hit It, Necrophiliac Jack, Shawsk*nk, Tw*t My Mom – all are one year closer to death!
  • Just Paul drank for being the YOUNGEST HASHER EVER
  • Backsliders – Tongue Me Please (who hadn't c*m in like 6 years) and Just Stan (for whom it had been all of like four weeks)
  • Just Patrick drank for the above-mentioned alcohol abuse
  • Mooseknuckles drank for racist behavior, and Buttler drank for falsely accusing Bros of racist behavior, and then Bros drank as a proxy for Sugar Plum Fairy who accused Buttler of something (even though he was already drinking) that was determined to be hashmanlike behavior
  • Shawsk*nk proposed an honor down-down for Necrophiliac Jack, who had apparently gotten wasted the night before in some series of activities that involved body shots, getting naked and trying to take out the trash, and puking in at least 6 different places. As I said above, if that had been me I'd have been in bed moaning (and not in a good way!) rather than out laying trail the next day, so props to Jack!
  • Buttler, Bros, and Tongue Me Please were having a private party and were made to drink
  • Bend Over Mommy lost one of her tags in circle, and drank for that
Announcements: reminder to all to register for Marathon. The Seacoast Green Dress run is starting in Revere and will be held on Saturday, March 13th at 1pm HST.

Heard at circle: "Are you short?" Bend Over Mommy to High An*s

And that's it for now. Up next, the Toga hash and then a whole weekend of St. Patty's Day debauchery! My favorite holiday! :)

- Brigham Tongue

Saturday, February 27, 2010

Snow Moon Hash with No Snow

aka the Thank Goodness for Hare Club hash

Hares: Saskapoon, Muddy Buddy
Bag Car: Just Keri, D*ck Bank
RA: Tw*t My Mom
Pre-lube: Victory Pub, Noddles Island (I mean Orient Heights)
On-in: Some park on Deer Island
Weather: Clear, cold, and wet [it had just rained] (in the mid-30s)

Pack: Tw*t My Mom, Bloody P*ssy, Mr Papagiorgio, Cocksmith, Bring Out the Gimp, Father Shishkapoo
Latecummer: Glitorus

Between the weather, Burlington Mardi Gras, and it being a Saturday night a relatively small pack gathered at Victory Pub. The crowd of locals was smaller than usual, but the ones who were there were great. Just Keri hit Saskapoon on the *ss (lightly), I don't know why, and when the locals protested claimed it was just foreplay, prompting one of the locals to exclaim: "Foreplay! He's black and blue!"

D*ck Bank (wife of Muddy Buddy) thought that Bring Out the Gimp was my husband which was amusing because while I do have three husbands, Gimp is not among them. And no, I'm not taking more applications thank you very much.

Since we didn't have any pack chalk other than the chalk that Cocksmith and I brought, and no virgins, we skipped chalk talk and went out to find trail. Of course that intersection right by Victory Pub is a pain in the neck; I went to look north but the trail went south. The half the pack that found trail couldn't go any further because there was a t*t check and yes, I was the *only* girl on trail. Hah. And no, this wasn't the only t*t check. Thanks guys, really. :P

We got lost pretty soon after that. There was a check, and we could only find marks heading towards the water facing Logan Airport, but at the end of those marks was a big old F. So we wandered around for a while, checking for a check, or a turn, and all the other directions. Eventually someone ran northeast far enough to find another check so we headed over there. At the next check we got lost again – someone in a car stopped and asked us if we were lost and needed help finding anything, to which we replied that we were indeed lost but there was no way he could help us. The next check was somewhat easier because one of the two possible ways trail could have gone was a dead end. You may sense a pattern here as much of the first half of trail was staggering from one check to another because the chalk was too dark for us to see (pink and blue don't work so well at night, especially when it's wet).

Trail wound along 145 past Belle Isle Lobster and Seafood. I had a bit of an advantage at this point because from scouting trail in this area I knew exactly where trail might have gone and was not fooled by the checks. Except that High Anus and I ran right past a check, and also right past some arrows that drifted off to the right of us because we were so focused on the road right under our feet. And it was actually well lit! I still say we fared better than Gimp and Cocksmith who followed marks through holes in the fence into a private yacht storage area. Having finally found trail, we ran (literally) into Tw*t My Mom who was exiting a parking garage having apparently run through the yachts and emerged on the other side. This was the location of yet another check where we couldn't find trail. It went east, then south, then at a check Gimp ran one direction and Father Shishkapoo ran the other. Gimp yelled "on-on" and we couldn't hear Father Shishkapoo, so we followed Gimp for a good couple of blocks before he hit a YBF and we backtracked.

Trail actually went through a park that had lots of little walkways and pathways on which we could look for marks. Father Shishkapoo was apparently yelling at us where to go, but none of us heard him. Eventually we figured out where we were going and emerged on the other side. Trail next ran through Winthrop Center which is actually incredibly cute, or so it seemed at the speed at which we ran through there. A few blocks later we emerged back onto 145 and proceeded in quite the deathmarch (broken up only by about three checks), before coming across the beer check at Saskapoon's house. Father Shishkapoo had beaten us here, despite blowing right past the beer check and continuing up the road, heads-down like he was a racist or training for something. Or something. Maybe this is where the hares got the idea to lay a great long YBF and make him run the same stretch twice, pointlessly both times.

Now I must say this was quite probably the most scenic backyard I'd been in recently, right up on the water, with all sorts of boats moored out there and the whole thing illuminated by moonlight. In fact, it would have been romantic except that the beer check was punctuated by conversations like the following:
  • Just Keri: "Did you go to the Halloweenie hash?"
  • Bloody P*ssy: "Yes, I did."
  • Just Keri: "Yeah, me too. I had to show a lot of guys my t*ts."
  • D*ck Bank: "I used to do that. Now they are just dried up like nuts."
  • Tw*t: "Brigham, are you getting this???"
Maybe you had to be there. Moving on. There was a check just out front of the beer check. Father Shishkapoo and Cocksmith headed straight across the road, but the rest of us quickly found multiple marks heading east and started off at high speeds without even bothering to look behind us to see if the other two were following. Big mistake. We went a quarter of a mile (about about 12 marks, not even kidding) before finding a big, fat, YBF. Yeah, we sure as heck were and although we *knew* that trail would have to run past that general area again we didn't know exactly how so we ran back the quarter mile. Turns out we didn't entirely waste our time because in the meantime Father Shishkapoo and Cocksmith had tried every direction from a check before finally figuring out the right way (which was into the shiggy and really, shouldn't that have been obvious??).

So we ran through the park, through a playground, past the Winthrop Fire Department and over to a long stretch along the beach. Up ahead of us was a huge hill with a water tower with blue, white, and red stripes on it. At the bottom of this hill was a check, and from the beach the other direction emerged Glitorus, who had spoken with Just Keri at the beer check and parked at the on-in. Rather than thinking for 6.9 seconds about this, we all proceeded to run (or, walk…) up the steep hill to the top, despite not seeing any marks. Finally we figured out that was wrong, and trail actually went along a seawall the direction Glitorus had come from. Well, I don't regret it – the view from up there was stunning, and running along the ocean in the moonlight was beautiful.

Unfortunately from there on out trail necessarily got boring with a lot of straightaways along and near the beach before meandering through the neighborhoods a bit, through a parking lot, and up a really, really muddy hill to the on-in. I was pretty relieved at this point because I felt like I had run 6.9 miles. Father Shishkapoo's GPS said he ran 8 miles making this both the longest and most scenic hash I think I've been on.

The original idea was to do down-downs with Gatorade and vodka (the better to hide from the cops, who apparently are cutthroat in Winthrop). Sanity prevailed and beer was procured from bag car.

Comments on trail:
  • Enough with the deathmarches
  • Not enough marks in black unseeable chalk
  • Not enough beach
Muddy Buddy had been accepted as a transplant back in the summer, but this was D*ck Bank's first trail since she moved from Houston. We asked her where she was from and she finally remembered she was from Dallas, but then she didn't realize when we were singing her down-down song and so got a bit of a late start. She also chugged an entire cup of vodka and Gatorade which, while impressive, also took a really, really, really long time.

Accusations and other circle shenanigans:
  • Moon hash backsliders – Saskapoon and Muddy Buddy (yes, the hares!)
  • Birthdays in the past week – Bring Out the Gimp (one year closer to death!!)
  • Muddy Buddy accused himself of getting lost on trail. Well, if that's not enough, accusing yourself is an accusable offense …
  • Father Shishkapoo and D*ck Bank were having a private party and were made to drink. Apparently she needed her pants checked? Yeah I don't know what was up with that, and I probably don't want to.
  • Moon burn – Tw*t My Mom and Saskapoon
  • At this point D*ck Bank asked why we were all inverting our vessels over our craniums, so we demonstrated a down-down for her, and, of course, made her then demonstrate that she had learned her lesson
  • Just Keri, Saskapoon, and Muddy Buddy were having a private party
  • Someone produced a bag of chalk that the hares had lost on trail, to which Muddy Buddy quipped before he drank: "All the marks you didn't see on trail? That's why!"
  • FRB/FBI - Father Shishkapoo and Bloody P*ssy (first and only!); DFL – Cocksmith
  • Glitorus was made to drink for being a latecummer
  • Social started by Cocksmith's production of a Christmas wreath (another sex toy I had apparently lost on trail. Now not knowing how I would actually use such a thing as a sex toy I claimed it was a false accusation and it just degenerated from there)
  • Mexican down-down: Father Shishkapoo, Muddy Buddy, D*ck Bank, Saskapoon
At this point D*ck Bank pointed at me (with her finger no less!) from the middle of circle and accused me of being too serious. Saskapoon chimed in that he was the hash drunk of the moon hash and it was unacceptable for anyone not to be drunk at his hash. Well, almost everyone had driven there so we couldn't very well get drunk but we did have a social.

Announcements consisted of a reminder to register for Marathon, and an announcement that the Seacoast Green Dress run is starting in Revere and will be held on Saturday, March 13th.

Some of you may or may not remember that attendees of this hash were told to bring $1 in addition to the $5 hash cash. After hash religion, we noticed a bus pulling away from the parking lot at the bottom of the hill. Apparently this bus runs once an hour, and we had clearly just missed it, hence the thank goodness Glitorus showed up late and could shuttle half of us back to the start! It was cold at this point and the prospect of waiting an hour or walking 4 miles were equally unpleasant.

Glitorus took off after dropping us off because amazingly, no one needed a ride back into Cambridge. The rest of us congregated at Little Asia which was really *just* awful. Really, hashers, don't eat there. Or if you do, don't order off the all-day specials menu; I guess the regular menu items were somewhat better. Even more surprising was the fact that no one ordered anything to drink and pretty much everyone went home after. I guess there is a combination of trail length and temperature that can make hashers quit drinking, at least for the evening!

Heard before, on, and after trail:
  • "Are you employed by the government? What country?" – local in Victory Pub to Saskapoon
  • "I don't know what you've got planned for tonight but count me out!" – Bring Out the Gimp to Saskapoon and Just Keri
  • "I knew trail didn't go that way. I just wanted to run up the hill." – Glitorus
  • "It's been 7 years!!" – D*ck Bank
  • "I have a little throat." – D*ck Bank
  • "Just open your throat and let it go down." – Just Keri
  • "My husband is my vibrator." – D*ck Bank
  • "I'm a great lay." – D*ck Bank
  • "How many strap-ons do you have?" – Just Keri (NO, I am NOT making this up! And no, I don't know the context …)
- Bloody P*ssy

Sunday, February 14, 2010

VD Hash 2010

Hares: Catheter the Great, Jamaican Me C*m, Pbvzzzvvzzzz, Tw*t My Mom
Bag Car: Accidentally An*l
RA: The 2nd Cumming
Pack (I may have missed some; if so I'm sorry, there were a lot of people!): Just Patrick, e=I'm a Douche, The Buttler Hit It, Tampon Jelly, High An*s, 5" Penalty, Pig F*cker, Goes Down on Buoys, Brigham Tongue, Better Late Than Pregnant, Screaming Japanese Girl, N*pples Erectus, Necrophiliac Jack, Sucker's Bet, Bondage Barbie, An*l Beads, Just Emmy, Dirty Latte Sanchez, Just Becca, Virgin Josh, Horse's *ss, Taj My Hole, Pat My Fly, Floppy D*ck, Just Jen, Just Leslie, Virgin Scott, Virgin Brad, Sketchy Ho, C*m is Kosher, Blows My Mind, Virgin Phil, Virgin JJ, Jolly Green V*gina, Peppermint P*ssy, Bend Over Mommy, Queer Leader, Stick It to the Bros

Wangers: I Eat Tea Bags, Dude Where's My Virginity, Shorn Scr*tum, Sugar Plum Fairy
Pre-lube: The Lower Depths, Kenmore
On-in: The Hub Pub, Downtown Crossing
Weather: Clear, cold, and windy (in the 40s but high 20s/low 30s with wind)

I love The Lower Depths. Although really anyone who expects patrons actually to drink Tusker beer should have another think coming. I had arrived early and by around 2:40pm the pack was about five people so I was starting to get worried that hashers might actually have something better to do on Valentine's Day than come run a trail and so there wouldn't be much trash to talk. Boy was I wrong! We entertained ourselves eating hot dogs and watching men with big guns on TV until the hares left.

I have to say that this was by far the most awesome bag car I'd ever seen – because it was not a car, but was a really sick pickup truck. Go Accidentally An*l!

The 2nd Cumming led chalk talk in the middle of Comm. Ave which was amusing mainly because he had put an "F" right next to a "YBF" and someone spelled this out to read "F*ck Your Boyfriend." Also because there were five, yes FIVE virgins, two of whom were wearing jeans. Crazy b*stards you'd think they'd fit right in … An*l Beads told them to take a look at his t-shirt which, well, I can't make a square root sign but it spelled out that equation we all know so well.

Moving on … The 2nd Cumming explained that instead of a turkey-eagle today's trail featured a single-taken split (hence the need for four hares), and the first man and woman after the split were to go into the first store they encountered, say they were a hasher, and receive a gift. What could go wrong there?

Eventually we headed out and found trail pretty quickly; it headed up Charlesgate and down Boylston. At this point we all assumed the trail went into the park so we ran over there … no. Then we assumed it went south … no. Then we assumed it went along Boylston … no. Finally someone figured out that trail actually went over by Fenway and around under Charlesgate (clever, hares…), before emerging on the other side and coming up on Bolston again!

There was another long delay at the Mass. Ave song check (we sang "My Girl's a Vegetable") as some people ran down Boylston, and I headed south which was the wrong direction. Eventually we figured it out, and came upon the single-taken split. I started off down the taken path – the FRBs on this leg were High An*s and N*pples Erectus who emerged from the store with sexually explicit pastries that they then had to carry for the rest of trail. Not sure what happened to them after that but I have a few guesses.

Anyhow we followed trail into the center of Comm. Ave, but then couldn't find anything after the last mark we saw. Maybe we missed a check, I don't know. So we ran around for a little bit, trying to find trail – eventually came upon a YBF in the other direction on Gloucester Street. At this point we were totally off trail and lost, and I saw a bunch of people running up on Newbury Street by the mall so I ran up that way, and I think I may have found my way onto the single trail. Figures that I'd start off taken and wind up single, that's what Valentine's Day is all about right? I guess it's fitting since the only valentine I got was from a girl (although she is pretty hot… ).

From there we didn't have too many problems following marks through the alleys and roads of Back Bay and over a pedestrian footbridge to the Esplanade. There was a check and one arrow pointing out into the Charles River – The 2nd Cumming decided it would be a good idea to walk across the ice and go check it out; happily for everyone involved he didn't fall in! At around this time we came upon a song check which Tampon Jelly, Just Emmy, and Necrophiliac Jack decided to blow through without singing! Suckers Bet and I managed to sing and then chased after the FRBs, who might have just gotten overly excited by the presence of the beer check by the Hatch Shell. Otherwise known as by the Massive Wind Tunnel Created By the Hatch Shell.

There was a lot of ice by the wall people were sitting on, and Virgin Josh nearly brained himself by sprinting towards it and then slipping … why he was exhibiting such athletic prowess I do not understand. Buttler did manage to eat it for our first and only ice-related hash crash of the day.

We got very cold and so headed out, over the other pedestrian bridge and into Beacon Hill where we ran by a tremendously cute house with a garage that was bigger than the house, and then hit a check back. The revised trail headed into the Boston Common where we paused for another song check before trying to find trail. A bunch of us wound up on the wrong side of the frog pond from trail so decided it would be fun to run over it. This was great until we got to the far side where the ice looked a little sketchy and there were four or five people all approaching it at a run … but it did hold out, thank goodness.

We ran through the rest of the Public Garden and across Boston Common, and up some steps. Trail led right past BBAG and Dude's place, with a YBF arrow pointing at the door to their building. We then ran down Beacon and shortly after that the hares were apparently snared (all four of them, as a group)! The on-in at The Hub Pub was all of a two-minute run from there, which made the whole thing particularly amusing.

Something approximating what I ran can be found here: (iPhone gen 1 does not have GPS, so no, I didn't run through buildings – walking through walls is hard enough)

Comments on trail:
- GAP trail of the year
- Not enough t*t checks
- Nobody blew me at a beer check
- Not enough hares
- Not enough hairs
- No single people (apparently everyone ran the taken path)
- Couldn't find one mark in my car

After guest singer Pig F*cker treated us to "Pissonya" or whatever that song is called we proceeded to dement the virgins! Now you might remember that there were five virgins at the start … by this time we were down to three. The two with the jeans on were at the beer check and then vanished. Which means they drank beer and didn't pay any money for it, which quite possibly makes them smarter than the lot of us, although definitely wankers! Anyway on to our real virgins:
  1. The 2nd Cumming made Virgin JJ c*m, and he couldn't figure out what the strategically-placed dollar bill was all about until we clued him in
  2. The 2nd Cumming also made Virgin Phil c*m (with a name like The 2nd Cumming this is not surprising now is it), so Bend Over Mommy was kind enough to proxy for him. Fittingly, Virgin Phi's favorite barnyard animal is a goat, but his impression sounded more like a donkey (or so someone said, but why they would know that is … well, ok not beyond me but nothing I care to dwell on)
  3. Virgin Josh made himself c*m, well actually the internet made him c*m. Heck, who *hasn't* the internet made c*m? That's not very creative. An*l Beads stepped in as his sponsor. Virgin Josh was asked what the square root of 69 is and he actually remembered what was on AB's shirt … although then he didn't know what it meant. Maybe not the brightest then … anyway his favorite sexual position is doggie style which I Eat Tea Bags was only happy enough to help demonstrate to the pack.
After accepting the unworthy virgins into our cult … I mean club … the accusations began:
  1. Sweat test failure – I Eat Tea Bags and Shorn Scr*tum
  2. Transplant from Vegas (ok that's not an accusation) – Just Jen
  3. Backsliders – Just Becky, Queer Leader, 5" Penalty, Shorn Scr*tum, An*l Beads
  4. Honor down-down for The 2nd Cumming for leaving more marks than the hares
  5. An*l Beads, Goes Down on Buoys, and Pig F*cker for being … something that I can't read (I was using a napkin at this point maybe some day I will remember to bring a notepad…)
  6. Taj My Hole and High An*s for having a beer before the on-in (apparently they zenned to the incorrect on-in and had to be rescued)
  7. Tampon Jelly, Just Emmy, and Necrophiliac Jack for blowing through a song check
  8. Goes Down on Buoys and Stick It to the Bros for blowing through a t*t check (the horror!)
  9. Social for current and former GMs for some reason
  10. As FRBs N*pples Erectus and Necrophiliac Jack received some apparently very high quality lube
  11. As DFL Shorn Scr*tum got a Duracell battery or some such thing …
  12. Technology on trail – Taj My Hole, e=I'm a Douche, Brigham Tongue, Stick It to the Bros
  13. Social for everyone wearing a shirt that somewhat resembled Bros' red shirt (Take off that red shirt! Oh, wait, wrong club …)
  14. Sketchy Ho for taking a train from the start to the beer check
I think that was about it. For the second week in a row we tried to name Just Emmy but the names weren't much better this week than they were last week (ok really we need more than one week to dig up more dirt on the girl than the fact that she's a Yankees fan!).

At some point during circle Tampon Jelly yelled "Will he Taj my hole?" to the general horror of everyone who heard this utterance. Somehow Pig F*cker wound up with Jack's tags and I wound up with Just Patrick's valentine but in the end sanity was restored and we retired to eat appetizer platters and drink beer until we all got really hot and bothered. No, really, it got really hot in there because we were on the top floor and there were a lot of us.

That's all for now, hopefully see a lot of you at Preggers' and my trail next week in Southie!

- Brigham Tongue

Monday, February 1, 2010

Founder's Day 2010

Hares: Nice T*ts, N*pples Erectus
Bag Car: Drippy Spigot
RA: The 2nd Cumming
Wanger: Mr Rogers
Pre-lube: Honey Fitz, Malden Center
On-in: Honey Fitz, Malden Center
Weather: Clear and cold (20s)

Pack: Ski Bobbit, Hare Club for Queers, Sucker's Bet, C*mlocker, e=I'm a Douche, Brigham Tongue, Pbvzzzvvzzzz, Willy Wonka and the Backdoor Factory, The Buttler Hit It, High An*s, Tw*t My Mom, Blow My Mind, Horse's *ss, Mexican Humping Queen, Peppermint P*ssy, The 2nd Cumming, Just Mike -> Deaf Dumb and Do Me

The pack assembled for the pre-lube at Honey Fitz in Malden Center. The first real excitement was when I managed to trip, fall, and twist my ankle running the 20 feet from the bar to bag car. Ha.

We found trail pretty quickly; it ran through a plaza and down the road before we completely lost trail in the middle of the median on Route 60. Somehow we found trail again, running down a bunch of really dark roads that didn't seem to have any distinguishing characteristics, in an industrial area. We did pass the Mystic Valley Gun club before veering off through some shiggy and parking lots. Trail must have been really well laid because until we ran through the parking lot of some big building and got lost, we didn't have too hard of a time finding trail. Shame on us for getting lost where we did, though – trail went exactly where it should, through some old or abandoned equipment and across a playground before running us along a ridge with a beautiful view of some tributary of the Mystic River at night before the beer check which was off in some sketchy park.

After the beer check the trail ran through some lovely Malden neighborhoods. After running a couple of blocks there was a check, and of course trail goes up, right? Well, sure, until you hit a great big False! We ran down Main Street a couple of blocks and somehow became very, very lost … we ran every direction except, of course, for the right one. Guess it was too dark to see the marks properly without a cranium lamp. A similar situation occurred a couple of blocks later in a park … the logical place for trail to go was up the park but someone swore they had just been up there and couldn't find trail. What we didn't realize was that "there" was the road paralleling the park, not in the park itself.

At this point we saw the bright lights of Malden Center ahead of us and figured we were going back there …. But where? Trail was supposed to be A to B, so we just kept plodding on. A couple of falses later (one of which was like 5 marks, sheesh!) we crossed back over Route 60, up through the Exchange Street garage and pedestrian walkway (a nice touch), back up to Pleasant Street and Honey Fitz.

You can check out trail here:

The hashers swarmed the Subway sandwiches and mostly ignored the cupcakes. Geez you'd think we were an athletic group or something the way we were acting! After everyone had eaten their fill and moved on to the beer, circle began with comments on trail:
  • Not enough falses
  • Didn't see enough t*ts
  • Not enough d*cks
  • Not enough abandoned railroad tracks
  • Best trail I never ran
  • Best trail with check backs and falses
  • Shortest distance ever between A to B
After a surprisingly lively rendition of "Follow The Hares" we proceeded on to accusations:
  • Spunk in the Trunk for being DFL at the beer check but an FRB at the on-in
  • Brigham Tongue for something boring that no one really cared about
  • The Buttler Hit It for accusing Brigham Tongue of doing something boring that no one really cared about
  • The 2nd Cumming for wearing his girlfriend's clothes to the hash
  • Brigham Tongue, Sucker's Bet, and C*mlocker for not knowing which one of us was FBI
  • Social – GMs, former GMs, and bald guys
  • Brigham Tongue for hash crash on the way to bag car
  • Willy Wonka and the Backdoor Factory and Mexican Humping Queen for sitting in circle
  • Tw*t My Mom for noticing The 2nd Cummings nipples enough to comment about them
  • Peppermint P*ssy for whining on trail that she got beer all over her mittens
  • Social – Ski Bobbit made the LA transplants and former GMs drink with him
  • Ski Bobbit, Mr Rogers and Pat My Fly because it was Founders Day
  • Brigham Tongue for the an*lversary of my first hash
  • Mexican Humping Queen for turning red
  • Pbvzzzvvzzzz, Hare Club, and Horse's *ss – Mexican down down (somehow Mexican Humping Queen avoided this one; not sure how!)
  • e=I'm a Douche for seeing which way the hares started laying trail but running the other way at the beginning of the hash when looking for trail
  • e=I'm a Douche, Mexican Humping Queen, Willy Wonka and the Backdoor Factory, and Peppermint P*ssy for trying to look slimmer by wearing all-black outfits. Peppermint claimed her pants were navy, not black. I think she was just trying to demonstrate her fashion knowledge.
Willy Wonka had pink icing on her nose for a good part of circle. What's better than that? White icing or similarly-colored substances maybe … 

Noticing that we had a hasher named Just Mike who had been hashing since the fall if not earlier but didn't have a name, the pack took it upon itself to give him a name. Despite the fact that we know there was a story that he refused to tell about what happened at Anti-Buffett (I guess what happens at Anti-Buffet stays at Anti-Buffet…) a couple of names were tossed out most of which were really lame but the decent ones were:
  • Dirty Rotten Sh*t (because someone said it was a dirty rotten shame that he hadn't been named yet)
  • Don't Talk Dirty to Me
  • Deaf Dumb and Do Me (the latter two because Mike is so quiet, especially when being named he looked like the most miserable person on the face of the planet and no I'm not making this up)
The pack voted and, Just Mike will hereafter be known as Deaf Dumb and Do Me.

Heard on and well, actually mostly after trail (one of these days I'll bring paper with me on trail …):
  • "I don't carry a shotgun in my car" – Brigham Tongue
  • "He didn't tell me to … what is going on?" – e=I'm a Douche
  • "Stupid Moon Hash" – The Buttler Hit It
  • "I'm not that wet" – Brigham Tongue
  • "I think you were enjoying that a little too much" – e=I'm a Douche
  • "Are those two really married?" – The 2nd Cumming referring to Buttler & Brigham
- Brigham Tongue