Sadie Hawkins Hash

Scribes Note: I don't have a taco, so I'm not sure if there is a taco-specific scribe who sends out taco-friendly versions to the taco runs list.

Also, f*ck rules, this is the hash.

What: Sadie Hawkins Hash

Who: Mangia My Vaginia, Harlot Globe Foundler, Certified Poop Accuntant.

Where: Hong Kong, Hardvard Square

Pack:

Really? You expect me to remember, here goes (and most of these are lies)

No Man on the Moon, Oink Oink Ohhh, Bloody Slip Inside, Easy As  1,2,3, Just Pat (not from Rhode Island), THE 2^nd Cumming, Maple Queef, Hot Tub Crime Machine, Udder Whore, Anal Disco, Cuntjungle, I-know-his-name-isn’t-erection-set-but-that’s-what-I’m-calling-him, Pop Cum ear I’m Infected, Yankee Pay $5 more, Pat My Fly, Dribbles, Peeping Tom Pussy, Little Sister Fister, A just maybe?, Blowbot, Mudslut, Can’t Each Land, Douchepussy, Another Just?, Yellow Dick Gnome, Plus 2 Coonass, Senior Cock Sucker, Sweedish Eagle, Krusty The Meet Miser, Goat Throat, Shindler’s Fist, Broke back baby, Condom Search And Rescue, Hipsterectomy, Pappy Van Tinkle, Iggnorance is Piss, Piece My Sourass, everyone else I forgot.

Start:

Was at HK, but I was off doing super-secret-planning so +2 and I showed up as Bag Car was being called. Even though I wasn’t there; here’s what happened. Scripion. Bowl. Races. There were a few heats, and 2^nd came away was the champion, with Goes Down On Bouys Unable to finish and Bloody Slip Inside and Easy and 1,2,3 tied for 2^nd. Everyone was very drunk and eventually we left to learn about trail, or something.

Chalk Talk:

Happened. Were there virgins. Maybe? Will they come back? Probably. No tit checks.

Trail Left Tit:

Apparently circle was at the end of a false so most of pack went somewhere, and I scouted a-cranium finding true trail through Harvard square and eventually pack caught up with me at a song check inside the courtyard of a very nice looking hotel. We thought that the guests, and restaurant goers, who had gathered at the windows to stare at a crowd of cow-people, could use a reminder of how the calendar worked, so we sang a nice little diddy about the days of the week and the various activities engaged thereon. As we were getting go the only PG-13 day – the day of rest – Nichelodean was called so we just left and followed trail to a joke (or junk) check. I told a horrible joke, and scouted off in the wrong direction. Trail actually turned right from the check and ran along memorial drive for a way before turning into Longfellow park for a beer near.

BC #1:

There was beer. It was drunk. The hares stood around for a while laughing at how we thought they might have actually ran trail – apparently they hadn’t. Nothing of note happened, well, except that the cops did not come. That line will make more sense once you read the hash trash for the Macklemore trail. Not wanting us to be too drunk, if there is such a thing, the hares eventually left the same way they came.

Trail Right Tit:

Left  Longfellow park and ran straight down Memorial drive. There was a brief detour off behind an apartment complex before turning left and crossing back over memorial drive to run along the river to the Charles boat house. Did I just describe an entire leg of trail in one sentence? Yup, because it was that short, and I thought ladies liked it long.

Circle/Hoe Down/Whatever happened next:

Pack slowly filtered into the Boat House and were greeted by hay-pales set up for Western photos, and a ring of tables already set up for our favourite cup-based game.  No tape needed. There was also a lot of beer, multiple kegs, and a fountain of some deadly exlicer, not to mention a few cases of Shirmnov, a handle of fire ball, and a goodly about of whiskey.  So basically, I am shocked that I can remember anything that happened. Here goes.

There was a significant pause between when pack arrived and circle started – I believe we drank through the first keg. Evently Iggy called us to order and we sang drink a little bit, f*ck a little bit, etc, etc. The hares were very unapologetic about their trail and drank for it. Next we called in virgins? I honestly don’t remember them, or their names, but I remember commenting that being de-viriginzed with a pabst-smir must be a memoriable event. Next all meat tacos who had never down a pabst-smir were called in. It is very hard to drink a down-down on your back; most of mine ended up on my shoulders. Not sure how. Circle continued and Butler was called in – by proxy on Gimp’s cell phone. I’m assuming we sang “My hare is a vegaitable” because, well, it’s both semi-poor-taste and semi-true. What else happened in circle? It ended?

There was a lot of food; pretty good BBQ from my recollection, however, this being a hash, there were no serving utensles so everyone tried very hard not go Viking and just use their hands. It was after food that the shots came out and the magic exlicer fountain started flowing and things get really fuzzy. Once the food was cleared away strippy cup happened but there were way too maybe people on each team – in hindsight we should have run a different game of strippy cup on each table.

Around midnight I saw someone with a broom and decided it was time to GTFO, so I did.

On – are all taco trails this fun? – On

Wikipedophillia

Notes:

A special thanks for No Man On The Moon for pinning me! She rules!

Annocuments:

There are only 6 spots left for Antibuffet, sign up:

http://bostonhash.com/antibuffett2013

Moon trail Friday by Necropheliac Jack and Just Tasty, start is near Back Bay?

PooF on Saturday, somewhere in Billrica details at:

www.poofh3.com

Trail Sunday by Sweedish Eagle and Bloody Slip Inside (virgin lay)

Start: Pearl St. Station, Malden.

 Our Facebook page is now semi-active:

https://www.facebook.com/bostonhash

The "Oh God We Are So Hungover" Hash

the "oh god we're so hung over" trail (10/27)

Bag Car: Mudslut
Who else: Piggy, Krusty, Easy, Fisty, Gimpy, Blowbot..y...?, Bloody/Slippy, Easy, Twatty, Goaty, Gimpy, Señor-y, Coonassy, CEP-y, Swede-y, Clitty, Spunky, Dribbly, Moony, yours truly, and visitors Velvet Pelvis, Cum Test Dummy, Just... Tom?, and Virgin Reporter

If you're ever wondering whether playing strippy cup with hard alcohol is a good idea, the answer is "probably not, but do it anyway." After Saturday night, your faithful scribe wanted nothing more than to lie in a darkened room and be spoon-fed pho all day. Since volunteers for that role were not forthcoming, I ended up at the hash anyway.

As requested, hashers had dressed as other hashers. Honorable mentions go to Spunk as Gimp - she even made a necklace; Gimp as Goat, wearing freshly-cut jorts and one of Goat's own belts; and Easy as 123 as Cum Ear, with a big disgusting glob of lotion in her ear (and, later, a soft and lightly perfumed inner ear). OH, and how could I forget - Sweagle dressed in red white and blue (making him American Eagle for the day) and his faithful four-legged companion as Bros.

Yankee left, came back again shortly, and then left for real. We had chalk talk. Virgin Reporter was present, although we scared her off before trail; we sang her a relatively PG song. 15 minutes of fame, here we come? And with that, we were off.

We toured the scenic streets of Malden. I ran gently so as not to jostle my head too much. There were no checkbacks, falses or tit checks, all of which was A-OK with me. After running mostly in a straight line, we made it to the first beer check. I had a beer to take the edge off my headache; it didn't work.

The good news is that I wasn't the only one struggling. Leaving the beer check, pack decided silently and en masse to walk for a while. Yankee had apparently felt similarly lazy, since we were able to "scout" just by looking down the trail. As Gimp commented, "We are now going the precise speed that our hare is going."

There was, of course, a whiskey check, with an unusually low number of partakers. Shout-out to Bloody Slip Inside for singlehandedly picking up our slack. There was an incident in which Goat Throat, while trying to do god only knows what with an empty 40oz bottle he found nearby, instead broke it all over the bike path. Hashers, being nothing if not responsible citizens, proceeded to clean up the pieces... with their bare hands. Despite being unsuccessful at finishing the bottle of whiskey, we proceeded.

We ran some more, skirting our way around piles of dog poop and a used needle(!). At long last, we found ourselves at the definitely-not-reused on-in under a highway overpass and froze our asses off in circle. People were called in for stuff. Goat had some kind of incident that involved beer coming out of his nose - perhaps his body trying to tell him something? - for which he, of course, was made to drink extra. Bloody Slip Inside wandered into circle and stood there for a while until we noticed and made him drink. Good times and shitty pizza were had by all. And that's all she wrote!

ANNOUNCEMENTS:
* Rego for Anti-Buffett! 10 spaces left as of yesterday.
* Pink Taco Sadie Hawkins is next Friday - if you're a dude, find a harriette and feed her drinks until she pins you (note: this is the only situation in which I advocate getting a harriette drunk for the purpose of taking advantage of her)
* E4BH3 is having an away weekend this coming weekend! See calendar for detrails

xoxo
Sharty

Hash-stronomy Trail

Hello hashers - I am Shart of Darkness, and I'm subbing in as scribe this week, which means 95% better spelling and a 100% less reliable narrator. You're welcome!

What: Hash-stronomy Trail

Where: Miricle (sic) of Science, Cambridge

Who: Wikipedophilia, Spank Me

Bag car: Buttler

Pack: Dunno, I'm perpetually too drunk to remember names

Prelube was at Miracle of Science, where we proceeded with our usual MO of congregating in a huge group right in front of the door, getting in the way of the waitstaff, and generally being a nuisance. Spank Me showed up in fantastic nerd garb, including a pocket protector, glasses, and a cowlick. Eventually we stumbled out, had chalk talk next to a Tootsie Roll factory (??), and went on our merry way.

In addition to not knowing anyone's names, I'm useless with navigating Boston, so this write-up will be very light on the details. However, I can say with confidence that we stumbled around MIT and the surrounding areas looking like idiots as per usual. Highlights included climbing over a locked gate and running through a field. The first beer check was at that low grassy area next to one of the bridges on the Cambridge side - yeah, you know the one. We sipped on some warm PBR and chilled with a flock of geese. Eventually, thirst temporarily sated, we left.

At that point, we crossed the bridge for the second leg of our nerdy tour and began stumbling around BU looking like drunken idiots. We ran through the GSU, thus proving to BU students that old people can be drunk and annoying too. There was a delicious Tang-y shot check behind one of the BU buildings. From there, trail directed us to The Dugout - where we found a CB1. Cursing the hares, we continued. We ran through the Kenmore T stop, where there may have been a few civilian casualties - safety third! Eventually, we found our way to the On-In...

Circle: The On-In was under a highway bridge near Storrow, most directly accessible by crossing the on-ramp, which of course the pack approached with extreme caution and good judgement. Everyone arrived except Buttler, who at last showed up with a car full of beer and pizza, at which point something resembling a circle was formed.

Accusations were made. Jello Wrecked 'Em was called in for being both FRB and FBI. Wiki was made fun of for his creative spelling (which should happen more often, in my humble opinion). There were DC and PorME visitors and a transplant from Chile.

Virgin Kristen was called in to be harassed (sponsored by Doucheland). She was surprisingly good at hash math. Her favorite animal is a squirrel, but for some reason she was unsure what noise squirrels make when they orgasm and was unwilling to guess - we'll keep working on that one. She skis and would describe herself as "groomed," and she's not Jewish. She was not acceptable but we'll let her stay.

Bald hashers drank a lot. Kilted hashers drank a lot. Former GMs drank. 5 Inch Penalty was called in for his r*cist attire. Other stuff happened but I was too busy drinking to take note. Finally, after several rousing renditions of 'swing low,' including a Bob Marley version, circle adjourned.

ANNOUNCEMENTS

Montreal hash this weekend: Twat has (had?) one spot available in his car, so get at him

Invalid Pearl Necklace Hash next Wednesday!! Hared by Yankee (and me, but really by Yankee)

Undead beer mile next Friday: RSVP, you lazy bums

Pearl Necklace next Saturday: rego, you lazy bums

Pearl Necklace fatboy next Sunday: because your weekend will need a little more beer

New Hampshire hash next Saturday: in case you're too cool for Pearl Necklace

xoxo

Shart of Darkness

Electric Dance Hash

What: Electric Dance Hash

Where: The Field, Central Square, Cambridge

Who: Accidental Anal, C*m Locker

Bag Car: I licked Butts

Pack:

Just Tim, Just Pat (not from Rhode Island), Just Lauran, Just Luara*, Visitor from DC, Plus 2 Conass, Hoover McSuck n Fuck, Beat By A Girl, Spank Me May I Have Your Mother, Save A Tree Ride A Cowboy, Twat My Mom, Willy Wonka and the Backdoor Factory, Five In Penatly, Takes it In the Rectory, Nice Tits, Horse’s Ass, I Eat Teabags, Can’t Eat Pussy, Chris Brown Eye, Goat Throat, Krusty the Meat Miser, Bend Over Mommy, Cuntjungle, Harlot Globe, Goes down on Fondler, Pay My Fly, Dirbbles, Certified Poop Accuntant, Vagatairan, Cherry Poppin’ Paddy, Sketchy Ho, The Butler Hit It, Bring Out The Gimp, THE 2^nd Cumming, No Man On The Moon, Wikipedophilia, A Virgin, Schindler’s Fist,  Clit Notes, Others I forgot.

Start:

There was a small group at the bar by the time I arrived, and Yankee bought a beer and a shot for the lovely harriets that followed me. I guess my tits aren’t nice enough for him. There were a lot of backsliders, so most of the time at the pre-lube was spent catching with up with old hashers and drinking. Teabags and Twat once played THUMPER there for hours until a girl they took home threw up out of the window of Twat’s car. That’s either the truth or a lie. Before the locals – who had hidden away in seculeded tables or the other side of the bar playing pool – could get too upset that we were drinking all their beer, they hares decided that they should get gay, and bag was called after an appropriate time of 6.9 minutes.

Chalk Talk:

Twat tried very hard to lead us in circle, but no one paid attention. It’s a wonder we knew what we were doing. The virgin helped us demonstrate was a Hash-a-peed check is, and we almost left before Twat could explain what “BC” and “BN” mean!

Trail Hacienda:

Trail immediately turned away from the river and into the neither regions of Imman Square/Area IV, or whatever those endless curvy streets of triple deckers are called. With a depressing lack of tit checks, trail ran past a woman working on her ipad who complained when we were blowing whistles and yelling ONON. Unfortunately for her, we had just found a song check. We sang to her about how we all had trouble keeping down jobs in Chicago. Pack then go very lost, scouting right and left, but not straight, until eventually 5 inch and Retcory didn’t come back, and we followed them to another check at a very confusing-only-in-Boston-5-way-intersection. Did 5 hashers have a 5 way in the middle of the street? It could have happened. Trail actually went off the right, then turned up (that’s what she said?), and lead us into a park to a mark they Twat almost forgot, the coveted Bear Near!! Beer was through the park, and by some fountains.

Beer Check Baz:

Too call what we were drinking beer is too kind; the hares decided that we were only worthy of Natty Ice. However, the beer check did feature fountains and a very well located portapody. After everyone stood around pretending to drink their beers and having way too many serious conversations, the hares danced their way out and we forgot about them. Eventaully we got tiered of shitty beer and ran on towards the promise of better beer on trail.

Trail Molly:

Starting through a baseball field, then meandering through parts of town unknown, trail eventually came out to a song check in some realatively popular looking square. Union maybe? There was a song check and after pack assembled, we started to sing, about how much we all love our girl friends. Since there were children preasant, Five Inch in a very unhashmanlike manor sensored (by making generic loud noises) whenever we sang out the particular parts of our girl friends that we loved. Surprisingly, the crowd cheered us. Pack kind of got lost after that since no one ran straight, but eventually we did and we ended up near Sullivan, I think? Then we ran under a highway and over another one before finding the Hashapeed check under a rail bridge. The hash understood how to sit on peoples laps, and the various sexes seemed to sort themselves out, however the idea of a circle was beyond us. CEP was able to shepard us into the correct position and we all sat down and sang. It seemed to work, and it was fun. Apparently I was trying to be considerate and not put my full weight on CPA, though instead I was told that my butt was at “boob height” the entire time. I guess I missed out on that chance? Trail from there continued past a grow-op being busted ( L they should move to Colorado or Washington…) and a check that turned us down an industrial road. It was getting dark and no one remembered cranium lamps but we kept on going and found an amazing mark. It said beer near. We whooped. We hollered. We gave thanks and waited for our friends. The beer was not near. It was down the end of the road, over some rail road tracks and around and in back of an electrical supply company.

Cricle:

I would be horribly amiss if I failed to mention that circle was held in front of stacks of empty wire reals. I would be lying if I said that no hashers climbed on them. I would be telling the truth if I said that I did not. There was beer, though, cold beer, in coolers at the bottom and the beer was nicely provided to those to just had to get a little bit higher. There was a good amount of drinking between when pack arrived (it was a large pack, so it took a while) and when circle was started. Consiquently, circle memories might be a bit fuzzy. First off we called in the hairs and demanded they sing or show us their tits. I really hope they showed their tits, though they probably sung some dumb song instead. We told them that they should have used more flour and/or chalk. They left. Next visitors were called in, and we had friends from Seattle, DC roadwhores and Bejing! They also sang us a song. Next we got down to the meat and potatos and called in our virgin, who was brought by the visitor from DC. Our lovely hare Cum Locker gladly reprised her role and, with the help of Clit Notes, welcomed the groomed and polietete (she’d help her Uncle Jack off a horse) to the hash. We called in FRBs (the virgin and some random fast guy), and DFLs (who were still showing up – Cums Off and Nimphobrainiac) and made them drink too. Then Coonass paused circle to ask if we want to continue with acusations or get in a naming. We chose naming and Just Laura was called in and got on her knees. She then proceeded to tell us that one time while she was enjoying the missionary position in Guana, she went out for a run. As she was running she felt something. Something powerful. Something warm. Something slightly relieving as she shat her pants. She crouched quickly in a bush to clean up then kept running. On her way back into town a local girl came up next to her and asked “What is that?” point to the shit stain on her pants. Also, she’s never had a bad sexual experience, but that doesn’t matter. Guaneriahha was considered, but thrown out. Just Laura will now be known as “Shart of Darkness” from now until the ending of the world. We moved onto accusations, and there were a lot of them. The best ones had to do with our epic backsliders – the hares along with Sticks it to the Bros and others. Bald guys drank. Kilted hashers drank a lot. Then the zombie arm came out. Harlot and Cuntjunggle were called in for moving to Vermount and drank/poured beer on themselves (Harlot) or threw it at us (Cuntjuggle). Goat Throat and Krusty were called in for moving in together and in some weird almost dry humping position poured beer into eachothers mouths. More things might have happened. There was pizza. With meat.

On – 24 hour party people – On

-Wikipedophillia

 

ANNOUCMENTS:

9/18: ASTRONAUGHT TRAIL at Mircle of Since, Mass Ave, Cambridge

9/19: Moon AGM Part 2

9/20: Boston Invasion of Montreal (talk to brokeback/twart)

9/25: Shart of Darkness and Yankees Pearl Necklace Pre-lube

9/27: UNDEAD ZOMBIE BEER MILE

9/28: PEARL NECKLACE, REGO:

https://store.hashspace.com/product.php?productid=16928&cat=256

9/29: Pearl Necklace Fatboy

10/2: Catholic School Girl Hash (Twat My Mom in Quincy)

10/9: HARES NEEDED

SUNDAY 10/13: Country Trail (Blubber Fucker)

SATURDAY 10/19: AGM!!!

SUNDAY 10/20: Fatboy by new GMs

DECEMBER 7^th: Hashmas Party

April 19^th: MARATHON MAIN EVENT

F*ck Boxes Trail

Hares: Udder Whore, Blowbot

Bag car: Anal Disco

Pack: Seriously? Fine…

I Eat Teabags, Plus 2 Coonass, Easy To Please, Vagatarian, The Butler Hit it, Blubber Fucker, Yankee Pay $5 More, Pat My Fly, Just Laura, Just Pat (not from Rhode Island), Can’t Eat Pussy (from Rhode island), Just Pretzel?, E=I’m A Douche, JOLLY Green Vagania, Just Someone-else, Nice Tits, Hare Club, Sketchy Ho, Dirty Latte Sanchez, Harlot Globe Fondler, Pappy Van Tinckle, Mangia My Vagaina, Nubbin’ Luvin’, Chris Brown Eye, Cum Ear, Wikipedophilia, Dribbles, No Man On The Moon, Little Sister Fister, Skull Fucker, Twat My Mom, Maybe Others I Forgot, Virgin Short.

Start: Sligo’s.

Pre-lube: Arriving unfortunately early, I had nothing other to do than to drink until the rest of pack arrived, and I did. Luckly (or unluckily) this happened pretty quickly. In a very interesting study in fluid-un-dynamics, the pack stayed very tightly bunched in one area directly in front of the bar. This practice of being lazy and not scouting the open area of the bar (or scouting in general) will reappear later. People kept c*ming – really, they did – and introductions, greetings, saluations, and beer were all had and passed around. Eventually bag car was called, and pack stayed still, because they couldn’t move. A few of us escaped out the back.

Circle:

Yeah, we’ll say Blubber did something that might have resembled a circle. Mainly he insinuated that the virgin would see a lot of tits and dicks. One of these was truer than the other. Confused and wanting beer, we left.

Trail – Cardboard:

From circle behind Sligos trail went through a park where we surprised the locals and into some nice-ish looking neighborhood before turning and coming out on a semi-major street. Having no respect for traffic laws, we kind of stood in the cross-walk while a few people (Hare club, blubber, jolly) scouted – literally, the rest of pack stood around, creating a bit of a traffic jam. Eventually we found trail and ran off. This scene repeated itself at the next two checks, though I was very disappointed that by the time I got to a tit check on the bike path there was no one to free me. Continueing on we eventually found that we were in a gaint circle jerk back around to a song check in Davis Square. “Oh Sir Winston Do Not Touch Me” turned into a mass-organism before, again, no one scouted and I think Butler and Coonass finally found trail going past where we had the Sandy beer check. Fact: That is the only part I remember of that wonderful trail. Back to this trail where trail turned down a hill to a tit check and not 1, not 2, not 3, but 4 harriets decided to follow their better virtues and not release us from our prision. Harlot had not such compuntions. Trail went back to the bike path and another song check – child friendly, Meet the Hashers – and again no one scouted, but we eventually found trail cutting back in some direction. There was another CTNOS* with T-Bags and I giving up scouting falses. While we were scouting we passed a couple out for a r*n (sex on trail!) and they asked if we were hashing, we were, and they joined us! Virgins on trail! It doesn’t go back! Luckily for them, we found trail straight, right, and mercifully to the Beer Check.

Beer Check U-Hual:

There was a U-Haul full of beer! That’s a lie! This isn’t DC! There was beer, though, so we drank. Goat showed up at some point. His big news is that Krusty is going to move in with him. So expect Watertown to be under lock-down until everyone is wearing disco-pants!

Trail Plastic Containers:

Leaving the BC we immidetialy happened upon another CTNOS and meandered around a corner to another. These were pretty much all the checks at this point. From this check we checked in most directions, and the wrong one twice before finding our way behind a school. Someone called out “Shots near” but no shots were found. Maybe they were? I think they were, and I missed them. I am a bad hasher. There was a song check (at which we caught up with the walkers) under a bridge and Harlot lead us in an amazing dity about all the days of the week. Some of pack had apparently blown throw (blow jobs on trail? There was the right ratio…) the shot checks and the song check, so CEP and I followed marks across a road. A car then, in blatent disregard for things like “Stop signs” or cross walks (which we were actually in!!) tried to run me over. Fool. I can dance with dump trucks on 2^nd October Bridge, I’m not afraid of a Buick! Anyway, I was able to press “dual sky scrappers of freedom” to his window as he passed me by. Flustered, slightly, I ran up a hill, turned right, turned left, ran up another hill and found the front runners coming back from a CB12. Was Eagle a secret co-hare? Apparently trial then went right from the new check to the beer check in a park.

Beer check freight elevator:

The beer check was a roaving affair as we tried to keep our distance from houses on one side, kids playing soccer in the middle and families on the swing set. We chose the very subtle place of “right in the middle of the field.” Beer was consumed and conversations were had.

Trail Back trash bags:

Leaving the park to a check (that I scouted) trail went up hill, then turned right and down hill towards a fire station. With the doors open we sang about how much we loved our girl. One firefighter pocked his head out to look at us, but returned to whatever he was doing. Trail then ran down a slight incline and Harlot decided to finger my ass, apparently because I didn’t want to step on her too-small-to-be-considered-a-dog thing. She also complained that she had trouble “seeling the deal” with hashers and was asking Blubber for advice. Maybe that was said in confidence. Oh well. Hash news: Harlot needs help “seeling the deal.” Trail turned a corner to Paddy’s Launch and we were OnIn.

  Circle:

Was crowded. I believe that Skull Fucker was trying to learn how to be an RA? How was she not called out for that? The hares were called in, and we sang to them that they laid a shitty trail. When we asked them to sing us a song, Udder whispered to blubber, while caressing her boobs “these haven’t been let out all night!” so pack willingly gave her permission to flash us instead of singing. Blowbot sang something, but that doesn’t really matter. We then called in FRB (BUTLER) and FBI (Snap Off) and DFL (Friar – who drank a screw?). We then moved onto freshmeat…er, virgins! Virgin the short girl was called in – and she’s about half the size of Chris Brown Eye, her sponsor – and then the two virgins who were found on trail joined her. The Short One did a very good job of imitating Spungebob having an orgasim, the guy found on trail is a gentleman and would help his Uncle Jack Off a horse, and the girl is a backwoods skier. None of them had ever heard of a “Dollar menu,” “all you can deet for under a dollar” or “buck-a-fuck.” They are definitely not worthy, but we will definitely take them anyway. After that  blowbot was called in for wearing his shirt inside out – least we call him for rasict attire – so he and udder drank again. That was followed by backsliders – epic ones, including “The Tall Girl Whose Name I Should Know”, Nice Tits (?), and a lot of other people? It was crowded. Cum Ear sang them a great song about the S&M man castrating people. Not sure the relivance. Udder whore lost her cup at nerd, so she drank out of that (and blow bot drank again). Bald guys were called in? People who love dicks were called in? Kilted hashers? It was really crowded. I want to make up a story about someone doing something unbelievable on the floor…then we learned that Pat My Fly didn’t know what a pink taco was! We educated him. Then we learned that Dribbles didn’t know what a pearl necklace was, and her co-workers had to explain it to her! (Apparently she wore her pearl necklace shirt to work…) Old fahts, they’ll all forget tomorrow…Vessel went down, covers came off and we swang low.

On – WTF was with the boxes – On

Wikipedophilia

*CTNOS = Check That No One Scouted

Annoucments:

Next week: Wed 9/11: Cum Locker and Anal Avenger are haring. Apparently they are trustworthy?

Next weekend: Seacoast Red Dress Run, sign up with Seacoast (facebook/e-mail Cum Tities)

Next Sunday: E4B trail someehwere?

Sept 21: Boston Invasion of Montreal (War of 1812 part 2), Talk to Twat/Brokeback to join the invasion (it’s another Red Dress)

Sept 27-29: Pearl Necklace weekend! Beer mile! Pearl necklace! Fatboy!

Registration:

https://store.hashspace.com/product.php?productid=16928&cat=256

October 19^th: AGM

WE NEED HARES FOR 9/18, 10/9, and 10/16

Summer BBQ Hash

What: Boston Hash House Harriers Summer BBQ
Where: Dorchester (various locations therein)
Trail: Brokeback Baby
Host: Condom Search and Rescue
Mismangament in Attendence: Hare Club for Queers, Oink Oink
Ohh, Blubber Fucker, Wikipedophilia

Pack/Everyone else: Plus 2 Coonass, Snap Off, Swedish Eagle,
Just Theresa, Just Carly, Just Marline*, Just French Guy*, Virgin Patrick, Hoover
McSuck n Fuck, Takes it in the Assburger, Cums Alone, ALL the cocks, Pat My
Fly, Friar Fuck, Visitor From Phillidephila, Other visitor (who was at GAP), Better
Late Than Pregegnant, Iggnorance is Piss, Perice my Souraus, No Man On the Moon, Beat By A Girl,  Just Luara, The Butler Hit It, Titney
Spewston, Takes it in the Rectory, Udder Whore, Chris Brown Eye, Hipsterectomy,
Anal Disco, Vagaterian, Neighbors Who Provided the Dance Party, Mult-colored
chalk, others I am forgetting.

Start:

If you were dumb enough to run the Ball Buster trail
(Swedish Eagle, ALL the cocks, Snap off), that trails first beer check was at
Dot Ave Tavern, the start of the normal BH3 trail. Apparently the ball buster
trail ran past a lot of cops and a stolen car that wasn’t theirs. Since it
hadn’t rained in two weeks, the marks from CPA and Yankees trail were still
visible, and there was the incoming ball buster marks, and the out going Bh3
marks. Needless to say, there were a lot of marks, but only one set were true.
After hanging out at Dot Ave for a while – 2 or 4 pitchers – the hare
disappeared, and giving him a few minutes cranium start, we set out after him.
The RA was lazy and used the same circle as the Yankee and CPA trail, with a
note to only follow green marks.

A pleasant job up hills in Dorchester:

Starting from the same circle, this trail went the other way
from CPA and Yankees, and those of us who followed trail never saw their marks
again. A few twists and turns later pack was halted by a tit check and until
Titney freed us. Trail crossed the street and ran through CPA and Yankees beer
check before turning up a very predictable CB up a very step hill. Trail turned
and went through a housing development, then up the same hill, but one block
over. The hash always run up hill. Pack got separated and we definitely didn’t
wait for every/anyone at the Group hug outside a school. It was a trail head
free zone, so Butler just kept going. I was quiet surprised at the amount of
cat calls I got for hashing in a kilt; the locals thought it was a dress. I
didn’t show them the error of their observation. Trail went, predictably, up
another hill and turned left to a BN and a beer check in a park. There was
beer, bag car, and the walkers.

Beer check in a park: 

Was quiet pleasant. No one did
anything stupid, and no one played on the jungle gym. There was a black bag
full of PBRs. Eventually the Justs arrived and virgins arrived (apparently they
had followed old marks). And eventually the hare left.

Running down hill towards beer (ie, the trail with no
checks):

The hash ran down hill, not sure why. True trail went across
a road, then randomly crossed back over, and I was almost hit by a Vespa. I
will note that the reason I was almost hit was because one of the harriettes
distracted him. I guess that’s hashman like beaviour? Trail turned towards
savin hill station and even though everyone’s CB senses were screaming, we
followed trail into a dead end that was, indeed, a check back. Trail actually
went around the other side of the station, and Butler wishes he had jumped the
fence to find trail. From there trail turned back out to a tit check on dot ave
(thanks again Titney; the random stranger on a bike thanks you too!!!) and
eventually lead to a BN on a corner and true trail and on in going into a back
yard filled with hashers.

Circle:

After a significant amount of time had passed, and beers
were had by all, Coonass started the Ball Buster circle, and everyone else
watched. Note that since this was a ball buster circle, there were bags of ice
to cool off on. This will become important later. The hare was called in first –
The 2nd Swedish Eagle, then the FRB/FBI/DFL (ie the entire pack),
and someone commented that Snap Off was in a rush, which turned into…Rushin’
Rushin’ bear. Roughly 24 verses later, Snapp off, ALL the cocks and Takes it in
the Assburger got off the ice. We toasted to G – he’s not dead, he’s lost on
trail – and ball buster circle ended.

Blubber then made one of the few good decisions of the
night, and decided to run the Boston H3 circle on the ice as well. Brokeback
graciously parked it on the ice, and tried to sing about how he likes to
fornicate. No one in Boston does, apparently, since we didn’t know the song.
Boston FRB/FBI and DFLs were called in, and I’ll just assume it was Swedish,
Snap Off and Friar.  We sang them another
song, but they weren’t iced for long. Our virgin was called in and demented by
Iggy on the ice. He wasn’t good at math, wouldn’t help his jack off, is single
but not jewish, and likes to ski the backwoods. Autowankers were called in –
Coonass and CSAR, and we sang “auto-wankers” to the tune of meet the hashers.
Back sliders were called in waves, the first – and solo – backslider going to
Little Sister Fister who won the designation of “Person who moved closer to
Boston and then hashed less!” Other long term backsliders included Ignorance is
Piss, Hoover, Cums alone and Pat My Fly. There was an honorary down-down to
anyone who had gone above and beyond and hashed at hot mess, yankee and cpa,
taste the rainblow, moon agm, and gap. Our livers failed us on the ice, and I
was quiet numb by the time I got off the ice. There was a co-worker down-down
(Just Theresa, Just Carly, Better late than pregnant and I), and luckily we
were told we were stupid instead of being asked about how we used to work in
Chicago. The ice at this point was quickly turning into chunks of ice in mud.
Before the ice disappeared completely, two justs were called in – Just Marni
and Just The French Guy. Firstly, Just marney has been to 6 hashes and brought
a total of 9 virgings! 69! Yeah! A few names were nominated, but who cares.
From now on, Just Marney will be known as “The Heyman Manouver.” May her liver
forgive her. The French Guy – who we learned is a wicked smaht kid and went to
Hahvahd, had taken his time to explore the American female, so Good Will
Cunting was suggested, but quickly thrown out. For reasons mainly to do with
his accent, and that he is French, he will now be known, wherever he hashes
around the world, as “Wicked Pisour” he’s French, so his liver was born ready.
Circle did continue, miraculously, after that, and Friar showed up as the real
DFL. Circle finally ended when all of the ice had melted and there was only
mud. 

BBQ: There was a lot of meat, and some very spicy, but delicious,
kebabs (thanks to our kitchen b*tches Hipstectomy, Brokeback Baby, CSAR an Hair
club), and more beer was drunk. The neighbors, sensing our good mood, started a
dance party on the second floor that we grooved to outside. 

On After/Pub crawl:

The first stop on the pub crawl was back to where it all
began – Dot ave tavern. There was beer, pitchers full of it appearing magically
in Douche’s hands, and then it was poured into mugs, and then into mouths.
After only a few minutes Coonass and Blubber walked around counting and we knew
that RAGE was about to happen. Jagerbombs had been purchased for the entire
pack. That happened. We kept drinking. Sometime later, my sense of time and
memory are getting fuzzy, we left. We walked down the street to Tom English’s,
but I remember feel a definite sense of confusion about the walk. Why were we
leaving and where are we going? The beer improved at Tom English – Harpoon IPA –
but it kept flowing and was still free. Always trying to one up Blubber, Eagle
purchased a round of Sambuka for unsuspecting hashers – myself included – and that’s
pretty much were my memory ends. Other things did happen. I messed up pronoun
for Anal and had to have another shot. More beer. More shots. The next thing I remember
is walking home.

On – free beer not free shots – On

-Wikipedophilia

Anoucments: Trail Wednesday at Great Scott (Harvard Ave stop
on the B-Line)

WE NEED HARES FOR 9/4

Montreal Red Dress Run Invasion: 9/20-22:
FB Event:
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Montreal-Hash-House-Harriers/138165669587533?hc_location=timeline

Pearl Necklace:
9/27: Cummbridge Communitry College H3 Beer Mile
9/28: Pearl Necklace, 13 miles, 13 beers!
Rego:
https://store.hashspace.com/product.php?productid=16928&cat=256
9/29: 2nd Anal Pearl Necklace Fatboy By Wiki

AGM: October 19th (More free beer!)

[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]