Monday, December 11, 2017

Anti-Trash ?XV?

What: AntiTrash ?XV?
Where: Party Condo, Waterpark, other locations.
Who: A lot of people, most important Spunk in the Trunk and Sketchy Ho
Hares: Trial dependant


It is generally difficult to know from what point to start trashing on away weekends, but the natural inclination is whenever the narrator, that is Wiki, arrived on scene. Thought since a good amount of people arrived early on Friday to ski, there is some need to relate that story.

As I was driving and my passengers were legally drinking out of metal containers, they started reading out some interesting sounding updates such as “STAY AWAY” from the party condo and “We’re at the bar” and “Please sit tight, they are sending some blow-torches to the party condo” Eventually, the blow torches torched, the plumbers plumbed and the electrions zapped everything into order and the party condo opened just on the hash standard time of five. At this point your humble narrator (future reference YHS), was still driving through mid Vermount in pursuit of beer and depressingly average sandwhiches.

Once the condo was opened, the ragers started in and unpacking. There were bowls of chili passed around and we all assembled to see the first viewing of Purple Rain of the weekend. The chant of “tits out for the hash” was changed, in reflection of improvements and evolution of cultural language to “consensual tits!” (though were they really consensual? I’m really quite confused about what goes on in Purple Rain).

The rage on Friday night was, on the whole, gentle, and so some of us rallied to make a first entry into the water park. We were kinda worried that our conversation the bus was a little “drunk and nerdy” for most people (do you die when you are transported) until we realized that the man sitting next to us was quietly nursing a beer. There was some confusion re: lockers with a friendly Canadian, and we made our way to the water slides. I’m not sure who’s more annoyed; the kids at the adults taking up space in line, or the adults and the kids not knowing how to line. Either way, we paired off and team mud-philia won both heats (don’t listen to fake news about starting before “go”), and we decided that we were all too old and not quiet drunk enough to do la chute and made our way to the hot tub. While there were no kids throughing snow in, there was a group of younger adults enjoying, quiet openly, PBRs. We thought that free beer in a warm condo sounded better than expensive beer in a cold night, and rejoined the ragicants at the PC.

We entreated the hosts for permission to play drinking games but were told a strange version of no, that was “yes, if you want to find a way to play a drinking game that can guarantee that nothing will be spilt” clarification was requested and the response was reiterated: Drinking games aren’t illegal, making a mess is. I was drunk enough to hear a “no” when a see one and continued to pour free beer down my throat while calling out time until midnight.

Wanting to lay groundwork for future endeavors, I attempted to enlist the support of a not-at-all-sober O’Bone’R to lay the UGH with me, but while her words said “Yes” her body (in that it was having trouble standing up) said no, though she did help me scout and lay the beer check. Looking back it have been either Mudslut or Clits and Chips who helped? My memory of the exactness of those events is rather questionable. I cannot speak for what transpired on trial, but shortly after midnight my co-hare and I discarded our clothes and ran around outside to the downstairs condo for the beer check. A few minutes later pack showed up and the residents joined us for a pleasant beer or two while dicussing how the “glow in the dark” marks weren’t “glowing in the dark” and so “no one could find trial.” O’Bone’R claimed this as justification for her not haring with me, though it’s possible she had already passed out. When the “bag of beer” had been drunk we ran back upstairs to the party condo for circle, which Drunk Spunk wonderfully RA’d. I don’t remember many details of circle, though I do remember being yelled at for singing too long song, but, TBH, that’s par for the course.

Sometime later, maybe 2ish, it was GImp, Spunk and I standing around the party condo yelling “AGE” so I went to bed.

Quick note: My real time memory did not include me walking home so I was rather worried I had passed out in the party condo.


A lot of people (judging by the dishes) woke up early and went skiing. I was on breakfast clean up duty so I had a rejoining breakfast with sobriety and stayed away from spiking coffee - thanks Gimp for the Bailey - or the mulled wine from Vagabond, since I wasn’t sure if I’d ski or not. Around 11 I realized that I’d be paying $80 to rent skis for 2 hours, so, with a heavy heart I bid sobriety goodbye.

NoMan showed up with a game she bought off a hasher that might have been funny 4 years ago? It seemed like all the cards were inside jokes from some campout weekend of yore. We did our best to play two rounds, but eventually switched to THUMPER. THUMPER, despite it’s name, did not get us drunk enough, so we switched to 3 man, which accomplished the job rather well.

Gimp and Sweagle returned from scouting and took a nap.

Around 2:30 (maybe 3), they woke up and enough of pack had reassembled at the party condo for trial, which will be the next section of this trash.

ANTI-BUFFET ?XV? TRIAL (and circle)

The hares left and we followed them out to chalk talk, lead by a vary casual Fuwnagi sucking on a cigarette. There would be beer, maybe shots, maybe false and trial would be marked in blue-flour (only slightly more visible than it’s native white) in the freshly fallen snow.

Trial down-hill

After introductions pack all ran down the driveway and onto the ski-in/ski-out trial before realizing that we hadn’t seen any marks. We doubled back and found trial going down the hill between the condos and into the woods. Running was difficult - mainly due to ankle fears - but a good number us did our best “over the river and through the woods” trot. Eventually we came upon earthworks of some variety and scrambled up to find a check on top. We checked left, then right - knowing that the hares wouldn’t make us slide down that rather steep slope into the forest below. We were idiots, of course that’s where trial went. More woods-running lead us across a field and to a S/S check. The FRBs followed the only set of footprints and the rest of pack followed them. It was guessed that one could run down the stream to the road. Pack hoped the rail-guard on the road and found a few checks on the road before we turned back up into the shiggy and up a hill. Right as pack was moaning that we’d be running up the hill for too long we heard the blessed call of “Beer Neer.”

Beer Check Warm Beer:

Were we promised cold beer and warm air or warm air and cold beer? In the end, it didn’t really matter as there was both air and beer, though only one was drunk. After we had been standing around for a while (though not getting overly cold, the RAs managed to keep the temperature out of the single digits), and almost all the beers had been drunk, the hares scampered off. At a point about 100 yards away they mooned us, to which we cheered, then they ran on.

Trail Uphill

Trail wound around an empty run-off pool, then across and up a road. There was a check which lead across a field back to the party condo.

Hot Chocolate

After having been running up hill for almost 369 yards, we were greated by very boozey hot chocolate, or more beer. The hares, well, one of them, were instant that despite the fact that we were at the party condo, this wasn’t the end of trial and that there was a whole other leg to get through. We were dubious.

Turkey Trail

The hares did indeed lay another leg of trial, though YHS didn’t go on it. YHS went to the party condo and watched Purple Rain until the rest of pack showed up and we circled.


Was lead by Fungwangi. The hares were called in to start circle off then there was some confusion about what was happening next; Anti-Buffet Virgins or real Virgins? There were real versions there? Yes, indeed, Cock Bottle seemed to be of the opinion that his Virgin had been demented, but no one could attest to that so she was called into circle. She was asked a series of questions and generally did a rather poor job of answering them, but we’re kinda desperate, so we’ll take her anyway. Then everyone who had been to 1 or more Anti-buffets was called in and then dismissed. Two and three timers were called in and dismissed, but there was a pretty good core group and people didn’t fall away until 7, 8, or 9. Since Piggy wasn’t there, there are no more any “Perfect Attedenance” at Anti-Buffet; Ass For Gass, Funqangi, Sketchy and Spunk were all in the mid-teens, and they really should get a life. The various other kennels were called in, and eventually we got onto accusations, which, to be perfectly honest, I don’t quiet remember as my memory checks out sometime during circle then returns at the hottub - anyway, we swang low and then lined up for food, which I believe was sausage meat in rolls and steamed veggies?

There was one announcement of note, that AntiBuffet would be returning next year if anyone wanted to organize it. Spunk calls it her “December Vacation” and Sketchy glares at her when she uses the term “vacation” to describe what happens.

Post-Circle rage.

After food was eaten, and as the dishes were being done there were multiple calls out to make runs to the water park. There the hash steamed away their inebriation and we sat, stood, and soaked in the hottub until we were sober enough to want to return to the party condo.

Pants off Dance off was called for 10, but it was more of a “Pants on dance-maybe?” sit around the table playing more 3 man. Three Man is a dangerous game to play once a day, twice a day is, well, aggressive. My memory, after a brief and bright return, kinda cuts off again around there.

UGH #2. Happened. I don’t think we went outside, we might not have even gotten naked.

Passing out: Also happened.

On - Sundays are for Pod and Opera - On

Tuesday, December 5, 2017

A Very Wiki (And Blondie) Trail

A Very Wiki (And Blondie) Trail

Who: Sex: Final Final Frontier, The Buttler Hit It, Dribbles, Pat My Fly, Orgasm Falmon, Just Claire, Cougar Whisper, Luva Lamp, 5 Inch Penalty, CPA, Shart of Darkness, Dr. Bitch, Quarter Mile Queer, visitorplant: Lawrence of Her/My Labia, Virgin Julian/Pedro, Cock Lobster

Hares: Wikipedophilia and Blondie McFucksAlot

Bag Car: Marbelous Asshole

Having been apprenticed to Wiki for my virgin lay, I have privy to information that makes a method to Wiki’s hashness. Wiki then told me, years ago:
Marks should be easy to find; true trail should be hard to find.
With that in mind, this was the Wiki-est trail to ever Wiki, sans Wiki Lost-ing.

Leg 1: Wiki Thinks We Read Street Signs.

Trail began at “Lulus Alston”, which is Lulu’s Allston in Wikese. Queer gave a Chalk Talk with no beginning and no end and we proceeded, with pack entirely following the false that Blondie laid south down Linden before proceeding across the Bridge of Angsty Allston Poets. A romp through Lower Allston met with a Tit Check that Cougar Whisperer ignored and solved trail anyway through Hooker St. We were sequestered by another Tit Check at the other end of Hooker before a T-E split that lead to a old Allston favorite Beer Check on the side of Cambridge St, at the perpetual Harvard construction that we’d worry about losing if Harvard ever finished.

Leg 2: The Charles River Falses

Pack entirely followed Blondie’s false into Riverside Press Park. I missed the YBF there, but Whisperer found it. We made it through C*mbridge and seemed to be on our way to Harvard, until a CB10 (which proved to be a CB12 because Hares can’t count) lead us back to the DeWolfe St bridge that Falmon solved. At Gordon Rd, a lovely prewarmed Brandywine hot toddy found us agreeable, where Wiki then informed us with the archetypal Wiki Mischievous Grin (WMG) that next leg would be laid in sticks.

Leg 3: What’s Brown and Sticky?

Stick trail proved soluble enough since the sticks were floured, and we pounced around the Smith Playground, finding the hares waiting for us adjacent to Allston Aeronaut with delicious minted hot chocolate in a warmed DD coffee box, matching the most popular shirt of the run.

Leg 4: Really a 4th leg?

5 Inch and I vied for the Everett St bridge on a Turkey-Eagle split. The 6th CB of the trail led us down Braintree St into the Penniman St play area where we found Beer Check 2.

Leg 5: Cheetos

Wiki repeatedly and gleefully (WMG) informed us that the remainder of trail would be laid in off-brand Cheetos and various members of pack griped that trail was so long we would begin EATING the trail. I informed Wiki that we were at Ballbuster length. Wiki retorted that True Trail was 250 yards (or something equally ridiculous) but that Pack’s following falses – which they could not fail to do – was what made it longer.

Hares gaid and most of pack went straight to Silhouette, where prognosticators and fornicators alike had foretold trail would end.


Queer started into a rendition of The Hares of her Dickiediedo, which proved to be a premature ejaculation. Hares were told they should have used more flour and chalk, half the pack was accused of wearing identical DDPBR shirts, I accused Cougar Whisperer of skipping the Tit Check, and I was countercused of the equally culpable crime of not skipping it (or something). The transplant required a second c*ming to find a song we did not know and we found that the virgin would indeed enjoy porn with his parents. Following up to a discourse made on trail, Just Claire was called in for a naming, possibly to Squeakly Clean Vagina or Vagina Dentatta, but her naming proved to be merely an ultimatum to the Just to get dirtier on trail, lest she wind up with one of these terrible names.

On - cheetos - On
Sex, TFF

Wednesday, November 15, 2017

Beaches be cray

The Beaches Be Cray Hash with Blitz n’ Chitz or Chitz ‘n’ Blitz or Kibbles ‘n Bits(?) and Angry Crotch.
Who: Just Lena, Newly Just So-and-so (Preston?), Anal Apologist, Yellow Dick Gnome, Buttler, Luva Lamp, Bottom Wrangler, Just Dave(?), Sex: The Final Frontier, random muggle Beer Check Host.
Bar Car: Friar Fuck

Trail started at The Harp & Bard in Dorchester, where pack learned that c*cktails were actually FREE. We had a few and sang Free C*cktails for All the Hashers, while we waited for Hares to have a delayed gaying. An absence of virgins, we went through the chalk talk motions for the 2 2-timers before heading out to find trail.

Leg 1: “F*ck this, f*ck this…oooh look, free beer!”

In the knowledge that Buttler would be joining late, we diligently laid pack marks. I checked west along Stab ‘n Kill Ave, finding 2 and out, tried again and was lured around 2 corners to ON-ON, which proved to be the 2 from the earlier false. At long last a trail was located to the east. Several more checks were found, a hash sitapeed was apparently missed by Gnome and I whilst looking for the meager marks. Now, realizing that we would dealing with rationed chalk, I redoubled efforts and began running twice my usual distance from checks, finding nothing. I encountered Gnome and we offered to run each others’ falses as double checks. Finally, we ran back and pack had found trail.

By this point in time, I may have, in passing, muttered under my breath about the hares doing a chicken lay. And by “muttered under my breath”, I mean “shouting”, and by “in passing”, I mean repeatedly. I remarked on how f*cked Buttler would be, even with our pack marks.

A song check near the Stabin’ Kill T station met with “Jesus Can’t Go Hashing” for stragglers, but proved to be overkill. We ran past the T station, though unbeknownst to us, Buttler had appeared 15 minutes prior and was already half way to the Beer Check from there (thank you Strava). Tired, shagged, and fagged of looking for marks, we found our way to a song check where we told the lovely residents of McConnell Park about the night workers of Canal Street. We proceeded past some adorable Muggle lap dogs who feverishly pursued any running mammal that came past them, so it became necessary to stop and pet them. I caught pack at a pineapple-laced Malibu Shot Check on Malibu Beach.

We ran the wrong way on Stabin’ Kill Ave, where a muggle enquired of the nature of our activities. I quickly blurted that we were looking for beer. The muggle then had us wait, and emerged from his house with a cooler full of Bud Light for an impromptu Beer Check! We thanked the muggle profusely and invited him to join the shenanigans, but we seemed entirely more eager to give information about our cause than he seemed interested to know. We may have started bitching to the muggle about how sh*tty the hares were.

Happy for the generosity of a stranger, we emerged in good spirits and with free stuffed animals and headed to Stabin’ Kill Park, where electronic ravens told us the (real) Beer Check was. I located the hares, Buttler, and bag car, awaiting us happily. Hares informed me that I had missed the sunset. I informed them that they had missed laying marks. Following this, several rounds of similar abuse were rained upon the hares by others in pack until hares agreed they would sh*t flour like doughboys.

Leg2: Wondrous marks!

Emerging from the Beer Check, we found an abundantly clearly floured up trail. I was worried we’d goaded the hares into an utterly sarcastic trail, though my fears were assuaged upon finding a check. I ran the falses and we found ourselves along Pattens Cove, heading north on (van) Morrissey Boulevard where once again trail suddenly vanished. We backed up to last mark and noted that trail was alive and well, and lead to a second delicious Shot Check!

A straight shot down Morrissey (though Strava says Buttler tried to get hit by a car along the way) lead to a check at JFK T station, which was solved and turned to a Turkey/Eagle split. I then followed an abundantly clearly marked trail in a mad dash around 4 corners of a mad intersection between Columbia and Dot Ave before finding On-IN at Dot Tavern.


We told the hares they really should have used more flour and chalk. I was called in for my racism and the near virgin was called in to be re-demented because when you don’t have a virgin and pizza isn’t ready, you make do with what you have. Accusations flew, I don’t remember what for or what stuck, but pizza came and all agreed that the shi*ty hares had been good sports about being shi*tty hares and that all our pain and suffering was worth it if it stopped Buttler from laying every other trail.

Monday, October 23, 2017

Northboro 7th An*l Red Dress Run

What: Northboro Red Dress Run (2017)
Where: Morse Tavern, Natick, MA
Who: There’s a rego list somewhere, maybe? If you were there, you were there, if you weren’t there, you should have been there.


After drinking entierly too much with co-workers, I woke and and convienced myself that a Red Dress in Natick would be easier than a ball buster in the city, so I got out my best red-dress and made my way to a random bar in Natick. By the time I arrived shortly after noon, a good contingent of hashers had been there since they opened at 11 and were well lubed for trale. There was more pre-lubing and waiting for people who said they’d come to arrive. It has to be stated that there were many surburban families, going to get a quick bite before, or after, fall childhood sporting events, based on their costomes, who looked at us with bewilderment, awe, and, I must say, a bit of jealousy - I’m dragging my kids around and these guys are getting day drunk in non-gender normative clothing! Eventually, after a solid 2 hours of prelubing, we walked around to the back of the bar for chalk talk.

Chalk Talk: We went over the marks we’d see, and some we wouldn’t. Nothing of note happened. We took a group picture in front of the bar.

Trial A:

Trale was a dead lay, marked from the bar and so we started running down the street before crossing in a herd; the local drivers really weren’t sure what to make of us. Trial crossed over a commuter rail station, and we all just missed the train, before heading into idlic and innocent suburbs who had no idea the chaos that was about to decend on them. We had been running up a hill for a while, and my “check-back” radar was screaming “danger!” when I saw the FRBs coming running back towards us counting down numbers. I quickly looked around, found the nearest intersection and started scouing, eventually finding a “Waterwheel” check at which pack has to wait for everyone to catch up. After that there was a bit of bad scouting/marks being hidden on proken paving stones as trial ran behind a few auto-body shops and the backs of condos before crossing through a little league game and back into the ‘burbs. Trial countined around a corner to an oddly placed check in front of a house having an ill-timed child’s birthday party, as we ran through, or past the party into the woods behind the house. We stayed on pretty well-mained trails around a lake for a while, until eventually turning back to head out of the woods, but that was a check back. The hare by now was “getting bored and wanted to drink more” so he was actively encouraging us which ways to scout so that we very quickly happened upon a bag of trash and water.

Beer check 1:
It was a bag a trash. I’m not kidding; Natty Ice, was the only provided beer. There were people doing “Unicorn” challenges, so they gamefully downed that vile libation, while others of us drank water and silently judged them, as we ourselves were being judged. There was some confusion as a group of hashers had showed up at the start roughly when we arrived at the beer check and were having some problems solving trial. Perhaps they weren’t drunk enough? Triail was easy enough for us. Eventually, after all the water (and whatever that other stuff was) had been consumed we were told to back track to the last check, then find trial from there.

Traili Phase 3:

There was some original debate as to whether or not we’d cross active train tracks, but apparently the hares didn’t want us to die, (thanks, I think?) so trial cut through a medow then headed back into the woods. The town of Natick does a good job keeping their nature trails well maintained, and the hares respected this by hiding the marks a yard or so off the trails in the woods; very respectful citizens, those hares were. Traili eventually lead us out of the woods, and we ran past a couple of shocked teens on bikes before coming a bridge of the train tracks with a song check. Thinking that it best we provide a PSA about the dangers of fucking engineers, we launched into the Engineer song as pack caught up. From there we did some more bad scouting, including running the wrong way because a passing muggle in a truck told us to. The hare, still drunk and annoyed that we weren’t, yelled at us for costing him beer-drinking time because we listened to a muggle. Traill was actually a block over, before turning and running through Natick common, which was littered with normal families playing the park. To preempt any questions about who we were, we ran to the bandstand and sang and ringing rendition of “hashers, meet the hashers.” Sadly, this PSA didn’t sedate anyone’s curiousity, as they watched in bewilderment as we ran away. Trial took a few more turns before running into someones back yard. Luckily that someone was a hare, and had beer for us.

Beer check with shots:

The group of aforementioned hashers who had missed the start by an hour were told to go to the second beer check directly, and they did so with their own (very good) burbon, which they were kind enough to share with us. There was also more natty ice, so i kept drinking water. Apparently there were heady toppers inside, but we were told we couldn’t go’s up with that? The first unicorn had completed his quest, and had inspired others to join him, so a few people started playing catchup (never a good idea) at the beer check. By the time all the beer and shots were drunk, we were all very drunk, and kinda thinking maybe we should head towards on in? The hares refused us that request and told us there was more trial to follow, and more beer to find. With the promise of non-Natty Ice beer we reluctantly left the beer check and tried to find trial.

Trial #1:

To say trial was marked would be a disservice to anyone who ever marked trial. There were small circles of blue chalk which apparently were supposed to be arrows, but were very easily confused with construction marks, or just the normal colour of the pavement. Eventually, laborously, we found enough marks to give us the idea “maybe we should run to the park with the big hill in it” which we did. The drunk hare told us to go up the hill, because that’s where the beer was. This was information enough for us, and up we climbed. There was beer there, and it wasn’t Natty Ice!

Beer Check #3/View Check:

There were beautiful sceneries of New England in the fall and people we agressively either catching up or getting more drunk. Your Humble Scribe even had a beer! We stayed until all the beers were drunk, and then tried to find trial.

Trial RDR:

In true RDR fassion, trial had devoled into a roaming shit show. There were no marks leading down from the beer check. The hare had hidden the marks (again blue dots) on the backside of trees, so those marks which we did find were leading us back up the hill. The drunk hare pointed and said “Run that way! My marks resume once we get to the road!” I’ve never been more thankful to see JTF marks. Trial was pavement pounding for a quick minute, before crossing a baseball field and diving back into the woods again, through a challenge course behind a hospital. A tit check and a song check later, we were running down the hill and approaching the OnIn from the back side.


Was behind the bar. No it wasn’t. Someone in a bar-side condo yelled at us that it was her babies nap time so we moved into a field behind a retirement home. Too Short To Tuck led us in a rousing rendition of “And the Hares” then vistors - there were a lot of them - were called in. The visitors from Phenoix sang an amazing song which I forget. The virgins were called in and demented by, I think, Bend Over Mommy? They were confused (weren’t we all) but we’ll take them anyway. Blood on trial and hash crashes were called next, then general accusations. We quickly ran out of beer, and were told that there was more free beer at the bar, so we swang low and went back into mingle with suburbia.

On - RDR - On

The charity (over $700) for this RDR were the Samaritans, (, who work to prevent suicide. The hash was in memory of Reverend Blow Hole.

Thursday, September 7, 2017

Nadia Virgin Lay Trash

What: Just Nadia’s Virgin Lay
Where: Vito’s Tavern, North End, Boston
Hares: Just Nadia, Not Dead Yet
Bag car: Luva Lamp
Barry Man Below, Wondering Whore, Black Cock Down, Udder Whore, Dribbles, The Butler Hit It, Wikipedophilia, Senior Sodomizing Slut, Honorable Vaginal Discharge, Sex The Final Frontier, Fellowship of the Cockring, Shart of Darkness, other people I forget

I arrived early and added their bathroom to the list of “place which aren’t bad to change in” - not all bar bathrooms make for easy changing, and had a nice pretrial conversation with the racist Yellow Dick Gnome and Plus 2 Coonass, who were joining us for pretrial wine before packing to go run a marathon...shame! Pack filtered in, and I would have expected a larger crowd for a down-town trial, but maybe it was the weather, which was fine at the start. The bar was none to pleased with having a dozen people hanging out around the bar, and I doubt would have tolerated our numbers if we were any more than double that. Eventually the hares showed up and were shooed out and pack left, getting tired of the RA bragging about how great the weather was going to be.

Chalk talk-

Was held in a parking lot/alley type place in front of the North End, there were no virgins (and limited pack chalk) so it was mainly for visitors.

Trial “What does ‘Near’ mean?”:

Trial started out running up through the north end, and turning quickly right to a song check in front of the Chatuaex 2: The Electric Boogalouex, and we sang the the residents therein a song about a maiden who wore woolens in the winter, and silk in the fall, but sometimes when it’s really hot she wore nothing at all...From there trial hit a strangely successful hash sitapeed in front of a famous pizza place before running up hill to a tit check. I did some bad zenning, ran down the hill then looped around to find pack by the north end skating rink. Pack was running full speed, having hit a Beer Near near the rink, but there was no beer, anywhere, near. We ran under the bridge to Charlestown to a tit check. I followed a two and out up the bridge and watched pack run over the locks before coming into the beer check from the other side.

Beer Check “Hey look, it’s Shart!”

Shart showed up at the beer check and told us about how she got all her coworkers drunk tasting shitty beer. Surprisingly, they couldn’t tell the difference because they all taste like shit. Our beer also was shitty, so she kept on dranking. The hares quietly scampered off and we followed them.

Trial “Well, maybe this won’t be so bad”:

There was a song check at the base of the footbridge over the train tracks to lechmere, then trial went over the bridge to a shot check (fireball and apple juice) in the park/playground where we beer miled for marathon. Trial left the park, ran behind the Museum of Science (with 2 sets of 2 and outs back to Boston), to another beer near over the canal and a beer check in the park behind the MoS on the Cambridge side of the river.

Beer check #2...maybe onin?

The hares had said it was a short trial - most of pack had run less than three miles  - with one beer check, so we kinda thought maybe onin? But now, it was just a beer check, but we were told the end was near, and since it was beginning the mist heavily, the hares took off.

Trial “Yeah, no we were no where near the OnIn”:

It came out later that trial had only been scouted to the second beer check The onin was back in the North End, in the park overlooking the harbor and the aforementioned ice rink. The hares had run out of chalk - pack found a couple of large pieces by the shot check - and forgot to buy flour. What proceeded from the beer check to the onin is every hashers favourite game; agressive scouting, in which park runs mark to mark (block to block) and fans out and scouts each mark, since most of the checks, and half of the marks had been washed away. At some point, after crossing the Longfellow, the hares started to mark on the sides of buildings which was better, but not ideal. It took us quite a while, about an hour in windy mist - to finally find trial to the onin. I’m gonna be honest; i love shitty, washed out trails! I hate them so much when I’m on trial, but the accomplishment is so cool! Eventually we found overlaid marks through the north end and a beer near up a hill to bag car.

Circle (or, oh, right, now the rain stops):

The rain stopped and it got cold just as everyone had stopped running and was soaking wet. Since the pizzas were already there, pack ate before we circled. We tried to keep the volume down - it wasn’t a true whisper circle, but my throat doesn’t hurt. We called in the hare and made sure that they knew that they should’ve used more flour and chalk. The hares then tried to sing us “Assoldier I will be” but just started yelling “For cunt! For cunt!” We corrected them, then sang them of their stupidity. The FBI - Udder Whore - and FRB - The Other Whore - were called in and we sang to their crimes, then the DFL - Shart - was called in and we wondered if she was lonesome. Given the lack of virgins, visitors were called in next; and Barry sang us an amazing song about the Kennedys...I need to get the lyrics. Circle was then opened up to accusations, and the hares were called in from losing chalk on trial. Then everyone who left the shot check early was called in and Barry again treated us to verses of “Face Down” no one knew. Somehow that turned into Barry telling a story about the first, and best, Boston trial he’d ever been on, and I will do my best to retell it here:

The Background is that two hashers were getting married, but didn’t want all the hashers at their wedding, but you know, still wanted to party with them, so they arranged for a trial to be laid with a beer check (open bar) at their reception. Great idea, right? So the hash made their way up to Nahanet (pinkies out, bitches) for trial. On their way to the start, they drove by the Nahhanet Country Club and saw a very obvious wedding party gathering, churtle, churtle, this is going to be fun! Trial starts and it immediately dives into chest-deep rotting sea-water marsh, which the hash slogs through. There’s a check at the bottom of the hill, with clear marks leading up to the main kitchen building of the country club, sweat, it’s time! Thinks the hash as they charge up the hill - covered in mud and seaweed and reeking swamp death rot - and they burst right into the main reception hall just as the bride and groom are cutting the cake! Perfect timing! Except no. They misread the X at the door the kitchens as a check, when it was a FALSE TRIAL. This was the wrong wedding! Everyone turned to this group of mudy runner-looking people in the middle of their black-tie wedding. The groom asked “Um, can we help you?” And the hash beat a hasty retreat back down to the swamp to find trial leading to the Nahant Yatch Club! Therein they found the correct wedding party, had all the open bar drinks and sang with the bride, groom, brides family, grooms family, and everyone had a great time.

Dribbles - while not admitting to be on trial - did admit to this having happened under her GMship, so when one ex-GM drinks, we all drink! From there no other accusations could really hold up, so we swang low.

On - the weather was fine for the part of trial they scouted - On

Saturday 9/9: Beaver AGM -> I think the details are in the FB group
Wednesday 9/13: Yankee trial in Dorchester. Details will be announced soon; start and end will be near the JFK stop on the Redline.
Friday 9/22-24: Boston Ballbuster Hardcore Hash House Harriers Trust me! Details are on the calendar at (click the calendar link on the top menu bar)
Saturday 9/30: Boston H3 AGM -> Our an*l leadership change-over party! Congratulate the old Mismanagment by getting them black out drunk and keep the new mismanagement black out so they don’t remember what they sign up for!
Sunday 10/1: TRIALS SWITCH TO SUNDAY, and it’s the Fat Boy trial hared by your new GMs!

Thursday, August 31, 2017

Summer BBQ Hash

What: Summer BBQ Hash
Where: Tasty Burger
Who: Show Me the Penis, Clit Notes
(Bag car: Goat Throat)

Pack: There sure were a lot of you. Fellowship took attendance, but here’s what I have from memory: Nercopheliac Jack, Vagabond, Plus 2 Coonass, Yellow Dick Gnome, CPA, Goes Down on Bouys, The Butler Hit It, Black cock down, Beat By a Girl, Rammerhead Shark, her virgin, Wikipedophilia, Bottom Wrangler, No Man on the Moon, Honorable Vaginal Discharge, Luva Lamp, Mudslut, Anal Apologist, Foreskin Abortion, Swedish Eagle, Five In Penalty, 3 Ring Cervix, Pat My Fly, Dribbles, lots of other people, but let's get to the hash...


People got to the bar early, and by 6:30 we had pretty much taken over the area in front of the bar in the Tasty Basement. The RAs briefly considered doing a PBR race to see who would lead circle, but decided to tag-team it instead. Butler was walking around with a bag of visibility green cookies offering his rage-enhancing baked goods to the masses. I will say they were, um, pungent, and kinda numbed the lips...anyway...luckily I had set a timer so after the hares had been gay for 6.9minutes, bag car was called and we left Tasty Burger

Trial to Bag Car:

Was up a rather long set of 4 flights of stairs. We did introductions and shared our favourite BBQd meat. Trial would be short, we were told, with jello shots - at which point a jello shot was lobbed at the RA - and a beer check. Understanding our mission - rage first, maybe run a bit - we ran down the stairs back to the bar for the start of trial.

Trial Memphis:

The problem with “knowing” where trial goes, is that trial almost never “goes” the way you “think” it will. Trial ran down Mt. Auburn street for a block, then turned up and ran across Mass Ave and into Harvard Yard. There was a hash sitepead - which was captured on film - and a song check “young girls” which caused a passing student (in a poloshirt), to comment to the girl he was walking with “Ugh, that’s so vile.” Not wanting to disturb the sensibilities of the Harvard crowd any more, we ran behind the science and math buildings to a long  song check at the law school, about the various professions our significant others might wish to pursue. Trial was marked through a sunken quad with a volley ball net to a YBF in front of YHS (your humble scribe’s) apartment. I blew through the YBF, grabbed 4 heady toppers from my fridge than ran back and rejoined trial in front of the Sheraton Command/Nubar on the other side of Cambridge Common. Trial continued us on our tour of Harvard, this time going through the divinity school. There was some confusion as to if we were heading for Longfellow Park or Hemingway Park (it was Longfellow), and we ran past a BN, past bag car, past the statue, across the field, then into the slightly sketcher field on the other side of the road for the beer check.

Beer check KC:

There was no Kansas City beer, but there was Naragansett and Jello shots. Lots of Jello shots, some of which didn’t taste horrible. We stayed there probably for way too long, drank all the beer, and eventually decided perhaps we should chase the hares to see where this trail would lead us.

Trial South Carolina:

Guessing that trial went south, everyone scouted towards Mt Auburn hospital from the check, but there were no marks that way. Instead trial ran about a 2 block detour through some public housing developments before linking back up Memorial Drive about 50 yards down the road from the beer check. Pack had caught up with the walker so must of us just sauntered to the OnIn, though maybe a dozen people broke off and followed trial to more shots.


As soon as pack got to the ONIN, the grill was fired up and Spunk, Butler and 3 Ring, I think, started cooking for all of us (thank you!). There was some standing around indecision until it was announced that there was an open tab for us inside the bar. I took this knowledge, went inside, got myself a beer, then started walking around telling people how to get their well-earned beer. Pack generally milled around for a while as the food was cooked and beers were drunk. After everyone had been feed and beered, the RAs move off the patio onto the lawn and sang the siren song of “Hares of her Dicky-dino” to get the pack to circle:


After taking a fearfully long time to assemble - or maybe not, i was 2 cookies, multiple jello shots and a few beers in a that point - pack eventually formed up and the hares sat in the middle. We went around asking for comments; generally not enough check backs, too many smaht khids and not enough jello shots. The RAs decided that the hares should’ve used more flour and chalk, and we expressed these wishes, joined by the pack, to the hares in song. The hares then responded that their cocks would choke us. We threw them out of circle and called the FRB/FBI (five inch and orgasmn) in and song to them. Butler was called in for being DFL, and we asked, in perfect 36 part harmony, if he was lonesome on trial. At this point the rest of pack was having a good time, but there was one person who looked extremely confused, so we called the virgin into circle and welcomed the return of PoPo Peep Show as Dementress! It was as glorious as it ever was, and while the virgin did not turn out to be acceptable, we’ll take her anyway. We then called in back sliders, because there were a lot, and inquired as to their locations over the last few months. Backsliders were thrown out and we opened up circle to accusations. People who blew through the YBF to get good beer were called in, as was anyone who ate a butler cookie. YHS and Butler were then accused of turning a Phish song into a hash song and we had to drink. Then Jello-shot H3 was called in (for the first of many times) and they did something, drank, then left. Show Me the Penis was then called in for leaving, and after a rousing rendition of “Fuck off” she drank from the Wooden Shoe, and got out of circle. I believe that Jello-Shot H3 came in again for more shenanigans, and we started to wrap up accusations with birthdays, and it’s Show Me’s birthday, and when one ex-gm drinks, we all drink! More shenanigans until it was time for announcements, see below. It was getting late and we were all drunk, so we swang low.

On - BBQ - On

There are (still) open position in MISMANAGMENT for next year, including SCRIBE! If you have an interest in story telling (real or not) then contact me or the GMs and we'll get you set up for next year.

Wednesday 9/6 -> (Next Wednesday) WE NEED HARES (at least at the time of the writing of this trash) contact Dry Hose, or Udder Whore

Wednesday 9/15 -> A YANKEE trial!

Saturday 9/16: New York City Red Dress -> Run around Manhattan in a Red Dress:

Friday 9/22 -> Sunday 9/24: Ball Buster Hardcore Hash House Harriers Trust Me v3.69: Register in the FB group, or from the link in the e-mail to the runs list! There’s limited space, but there are still some open slots!
(Or reply to this e-mail/post and I’ll send you the rego info)

Saturday 9/30: Boston H3 AGM

Sometime in October: Moon AGM

Sometime in November: Sadie Hawkins

Sometime in December: Holiday Party

Sometime in January: Robbie Burns

Sometime in Feburary: Moon Away

Sometime in March: Burlington Mardi Gras, Philly Green Dress

Thrird Weekend in April: Boston Marathon 2018

May: SFH3 Bay To Blackout!
June: Something
July: Burlington Invihash!
August: Boston Hash BBQ!