Friday, June 17, 2016

Picard Day Hash Trash

Picard Day Trail-6/15/16
Hares: Wiki and BlondieCone
Bag Car: Foreskin Abortion
Pack: Fellowship, Popo, Famine, Glutenless, Buttler, 5 Inch, Bottom Wrangler, Friar, Marbles, Dribbles, Luvalamp, Dry Hoes, Blackey, Blow Bot, Twat, Douche, Altered Boy, Just Konrad, Chuderelli, Just Jenny, Slutty Charmes, Just Megan, Vaginacologist, Anal Apologist, Just Matt, +2, Wonka, Kirkland, Bonor Donor, 2nd, Sweagle, Virgin Brett, Queen Ebola the 3rd, Senor, Jello, Virgin Joe, Just Erik

I felt that trail started on my way to trail as I walked over a giant pink penis drawn in chalk on the sidewalk right in front of the Harvard T stop. Apparently that penis had nothing to do this us, which I find surprising… but I guess other people like dicks too. Pack gathered at Shays Wine Bar for a beer (or a wine), and received their Star Trek pins. Or are those Enterprise specific? As you can tell, if you were expecting a hash trash rife with star trek references you are in for a disappointment as alas to my parents dismay I am not a treky. I arrived, mingled, and since it was 6:45 when I showed up and the hares were gone already I expected to be imminently away. However, for some reason unbeknown to me we stuck around past 7 likely leaving the hares wondering where the f*ck we were. Chalk talk, as with most chalk talks, thoroughly confused the virgins and visitor. We introduced ourselves and said what we would do if we were in the nerdy star trek deck thing with all the screens. At least I think that is what people were talking about.

As soon as we ran off I got promptly lost because I ran to the Harvard T stop thinking that dick I had seen earlier was a hash mark. It wasn’t. So I ran back to Shays and started over by trying to follow pack marks. This was such a futile mission that as I ran past Friar (no walking trail so he was soldering through) I told him I would do what I could to mark as much as possible. Littering marks behind me I saw vestiges of pack crossing the pedestrian bridge near Harvard and saw a weird 3 pronged Turkey Eagle mark leading up over the bridge. The ‘you are a clearly an idiot’ branch pointed towards the JFK bridge so I ignored that one and followed the other two branches over the pedestrian bridge. At the apex of the bridge one of them directed me to jump over the edge onto a number of crew boats and likely kill someone or get hit by a stray oar. I ignored that branch and continued straight through to the Harvard Business School. Sadly being so far behind pack I skipped many a tit check and dick check, a song check, and a group hug. I don’t think the hares got the memo that we started a half hour after them because they seemed to be trying very hard to slow people down. I caught up to the stragglers of pack at a playground in the business school and was actually back with the group by the time we reached a hash sitapeed in the big HBS parking lot. As a group we decided that doing it on the small grassy hill sounded safter (despite the incline) than doing it in the middle of the parking lot entrance road. Nobody quite fell over so we continued on. Almost all of pack found a false down the street a bit and changed course to cross the street and head into lower Allston. I got really confused when I found a mark that had been turned into a check but nobody really explained why. That was when I got lost for the second time but eventually I decided to run to the lower Allston man made hill thing where we once had those sweedish fish jello shots. Alas all I found up there were pot smokers who told me I was sexy as I ran past them. Fortunately from the vantage point of the hill I could hear pack so I found the beer check!

Wonka made friends with a neighbor who requested a song so we sang Canal Street. Eventually the Hares were gay and we followed. As we were running off Slutty Charms and Just Megan ran up and requested roadie beers from bag car to sustain them. (smart harriettes) Trail led further through Allston to the bridge over the mass pike by Pizaria Regina. On our way there we found Friar who had sadly missed the beer check due to the lack of walkers trail. I lamented with him briefly over the stupidity of the hares for having no walkers trail and he said “this is fun”. I doubt the sincerity of his words but had trouble determining his intended level of sarcasm so I promised him more pack marks and ran on. There may have been 3 tit checks in a row. After crossing the bridge most of pack tried to zen which led to them missing a shot check, the rest of us found the shots and happily drank blood wine in a sketchy park next to strange people hanging out at a scooter garage. Eventually we ran after pack figuring we would have plenty of pack marks to follow. This proved to be wishful thinking since we got very confused at the big intersection of Harvard Ave and Comm Ave.  (Please read the addendum on how to actually use pack marks at the end of this trash)

Eventually we found pack in the park behind the car dealership and we drank wine and beer. Again the hares left and we followed. We ran down streets that led us to a check in front of a big hill. We ran up the hill following marks until we found another check. From that check there were no marks so we milled around lost for a long time. What I learned later is against all odds this was actually Blondie’s screw up, not Wiki’s. Go figure. There may have been some technology used on trail but PoPo figured out where the hares were and I announced, screw this lets all run to Ringer Park because that is where the beer is! You don’t have to say that to hashers twice. We ran towards Ringer, found a true trail mark over Comm. Ave on our way, and showed the visitor a taste of shaggy before finding CPA and Shitonya awaiting us at the on-in.

Circle did not get busted by the cops nor did anybody get stabbed. (to my knowledge) We sang in the hares, told them trail was shitty, and Wiki sang us something lovely using his patented one note singing technique. FRB, FBI and DFL were people but I don’t remember who. (I don’t think DFL was Friar!) Shitonya (Burlington) and Queen Ebola the 3rd (Dallas, TX) sang for us. Popo de-virginized Virgins Joe and Brit. There was some accusations, some announcements, and we swang low. Immediately after that someone (probably CPA? Called for an Urban ugh but since we were out of beer only a handful of people stripped and ran after her) The rest of us followed Fellowship who promised us more hash beer at the Sill!

-Orgasm Famine

Pack Marks: Different Kennels use different pack mark methods but please adhere to the Boston method in Boston. Pick a mark that represents you and includes a directional clue. Then when you leave a check mark indicate the direction you ran. If you end up going the wrong way return to the check, cross out your mark, and re-mark your new direction. If you don’t check a direction but have chalk and hear an on-on called as you are hanging out by the check mark, indicate your direction from the check in case people are behind you. Please do not mark checks in any other way. It causes confusion since nobody knows what you are doing. 

NEXT WEDNESDAY- Goat is looking for a virgin hare to co-hare.
7/8 – INVISHASH Campout weekend in Burlington. Rego is still open.

8/12 - Hash BBQ

Thursday, June 9, 2016

Spermaid Goes Down On Revere

What: Spermaid Goes Down On Revere
Where: Bill Ashes
Who: Spermaid and Bottom Wrangler
Guest staring: Revere Police, and Piss Off Townie*
Who else:

Blondie McFucks A lot*, Marblelous Asshole, Chunderellie, Glutenlous Maximus, Five Inch Penatly, 3 Ring Cervix, Pop Cum Ear I’m Enfected, Wikiepodiphilia, E=I’MDouche, HoseA, Just Texan, Virgin Texan, Other Virgin, Salty Mud Flaps, PoPo Peepshow, Dry Hose, Black Cock Down, Can’t Eat Pussy, Fellowship of the Cockring, Orgamism Falmon, others I forget.


I got there as bag car was called, so I have no idea, but here’s a guess. Since it’s the blue line pack arrived in 5 minute intervals and quickly took over the side of the bar. The townies and local were surprised at our appearance, and we assured them that we were just friendly drunks who also liked running. The idea of ever leaving Bill Ashes was strange to them, but they understood drinking and didn’t kick us out this time. Eventually hares were, late comers arrived, bag car was called and we left the bar for chalk talk.

Chalk Talk:

Happened; there were a lot more marks reviewed than were used on trail, there will be a quiz later.

Trail Fishhook: (So named because while there were no fish hooks on trail, the trail itself looked like a fish hook)->

Pack started scouting in both ways (we don’t care which way you go) down the beach and inland, but determined that the hares didn’t bring flour (pitty, lots of good shiggy in Revere), and limited our scouting to pavement covered areas. Eventually we found trail going down the beach towards Boston which we followed to a song check at a rotary. There was a false marked inland, and Butler, forgetting that we had just determined that trail would be pavement pounding, ran down the beach. Trail did not go down the beach, but instead turned into the quant sea side neighborhood of wherever the fuck we were. As we were yogging merrily down the streets a child called to me “why are you wearing an amazing galaxy-print kilt?” to which I replied “because I’m amazing!” [If you have a choice between printing the truth and the legend, print the legend] and trail continued to a hash sitapead which the hash attempted on the side walk, but nearly fell over, so they moved to the road. Again scouting in every direction was technically necessary since trail went straight then randomly (un marked turn?) turned right to loop past a previous beer check before doubling back on itself and beer checking at a playground, complete with kids!

Beer check Playground (there was only actually one of these…)

The beer was had and we stayed off the to the side to allow the chillons room to play and not be scared by the sight of 30 adults in various forms of racist attire (there was a  lot out last night folks). I have no exact recollections of conversations, except that I would ninja my way around sneaking sips from peoples beer because “I wasn’t drinking” [more on this later]. With parents becoming concerned, the hares left and we scampered after them.

Trail Almost Up Hill:

I am going to have to thank the hares for leading us around instead of up and down over the hills in Revere point (as I’m calling it), though not before getting pretty much all of pack to bite on a long YBF right out of the gate. After not seeing any marks for a while, “last mark” was called and we found that the last mark was a False, so we ran back to the check and followed trail around the hill to a fish hook check, and a true trail down a grass slope. For those who didn’t follow true trail, but instead ran directly down the slope there were some prickers and light shiggy to deal with, but eventually we jumped a retaining wall and ran along the road to SN/SC. Quick note about the retaining wall. Last night was the debut of my new “galaxy print wicking kilt” (which is amazing!) but it’s made of light weight fabric that loves to fly up so, to the cars on the road, sorry not sorry for what happened. To the hashers, well, y’all know.

Shot check on the beach:

Was apparently strong, but I was still in my “not drinking mode.” Teams were formed and some people ran into the waves to test the waters, others skipped stones. HoseA and I had a grand reunion and traded stories about Voodoo Monkey 8, which was fun and all, except that these stories – “there was no trail because the hares were on acid.” “No, there was a trail, I ran it!” “Ha, no, Bleeps and I yelled OnOn and ran into the woods and people followed us, but there was no trial.” – which are fine stories, until we got into the naked messages, disco tent, orgies on the dance floor and general beyond the pale level of rage that is VDM. The Just was like “Are all campouts like that?” kind of in awe and shock to which we shrugged…anyway, the just being sufficiently scared of the group he joined, we finished the shots and ran off.

Trail Almost Beer Check:

Trail from the shot check clearly went up hill. We knew this for two reasons; firstly the hash always runs up hill, and secondly the hares had told us it was A to A and there’s no way a trail can go into Wintrhrop/Easite and back to revere and not be a surprise ball buster. Surprisingly enough, trail was up hill! At the top of the hill there was a check and on-on was called in both directions; one direction was down into the bogs (great shiggy for a different trail) or up another hill, so clearly the downhill was false but we waited for pack in front of the Rereve boat club with “Friggin’ in the Riggin” not a hundred yards from the song check we saw Beer Near, but no one yelled, because there was a cruiser (the cop kind, not the fun kind – Gimp wasn’t haring), parked on top of it. The hares had been snared, by the cops and were in the process of figuring out what to do. It was recommended that they move the Beer Check, which they did.

Trail Not Quiet Beer Check:

We decided to give the hares 5 minutes, but told them to lay song checks a long the way to make it fun. We also told pack, or at least those who don’t listen to the news, that two men had been beaten (and one died) in the area over the past few nights so cops had increased patrols and someone had already reported a “gang of runners drinking in a playground” so…that happened. Trail was a straight shot to the beer check, though everyone saw tits, dicks, or whatever they wanted, we had two rousing song checks, a hug and a sitapead before running into the loading area behind an abandoned Shaws.

Beer Check Shots Fired!

A quick count confirmed that only Butler and I were on the Perl Necklace which BCd back there (CPAs toilet seat was not fount). There was beer, there was faux popcorn and fun was had; also I decided to drink so my memory will get fuzzy from here on. I don’t recall and particular conversations, though Fellowship was amazed that bums hadn’t taken over the shaws. The hares eventually scampered away (and we watched them go). CEP and I had a brief choir practice, joined by Glutenless, going over Balls to Mr. Bengles and The Sexual Life of a Camel, feeling good about my ability to remember verses, I was going to meander over to another group of hashers when A FUCKING BOMB (okay, it was a really loud, perhaps double M80) went off in the back yard next to us, followed by a townie yelling “I bet y’all will shut up and move along now!” Or something to that effect; not wanting to start WWIII, we left post-haste.

Trail Back to the Beach:

From the beer check to the beach nothing of note happened; there was a beer and a traffic cone was found and brought to circle. The ON-IN was on the beach across from the start.


Once pack had trudged over the sand to the tidal area and beer reinforcements were had (3 30 racks, plus warm harpoon in bottles), circle formed and happi/rev coats were put on. The hares were first called in for their shitty trail and comments were given; too many cops, not enough explosions. Despite this, not shots fired were called on the hares, and instead we instructed them, in song, that they should have used more flour and chalk. They then sang to us about their favourite car, and were dismissed from circle. Circle started off with FRBs – it was DOUCHE – and FBI – Orgasm #nosurprise, and then DFL – Butler. Next on their knees were the visitors – HoseA and a Just – from Austin, and the Just likes girth, so remember that boys. They sang about when it’s incest time in Texas, and then we called all Texans in so the Virgin and Salty joined them, and I’m not sure what they sang. The virgin from Texas, having already done a down-down was called back in, along with his counterpart from Arlington, were called in to be demented. Popo did her thing – topless this time, though that seems to happen more often than not – and inquired them of their favorite barn yard animal, and their orgasms; after than she tried to ask what the square root of 69 was, but the virgin from Arlington cut her off and yelled “8 something!” prematurely. It happens to all of us, so she moved right on to demonstrating down-downs; which they completed and they will now be justs, or whatever. Speaking of Just, Just Jennie was accused of hashing since the winter and not being named, and we called her in on her knees. She was a good sport, but no names stuck so we threw her back and moved onto accusations. Right off the bat Cum Ear accused Five Inch of getting on his knees  - a charge he accepted, and he called 3 Ring Certvix in as the reason why he was on his knees, a charge she similarly supported. CEP sang them some song about having sex, and then opened the circle up to accusations. I accused anyone who had ever done a down-down at the Cove before it burned down (I didn’t really, but that’s what I meant to do, so, whatever, see my previous comment on Truth Vs Legend) so Butler, Douche, Friar, 5 Inch and I drank to the departed OnIn. Spermaid and Bottom Wrangler were then called in because it was the razing of the Cove which lead to their infamous encounter in the surf, and drank as well. At some point Douche was called in, and I was pulled in for “When One GM drinks” and we grabbed Butler since he was wearing a kilt. There were more accusations but I was 3 surprise beers deep at this point and circle was devolving into a main circle and 3 massive private parties. There was a great moment though, and no one was accused of it, but it will be recorded here, where after a song the only sound was the sound of maybe a half dozen hashers pissing into the sand. Accusations continued and Just Ryan (I think, whatever) was accused of picking up a cone and bringing it into circle. After that anyone who had ever done a down-down out of a cone was called in, and, finally, cone in hand, Blonde McFucks alot was accused of having a shitty name and not being blonde. Therefore, Blonde McFucks Alot went down and BLOWCONE came up; hence forth and forever more in the world of hashing Blondie McFucks Alot will be known a BLOWCONE (or until we rename her...again). It was getting cold and windy and there was pizza so after announcements (see below) we swang low.

On – Once more into Revere Dear Hashers, Once more into Revere – On


TONIGHT: FREE BEER AT BOSTON COMMON -> Show up between 4:30 and 7 and sign up to volunteer for the Corporate Challenge (hand out water, etc) then follow marks to the super secret FREE ON-IN (hint: It used to be a British Protectorate and has Kerooke and Meatsticks, though you can’t Kareoke Meatstick)

Saturday: Eager 4 Beaver Trail #69, 12-Noon Beaver Standard Time at Gimp’s place in Bilrica. Bring food for a potluck and maybe beer for drinking into the night. There’s crash space, so bring whatever you want to sleep in.

Sunday: Eager 4 Beaver Trail: #69.69: Fatboy starting in JFK Park near Harvard. (Note, if you’re a racist and are running the Tory Row 5k, feel free to join us)

Wedensday 6/15: PICARD DAY TRAIL -> Start is Shays, also in Havard.

July 8-10: Invihash in vermount! Rego now:

August 12: Boston Hash BBQ (announcement forth coming)

Epilogue – The On After

Immediately after we swang low, and had some food, a good dozen hashers stripped and ran naked into the surf; it was quiet a site to see a dozen shining white bodies diving under the waves and coming up screaming. Were blow jobs given, maybe? After the swim the pack needed to dry off and warm up so they went back to Bill Ashes for more beer and warmth. The friendly vibe the accompanied the pack on their first entrance was gone and the townies had been spoiling for a fight. The bartender sided with her people and refused service or over charged hashers while the pack tried to make friends with the locals who were having none of it. Something happen to WifeOut and pack left in a huff. The long blue line ride back to the civilized world was only tolerable because of the road sodas they brought with them and had a contest as to who could post the most on social media about how much they hated Revere.
Or something.
I wasn’t there, and no one who was can remember it.
(Or have another BEER!)

Thursday, June 2, 2016

Polish Hash Trash

What: The Polish Hash
Where: Bukowski’s
Who: Glutenless Maximus, Just Konrad

Um, if I remembered half of you, I’ll call that a win, but here we go:
Dry Hose, 5 Inch, Popo Peep Show, Fellowship of the Cock Ring, Bottom Wrangler, Spermaid, Sex the Final Frontier, Twat My Mom, Wikipedophilia, Luva Lamp, The Butler Hit It, Friar Fuck, Mr. Bean, Just Jules*, Tiger Lay*, Blowbot, Visitor From Huston (plus 4 Virgins), Virgin Mike, Spank Me May I have My Mother, Last Hole, Just Beat It, Black Cock Down, CEP, Show Me the Penis, JigglyTits, A Few More Justs, Probably Others I Forgot.


Using the only half piece of chalk given to pack, CEP ran a miniaturized version of chalk talk, and got about to the point of explaining what OnOn meant when a very authoritarian looking mall cop arrived to tell us we were on private property. Before she could ask us to “move along” “PACK AWAY” was called and we took off in search of marks.

Trail Warsaw:

The first check was by the bar, and after finding a false straight and to the right, true trail was eventually found straight and further to the right – running out falses became a bit of a thing – and meandered to the reflecting pool, though that trail was not found by YHS, who went on a lovely yog through the tunnels under and around whole foods, and a circle around the Symphony before hearing calls of ONON way down on Columbus/ia (whatever) by the mall, and rejoined pack at a check by tits sparrow park. Aside from a nice cover band playing for kids there were no marks of any sort to be found. Eventually marks were found in the Southwest corridor park leading back to Back Bay but turning left in unmark falses, then another instance of a marked false that was actually true, which lead to a Shot Check by the Salty Pig, which I quickly ran past fearing my co-workers might see me (#yearofnormalcy?); luckily none were there and we continued to a S/S (smart/stupid) check around the South End. I took stupid, clearly, and ended up death marching to a garden then to the park near JJ Foleys with baseball, etc. We sang to the ballplayers about what we do at a ballgame (hint: masterbate), then I scouted in three wrong directions before finding trail continuing straight-ish to a hash sitaped in front of the aforementioned JJ Foleys. At this point our beer-dars were blaring warnings and we pretty much zenned en-mass (and across traffic) to the beer check by the base of the 4th street bridge.

Beer Check Crackhow:

There wasn’t Polish beer, but there was COLD beer – PBR and ‘gansett, along with some food-like substance (though, in fairness, it was Styrofoam). Beers were had, good times exchanged and the hares encouraged to lay more marks. Also, we found pack-chalk. After not being surprised by bums or cops, we kicked the very sociable hares on their way and enjoyed our cold beers in peace.

Trail Danzig:

[Note: according to Wikipedia Danzig is now called Gdansk, because f*ck vowels?]

The hares ran over the 4th street bridge, through the intersection with (I think Dot Ave?) and placed a check on the next block. Catching up to the FRBs, I was about to mark left, towards the seaport, when I very ominously heard “ONON” called in both directions, so I sat and waited for one group to return. Pack caught up with me and was about to start scouting before I told them of the predicament we had found ourselves in and we all decided to wait. Eventually 2nd and Sex came back from their northerly adventures and we all followed trail straight for a couple of blocks, only to have it turn twice and return us to Broadway. A few checks and a right turn later we stared up at Dorchester Heights and cursed glaciation (or whatever) had caused that hill to form and slowly made our way up it, following, as it turned out, two different sets of marks. One set of marks turned left and approached the monument from the stairs, the other turned right, but I didn’t go that way. Alledgely bag car and a shot check were to be found in that direction, but a hare was snared at the top of the heights instead. As we were standing around waiting for him to leave to continue setting trail, the other hare arrived, from what he though was the shot check to find us and mass confusion ensued. All parties were placated by the decision to turn the “whatever just happened” into a beer check.

Beer check Luhansk [wiki goes to google maps to find another polish city] Katowice? (I’m pronouncing it “Cow-Twice”:

After things were settled beer, shots, and Polish orange food arrived. The Polish Orange Food tasted exactly like the Polish Styrofoam, except with a distinctly “orange” flavor profile. The 
PBR still tasted like PBR and the ‘Gansett like ‘Gansett. I didn’t partake of the shot check, because here how it went down: Spermaid would come frolicking up to you and say “Take this from me; it’s delicious and dangerous, and I don’t want to end up in the ocean!” To which a hasher would reply “Okay, well, you look good in the ocean, but I want shots so…” and would take the shot. They would then look around for someone else to pass the shot too, and finding Spermaid gleefully hoping up and down next to them praising the delicousness of the drink, off it back to her, which she would take and run away. Time slowly wore on and the hares were kicked out and pack followed them.

Trail Ludz?

Ran down the hill, through a rotary, during which Fellowship offered his Treaties on Rotaries in the Western World, over the highways and onto Dot Ave. Packs collective beer-dar was blaring and our “ONIN” lock alarm was sounded when true trail turned us OFF Dot Ave and onto some random other street. Feeling hesitant, we started walking and were shamefully amazed when we found ONIN scrolled under the sign for the Polish-American Club.


Pack trickled in and beer was served, but no one cares, the only reason you are still reading this is because of:


CEP apparently knows the starting line to “And the Hares” so he started signing and eventually we caught on and circled around the hares, one of which had to be repeatedly called over from the bar, but, I guess that’s hashmen like behaviour (except that when he was called to do his down-down, he didn’t have  drink!). After serenading them CEP ran around circle getting comments (mainly more marks, bigger marks, fewer hills, more hare-snares, you know, the basic stuff we complain about every week), and summarized that they should have used more flour, or chalk. We then asked the hares to serenade us (we’re such a lovelly pack, after all), and they skipped the opening verse and went right into “Oh Sir Jasper…” which ended with much moaning and thrusting and generally good times. Our FRBs, 2nd, Blackie and Sex, were thankfully joined by our FBI, JigglyTits, so that with a honey in the middle there’d be some leeway. Followed by our DFLs, Butler, Friar and some other lady (again, no questions due to the presence of tits). At this point the RAs called in our visitors, of which we had plenty, though, due to beer, their names escape me – there was the girl from Huston, the guy from Taiwan (with a vaguely Colin Powel based name), and the guy from Memphis (who had a southern accent), and a girl from either North Carolina or South Africa, I was never sure who…had nice tits? Yeah, we’ll go with that. Various things made them cum, the internet mainly, and despite hashing for over a decade, this was the first time the visitor from Taiwan had seen tits on trail! Rage! We sang to them and they sang to us, then the girl from Huston flashed us, because, you know, #wewon. At this point circle had been going on for a while and there were about a half-dozen very confused looking people who had identified themselves as virgins at the beginning of trail. Four were from England (maybe the Queen is going to take us back?) and one was a life guard in a porno? One of the ones from England, when asked what the square root of 69 was very earnestly said “8.2 something?” but we corrected her quickly. They are worthy, but we’ll take them anyway. Speaking of people who aren’t worthy, Tiger Lay, or something, who was foolishly named during marathon was called in and accused of having a shitty name. He knelt and we heard stories, oh did we hear stories; there was the one about him puking, then pissing on himself, then still getting a blowjob #antipapajohnson, but the best one was how someone donated a box of sex toys to the salvation army he was working at and the staff then closed the store and took the next hour off to play with them; Tiger Lay went down and Boner Doner came up. Quickly moving on to accusations, the RAs accused Just Jules of making herself a necklace, as a Just, so she was told to get on her knees. A few names were thrown out – Wet, Hot, American Cummer, and others, but since she “passed out standing up and fell into a tub and broke a rib” Just Jules will be known, henceforth and forever more, in the world of hashing as Rub-a-Dub-Tub Girl. At this point circle had been going on for a while, and beer was running low, but there were a few more items of business to get through. Colin Plowed had brought hab from Taiwan to give away – a men’s shirt to the hasher who could drink the most beer (it went to Twat) and a women’s shirt to who could do the best Pole Dance (it went to Spermaid). Hash business over, and beer running low, we swang low then descended on the Polish food, like invaders over the Polish Plane.

ON – return of the proto-scribe – ON



We are looking for mismanagement positions for next year, if you want to help run the hash talk to any member of MM, or Udder or Wiki, they might know what they’re doing! There will be a MM meeting in a few weeks.

Saturday 6/4 2:30HST: Eager 4 Beaver Trail #69-1, Millennium Park, Boston, MA, $1, Hare: Wiki

NEXT THRUSDAY 6/9: FREE BEER AT THE CORPORATE CHALLENGE. Sign up to hand out water, etc, and get FREE BEER for the hash. Marks to the volunteer tent will be laid from Park St. station.

Saturday 6/11: Eager 4 Beaver Trail #69, @Gimps in Billerica

July 8-10: INVIHASH: Burlington H3 Campout weekend: Rego NOW ->

August 12 (Friday) : Boston H3 Color Run + BBQ Party. Start location TBD.

Saturday 10/22: Boston AGM

November: Saddie

December: Anti-buffet

February: Moon Away

April: BH3 Marathon weekend

Stop reading this and drink a beer!