Leftover Trash

What: The Leftovers Hash

Hares: Shits n Ladders and Testicular Mechanics

Bag Car: Twat My Mom

Pack: Fellowship of the Cock Ring, Luva Lamp, Yellow Dick Gnome, Lumberjackoff, a Just, two visitors AND THAT WAS IT

Pre-lube: 

I got to Summer Shack after the very prompt hares had already left, so I immediately called 6.9 minutes to get this shit show on the road. I didn't recognize half the pack, which seemed worrisome. Two r*cist hares and a pack that's nearly half visitors/justs? WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG??

What went wrong aka I swear I scouted that way already:

After the finest chalk talk I've ever given, we started looking for trail, which immediately went through Alewife station. We wandered through some parks and around the ugly high-rise apartments, along Alewife Brook Parkway to a count back that took us down to a parking lot and then towards a maze of old industrial buildings and abandoned parking lots. We came across a hash sitapede that I decided to ignore. From there, there were about as many marks as there were hashers in pack, which is to say not many. We ran in circles for a while until Luva decided to zen towards where there was a possible beer check location. Low and behold, the hares were there, freezing their asses off. It's the least they could suffer for what they put us through.

BC1: 

Some park next to a small pond. We drank beer. It was nice. Hares laid a giant check right in front of us as they left. Why?? We can see which way they went!

Marks, glorious marks!

Turns out, our tricksy hares had pre-laid trail going a different way then they left. So clever, but not more clever than our visitor, who immediately figured out their game and led us in the correct direction. The hares took our admonishment to "be more generous with marks" to heart, but we still managed to miss a check and started trespassing in some dude's back yard, trying to find a way through his fence. He kindly did not call the cops on us, and we found the actual trail, eventually ending up at a shot check with some vaguely cucumber-flavored hatorade. We drank it down and continued on our way right back to the parking lots we had been lost in on the first leg of trail. I got separated from pack, but Fellowship rescued me. Turns out I didn't miss much, because they were doing laps around a Burger King. Trail led to Fresh Pond and a second hatorade check, this one an uninviting shade of yellow-brown. We drank that one too, and ran on until we found beer check 2.

BC2:

Park. Beer. Darkness.

It's a hare snare if I say it's a hare snare:

Trail went on to Danehy Park, aka the park built on top of an old land fill. I kept finding trail and feeling pretty good about myself when I came across the hares. Turns out, they ran out of flour tantalizingly close to where we'd be back on pavement, but were kind enough to wait for pack so they could direct us which way to go. I still count that as a hare snare. I waited for pack to catch up with me, which took FOREVER because apparently everyone decided now was the time for a leisurely stroll in the park. Why? THERE'S BEER AT THE END, PEOPLE! 

On-in:

We ended at everyone's favorite shitty west Cambridge dive bar, Paddy's Lunch. There were accusations, including visitors, transplants, hare snares, and some other stuff. We found out why everyone was a Leftover, which mostly came down to being too cheap to go skiing or go to Chicago. Shits decided to sing a verse song every time I called on him for a note, which apparently he does to torment me. After circle was over, the visitor convinced some of us to hang out after circle since her dad was watching some sporting event and wouldn't pick her up until it was done. We continued drinking more than was strictly necessary for a Sunday night.

Announcements:

1/11: Holiday party. There's a theme or something

1/12 (probably): January taco. All tacos and burritos with a bag-car token are welcome to attend. Brunch run starting and ending at Casa de Gnome

1/19: Ballbuster Lasagna-off trail

1/27: Robbie Burns trail (scotch, haggis, regrets)

Light Side/Dark Side Hash

What: Light Side/Dark Side Hash

Hares: Sex: The Final Frontier and Tinder Dick (virgin lay)

Bag car: Clits n Chips n Clits n Chips

Pack: Shits n Ladders, Fellowship of the Cock Ring, Knuckles Deep, Falmon, Po-po Peepshow, Quarter Mile Queer, Bottom Wrangler, Just Mihaela, Waxxx Off

Pack arrived at the start epitomizing the theme of the trail. I was feeling tired from my l*ng r*n earlier that morning, and most everyone else was feeling hung over from Hong Kongukah and other assorted festivities. We were a sad and bedraggled crew.

Leg 1: The light side, I guess

Perhaps sensing our distress, the hares laid a very short first leg of trail, though we still managed to fuck it up (by doubting Famine's zenning skills). We went down some side streets, across a literal sheet of ice, and up a hill, finding ourselves at the first beer check at the top of Summit Hill (an important ceremonial location for the r*cist group that calls itself "November Project," I am told).

Leg 2: It's dark from here on out

After that first beer check, it was No More Mr. Nice Hares. Trail went down one side of Summit to CB22, with a couple shot checks laid along the way - we amassed some haterade and some jello slices. We somehow managed to miscount and get ourselves confused again, but eventually figured out that trail went down the other side of Summit, where we found another two or three shot checks, each with a couple bottles of shots plus some nips. I am not exaggerating when I say we had more full-size shots than the number of people on pack. We did not drink them all, instead agreeing to save some for the hares when and if we ever got to the end.

We crossed Comm Ave (right past the apartment where I lived when I started hashing! awwww, memories), straggled on over further into Allston (holding our breath for news of an on-in at the Sil - but alas, it was not to be), and got to beer check #2, which was at some little playground in Allston.

Leg 3: The very dark (and cold) side

It was getting dark and very cold. Memorable moments of this leg of trail included:

- getting in a verbal altercation with some dude in a car (he was totally the asshole, btw)

- running through Harvard Stadium, another location with religious significance to the peoples of the November Project group

- whining a lot about the cold

ON-IN

...was somewhere just outside Harvard Stadium, where Harvard security drove by us about a million times but apparently decided anyone stupid enough to be out in the dark and the cold was probably too stupid to do any harm to the property.

We had been warned that circle would be outdoors but, in true hashmanlike fashion, were still inadequately prepared. We did some lackluster accusations -- including making the hares drink some of their shots, of which we still had like six. However, we quickly gave up and disbanded circle before the pizza arrived in a poorly conceived effort to find an indoor place with beer. Naturally, we apparently hadn't checked where bag car was before doing so, and she pulled up with pizza just as we left. We stuffed our faces with some pizza, ducked into a Starbucks to warm up, and then the stupidest among us headed toward the Hong Kong for the final night of """"gentle rage.""""

Announcements

12/13 (maybe) - PT2H3, hared by Disco

12/14-16 - Antibuffett/Anthrax!

12/16 - Leftovers hash

xoxo,

Shart

Basic Trail

What: The Basic Trail

Who: WIkipediaphilia, Udder Whore, and Virgin (Just?) JJ.

Bag car: No Man

Pack: Sex: The Final Frontier. Orgasm Falmon, Sketchy Ho, 5 Inch Penalty, Dribbles, Sketchy Ho, Pop Cum Ear I'm Infected, The Buttler Hit It, Goat Throat (Kind of but not), Yellow Dick Gnome, Shits 'N Ladders, Shart of Darkness, Po Po Peepshow, Whore's Box, Testicular Mechanics, Oboener, Luva Lamp, Sketchy Ho.

Leg #1: Noticing that we had no unnamed hashers on trail, Gnome elected to forego chalk talk and we simply looked for trail. After spiralling around Harvard Square, we did stumble our way to Song Check directly in front of a Harvard security guard. I waited around for pack and the guard asked me if *we* had put the sign of an S with a circle on it in this colored flour as a means to show that something started there.

"Um... no. We definitely did not ....[under breath] start here."

Gnome lead in a rousing verse of "Them them f*ck them", as appropriate.

A few of us went into a lot behind an apartment complex for a Sitapeed before veto-ing and figuring most of pack had skipped it, knowing the lot's only exit and hashing smarter not harder. We found Wiki and his four-legged far more intelligent and less likely to fuck up a song co-hare holding a delicious pumpkin spiced basic latte for us, before begging for more time because apparently his Clydesdale of a dog isn't very fast.

We c*m upon BC1 in Sacramento Field.

Leg #2: We leaped away and through a playground and followed trail to Corcoran Field for BC2. There was a lovely display in which Wiki pranced through the field with Virgin Cohare. Wiki warned us: (1) trail would be approx. 6.9 more miles and (2) there was a shot check to be had, so as to deter us from zenning to Paddy's Lunch.

As pack craniumed out, some, figuring the hare for a liar, ignore the SC prognostication and zenned straight. The sturdy and valiant true among us ran trail only to be punished for our efforts with a CBX, with legibility falling into such question as to make this an underdetermined algebraic system. After much thoughtful discussion, pack decided it was definitely either CB2, CB3, CB5, or CBb and trying all such variations until trail was solved. (Hare later revealed CB6 was intended.) We located the aforepromised shot that Sav-Mor liquors would call "pumpkin shit" before proceeding to Paddy's.

Circle: Hares were called in for being shitty hares. The virgin hare received much passive aggressive abuse from the hash in choice of song lyrics. Backsliders, overachievers, and hares were called in, and hares were called in again. We swung low and had pizza that we all agreed was as good as the trail was bad.

A very spoopy Halloweekend hash

What: A very spoopy Halloweekend hash

Hares: Buttler and ghost

Bag car: Also ghost

Pack: Sex: The Final Frontier, Shits and Ladders, O'Boner, Just Django, Cuntcussion, Fellowship of the Cock Ring, PoPo Peepshow, Bottom Wrangler, Testicular Mechanics, Waxxx Off, Whores Box, Friar Fuck, Just Joshua, and a surprise appearance by Not Dead Yet

Start

I got to Davis late and immediately crossed paths with Buttler, who was gimping around the street with his cane, laying marks. I believe this to be a new record for the earliest Buttler has been gay at one of his own trails. All I'm saying is, the fact that he has to use a cane isn't all bad.

When I got to Sligo, I was immediately greeted by the sight of STFF in full r*cist regalia from the race he'd run that morning, including a bib and finisher's medal. He told me that Whore's Box -- who had also run the race that morning -- had suggested that they wear their hardware to the hash; however, it turned out to be a long con, as she showed up in normal non-r*cist attire.

Before long, we finished our beers and headed to chalk talk in a parking lot near Sligo -- a location that was about to become intimately familiar to us. We shared our names and our ideas for the spookiest hash (answers I remember: being on a Wiki trail, being on a trail with Bottom Wrangler, a trail that doesn't cure your hangover, being put on the spot in chalk talk and not having an answer ready). Shits also told us that Buttler had warmed him that there would be an unusual mark, but Shits couldn't remember what the mark actually was or how it worked. Awesome! Well prepared as always, we began trail.

We did the monster mash

Trail looped through Davis and back around the block, ending up with us almost exactly where we had started, but with the addition of a big bag of wine right across the street from the Discodome. We yelled in the general direction of Disco's window until she came out to join us, carrying a mug of tea. I swear I don't even know who she is any more.

Given the small size of pack and the large size of the baggo, our progress was very slow. Eventually the parents in the playground immediately next to us started giving us side-eye, so we thought it best to move on. We stashed the rest of the baggo in bag car -- which hadn't moved -- and then followed the true trail mark across the street. 

We ran through the side streets around Davis, admiring the houses that had actually put effort into their Halloween decorations, when we happened upon a slightly drunk Not Dead Yet taking clean laundry out of her car! She was wearing flats and had been planning on getting food to offset her drunkenness, but we were able to talk her out of that practical decision almost immediately, and she joined us on trail.

We continued meandering through the streets, stopping for a view check in front of what used to be the house Easy had lived in, though now it's just a big hole in the ground. There was a smart/stupid that directed us underground through the Davis station or aboveground through the square; after a quick journey on to the bikeway, we took a couple rights and suddenly found ourselves back in the parking lot where we had started for the first beer check.

It was a graveyard smash

We again yelled for Disco and, again, she came out and joined us. We drank cold beer and speculated about whether all of the beer checks on trail would be in the same parking lot. Buttler hobbled off again, and we speculated on whether we would be doing him a favor if we snared him and then took over laying trail for him.

After we did damage to the beer and the giant baggo, we craniumed out on a scenic tour through Somerville, including a view check for the largest tree in Somerville ("big wood," as someone so cleverly quipped).

Trail took us back to the Alewife bikeway, where we found the mark that Shits had forgotten to explain to us: an eagle/false split. The bikeway was fenced off for construction, and eagle trail continued over the fence and beyond, speculating wonder as to how our crippled hare was able to lay it. As a less-than-proficient fence jumper, I turned around and headed back to the nearest check. We soon met up with the eagles and then with the hare, for a second beer check next to the bikeway in a construction zone.

At the beer check, we proceeded to make the dumbest possible decisions; after several harriettes (YHS included) squeezed through a gap in the chained fence to find a corner to pee in, O'Boner marched up to the fence and showed us that the chain was not actually fastened to anything, and that the gate could be readily opened. Some other smartass pointed out that there was a port-a-potty just down the street. But as Wiki will tell you, I never pee in a port-a-potty when there's a dumpster nearby, so #noragrets.

It caught on in a flash

We were completely clueless and bewildered as to where trail could end. Just kidding; it went to the Buttler pad. 

On-in

We circled in Buttler's backyard/Django's bathroom, trying not to wonder too much about whether *all* of the brown stuff getting on our shoes was just mud. We fucked up several songs and changed some songs to other songs halfway through. We accused the r*cists in our midst of being r*cist, gave an honor down-down to NDY for joining us mid-trail, accused everyone who's ever had a boner (or a lady-boner) at trail (I am not sure why, but it made sense at the time), accused anyone who didn't wear a costume to a Halloweekend trail, and other stuff that I forget. We attempted to put the baggo out of its misery but, despite a lot of heavy lifting by Shits, were not successful.

Then, after failed attempts to cut hash religion short, we adjourned to go inside the house, where we watched pizza porn (why? I don't know!) and Buttler made us steak tips and potatoes. All in all, it was a successful hash.

xoxo,

Shart

*8 bit trail hash trash*

*8 bit trail hash trash*

Prelube was at Versus bar,  ostensibly an arcade-bar operation. I wouldn't know for sure as I plopped myself down at the "bar" part which presented itself immediately upon entrance, and never saw any arcade games. I had some beer and ate some fried Mac and cheese bites while I waited for trail to start.

We circled up and did chalk talk.

 

Hares: Quarter mile Queer, Bottom Wrangler. Bagcar: The Buttler Hit It. Pack: 

Shits & Ladders, Body in Lotion, Popo Peepshow, Stick it to the Brothers, Mr Bean, Just Wes, Willy Wonka and the Backdoor Factory, Testicular Mechanics, Dry Hoes, Just John, Just Josh, Sex The Final Frontier, Fellowship of the Cockring, Virgin Caroline, 2 other virgins who would ultimately not complete trail (RIP), others maybe

Leg 1:To start, trail cut across the Boston Common to Beacon Street.. We hit a checkback at Beacon and Charles Street before heading up into the Beacon Hill area. Trail eventually came out to the river and we ran North til we got to the first beer check at Lederman Park.

BC1: One of the virgins, let's call her virgin Caroline because that's her name, informed us that barnacles have the greatest penis to body size ratio in the animal kingdom. Er smallest ratio? I'm not a math scientist. The one that means they have huge dicks for their body size anyway (Cum-Ear - can you confirm if true?). Sex the Final Frontier quipped that it was not the barnacle, but in fact himself that had the best ratio. It was postulated that on in would be Courtside, but the cagey hares would neither confirm nor deny this. It was cold and windy by the river. The hares eventually left.

Leg 2:

We crossed the river by the Museum of Science, and soon there was a turkey-eagle split, which lasted for a while. The larger group (eagles) began wondering if trail had rejoined itself yet. We finally found a rejoining mark and saw the turkeys in front of us. Shortly therafter, Sex the Final Frontier snared the hares, details as follows: "I followed turkey trail, saw the hares kitty-cornered, yelled "ON HARES".  QMQ took off and Wrangler attempted to eevade[sic] me wiht[sic] a hastily drawn tit check that looked more like a Venn diagram showing 2 boobs intersecting." Wow. A thrilling account. Incredible. We stopped and sang for a while while we waited for the hares to put some distance between themselves and pack. We all apparently used to work in retail in a city in the Midwest. (actually I didn't, but I wanted to fit in so I pretended like I did for the song. like 98% sure the rest of these people know each other from someplace they used to work before all getting fired for various reasons though, most of them lewd). We started running and before long were at 

Beer check 2, Donnelly field in East Cambridge. We watched Buttler drive up and down the street for a bit, then he parked and we drank the PBR from his car.

Dry Hose encouraged pack to put on their beer jackets by drinking more, since he had learned somehow that on-in would be outside. There was much disappointment at not going to Courtside. Some of us briefly considering mutinee-ing and going there anyway, but cooler heads prevailed. We talked about how alcohol makes you feel warmer while actually bringing your core temperature down, but how it probably wasn't cold enough for anyone to actually get hypothermia. It was decided that drinking more was indeed the safest/best course of action.

Leg 3:

The next leg of trail was fairly uneventful, or not, I don't know I was in the back walking and drinking a beer I had tucked into my sleeve. Pack stayed comfortably within range while Dry Hose and I walked and drank and saw silly front runners get fish hooked back to the back of pack. We headed South past Mass Ave.

On in

was Fort Point park. We hung around for a little waiting for bagcar, or something. I attempted to mount one of the cannons in the park to sit on it and overlook the park, but fell off the side. Luckily no one saw. I then re-mounted it better. Pizza got there and we began a long pizza and beer filled circle. Comments included that it was the ok-est trail of the year, and that the hares had achieved a rare 5 out of 7 trail.  We called in FRB (STFF), FBI (Popo), backsliders (Stick it to the Brothers). Accusations included the hares for getting snared, and Wonka for moving back to Boston. We accused those who didn't wear enough clothes to the cold trail. We honor down-downed Virgin Caroline for not dying or leaving during trail, like the other 2 virgins we had started with. We accused Stick it to the Brothers of not hashing since the Nixon administration. We accused Testicular Mechanics of actually dressing properly for trail, both in terms of warmth and theme, which are both very out of character for him. Other accusations were made. At some point we were done with both the normal and ridiculous accusations, so we moved on to the preposterous accusations. QMQ was re-j'accused of stupid stuff he did many trails ago, because why not. Buttler was honored for giving up with much grace on a song that he unsuccessfully attempted. We all agreed that a Wiki attempt to stumble through it would have gone more poorly. We eventually got to hash religion and did the "ah fuck it" version. 

We then took a road soda-ey walk over to another arcade bar around Central, where we drank more and fed the broken Mario Kart clone too many tokens that it never registered.

Fin.

-Shits

10/10 Trash

What: The 10/10 trail

When: see above

Hares: Blondie McFucksalot and Cuntcussion

Bag car: Marbleous Asshole

Pack: Bottom Wrangler, Gnome, STFF, Shits, Five Inch, Easy as 123, Vaginacologist, Sketchy, Gimp, Shits, Dribbles, Dry Hose, Topless Barbie, Testicular Mechanics, Knuckles Deep, Tinder Dick, Bodies in Lotion, Spank Me, Cummysticks, Luva Lamp, Sweagle, Chunderellie, Falmon, Goat, a visitor (who will be here for AGM too!), Just Ruth, Just Jimmy**, a couple virgins

Trail got off to a promising start when it was found that the announced start location was, in fact, closed. (Blondie swears she called the venue earlier in the week and they said they'd be open -- like that stops us from blaming the hares.) Instead, we crammed our loud, strangely dressed selves into Hopsters, where we continued the longstanding tradition of getting in the way of waitstaff and annoying other patrons.

Leg 1: A seal of approval

Eventually, we decided to GTFO and look for more beer. Trail got off to a strong start, with a long checkback toward South Station; after we ran back, we found that trail went over the bridge toward the Financial District. 

We ran along the Greenway and the Harborwalk for a while; the hares seemed to have a loose understanding of arrows and/or directions, but fortunately there are only so many directions trail could plausibly go when the ocean is on one side of you. 

There was a song check next to the seals -- we tried and failed to think of a seal-related song or a song that was even tangentially related (ocean creatures, penguins, tuxedos??). We kept going and eventually found the first beer check, which was on a pier, with the smell of Buttler (who had hobbled to to the BC) wafting through the air...

Leg 2: Who let the dogs out?!

Trail turned and went in to the North End, where we proceeded to piss off the locals in about every way imaginable. An older woman yelled at us because she was walking on the sidewalk and we kept running around her, I guess...? Seems like she was confused about the function of sidewalks.

Trail went uphill, obviously, until we found a check at the very top of the hill. We checked every direction -- or so we thought -- and finally realized that trail actually went down some stairs and through (dun dun dun) a DOG PARK.

I was not a frontrunner at this point, but from what I understand, hashers going through the dog park messed up the double-gate system somehow, and someone's dog made a run for it. Apparently STFF ultimately caught the dog before it managed to run into any intersections. By the time I arrived at the dog park, there were just a lot of angry dog owners yelling about how totally inappropriate our behavior was. (And I mean, in this case, they probably weren't wrong...)

I didn't feel like getting yelled at, so I ran around the dog park and rejoined pack. There was a shot check next to the skating rink (something with cranberry juice, I think?) and then another long checkback, this time across the bridge. Trail actually went across the locks and to a beer check at a playground in North Point Park, where thankfully there were no children for us to accidentally set loose.

Leg 3: You're the only 10 I see

We felt pretty confident about where trail was ending, and craniumed in the general direction of Courtside, where -- gasp! -- we saw familiar chalk marks outside.

On-In

We were provided with the finest of beers and began circle. Buttler, who is impressively dedicated to being Beer Bitch, limped around with pitchers to ensure no one went thirsty. We did the usual circle shit, got some visitors to sing us songs, called in backsliders, yadda yadda.

**Finally, after much deliberation, the RAs brought Just Jimmy into circle. It turns out that he's been c*ming to Boston hashes for a year and we haven't made it official yet. This makes since, given our collective fear of commitment, but we decided it was time to right that wrong. 

We asked for his most embarrassing sexual moment -- he told a story involving coitus-temporarily-interruptus in the backseat -- and somehow, we also found that he had gone to some weird sex event in New York with his girlfriend and her friend, and both the ladies had brought dildos, but not to use on themselves or each other...

We pondered several names, but when someone suggested Strap On, Strap Off, it was a clear winner. And thus, Just Jimmy is no more, and we have our newest named hasher.

Announcements

10/13 -- AGM! Show up to tell Marbles and Falmon what a shitty job they've done all year.

10/14 -- AGM Fat Boy. Put your life in the hands of the new idiots who agreed to run this thing.

10/27 -- E4B in Beverly

December -- Antibuffet! Sign up! It's a fun time.

xoxo,

Shart

Another Hash Crash (10/10 trash version 2)

Shart and I independently trashed it up.  Here's my account since you don't have to work or anything today. Some overlap, some differences, Flyby video showing Shits' bad zenning, and dog park shenanigans to be posted to the Book of Visages soon.

Oct 10, 2018 The Perfect 10 Trail (OMG, I just got this!)

Hares: Blondie McFucksalot and Cuntcussion

Bag car: Marbelous Asshole

Pack: RAs Yellow Dick Gnome, Bottom Wrangler/Ass Cowboy, Sex: The Final Frontier, Dribbles, Knuckles Deep, Testicular Mechanics, Shits ‘N Ladders, Shart of Darkness, Dry Hoes, Dribbles, Just Ruth, Just Jimmy*, Just Sarah-Claire, TindrDick, Spank Me May I Have My Mother, Twat My Mother, Swedish Eagle, Vaginacolagist now from Sacramento, Visitor from DC, Topless Barbie, 5 Inch Penalty, Cummy Sticks, Virgin Chris, Virgin (James?), Orgasm Falmon, Body in Lotion, Bring Out Your Gimp, Easy as 123, Chunderelli Chunderelli, Angry Crotch, Luva Lamp, Goat Throat, Angry Dog Owners, STF: Clit Notes.  (Like 3 others I can’t name).

Prelube and Leg 1: The Harborwalk

We started at Cisco Brewery, Hopsters because Cisco was a brewery with no beer because our hare is evidently such a millennial that she tweets @a bar rather than calling them.  Gnome and Wrangler gave chalk talk to the 2 virgins and we were off.  No marks to be found after check, but 5 Inch arrived late and reported seeing marks over the Seaport Blvd bridge via accidentally scouting on his way to prelube. Down the gracious Greenway we ran until finding a mark pointing across the street.  We were about to follow it when we spotted a Song Check that would only make sense if the mark was ignored.  Pack (and especially Gimp) looked further down the Greenway, but 5 Inch followed his nose to a Hash Sitapede hidden on the far side of construction with nary a mark to it.  From here, trail when along the Harborwalk before needing to sing a song to the fishes, which Falmon cut to Why Were They Born So Beautiful? .  BN led to BC1 in Pilot House Park.

Leg 2: We Let the Dogs Out

Trail immediately went uphill and into the dense narrow streets of the North End, where trail kept getting solved at record pace.  A check at the top of Copps Hill seemed unsolvable because no one would venture downhill toward the way we came, but when someone finally did, we found ourselves dashing through a dog park and basically freeing all the enslaved dogs from the fenced yard.  One dog in particular made the most spirited dash for freedom since Mel Gibson’s run across Bannockburn.  I put myself in an all-out sprint ahead of the owner and caught the jailbird.  I apologized profusely.  The muggles’ only exasperated cry was, “Use common fucking sense.”  I replied that such was a faculty we did not have and sprinted off to catch up with pack.  Through the Charlestown locks we went, waiting for a tit check (though trail was arguably solved).  We emerged at Paul Revere Park and has a song check under the Zakim, before BC2 at North Point Park.

Leg 3: On-In probably begins with “C” and rhymes with “Shortside”

With strong inclinations towards an ON-IN, we headed down Cambridge St.  Those of us following trail had a minor detour via Otis while Gimp and Gnome zenned to Courtside.  Shits also attempted to zen, but promptly went the wrong way by a mile.

Circle:

Visitors were called in.  Crimes against caninity were called in, to be met with multiple rounds of Bestiality’s Best (Boys!).  Virgins were demented.  We asked the conditions of their ski slopes.  Wrangler gave a Faulknerian level of backstory to asking a Virgin about his Uncle Jacking off a Horse (he would!).  The virgins couldn’t find the dollar menu or do math.  We rejected them for being unacceptable, but we took them anyway.  Just Jimmy, who had been c*ming for a year but with the consistency of Bob Dole’s pre-viagra erections, had not been named.  His most embarrassing sexual story involved keeping a cop away from his automotive tryst through a Titanic-like hand print on the window fog (“My C*m Will Go On”, I screamed.) allowed him to finish.  Another story revealed that Just Jimmy had gone to a kink convention in some unlikely place like (C)Rochester and was doubly penetrated by his 2 girlfriends with strap-ons.  He was thusly christened Strap-On Strap-Off and we never heard from him again.  Clit Notes was called in for a sweat test failure.  We swung low and Courtside pizza was served.

-Sex: TFF

Pallete Cleanser Trash

What: Palete Cleanser Hasher

Where: Pub 99, Charlestown

Who: Dry Hose and Chunderelli

Pack: There weren’t any visitors and not too many justs so lets see if I can remember all them; Brown vs Board of Fornication, Pop Cum Ear Im Enfected, The Butler Hit It, +2 Coonass, Justine Beiber, Just Katie?, Twat My Mom, Sketchy Ho, Udder Whore, Whore’s Box, Shits and Ladders, Five Inch Penalty, 3 Ring Cervix, Phish sticks, Just Who Was At the Gas Station, Just Andy?, Just Ruth, Virgin someone, yeah, I failed.

Chalk talk:

Was held with a borrowed cranium lamp from one of the justs.

Trail Surprisingly Few Hills:

When chalk talk ended with “The first mark is somewhere, go find trail” things were off to an ominous start. We scouted in all directions around the parking lot but found no marks. Not wanting to get frustrated, I decided to just run the block around the parking lot because the marks had to come out somewhere…right? Right? Right. They did, on the otherside of some road (G knows how they got there), and then we ran up a hill to a contentious song check; contentious in there people wanted to sing different songs, but eventually everyone was caught up and we just went to go find trail. I did some bad zenning. I should clarifiy, I did a lot of bad zenning and didn’t see pack until we briefly passed at the back side of the Bunker Hill Monument. I was not on trail. So, things happened and shots that were not M&M shots happened. We found trail to a tit check then trail went down hill and crossed a bussey road under a big bridge during which I stared a driver into submission; never step on these baby blues! We crossed into the “waterfront development area” whatever it’s called and ran past a good dozen or so dogs out for walks until eventually we found a BN an BC overlooking the harbor.

BC No Snow:

People remembered this beer check from the past. People remembered it being cold. People remember Krusty posing in underwear. Peoples memories were not helpful. Brown provided some delicious apples and pack was treated to those rarest and most refined alcoholic delights; warm PBR. Eventually, after giving Dry Hose some really bad best man speech prep, the hares were gay and we debated how to improve our PBRs; our solution was to drink them.

Trail Essentially a circle jerk, but also bad zenning:

From the beer check I very aggressively checked the wrong way, then was very confused when two flashing cranium lamps were coming quickly at me – but not responding to calls of RU? – until I realized they were on bikes and pack was running away from me. I caught them at a song check, from which trail continued around a very confused security guard. We then all followed phish sticks through “Boston shiggy’ (wet grass) and back out to the main road. Someone called on back towards the “big bridge road” in the previous section so that didn’t make any sense, so I kept running back towards the dog park, but not seeing any marks. I saw pack out of the corner of my eye so I kept going, but still didn’t see any marks. Udder ran up to me and asked if I was on – I hadn’t seen a mark in ages, but I was going to go scout under the bridge and I found a true trail pointing through more Boston Shiggy (wet grass) to a song check, where I regathered a very spread out pack – and walkers – with “as I came home on Monday night…” From there trail went across the locks – past the musical things and turned under the bridge. Shits, Butler and other front runners rain past the shot check and only returned when they ran out of marks. Trail went left from the shot check through the Garden, then around a tasty burger to another song check leading into the west end. There was a check back down a parking ramp and trail continued across storrow to another shot check at the base of the Lechemere Viaduct. Trail continued alongside the viaduct and turn in towards North Point Park. We started discussing the ineventiability of the dog park, though some more stuburn amoung us insisted that it would be behind the north point condos. The check at the base of the footbridge removed all doubts – we were OnOn to the dog park, until unexpectididly we saw a BN on the middle of the bridge (were the tit and dick checks normally are), and ONIN marked at the base (though no sign of hares or beer…) The beers, bags, food and hares showed up (they were humping supplies in from bag car and we had a quick pre-circle feed.

CIRCLE-

I missed some of the comments for reasons and TL:DRd them to “You should’ve used more flour and chalk” the hares sang us something – I want to say El Camino, but I actually know it wasn’t that. FRB – 5 Inch and FBI – UDDER WHORE were called in, Udder Whore who said in the prelube “I used to think a < 30 5k was a good goal, but now I’m running 8:30 5ks as part of my tris, I’d love to run one to find out my real pace” – anyway, they were called in and we made them drink, then the DFLs – Luva Lamp and Just John (who were just standing in circle) were made to drink too. We quickly called Brown in since she was the only visitor, then we called in the virgin, and Udder demented her. A few things of note; when asked what her favourite barnyard animal sounded like when it came she responded “a group of them, like they’re running a train?” we were shocked, filed that away for later and said “no, just one.” She then poured beer all over herself. She’s not worthy, but we’ll take her. Circle was then opened up to accusations; all the same shirts (red shirts) drank because they were about to die. Racist attire was also called in, as were sweat test failures – Topless Barbie. Topless Barbie was called in again, but didn’t have any beer, to which Luva Lamp replied “I don’t have any either” so they both were accused of not having beer and made to ass to ass, bend over and hold hands between their legs while we sang them a short song. We sang them “Nacy Brown” Topless survived but Luva collapsed and laid curled up in circle for the next few accusations, which I forgot. There were a few attempts to end circle, but we had plenty of beer so we kept going. Eventually it was Dry Hose and Butler yelling at each other. Oh yeah, some “local residences who live under the bridge” yelled at us for “singing under the bridge” and we gave them beers. They had returned and were yelling at us to move along so we swang low. See announcements below.

On – under bridges – On

-Wiki

Announcements:

Friday 9/28: Ginger Take Over Moon Trail, 6:45HST, $5, Paddys Launch 260 Walden St, Cambridge (Closest T stop: Porter)

Wednesday 10/3: Dot Ave Tavern Trail, $15, Dot Ave Tavern, 840 Dorcehster Ave, Boston (Closes T stop: JFK/UMass)

Saturday 10/13: BOSTON AGM – Details to come.

Sunday 10/14: AGM FATBOY – Details to come.

November 11/3: SADIE HAWKINS 70s DANCE CLUB !!! Find a Taco and get a pin!

November 11/9-12: IT’S ALWAYS HASHY IN PHILLADELPHIA -> Have you heard of travel hashing? Want to rage in some sketchy hotel in a distant city, or maybe rage in an even sketchier hash pad? There’s a night club down there giving us a free room for the night depending on how many people sign up. There’ll be prizes for the best repped kennel! Rego here:

https://hashrego.com/events/its-always-hashing-in-philadelphia

The Blow My Shofaa Hash Trash

What: The Blow My Shofaa Hash

Who: Sex, The Final Frontier, Just Steph

Where: McCabes

Pack:

Escort Required, Pole Sitter, Udder Whore, Sketchy Ho, Dribbles, The Butler Hit It, Just Dumb, Other Justs, Cunt Jungle, Virgin Internet, Goat Throat, Orgamsn Falmon, No Man On the Moon, Twat My Mom, Bottom Wrangler, Wikipedophilia, Spunk in the Trunk, Shits and Ladders, Five Inch Penalty, 3 Ring Cervix, Other People I Forgot.

Start:

 When I arrived at the bar Twat and No Man were talking about Mother Hash and the Danish couple were drinking. They informed me of a conversation that had with the bartender. It went something along the lines of “Do you have Malort?” The bartender looked shocked and said “How do you know about that?” Escort said “I’m a hasher, I know things.” The bartender then informed him that a friend of the bartenders had gone to Chicago and returned with this utterly vile drink called Malort, of which he has a bottle behind the bar. He will drink shots with customers but he can’t sell or pour them, or tell people that he has them. So, I leave it to you, noble readers of this trash, to do with the knowledge what you will. There is Malort at a bar in Boston, but you have to ask the bartender, and he has to judge your worthy – or I guess no worthy enough – to give you a shot.

Enough of that, here’s what happened on trail:

Chalk talk:

Was held in the gas station parking lot acorss from the bar. Packed was asked to demonstrate what they think a Shofaa sounds like. Bottom Wrangler says it sounds like someone yelling Tequllia so he always drank Tequllia as a kid? I might have made that up. Anyway, eventually once we introduced ourselves and explained the marks to the virgins and visitors (chalk talk was drawn in white chalk, the marks were in … grey?) we set off.

Trail “Listen to your eldars”-

 A few hashers who were arriving late (or rather normally, the hares left shockingly at 6:45 on the .d.o.t.) saw the hares running past Porter, and so knew which direction to scout and to blow through the first YBF. Trail apparently ran behind a few buildings then came back to Mass Ave where there was a check in front of Lesley. The hares and physicists, so I’ll assume that their math skills are better than mine but they seem to have a very liberal idea of what 369 degress is. Trail was solved through the parking lot behind what used to be TiTs and back to the road which the check was drawn on -  I have no idea how the two connected. It eventually led to a check back into the “Aggizia” neighborhood of Cambridge, and to what is now my new favourite song check. After starting out Jesus can’t go hashing with why Moses can’t go hashing, we proceeded to sing to the glory of all our favourite Tora/Old Testiment heros and why none of them could go hashing until people realized that we could do this for years and went to go find trail. Trail continued towards the sketchy Shaws on Beacon St, with a predictable check back. Standing at a mark pointing towards what would eventually become a check back, I saw Twat running to the bridge under the rail road tracks and my hashey senses went off and I followed him. Much to my surprise we found not only trail, but also a surprisingly drinkable shot check! We waited for pack to regroup before emerging from the tunnel in front of the fire station and checking up the wrong hill. Twat again checked up the right hill, saving some of us from a check back – truly he is the hero we need, not the hero we deserve, or however that line goes. I never watched the Batman movies. Trail flitered with running up hill but she’s a tease and we should’ve kept on going down. With half of pack running merrily along not seeing marks someone in the back third noticed a WN and a true trail pointing to a random apartment building, with a mark saying to go up the stairs to the roof…so up we went!

Wine Check Roof:

I’m not calling it a “Roof Deck” because I’m pretty sure we weren’t supposed to be up there; there were no structural elements or rail guards, but there was wine. At this point in the night I was still following my “no drinking on work nights” rule so I abstained from the wine. I was later informated that it tasted like being punched in the face by grapes. We were all appreciative of the home-made wine donated by the hare, but suggest the perhaps she shouldn’t quit her day job; Chatueax La Tour this was not. I learned that either Prince sung a song about have sex in a whorse box, or he had sex with whorse box, or all horses boxes are really just full of people banging. It was unclear. Talk to Whorse Box. Eventually we noticed that the hares were gone so we shuffled down the stairs and tried to find trail.

Trail Um, what marks?

From the wine check we scouted up hill and down hill, to the left around the block and to the right around the block. We crosses Somerville ave and scouted towards Aeronaught and came we back. We were able to regal the virgins, justs, and new hashers of the time five years ago when we on-ined at the abonded lot which we had been running around three times in a row and each time the cops were called. The last time the cops were like “No, seriously, stop coming here, this is the third week in a row we’ve have to speak to you!” And we did stop going there for almost five years. More on that later #foreshadowing. Eventually not finding any marks some people noticed that the marks to the wine check (which were in high-vis grey chalk) had been crossed out and replaced with arrows in higher-vis blue chalk pointing the other way. All this led to much yelling and complaining in pack, right at the time when a bedraggled young mother came out to pled with us to be quite because she was trying to put her baby to bed. At that exact same moment trail was called up hill in the direction we came which caused one hasher to remark, in a very calm and relaxed tone “OH, FOR FUCKS SAKE!” then take off. Trail was called up hill to a song check where we resumed our retelling of the Old Testiment from the point of why Jesus can’t go hashing. Pack quickly tired of this and would rather run up hill, which we did, to another song check in front of a church. Not wanting to annoy the newcomers, we sang about Father Burgminhams many exploits, before deciding we were all going to hell. Luckily the beer check was a block away.

Beer check – Nah, I’m good, oh, wait you have Gameldansk, lets pound that! And the Malort too!

 The beer check, like most of the trail, was made from the dregs of last weeks hash. In fact, the beer check was exactly where last weeks beer check was supposed to be if one of the hares hadn’t gotten lost #trashshade. I was happily munching on smart food and sipping water when I saw a group of young, enthusiastic hashers gathered around a slowly getting drunk off his own supply Escort who was passing around bottle after bottle of Gameldansk. I love Gameldansk, mainly for the memories, so I joined the circle, and you kinda need something to chase it so my sober night suffered the revenege of the Danes for Copenheginization…#deephistorycuts #wikionwiki. We conducted a lot of back-2-back shots of Gameldansk and Malort and forgot to notice that either the hares had left, or the our esteemed Ass Cowboy hand wrangled himself up the virgin and a group of justs who had been hopeless lost and arrived at the beer check just as I was calling pack away, so we all drank some more until everyone was drunk enough to think following trail was a good idea.

Trail Essentially a lot of zenning-

Marks, being exclusively laid in grey and purple chalk was increasingly hard to find. We zenned through or around a retirement home then ran up highland street for a while to as hash sitapeed. We scouted downhill, then up hill, but found nothing until we found marks in a very creative reading of 360 back across highland street going down hill. No fool I, I refused to give up the highground for a few blocks until I saw pack running away from me down School street, so I chased after them, eventually catching up at a song check in which I lead the Engineer Song while Cunt Jungle gave her just a blowjob in a playground. Trail was again eventually solved downhill to a beer near heading into the abandoned construction lot of multi-evictions and mentioned previously in this trash. In a rare case of “not wanting to get in trouble” the hash listened to the security guard who told us we couldn’t go in so instead we ran across the street to behind the ice rink where there was a beer check last week.

Circle:

Since we were constantly worried that the hockey players would get mad at this group of retrobates singing and drinking next to their ice piles we started with a whisper circle, thought we slowly realized that they cared about as much about our revelry as they did about the Oilers training camp. We called the hares into circle and told them they should’ve used more flour and chalk. I tried to control circle by threatening private parties with Gameldansk, but that kinda backfired as people were requesting the shots! Oh well, we moved onto FRB (5 inch?) and FBI (Whores Box) and DFL (Spunk) – who in a very weird way maintained eye contact and answered all my questions about if she was lonesome during trail. After than Uder Whore demented the very delightful virgin who was asked a lot of amazing questions most of which I forget because of an increasing amount of Gameldansk and Malort cursing through my veins. The virgin was and we’re desperate (and she found out about the hash by read these!!) so we’ll take her. We then called in the Chaos Muppets of evening Escort and Flagpole and we all drank more Gameldansk. We then called in the transplant (Just Dumb – his actual name) who has recently moved from Begjin; he sliently stalked us at the bar last week but decided not to come to trail (bad idea) but decided to come this week instead (good idea). He says he’ll keep cuming back! There were then a lot of accusations – I remember anyone where “sketchy” clothes, racist attire, and others, but my steady diet of Gameldansk was starting to catch up with me and Falmon was giving me “finish this now eyes” so we called in birthdays – it’s Escorts! – and then swang low and ate surprisingly good pizza.

On – Gameldansk – On

-Wiki

Annoucements:

BH3 AGM – Saturday October 13^th, 2pm. Details to come. If you want to volunteer for misman talk to Falmon or Marbles.

Snow White Snow Black Trash

Snow White and Snow Black and the Seven shots trash
(yes I'm trash, I know)
please excuse punctuation and capitalization errors and run on sentences as I'm on my phone.
[Note, the editor has attempted to correct these]
Hares: Wikipedophelia, Bloody Slip Inside
Bagcar: Easy as 123
Pack:
CEP, Topless Barbie, No man on the moon, Cuntcussion, Oboner, Quarter mile Queer, Salty Mudflaps, Knuckles Deep, The Buttler hit it, WhoresBox, Lumber Jack off, Sex the Final Frontier, Orgasm Famine, Cum Ear, Bottom Wrangler, Luva Lamp, Dry Hose, CuntJungle, Chunderelli, +2 Coonass, Testicular Mechanics, a just who hashed somewhere else with her sister and just moved here, a virgin or two. Another just or two, one if them presumably named Pete. Two visitors, one from Japan. Definitely other people I forgot.

Pre-pre trail:
In the days before this hash, there was talk from Wiki of "shooting the moon". A feeling of apprehension hung over the Boston Hash as we pondered what this might mean.
Prelube:
After a quick walk/jaunt from my apartment, I arrived at prelube earlyish to find Cuntcussion, OBoner, Qmq Knuckles, and Salty at the bar. I was served a cheap beer quickly and settled down in a comfy booth facing the other hashers. This was already shaping up to be the #trailoftheyear. Some tunes wafted out of the bar's speakers, O'Boner looked around with a distraught but knowing look on her face and identified the music as Phish. We determined that Wiki (or possibly Buttler) had selected the song on Touchtunes while not even at the bar yet (yes you can totally do that). This was shaping up to be the #worsttrailoftheyear. Wiki showed up and no one said hi to him because we were mad about the Phish. Others showed up. I decided to "go for 3" (beers before trail). This will come into play later when my memory of trail is not great and I make shit up.
Chalk Talk:
The hares left sort of on-timeish, or they didn't, I don't remember. It might have been 7? Pack sauntered out to the parking lot by Porter where we all stood around for a few minutes getting beeped at by some angry motorists, then stood on top of a grate for a few more minutes before Quarter Mile told us he couldn't do chalk talk on top of a grate ("What do you mean? This is a grate place for chalk talk!”). Easy's calls of "guys there's a perfectly good alley right here!" were ignored by all in favor of QMQ and Boner's calls of "back to the bar!", which were associated with no clear plan. We walked back by the bar and after some more uncertainty shcanery proceeded to circle up in a small parking space a block or so down. we introduced ourselves while adding "-ee" at the end of our names for some reason. Something about dwarves or some shit. Quarter mile went over the marks badly and shouted some words which were meant to provide clarity on finding trail to the virgins/justs/visitors, but only served to confuse them more.

Leg 1
We (surprisingly) found 3 marks and were on-on immediately out of chalk talk. It was late when we left chalk talk, I remember seeing 7:26. we headed north-northeast at a 43 degree heading until we didn't. I forgot to bring a light and it was dark out. We hit a shotcheck/checkback, or two, while making our way over to the aptly named Highland ave area in Somerville. We gave up the high ground a few times after gaining it (this would be a theme on this night), but there were shot checks most of those times, so it was kind of ok. The shots ranged from decent to bad to worse, there was a lemon drop one, a margarita, a blue one ("this is the worst one!" - a hasher..."I disagree, it is the best one!" - a different hasher), there were some haterades, and tequila was featured heavily. We finally made our way down a long hill (central street?) to Somerville Ave, where we suspected another shot check, but instead snared a hare. (Yes, even after the late start and delayed chalk talk, we snared a hare #worstharesoftheyear). We went back up the hill to congregate pack and sing a long song and get beeped at by some cars and shouted at by some balcony sitters, and to allow the hares some time to get their shit together. Wiki came by from up the hill (the direction we'd just come from) and shuffled past us. Yes we snared the other hare at the bottom of the hill but Wiki was somehow behind us up the hill? apparently there had been a miscommunication and Bloody went somewhere other than the beer check that he was supposed to go to. Anywho after waiting a few more minutes we r*n down the hill and found the beer check by the skating rink on Somerville ave.

Leg 2:
After this things get a little hazy. we ran up and down the hill on both sides of highland a bunch more in a generally Eastward direction. again finding shotcheck-checkbacks galore. We ran by my apartment where I briefly  considered quitting the #worsttrailoftheyear in favor of my bed, but alas my shit was in bagcar so I continued on. At some point we came down a little from highland, I hadn't seen a mark in a while and came to an intersection. Muggles said "they went that way" indicating not uphill, not downhill, but side hill. I didn't believe them. But then we found a true trail mark and grudgingly accepted that we were in fact on. A little later, we found the tower thingy, thinking it was on in (as it was getting pretty late), but it wasn't, it was a beer check.

Beer Check 2: we drank some beer up in the tower and met some mughles and explained to them what hashing was, as is tradition at the tower thingy. Cuntjungle informed pack that she was drunk. We were all shocked and aghast at her gross irresponsibility.
Leg 3:
We on outed from the tower thingy, and qatar mile had to go back to the bagcar because he had the keys for some reason (sidenote: he seems to have a habit of doing this). Me and some other hashers stupidly ran past the staircase that went down the hill, but were corrected and re-routed by some nice muggles who pointed us in the direction the rest of pack had gone. We finally had a portion of trail that was good because it lacked serious hillz, but bad because it featured Moxie (Moxie +151, and Moxie + Malort, I am told). There was a turkey eagle split or two. we finally reached on-in by the train tracks and gazebo thing in eastish Somerville/Cambridge? Eagles and hares reported 7+ miles, and turkeys not much less.
On-In:
At the onion we sang some songs, accused the hares of their crimes, asked questions to our visitors and had them sing a song (maybe), asked our virgin some questions (almost definitely) and did hash religion and then ate some pizza after, that got there really late (I think).
epilogue: I got semi lost running home and promptly deleted my activity on Strava out of embarrassment (at the gettinglost part) once it synced, as is tradition.
On-on,
Shits and Ladders