Not my circus, not my monkeys trash

What: Not my monkeys, not my cricus trial

Where: Ashmount Grill

Who: Gluteness Maximus, Broke Back Baby*, Just someone

Pack:

Pop Cum Ear, I’m Infective, Pat My Fly, Dirbbles, Spunk in the Trunk, Sketchy Ho, Quater Mile Queer, The Butler Hit It, Orgasm Falmon, Not Dead Yet, Blubber Fucker, a transplant from San Jose, his two virgins, others I forget.

Prelube-

Fearing that the redline to ashmount might be a rather long journey - one that your humble scribe (YHS), has never undertaken before, I left work at 5ish, and headed due south. After some unsurprising redline delays, I got to the bar just before six and ordered a beer to pass the time while I waited for pack. Pop cum ear came next and assulted their wishkey selection. Blubber fucker showed - shocked as he was to see us we were to see him and we started drinking reminesing about shitty trails of yore. The rest of pack slowly arrive, and by the time the hares were gay it was well after 7, so bag car was called directly and we shuffled out of the bar questioning why we ever decided to hash in Ashmount.

Trial Bialystock-

After explaining all the marks to the transplants and virgins - apparently San Jose uses flour so the marks are either three dots, or one - we took off in search of trial, which clearly went up hill towards Quincy. There was some discussion of the direction trial would go - Quincy, Milton or Dorchester - and this seemed to solve it. We ran down a few streets in a roughly zig-zag way (always going up hill, of course), until we got to the first fish hook. There was some confusion as to how and when the shots were to be drunk, so could the next hare who uses this mark please tell the RA more than “there will be fishhooks” - anyway, the first 3 FRBs downed some nips of shitty vodka and ran to the back of pack. The next block had an SN (hidden) and then two marks straight. I guess technically SN is a check, but we were drunk and didn’t scout very well as there was a true trial pointing to play ground literally on the other side of the street, in which we found the hares and 3 bottles of glutenlesses’ standard “apple juice and vodka” cocktails. We told the hares to GTFO and passed around those vial bottles while discussing hash events past and future.

Trial Gdansk (did it used to be called something else?)

Trial from the shot check ran across a rather busy 4-lane road which, thanks to CEPs observation, featured working pedestrian crossing lights. Protected by the red lights and under the watchful gaze of the white watch man, we ran across the street then up a hill. There was a check and we ran up another hill. Shockingly we then ran down a hill past a bunch of school kids on bikes who were confused as to what we were doing until we told them it was a scavenger hunt. Not wanting to be pick up for child abuse, we quickly ran away and into a park by the river. There was the most obvious check back mark in history on the entrance to the Neopononsett bike path, so quater mile and i decided (at Blubbers suggestion) to scout the other side of the bridge before heading down the path, and to our luck, we found marks. I crossed the street to behind technically ahead of him when I hit a fishhook 1. I downed the shot and turned and hoped to see pack crossing the bridge from the check back. I saw no such thing, so Quater mile cared on as I ran back across the bridge, then down the bike path to where I started to encounter pack coming back from the check back, so I turned around a followed them only to be greeted by Quater mile who had found another fishook 1 and ran back to keep me company. Trial then passed under 93 and dove into the shiggy hugging the edge of the Presidents golf course before emerging for a brief jaunt through suburbia before heading back into some light shiggy at the southern end of the neoponsett river marshes. Thank G there was a beer check.

Beer check Katowiceo:

There was beer and orange food in the woods. The hares were informed how packs opinion on trial, then ran away. Ten minutes later, we chased them.

Trial Rzeszow:

Trial actually did not go uphill from the beer check, though I did scout it. Trial ran through some back roads and over a mound before crossing through a whole streach of parking lots. The night time parking lot guards were none too happy with a couple dozen people running through their ... pristinely manicured fields of asphalt? I really have no idea what their deal was. They enthusiastically told us that if something happened to us they’d be liable and that they would call the cops if we didn’t leave. We told them we were trying to but didn’t know where to go. This confused them even more - life must be simple if your job is to guard a parking lot from runners - anyway, eventually trial was called on and we left the guards alone with deep and meaningful questions about life and their position in it. Trial continued down the back road behind North Quincy station, best that weird Best Western to OnIn under the Neoponsett river bridge.

CIRCLE:

Food was provided - cold cut sandwhiches with pickles - so it was handed out before circle. Once everyone had inhaled their rolls of most bread and some meat and beers were handed out, circle was started and the hares were called in. People need to learn more versuses to all songs, including, but not limited to, Hares of Her Dickey-di-do. We sing it every week. It’s not that hard. Anyway, pack was asked for their comments on trial - too many fishhooks, what’s shiggy on a boston trial, and too many death marches - were the common theme. Summed up, we told the hares that they should have used more flour and chalk, then asked them to try to repair our opinion of them by singing for us. They launched into el camino, and after everyone (not just me!) butchered their verse, we ended it, thanked them for setting trial and kicked them out of circle. The FRB and FBI were called in - Not Dead Yet and maybe Quater mile? I forget, we told them they weren’t 5, 4, 3, 2 or 1, and then made them drink. We then called in DFL and FALMON proudly declared it was her! Butler joined her for support and we tried to inquire via song if they were lonesome, but I’m pretty sure I messed up that song too. Blubber Fucker was then accused of being Blubber Fucker and was made to drink. We then called in the transplant, welcoming him with a brotherly song then he sang to us about this prodigious foreskins. Looking around circle there were two very confused women watching the proceedings, so we called in the virgins and handed them over to the capable hands of “Drunk Spunk” to dement them. They were revealed to be helpful virgins - they’d help their uncle jack off a roof, and get off on a bus of lesbians. I didn’t know their favourite cartoons, so I can’t comment, but they weren’t very good at math and their metaphorical skills were lack, but it’s okay. We showed them how to do a down-down and accepted them into our midsts. Important business being over, circle was opened to accusations, and, I’m not gonna lie, I’d been drinking and this is where my memory gets fuzzy. There were accusations for racist attire, people who hit fishhooks, people who ran the checkbacks, people who got stopped by parking-lot cops, and bald hashers. The ex-gms all drank, as did ex-ras. Yeah, things got fuzzy. See below for announcements, and we did an inverted swing low - last verse, second verse, first verse. This was totally planned and not at all the RAs mistake.

On - Poland, I guess? - On

-Wikipedophilia

Announcements:

Wednesday 8/30 -> HASH BBQ Trial! Start is Tasty Burger in Harvard Square.

Friday 9/1-9/3 -> Harbour Islands campout! I think there’s an event somewhere? Take the ferry out Friday night or Saturday morning and show up for trial. Stay home in the city, or camp on the islands! It’s up to you!

September 22-24: Ball Buster Hard Core Hash House Harriers Trust Me #3 -> Rego will go up next week! Stay tuned!