Sweagle's Swedish Winter Mayhem

Sweagle presents Sweagle's Swedish Winter Mayhem

Hare: Swedish Eagle

Bag car: Shart of Darkness

Bag car car: Massage a Trois

Pack: TinderDick, Angry Crotch, Mudslut, Choke and Stroke (Chicago), Bring Out Your Gimp, Blondie McFucksalot, Yellow Dick Gnome, Fellowship of the Cock Ring, Cuntcussion, Clit Notes, Sex: The Final Frontier, Crooner Screwer and Fuck of the Irish (couple proximally from RI), Just Sarah, 5 Inch Penalty, Luva Lamp, Just Matt, Marbleous Asshole

Prelube

We started at Vagina Pizzeria in Wellington. I dismounted from my incredibly smelly Orange Line steed and was about to complain to myself about how I never find any damned thing in these generic artificial attempts at neighborhoods built over recovered industrial space when I spotted a Shart, tracking her to native drinking environment. Pack arrived, hare finally left after 3 and yet we waited. Bag Car was here, but Bag Car CAR, belonging to Massage a Trois, was not here. It seems she had been occupied giving herself chemical burns with an Apple watch, thus losing track of time.

Leg1: Through many parking lots and the school district that I work in, we followed a Sweagle trail - laid sparsely but findable for the fastest 69% of pack, while losing the other 31%. A Song Check after a middle school caused us to pause and take note of our fallen comrades, whom Fellowship then returned to locate.

Once we cross the Mystic River, I recognized where we were, though I was arrested by a Tit Check. A record 7 Harriettes came, but all passed me by (story of my life) and 5 Inch and I stopped to consider the probability that 7 Harriettes - with 14 mammaries between them - would all eschew the check*. Muddy's house was Beer Check 1 and we were greeted by hot chocolate, Mallort, and choices to roofie ourselves. The trailing 31% of pack managed to consolidate and eventually found their way to us.

Leg 2: We proceeded around the Tufts Alum Field, and Sweagle found every single stair in Tufts and took us up them. At the top of one set, Fellowship waited in mirth, making us all certain that a Check Back awaited us, but it proved pure trolldom. After about 4.20 miles exactly:

Gimp: I wonder what the chances are this ends at Buttler's.

Just Matt: High.

We found our way to Buttler's, held lengthy accusations in which we all took turns** stalling until pizza and wings came. We accused Bag Car Car of being her usual hot mess, the visitors performed a skit(?) for us, we all drank a social for losing TinderDick again, Shits 'N Ladders arrived just in time to be a Sweat Test Failure, Cuntcussion announced some kind of Big April Event, involving Fireball and Smirnoff Ice. We swung low and got a piece.

* Pint of lager, I realized our calculations were moot, as such probabilities are not independent

** Just kidding, accusations were a truly indefatigable Blondie marathon.

ON - REGO FOR MARATH - ON

Upc*ming dates:

Wednesday: MisMan meeting

Saturday: Zigzag H3 (Douche)

Sunday: Daylight Ragings Time (Hoes and Cougar Whisperer), bag car needed

Following Saturday: March Ballbuster (Sweagle)

April 13: Marathon Main Event