Monday, December 22, 2014

12/21 - the Holiday "I Don't Believe in Hangovers" trail

What: The Holiday "I don't believe in hangovers" trail
Hares: Orgasm Famine and C*m Test Dummy
Bag car: 5-ring Cervix
Pack: +2 Coonass, Fellowship of the Cock Ring, Gone GAYWOL, Twat My Mom, Hoover McSuck 'n' Fuck, Friar Fuck, Pop Cum Ear I'm Ineffective, Goat Throat, Just Simone*, The Buttler Hit It, Yellow Dick Gnome, Black Cock Down, Easy as 123, Bum Fucking Vagibond, Necrophiliac Jack, No Man on the Moon, Mudslut, 5 Inch Penalty, Yankee Pay $5 More, Po-po Peep Show, Bloody Slip Inside, Pat My Fly, Shart of Darkness, Willy Wonka and the Back Door Factory, Just Famine's Brother

Pack congregated at the Kinsale, where snow fell gently around us as we disturbed passerby and, ultimately, the Centre Plaza security. Bloody did some sort of crowd-hyping thing, we introduced ourselves and said the thing we were most excited to give for the holiday season, and we were informed that, instead of Turkey/Eagles, our hares would be laying Christmas/(C)Hanuk(k)ah checks "because Hanukkah is just a little bit longer."

Leg 1: A tale of a missing shot check
Trail took us through Government Center and down into Faneuil, where we were treated to a viewing of the Christmas trees. We found our way through Faneuil with only minimal confusion and crossed the street, where we found Shots Near. Huzzah! We scoured the rose garden (okay, looked around in a manner that was slightly less lazy than usual) but didn't see anything. Hmm... maybe the shots were further down the sidewalk? 

We continued and found more marks... at some point, it seemed apparent that we had missed the shots, but we were too lazy to go back and try to find them. It later turned out that: 1) no one ended up finding the shots, and 2) the shot check was Manischewitz mixed with 151, which made me not sad about missing that shot check at all.

We continued through the North End and followed a C/H check into the West End. At some point in there, we found a couple truly horrifying dick checks that called into question whether our hares had actually seen a dick before (protip: if it looks like a clover, you're doing it wrong). Finally, we located the first beer check on the Esplanade by the tennis courts. We wanted to drink Magic Hat but settled for Pabst. After a somewhat brief and chilly-ish interlude, we were off.

Leg 2: We actually found the "sport drink check"

Trail continued down the Esplanade past a cute little Santa in a boat rigged with Christmas lights and then crossed back over toward the Public Garden. We started heading toward Fenway before cutting down to Commonwealth and heading back toward the Public Garden. To no one's surprise, Just Famine's Brother led the way - what a family of r*cists.

There was an exceptionally scenic Hash Sitapede across from the entrance to the Public Garden, where there were Christmas lights aplenty. We then continued into the Garden, where everyone but Buttler managed to find a "S.C." (which, of course, stands for Sport drink Check - we had done quite a bit of running at that point and our electrolytes required refreshing). After our festive and refreshing beverages (including a surprisingly delicious Blue Drank), we exited the Garden to find that Buttler had been busy scouting trail for us while we imbibed. 

Trail headed toward, uh, the Leather District or something? Chinatown? Who knows. Anyway, true trail led us through a mall, and we quickly happened upon the hares bringing bags into the on-in at Sweetwater.

On-in: Hashers look better in the dark

We had the basement at Sweetwater to ourselves, except for the confused Muggles trying to use the restroom. The basement was very warm and very dark -- the lights weren't working and, although the bar offered to move us upstairs where it was more well-lit, we quickly realized that dimming the lights would work in our favor.

Our esteemed and experienced RA led us in circle. We had very few complaints about trail other than the missing shot check; we also thanked the RA for conjuring such festive weather for us. We had our visiting hare sing for us as much as possible, especially given that we were struggling to think of songs of our own. Those who were still hung over from Hashmas were called into circle (a group that did not include YHS, since I don't believe in hangovers, as the trail name would suggest).

Finally, it was brought to our attention that someone among us was returning to Germany/the Netherlands/wherever she actually lives. We brought Just Simone into circle and struggled to think of anything bad to say about her. Krusty had suggested naming her Mean Ass Bitch due to her sour personality; Bloody suggested Squeaky Cream and then promptly forgot his own suggested. Since she's working toward her PhD, someone suggested "Fucks for 'A's," which was quickly amended to "Fucks for 'C's." Competition was stiff (hee hee) between Squeaky Cream and Fucks for Cs, but the latter won out (that means the second one, you illiterate wankers). So Just Simone will return to Europe forevermore known as Fucks for Cs.

The food had arrived and was getting cold, so we quickly wrapped up circle and stuffed our faces with things that were fried and slathered in cheese.

Verdict: Officially Trail of the Year so far for the '14-'15 awards season!

12/28 - Swedish Eagle and Stuff That Reich Now hare some sort of Boston trail which will no doubt be excellent
1/17 - Boston invades Free Beer - talk to Twat if you're interested in joining
2/14 - a romantic Moon Away weekend
2/15 - the next day for which hares are needed for Boston - plan ahead, wankers

On-yes I sometimes actually write hash trashes-on,


Monday, December 15, 2014

Anti-Buffet XI

What: Tales from the Great White North
Where: The Great White North (ie, Jay Peak)
Who: A lot of people, most importantly Sketchy and Spunk.


While there was a trail, and I remember a surprising amount of it, there was a lot more that happened in Jay this weekend. Some of it I was there for, some of it I was there for physically, but I have gaps in my memory large enough to drive a shuttle through, some it I was there for, and have memories of, but the memories are beyond the pale of scribing.

[Part 1: The Voyage]

The Yellowist of cars idled around Sullivan for a surprisingly short amount of time before the prettiest of the hairettes joined the wikiettiest of hares for the long drive north. She started taking off her pants when the safety alarms in the wikimobile++ started going off and wouldn’t stop until she put them back on. Safetly third. Other than that, the ride north was quiet uneventful, and, unlike on other trips north, no one objected to pulling over and getting alcoholic reinforcements for the rage that would happen. North and north we drove through increasingly scenic surroundings until we found ourselves stuck in 48 miles of traffic along the side of 91 because of flooded out fields…oh, wait, wrong rage-mess-weekend off US 5 in northern Vermount; we got off 91 and meandered through landscape that made the passenger state, something along the cliché lines of “Now this looks like Christmas/winter/whatever.” I didn’t mock them because they were right. It was very pretty. Eventually we caught up to a Subaru driving 35 mph over the twisty mountain roads, and followed them all the way to Jay.

Finally arriving at the party condo, we checked in, dropped our stuff off and, after a brief interlude with Buttler, went to the waterpark.

[Part 2: Friday night]

Note: The rage was strong Friday (isn’t it always) so what follows is somewhere between “factually accurate” and “historical fiction.” Things happened; but the order the of the things might be.

Pool Rage:

After pregaming with cookies and wax, a group of people called the shuttle, and to the Pump House we went. The group consisted of Necro, Vag, Blackie, Wiki, Shart, Easy, maybe others? I want to say Blubber and Whack A Hole, so, yeah, they were there too. Maybe it was Rainbow and Cockbottle? Reader’s choice! After taking over the lazy river – adult raft, never let go – we got out and hit the tube slides. A bit of a physics lesson here; momentum works kids! Blackie and I were able to get some pretty good speed going through the blue tube (green sucks!), and eventually we convinced everyone to go down the Le Chute. The idea of Le Chute is much more terrifying than the actual La Chute, but since it spits you out about halfway to the exit, it’s a nice last stop before the hot tub. A note on the hot tub, since, unlike last year, it was above 0 out, they let us use it! I can say, with 100% certainty that it was the cleanest and most clothed hot tub I have ever been in at a hash event. Though fear not, gentle readers, it was almost 9, and our clothes were sadly still on, so we decided to beat a hasty retreat back to the Pump House to change, call the Shuttle and head back to the party condo.

[Free Hour At The Party Condo]

A bit of history, Day Light Savings Time, was apparently invented by some guy in New Zealand (shouldn’t it be winter saving time?), for reasons that were mentioned latter in the wiki article that I didn’t bother to read. The reason I bring this up is that for some reason, all the clocks in the Party Condo were still on Day Light Savings time. When the Pool Party returned to the Clothing-optional party, we looked around and thought “this is the right level of rage for 9:30 on a Friday” and we added to the rage, with a quick resupply of cookies. The Alagash was flowing free, and Twat won the “favourite person” award for showing up with a keg of PBR, though there were still bottles of “good beer” for those so inclined. Drink ball was played and a general good time was had by all. Some people, YHS included, were feeling very proud of themselves thinking “wow, it’s almost 11 and I’m not fading one bit!” Then, at some point in time, the whole 9:30 to 10:30 hour rewound itself and it was all over a sudden 10 o’clock again. After verifying that time had actually changed, we did the only sensible thing to do – have an hour long dance party! After the dance party, as people were becoming less and less clothed, and since it was now less than an hour until the unofficial underground hash, the drink ball table was cleared away and permission was granted to play everyone’s favourite game; strippy cup. In a very surprising turn, I was on the winning team, winning to the extent that we started to replace clothing so that we could continue humiliating the already naked team. Once everyone was naked, and the time of magic was fast approaching, more dancing happened as two sets of people tried to secretly plan a trail. When Friday became Saturday, and Gimp and Douche grabbed a bowl of carrots and ran away, quickly followed by a dozen or so naked hashers around the back of the party condo to a shot-check  in the basement. In a truly surprising move, trail continued past the party condo, to the next one where there was a beer check of naked hashers standing around a surprising number of fully clothed hashers. The beer check was cut short as we turned and followed carrots back to the party condo. There was circle. There was a virgin. We swang low. We danced. We got drunk. We filtered out, went to bed and had magic dreams.

[Bad Decision Saturday]

Note: To all future Antibuffetters-> Remember to pack your ski-gear!

2nd Note: Butler’s cookies should come with a warning sign.

I could barely move until almost 11, when an echoing call of water park roused me from my slumber, and I followed DUI, CB and Rainbow, Twat and Wanka and… someone else? To the water park for a second time; again the never-let-go raft chain, then le chute, DUI and I double road the green and, according to Butler (who was there?) the tube sagged significantly as we went through. Most importantly, though, the outing finally cleared my head from the night before and I returned to the party condo a quasi-functioning member of the human race. Deciding that I was only going to change once (I failed in that quest), I took off my bathing suit and dawned myself in my winter hashing finest of pink warm up pants (<3 Harlot), the fucking bunnies shirt from marathon 2012, and returned to the party condo. A few people remarked that I was a beautiful vision in pink, while Rainbow, spotting an opportunity suggested that I needed bright pink shiggy shocks to go with my outfit, and I agreeded; I was now pink from cranium to toe! And then sat around and waited about 90 minutes for trail to start.
AntiBuffet XI Trail:
Hares: Bring out the Gimp, Pig Fucker
Bag car: Decible
Pack: Everyone plus Stops To Pet The Pussy, Roscue P Cum Stain, and their dogs.
Circle: Krusty attempted to RA that shit, and asked people who they were, where they were from, and where the person next to them was going to pass out. Pack was relatively unenthusiastic, but with most people passing out in the snow, we eventually ran off to find the hares. Oh, and gimp doesn’t know what a penis looks like, everyone show him.

[Trail Downhill]

Breaking news! We were on a mountain with skiers, so after a little bit of tooling around condos we hopped a snow bank and crashed onto a ski-run below one of the chair lifts, where we were stopped by a song check, deep snow and a strong reluctance to scout downhill. We are hashers, we know better. However, with no marks in any other directions, we eventually ran down the slope and, finding marks, called onon. There was another check on the slope, and eventually we exited right, over another snow bank and down some quasi-paved roads to a very paved road. A short death march later, as I was slowing down to smell a check back, I noticed that we were running past last year’s beer check, and thought this odd, though there was a check ahead. There were two marks up a snow bank, then a set of marks, though only one pair of foot prints down the snow back and into the golf course. Since there were plenty of marks, I kept following trail, yelling OnOn (though I’m quiet sure no one followed), expecting a CB or YBF to great me eventually. None did. The footprints lead me to the same road I had noted earlier, so I whistled for pack and quickly found the Beer Near/Beer Check behind the golf club house.

[Windy BC]

Was windy; there was beer and there was wine. Pack came and milled around for a while, and once our beer started freezing, we started shuffling about and moved on in search of trail.

[Trail Cross Country]

Since we massacred a well groomed cross country ski trail, I will take this opportunity to thank the correctly spelled Orgasm Famine for pointing this out to us, and informing us that what we were doing was wrong. There was also a sign that said “Pedestrian Traffic Prohibited” but we are hashers, not Pedestrians, so we ignored the sign. Trail followed the x-country path through the golf course before turning off into some deep snow in the woods. There was a check back that Ass For Gas scouted, and trail continued on pavement for a while up a hill, past some condos and to an empty lot near some dumpsters.

[Hot Chocolate, left over beer and wine Check]

Luckily for the hares, there was no official record of trail last year, because so far we had covered 100% of the checks and 98% of the trails. The Hot Chocolate check this year, though, featured spunk walking around offering people real chocolate/candy. It was getting cold and dark, so we left.

[Trail On Really Pourly Plowed Roads]

For those of you who don’t know, most of the condo’s a Jay Peak are Ski In/Ski Out, which means that asides from the main trails there are cleared paths connecting all of the condo blocks. It was on these that we spent much of the last part of trail. However, there are some people in pack, who were unaware of this, and commented “Wow, they didn’t plow these roads at all!” Also, I got complimented on my Unicorn hat, 90% of pack walked 90% of the trail, and no one (that I saw) followed the “True Trail” marks through the snow when the party condo was clearly visible up the “well plowed” road.


Dirty, sweaty, wet and warm we all piled back into the party condo. The FRBs were put to work moving furniture (though it stayed in the condo this time), out of the way so we could circle. The hares were called in and they should have used more flour and chalk, when asked to sign to us, Piggy sang us a lovely song about his old retriever to the tune of American Pie. FRBs/FBIs were called in (Ass for Gas and Shart) [probably not 100% accurate, but I really don’t care,] DFL was called in, and I’m calling her Disco, though I know that’s a lie.  Either way, we then got to the survivor circle; all non anti-buffet virgins we called in. 2 timers drank, 3 timers drank, 4 timers drank, 5 timers, 6 timers – the crowd was getting thin – 8 and 9 timers drank and were dismissed, until at last Piggy stood alone with 10 anti-buffets to his name. Sadly, there are non Anti-Buffet  Survivors, Piggy did regale us with story time about the history of Anti Buffet; basically it started in Happy Valley, almost died, was resurrected by Burlington (Moon), almost died/burned down, and was taken over by the beautiful pair of Scetchy and Spunk, who have returned it to it’s previous glory thanks in large part to massive excel spread sheets. So…back to circle. There was a Just there, who’d been a Just for a long time, or so she claimed, so we made her get on her knees. We started asking her stories, and she told some good ones, but then No Man, having scouted this naming, asked her a question “What happened your first time?” To which she responded “Well the guy tried to stick it in three or four times, but it won’t go so we gave up and tried the next day.” This story was greeted with ruckus applause and names (mostly bad) were tossed around until Piggy suggested “Whack A Hole.” Pack Agreed. Just Lisa is no more; hence forth she shall be known to the hash a “Whack A Hole.” Um…we also re-devirginized the one real virgin (we had popped his cherry at the ugh, but it grew back), and then thanked Sketchy’s mom for sewing OnOn feet onto all of our pajamas. Dinner was brought and we swang low.

[Either help clean or go to the water park!]

I choose water park…we filled two Shuttles with hashers as we, and everyone else at Jay, made their way down to the Pump House for post-ski/post-dinner relaxation. The lazy river was moving at a faster clip than before, or maybe it was all the kids running laps in it, when not being yelled at by the guards. Speaking of being yelled at, Goat and I decided to tandem the blue slide, nbd, right? Except that we gave ourselves and push start and started leaning into the corners. During of the dark corners in the tunnel, I think we either guessed wrong, or leaned to hard, because the raft flipped, and I ended up going down on my stomach before flipping onto my back as I flew out of the tube. There was a very pimply and very mad guard who informed Goat and I that we were to “stay in the raft the whole way down.” I quickly assessed the situation, I felt as though the hot tub would be the best place to avoid further runins with the constabulary. Getting to the hot tub, I found the hashers in the far corner and joined them, and was pleasantly surprised that little viles of quasi-vile liquid we being passed around to help numb us to the annoyance of the Canadian fuck trophies who were actively trying to freeze the hot tub. Alas, that was not another one of my horrible jokes, well, it was, but whatever, it was true. The kids were jumping out, grabing handfuls of snow and throwing them into the tub. This was very annoying, and Mudslut tried to get all teachery on them, but that only forced them to try to “hide” what they were doing. No Man, never being one for childish games, disappeared inside. She came back with a sly grin on her face. A few minutes later, a very official looking man came out and said “If anyone brings snow into the hot tub, I will bring them out of the pump house.” With our special viles gone, and all of us being depressingly sober, we decided that we should beat a hasty retreat to the land of free beer and bad decisions.

[Bad decision Saturday]

Returning to the party condo after 9…

There was an ugh hared by the taqitous without any beer…

…I next remember waking up on my bed in my bunny suit.


364 days Until Anti-Buffet XII

2/13-15: Boston Moon Away…it’s like buffet, but less skiing and more rage. Also, no water park.
2/27-3/1: Burlington Mardi Grass…it’s nothing like buffet, but is rage in Burlington.
Note: It will be cold!
4/18: Boston H3 Marathon: Disney Dirty Princess, May all your Wet Dreams Cum True.
[Rego will be up this week!]
June: Something?
August: GAP


Sunday, December 7, 2014

12/7 "Tora!" hash... whatever that means

Tora! Tora! Tora! Hash
Hares: Wiki and Sex the Final Frontier
Pack: Virgin Mary, Just Bryan, Just Mohamed, Just Jeff, Just Swiss Girl who’s name I forget, CPA, Knome, Orgasm Famine, Better late than Pregnant, Five Inch Penalty, Transplant who was at ballbuster this week, Others I am forgetting
Bag Car: Friar
RA’s: Easy to Please, Goat Throat
Those of us who chose to hash on this beautiful Sunday gathered at Stoddard’s Fine Food & Ale to enjoy a beer before trail. That being said I don’t think I have ever seen so many glasses of water at a prelube. Those of us who had embraced the spirit of the pub crawl at Ballbuster on Saturday were perhaps a little worse for ware and I for one will admit to double fisting coffee and water instead of beer. The hares were gay remarkably close to on time and once we had sufficiently ingratiated ourselves with the classy patrons of the establishment the rest of us trooped out into the cold.
Goat led us through a speedy chalk talk where we explained to Virgin Mary (yes that actually is her name) how to follow the marks to the beer. Once she was sufficiently horrified/ confused we ran off to find trail and ended up rather quickly lost in the Boston Commons. I guess we missed a check back but eventually trail was located and we made our way to the corner of the Boston Garden near Arlington.  Trail brought us through the T station and back up onto the opposite side of the street to a check with about 4 arrows leading off in various directions. We checked what felt like every direction before someone realized we should have just continued straight. A check back 3(?) caused us to briefly lose trail once again before five inch led us across a bridge deeper into back bay. A shot check was remarkably well marked for a Wiki trail and we paused to drink a remarkably palatable blue Gatorade and coconut rum concoction and a rather noxious yellow Gatorade and vodka potion. Both bottles were liberally decorated with glitter that looked remarkably similar in size and consistency to what I got covered in at Space Unicorn.
 We continued on to numerous group hug checks, song checks, and normal checks. I dubbed the bridge near Broadway 2 dick check bridge due to its surprising 2 back to back dick checks with nary a tit check in sight. The showings on the bridge garnered at least 2 exclamations of surprise from a just and the Virgin and a honk from a passing car. We navigated across all the lanes of traffic near Broadway without incident and ran down in front of the Gillette factory where we found beer near! The beer check was on some body of water, which was nice, but rather cold and windy. We started drinking, huddled for warmth, and CPA pulled out a brilliant knit beer glove/ coozy thing to allow Easy to Please to drink without freezing her hand off. The proper amount of time after the hares were gay Knome shooed us all off in pursuit. We followed the water until trail led us through some large parking lots where we missed yet another check back and milled about for a time before we found marks leading through yet more parking lots and up some stairs to a second glitter covered shot check. We drank and ran back down some stairs and eventually made it to beer check number 2 under the bridge by the barking crab.  We drank,  took in the sunset, hares left, and we shortly thereafter we followed them across the bridge towards downtown and then down the harbor walk to a song check by a small ice rink near the harbor view hotel. We serenaded the skating families with hashers meet the hashers and ran on as we debated probably on-in locations. Many were convinced the Hong Kong was in our future even though apparently Wiki had flat out stated that we were not headed there. Knome informed me that hares lie so this could not be trusted but this time, to the surprise of us all, truth won out. After a hash sitapeed where we sang dino won’t you blow me (I was rather worried about what would happen when we all tried to jump and thrust in our seated position but it held together surprisingly well), and a third glittery hatorade shot check we found on in marks at Side Bar near Park street.
Pack milled about and watched football as we waited for bag car to arrive and then beer started flowing and circle commenced. We sang to our shitty hares but there were surprisingly few vitriolic comments about trail. Our ex-dementress and current GM madam Knome de-virginized Virgin Mary who drank her down down and was Virgin no more. FRB (Goat) and FBI (Falmon) drank for trying to win the hash. The walkers and bag car were deemed DFL for abandoning the cold trail in favor of the heated bag car. Others drank for racist attire, pointing in circle, being backsliders, blood on trail, and probably other things. Once the food appeared next to circle we wrapped up quickly with hash religion so we could stuff our faces with pizza, fries and chicken tenders. The beer flowed on for a time as we watched both American and European football. CPA declared Whitey’s the on-after so some die hard hashers partied on but alas not I.
-Orgasm Famine
Taco Trail Monday 12/7
Moon Thursday 12/18
Hashmas 12/20
Marathon Rego soon

Tuesday, December 2, 2014

11/30 Love Stinks hash

LOVE STINKS/American Rules Handegg/Dirty 30 hash
Hares: Goat Throat, Just Liza, Just Andrew? (Sorry am bad with names)
Bag Car: Bend Over Mommy
Pack: +2 Coonass, Yellow Dick Knome, Little Slice of Heaven, Sex the Final Frontier, Just Tavish, Luva Lamp, Just Simone, Udder Whore, Yankee, Bloody Slip Inside, Clit Notes, Just Jeff. Notice the sad lack of scribes so I, Orgasm Famine, will be filling in.

Prelube this past beautiful hashy Sunday was at Tits in Porter Square. I started the afternoon off with a beer as virgin hares volunteered to help lay trail with Goat. At some point after Goat and his first volunteer, Virgin Andrew?, were gay we gathered our bags and followed Bend Over Money to the one car in the parking lot with an on-on sticker. Our two RA’s Bloody and Clit Notes led us in an exuberant chalk talk punctuated by Bloody skipping / jumping around the circle to illustrate his points. After explaining a few marks to our visitor/transplant we sped off through the shopping center and towards Harvard Square. On a side note the speed of pack did not abate all day. We really all deserved to drink for trying to win the hash. We ran up and down some streets, through a side-yard or two, and found many checks on man-hole covers. At a hash sittapeede in front of a playground we assumed our seated position and sang to the children about what they would be if it were not for their mothers. At most checks the best way to find trail was when in doubt look for Urban Shiggy and ally ways. There was a tit check and a dick check. Eventually we made our way to Harvard Square and Sang Yogi Bear to any passing Harvard Kids. Soon after, Beer Near was enthusiastically called and we trekked up seemingly endless stairs to the top of the parking Garage by JFK and Eliot Street. There we found Hares, Bag Car, and remarkably not shitty Beer!!! As hashers wandered around and marveled over the view of Harvard from above the Virgin hares traded off and Just Liza departed with Goat.

After we followed them down the gazillion stairs we quickly got a bit lost as everyone foolishly followed the front running checkers past the Charles Hotel instead of searching out other options. Eventually we found trail, some true trail marks across streets and a song check. Passers by were serenaded to the theme of Hashers meet the hashers and then we raced on through winding pathways. Thanks to a Turkey Eagle split the Eagles were treated to a thrilling tour of a parking garage. Just as the temperature started to drop we found a Shots Near and located a bottle of fireball. We sipped perhaps too delicately since Luva Lamp ended up taking the leftover with him and offering it around as we ran on. Just Andrew? and I found a check back 5 and backtracked out of the dead end we had been led into. Garages remained a theme when I found a true trail into yet another garage and out a sneaky back door to a dick check. Soon after many of us figured out that we were getting rather close to Paddy’s Lunch. We ran through a park and sang part of a failed song to yet another playground full of children. Bloody then brilliantly evaded a short check back and booked it directly to Paddy’s to claim his title of FRB. 

As we gathered in the back room the Patriots kicked off. (I am still mourning the outcome of that game) Circle started once we procured sufficient beer and we sang to our shitty hares.  Comments on trail were quite friendly. Little Slice of Heaven was called in as a visitor. We need to teach him some songs. FRB (Bloody)  FBI (Yours Truly), and DFL (Yankee) were called into circle. Accusations included anyone who travel-hashed recently, late-comers , over-achievers who ran to trail, lazy people who took the elevator to the first beer check, sweat test failures (Buoys who showed up during circle) and an honor down down to Goat for saving the day by volunteering to hare at the last minute. When one of the locals wandered in to find the bathroom Coonass sang him Glorius Victorius to honor his time in the marines. Coonass also sang a new theme song for Goat. Jorts! Jorts! Jorts! Jorts! Jorts! Jorts! Jorts! Jorts! (hear the rhythm of shots) Eventually we sang an abbreviated version of swing low, pizza arrived, beer continued to flow, and we watched the Pats flounder through the first half until we departed.

-Orgasm Famine

Saturday 12/6 Ball Buster Turducken Hash starting at Publick House 12HST
Sunday 12/7 Wiki’s Birthday Hash starting at Redbones 2:30HST
Marathon Rego will apparently be live soon