September 8 Hash Trash

Happy Jew Year Trail

Hares: Dry Hoes, Quarter Mile Queer

Bag Car: Sex the Final Frontier

Pack: Chunderellie Chunderellie, Clit Notes, C*ntcussion, Dribbles, Extra Terresticle, Fellowship of the Cockring, Five Inch Penalty, Frosty the F*ckman, Holy Dumpster Fire, Luva Lamp, Mudslut, Popo Peepshow, Shits and Ladders, Slothy Seconds, Snap On Snap Off, Spunk in the Trunk, Swedish Eagle, Testicular Mechanics, The Buttler Hit It, Wikipedophilia

Pre-lube: 3 Amigos

Beer Check: Fellsmere Park

Shot Check: Pinnacle Rock Trailhead

On-in: Pine Banks Park

When it comes to Malden trails, Swedish Eagle just can't catch a break. A few months ago he suffered the epic hash crash, then this time he suffered choice words from a Karen in an SUV with a Massachusetts Animal Coalition special license plate. Pack had just wrapped up at the shot check when this woman pulled up next to Sweagle, who was running with Butt Pug, to tell him he was overheating his dog. Sweagle calmly pointed out that his dog frequently goes running with him and has no problem indicating when he needs to walk, and that he had cold water with him should his dog need it, but this driver wouldn't let it go. It escalated to Sweagle saying that his dog was fit whereas her dog was fat. A few other hashers joined in. Slothy, our transplant from Philly, squealed in delight over the whole episode. The driver continued by yelling out something about how she volunteers at an animal shelter, as if that qualifies her to accost people who were just minding their own business, before eventually driving off. I really thought we were going to get the cops called on us, but we managed to dodge that bullet.

Trail last night was themed the Happy Jew Year trail to recognize Rosh Hashanah which occurred earlier in the week (Happy 5769 plus 13). Hares supplied pack with one apple byproduct: cider, but did not bring a shofar to blow (I was prepared for shouts of tequila, shevodka, and terurum). We finished up past Oak Grove at the Pine Banks Park and started circle with comments of not enough chalk, too much chalk, not enough people, too many people, not enough Karens, and too many Karens. Wiki was the FRB and for some reason was also the FBI, while Clit Notes was the DFL. We formally welcomed our transplant, Slothy Seconds, from the Ben Franklin Mob. She said she's in Boston to earn her hash cash, and she sang us an OG hash song to the tune of Let It Go. Luva and Frosty drank for September birthdays, while QMQ also drank for Fireball's birthday. Backsliders were many, while Justs were non-existent.

Accusations opened with one for C*ntcussion and Sweagle for being yelled at for giving their dog heat stroke, then one for Testicular, Wiki, and Spunk who all had a hash crash. QMQ drank for losing his clear sunglasses, and he did his down-down to what I think was an OG song from Mudslut and Popo. There was a Chosen People down-down, then an accusation for Slothy, Fellowship, and Popo who thought Butt Pug liked them when he actually was giving them attention in exchange for tortilla chips. Same shirt wearers did their down-down. Five Inch sang his Malort song. Wiki accused the RA of it being too hot. Sweagle gave the RA an honor down-down for no rain. Wiki accused Shits of something that didn't make enough sense for me to write it down. Sex was accused of driving his mom's car. Wiki accused Sex of Wikiing a song. Buttler gave Wiki an honor down-down for getting a song mostly right. (This is going to keep going on. Circle went 45 minutes and we're only halfway there.)

QMQ, Popo, Fellowship, Mudslut, and Snap On all came in for a private party, which was the perfect time for a 10-minute rendition of Jesus Saves, where pack essentially turned it into a Bible study by creating verses for just about every character in the Old and New Testament. (We covered Abraham, Moses, Noah, Jonah, and Aaron just to name a few. Not sure if anyone did "Goliath can't go hashing cause he's busy getting stoned," but that's my personal favorite in the extended verses edition.) At some point Fireball showed up, so she drank for her sweat test failure. Then QMQ drank for drinking for Fireball during the birthdays down-down. A few hashers drank for phones in circle (Scribe is exempt, bitches). Shits accused Jeppsen of being too cute. Then Sex accused anyone who stroked Jeppsen affectionately. (How did they not get accused of using Butt Pug's nerd name?) Buttler accused Slothy of not hashing with her home kennel recently, but the accusation was so weirdly worded that I think he joined her for the down-down. Wiki accused Testicular of drafting a fantasy team during circle, which was followed by Testicular being accused of calling Spunk Sketchy. At this point, despite all the beer that was still left over, Chunderellie wrapped up the accusations and moved us to announcements.

Next week Sex is haring a Somervillens trail with a recent transplant. A Harbor Islands campout will eventually happen. Wiki is still plugging his June 2022 trust me. AGM is October 2. Volunteer for MisMan. September 22 is Barbie and my Tutus and Nuptials trail, possibly starting at Alibi if we decide the space can handle us. Shits, Fireball, Testicular, Chunderellie, and Sweagle each had an announcement, but aside from "we're going to drink 99 beers before we even leave the pre-lube," I didn't catch any of them. We did our hash religion, then proceeded to head home.

August 11 Hash Trash

One Year Closer to Death: Do Me Decimal

Hare: Do Me Decimal

Bag Car: Wikipedophilia

Pack: Chunderellie Chunderellie, Dribbles, Edward Sissy Hands, El Pornito, Extra Terresticle, Holy Dumpster Fire, Just Joel, Kooter Kunte, No Man on the Moon, Patron Taint of the Willing Tongue, Poked My Stripper, Quarter Mile Queer, Testicular Mechanics, Topless Barbie

Pre-lube: Biddy Early's

Shot Check: Bridge next to Barking Crab

Beer Check 1: A Street Park

Beer Check 2: Peters Park

On-In: Rolling Bridge Park

The last time I ran a Do Me trail in South Boston, I was salty from running an extra mile on the turkey/eagle split. This time I was salty from sweating so much in the sweltering 90.69+ degree weather (thanks, RA). There were some rumblings about how trail seemed eerily familiar to the Divorce Hash, but fortunately we did not have to death march to Castle Island and back. Although I may actually have enjoyed going for a swim in Pleasure Bay. In honor of their birthday, Do Me gifted the pack with a very well-marked trail complete with no fewer than 25 song checks. I even wondered at one point whether we were going to go through an entire hash hymnal on trail. And while there were so many song checks, we had just one hash sitapede, which only four hashers attempted while the other 10 said, "yeah, no, that's not gonna happen."

At the on-in, trail comments included didn't sweat enough, sweat too much, too many song checks, not enough song checks, and Do Me is hot. Testicular was the FRB, No Man was the FBI, and El Pornito was the DFL. Our visitors were Kooter Kunte from DC, Patron Taint from Long Island Lunatics, and Poked My Stripper who tried to explain the history and politics of the northwest South Carolina kennels to me, but he only thing I remembered was that he has never hashed with the Trash. Testicular sang them the jellyfish song which people were actually excited about. Backsliders included Barbie, Pornito, and Poked, and their excuses were working, twerking, and kids. Do Me received a down down for their birthday and analversary, and then high fived half the circle.

Accusations opened with Testicular accusing Do Me of wearing The Flash socks, but they were actually Batman socks, so both did a down down. Quarter Mile drank for delegating song duties to Testicular, then drank for getting his kinds of alcohol confused (someone retold the story of when he used Fireball to clean off his eye makeup). Four of us drank for signing a chalkboard in the South End, Do Me for haring three trails in seven days (and being bag car for one), Wiki for his carbon neutral beer carrying wagon, and Quarter Mile for confusing a witchy way with a turkey eagle. Do Me accused Barbie and me for getting married in October. All the Genesee drinkers were accused of drinking a beer from marathon, all the hashers who told stories from trails that happened in the past drank, and all the Long Island natives drank.

At this point Dribbles was accused of having a cool shirt. The shirt happened to be her daughter's, and so Dribbles told us the story of her daughter stealing her pink marathon shirt (you all know which one I'm talking about) and wearing it to soccer practice. Then Just Joel was accused of not having been accused of anything yet. Wiki was accused of missing Do Me's happy birthday song, but it was with good reason as he was busy getting them an ice cream cake. He got plates, but couldn't find forks so people had to use kebab skewers to eat the dessert. We were winding down, but still had a few more accusations. Everyone who was too young to run for president drank, then Wiki accused Quarter Mile of not being at the White House to witness the Monica Lewinski incident. (That one doesn't make much sense to me either.)

Announcements included Dribbles' Beantown H3 trail on Sunday starting at the Harp + Bard, Barbie and my Tutu trail on September 22, a Carolina Trash Flash Hash that you can sign up for, and the DC RDR on October 9. BH3 needs a hare for next Wednesday, AGM is on October 2, Wiki's doing a trust me on June 18, 2022, Misman is seeking volunteers for next year, and Do Me wants you all to eat their ice cream cake.

Phew, that was a lot. Thanks for reading.

August 4 Hash Trash

Hashing of the Bulls V? IX?

Hare: O'Boner

Bag Car: Snatchchat

Pack: Anal Disco, Chunderellie Chunderellie, Clit Notes, Cums Like Clockwork, C*ntcussion, Extra Terresticle, Full Frontal Fireball, Holy Dumpster Fire, Just Harry, Just Remy, No Man on the Moon, Sonic Bum, Testicular Mechanics, The Buttler Hit It, Wikipedophilia

Pre-lube: Charlie's Kitchen

Beer check: Corporal Burns Playground

Wine check: Dana Square Park

On-in: Fort Washington Park

Last night, O'Boner brought back a popular theme: Hashing of the Bulls. Like the Festival of San Fermin in Pamplona, most of the hashers dressed in white with red bandanas while a few hashers wore darker colors and played the part of the bulls, "goring" hashers as they passed them on the street. I wish I brought my BAGGO patches because there was lots of red wine flowing on trail. If a bull were to gore a member of the pack, not only were they marked with a neon colored sticker, but they were also treated to the baggo. Playing the part of the bulls were Chunderellie and Testicular, while C*ntcussion and Disco acted as walking bulls.

Comments on trail included not enough goring, too much goring, not enough rain, too much rain, not enough baggo, and too much baggo. Wiki was the FRB and Disco also drank, though I did not catch why. Buttler and the bulls drank for being DFLs, even though the bulls were actually the third and fourth hashers into the on-in. (Not going to try to figure that one out either.) All who celebrated a birthday between last night and the last trail they ran drank--a group that included Just Harry, Snatchchat, Sonic Bum, and Disco. Then the backsliders drank, namely Snatchchat, Sonic Bum, and Disco.

Buttler accused the RA of the weather (rain), then Wiki, Sonic Bum, and Clit Notes drank for same shirts--though Wiki's shirt had seen brighter days. Clockwork drank for alcohol abuse, which I think was because he almost decapitated people with the baggo. Fireball accused the walking bulls of being bulls but having no baggo on the first leg of trail. Then Clit Notes accused the running bulls of being outwitted by a Just (Remy). Apparently Just Remy told Clit Notes you don't have to outrun the bulls, you just have to outsmart them, then almost immediately was gored by Testicular.

Accusations continued with Snatchchat accusing Clockwork of having a flagpole between his legs (at least we weren't in a lightning storm). Then Chunderellie suggested sending Just Remy into circle for a naming. Suggestions included Begging For It and Desperation Dildo, but neither stuck, and in fact the whole naming was pretty lackluster with nobody in the pack asking him any questions, so he was thrown back. Quarter Mile Queer was accused of autohashing, he tried to convince us that he was there the whole time and he was just being quiet, but nobody bought it. C*ntcussion accused anyone who was gored by a walker--Holy Dumpster Fire, Wiki, and Clit Notes, then she had trouble closing her umbrella and she mixed up the numbers in a song, so she too had to drink. O'Boner accused anyone of not being gored, but everyone got gored at least once, so she drank for the false accusation.

Announcements included Fireball's Friday Moon pre-lube to the Red Dress Run starting at Magazine Beach, then QMQ said that while capacity for the RDR was reached, people could still donate to the charity. Barbie and I are haring a tutu trail on September 22, so order your tutus from Amazon now. Sign up for MisMan. Wiki's haring a trust me on June 18-19, 2022 (hey, isn't that around the time of Shortest Night Dumbest Trail?), and there will be another Cajun Hash Sitapede brought to us by Testicular at some point in the future. The bulls were spared a grizzly death at the hands of the matadors and everyone trickled home.

July 21 Hash Trash

Swan Song Swan Drink

Hares: Tinder Dick, Full Frontal Fireball

Bag Car: Mourning Wood

Pack: Blue Balls Matter, Deflate Date, Edward Sissyhands, Extra Terresticle, Just Ethan, Just Harry, Just Joel, Just June, Just Matt, Just Namir, Just Shelly, Quarter Mile Queer, Roscoe Pee Cum Stain, Sex the Final Frontier, Strap On Strap Off, Testicular Mechanics, The Buttler Hit It, Virgin Ariel, Virgin Oscar, Wikipedophilia

Pre-lube: Hong Kong

Shot Check: Under the Suspension Bridge at Boston Public Garden

Beer Check 1: Under the Arthur Fiedler Footbridge

Beer Check 2: Chart House Parking Lot

On-in: End of Long Wharf

What a pre-lube tease. Do Me Decimal was on hand with their mother, Bama Bitch. Yankee Pay $5 More, who was very excited to demonstrate that he can almost comb over his hair, was on hand. And we also had Spunk in the Trunk join us. Unfortunately, the four did not do the trail, but it was still great to see them all. Being named Swan Song Swan Drink, some of us had a hunch trail would head toward the Swan Boats in the Public Garden, which it did. At the end of trail, someone brought the cooler to the parking lot behind the Chart House on Long Wharf where a few of us had a second beer check before quickly joining pack at the end of Long Wharf for the on-in. Not sure if it was actually supposed to be a beer check, but we treated it as such.

In circle, Sex and Blue Balls were FRB and FBI while Buttler and Deflate Date were co-DFLs. Sissyhands, Roscoe, and Just Joel drank for July birthdays, Just June transplanted from Beijing, and Roscoe visited from Burlington, Vt. Deflate Date, Just Shelly, Fireball, and Just Joel did their backsliding down-downs, then Wiki devirginized Virgin Ariel and Virgin Oscar. I did not catch any of their answers to the standard virgin questions, and they were not worthy, but we took them anyway.

Accusations started with Strap On Strap Off accusing Just Shelly, or "Just Nashua or Whatever" as he called her, for excessive y'alls on trail. This could have been a false accusation as New Hampshire is arguably culturally the southernmost state in New England, and the y'alls could have been acceptable, but the accusation stood and she drank for it. Testicular accused Quarter Mile of "pumping his legs" in the Commons, which meant that he tried really hard, and so he drank. Just Namir also came in for racist attire, making that two straight weeks for him, while all who participated in the Running Club with an Elevation Problem earlier in the day also drank. Fireball saved Tinder from getting snared, so she drank, then Quarter Mile drank for being surrounded by cops at the first beer check. The People Who Wake Up Super Early to Climb Stairs group drank again. Then Topless Barbie drank for sweat test failure. Blue Balls and I each drank for alcohol abuse, the hares were accused of cops at the on-in, and then all matching colors drank.

Announcements included karaoke at the Hong Kong, Beantown is looking for hares, Moon trail on the 30th with a RHPS or rather RHSM theme, Strap On Strap Off is haring next week's trail (with Luva I think), pay your hash cash, and Red Dress Run on August 7 with a registration deadline of July 30. It was the first of a few goodbye trails for Tinder Dick, so if you didn't have a chance to come to trail, you still have time to say bye to them. Be well and enjoy your weekends.

July 14 Hash Trash

The Hash Cajunipede Trail

Hare: Testicular Mechanics

Bag Car: E = I'm a Douche

Pack: Angry Crotch, Cummie Sticks, Do Me Decimal, Dribbles, Edward Sissyhands, Extra Terresticle, Fellowship of the Cockring, Frosty the F*ckman, Goat Throat, Holy Dumpster Fire, Just Ali, Just Ethan, Just Harry, Just Matt, Just Namir, Luva Lamp, Mudslut, No Man on the Moon, Orgasm Famine, Po Po Peepshow, Puker Blooper, Sex the Final Frontier, Shits and Ladders, Silence of the Skinflute, Strap On Strap Off, The Buttler Hit It, Tinder Dick, Virgin Chris, Wikipedophilia

Pre-lube: Dana Square Park

Beer Check 1: Old Morse Park

Shot Check: BU Sargent Activities Center Parking Lot

Beer Check 2: Amory Playground

On-in: Magazine Beach

I'll start this by saying that you really can just walk a Testicular Mechanics trail and never be more than two blocks from the FRBs because every check is a challenge to solve. His trails are not poorly laid, he just makes you work for your beer. Or you can walk trail, have everyone else work for their beers, and be just three minutes behind the pack. And on a muggy night like last night, I chose the latter.

This trail was a hash cajunipede--every mark was a check and every check was a hash sitapede. This was all fine and well until I saw BN used as a check. Just imagine being on trail, seeing that, and thinking "Beer Near!" then immediately followed with "Oh no he didn't!"

The part of trail people will be talking about for ages will be his use of a feature that I have not seen done in my 12 years of hashing. He laid trail across the train tracks over the Charles River under the BU Bridge. These are live tracks, though I've never seen a train go faster than 5 mph on them. I'm not excusing his use of the tracks, just pointing out that had a train come through, any hashers on the bridge could have outran it. Some hashers did cross the tracks, while others went over the BU Bridge and met everyone on the other side. It was a bold move by the hare.

We circled up at Magazine Beach where "her hairs were all full of weeds from squatting in the sitapedes..." We welcomed Virgin Chris, from Cambridge, brought by Goat Throat. He was not worthy (he did show up in a CRC shirt), but we took him anyway. Sissyhands and Po Po drank for July birthdays. Then we moved on to accusations.

At this point, Shits wasted no time calling Just Ali into circle. He started off by accusing her of riding in a cop car to a drink check at the SNDT hash, but it was just a ruse to get her into circle for her naming. She entered the circle and the stories, questions, and name suggestions started flying. On last night's trail, she allegedly offered to give a harriette an IUD in an alley, which I thought could form the basis of a future business--Ali's IUDs in the Alley (in Your Alley?), LLC. I think we're on to something here. She has hashers in the family, but not her parents, they're Trumpers. She was asked to tell some embarrassing story, which she refused to share out of fear of her parents finding out. For real, she brought the pack to the precipice of hearing some really juicy details about herself, then left us all hanging. Names like Make Your Parents Disappointed Again, Cop Tease, and IUD Me in the Alley were offered, but one name was chosen above all others, so let's welcome Blue Balls Matter.

Accusations continued with one for those who did more than 69 hash sitapedes: Po Po, Fellowship, Tinder, and one other. (Surprisingly, those who did 0 hash sitapedes were never called in.) Just Harry was called in for a hash crash, though it was Just Ethan that went into circle to drink. Not sure if someone was confusing the two, they aren't quite CEP/Doucheland doppelgangers, but they are both bearded men with similar hair styles/colors. Goat drank for his virgin's faux pas of wearing a CRC shirt, as did Just Namir and Cummie Sticks for their racist attire. Goat was also accused of doing part of trail on a bicycle. Topless Barbie was called in for auto hashing. Then Sex accused Cummie Sticks of losing a $20 bill, his driver's license, and his credit card on the bridge. Wiki never saw a mark and was FRB to everything, so Testicular drank.

As for announcements, Tinder is doing a Swan Song Swan Drink next Wednesday at the Hong Kong, 50 Shades of Glaze is haring Beantown on Sunday from the Silhouette, Strap On Strap Off needs a cohare for the 28th, there's a finish the beer Ball Buster on the 24th, and a Red Dress Run on August 7th. If you've made it this far, thanks for reading. Leave any other announcements in the comments.

June 30 Hash Trash

Swedish Midsummer Trail v5.0

Hare: Swedish Eagle

Bag Car: C*ntcussion

Pack: Blondie McF*cksalot, Body in Lotion, Edward Sissyhands, Extra Terresticle, Fellowship of the Cockring, Goat Throat, Just Harry, Luva Lamp, Marbellous Asshole, No Man on the Moon, O'Boner, Po Po Peepshow, Sex the Final Frontier, Silence of the Skin Flute, Sketchy Ho, Strap On Strap Off, Testicular Mechanics, The Buttler Hit It, The Second Cumming, Wikipedophilia

Pre-lube: Pizzeria Regina at Station Landing

Shot Check: Train tracks behind the August A. Busch plant

Beer Check: Morrison Park

On-In: Fellsmere Pond

To mark the Swedish Midsummer, forget the aquavit, the poles, the hopping like frogs, the cinnamon buns, or the picking herring, our hare gave us a little bit of Thor (lightning and thunder), mixed with a touch of Loki (mischief and chaos, or what we in Boston like to say, a shiggy trail). He took us over train tracks through greenery like the branches of Yggdrasil. Treated us to an aquavit that I really enjoyed. Led us to a beer check where we witnessed a glorious lightning show. Then like a Norse god, he had an epic hash crash that slashed up his arm, and he still finished laying the trail! A trip to urgent care and 14 stitches later and he now has his own lightning shaped scar to show for it.

I didn't catch too much of what happened. I went into the last bit of shiggy with Just Harry and Body in Lotion and we managed to find a check in flour by a fence that was bent over. I crawled across the fence only to find a large parking lot with a police car circling it. Figuring that was not a direction I wanted to continue in, we walked out of the woods and started zenning around the park before we found trail again. That might have been around the place where Sweagle had his hash crash. Allegedly, he bloodied himself up, then laid trail to the on-in where there were two Malden PD cruisers already on the scene breaking up a gang of teens who were lighting fireworks. After presenting ourselves as an innocent running club, Sweagle asked the cops if they had any gauze, so they stuck around and helped bandage him up. They drove off and we circled up.

In circle, I didn't catch the comments, but Sweagle led about two-thirds of the pack over to a trio of tall flag poles where he demonstrated the hoppity hop dance and got everyone over there to join along. It was only two-thirds of the pack because there was still an active lightning storm overhead and those flag poles were about 50 feet tall. O'Boner drank for her birthday; Second Cumming, No Man, and Sketchy were FRB, FBI, and DFL in some order; Silence of the Skin Flute, Blondie, Sex the Final Frontier, Second Cumming, and Strap On all drank for backsliding, and we had no virgins so it was on to accusations.

Blondie kicked things off by accusing Wiki of being Wiki, which our RA deemed false, so Blondie drank. Sweagle drank for a hash crash so bad he needed help from the local 5-0. Wiki accused everyone who didn't get yelled at by the cops, which was basically the part of pack that lingered on the second leg of trail to watch the fireworks at Trum Field. Then O'Boner accused everyone who got hit by stinging nettles. Around this time, like Heimdall swooping the Marvel heroes away with the Bifrost, my transportation arrived, so I missed the rest of circle, but if you have announcements, throw them below in the comments.

June 23 Hash Trash

Hares: Dribbles, Topless Barbie

Bag Car: E = I'm a Douche

Pack: Clitoris Notes, Cums Like Clockwork, Extra Terresticle, Fellowship of the Cockring, Full Frontal Fireball, Just Ali, Just Harry, Just Joel, Just Remy, Mudslut, No Man on the Moon, Panic at the Dildo, Po Po Peepshow, Sketchy Ho, Snatchchat, Spunk in the Trunk, Testicular Mechanics, The Buttler Hit It, Virgin Ethan, Virgin Jennie, Virgin Kagan

Pre-lube: Cambridge Common

Beer Check: Riverside Press Park

Shot Check: Vail Ct Parking Lot

On-in: Cambridge Common

After the heat and rain from earlier this week subsided, the pack expected a treat at last night's Cambridge-based trail, but instead were given tricks from the hares. It started when trail turned into Harvard Yard before leading to a locked egress. Sketchy examined the lock and felt confident that it was Dribbles' bike lock. Not a big deal, there were plenty of other exits to leave from. We picked up the trail and found ourselves joined by a skateboarding virgin named Matt. Picking up a virgin on trail--a treat! But after singing one of our lewd songs at a song check, virgin Matt peaced out--a trick. Then trail continued over one of the bridges into Allston--a treat! Before counting back to the Cambridge side--a trick. But wait, another bridge to cross over the Charles on. Another count back? Not this time! An excuse to do a riverside death march before crossing back over to Cambridge at the next bridge down? Tricked again. On the back half of trail pack found the shot check, treats! Except for Clockwork's nip where the label was completely worn off, as if it had been left in a pants pocket on laundry day, tricked.

At circle, Snatchchat left early because she was scootering home, and wanted to get back while it was still light out. Comments on trail included not enough locked gates and not enough port-a-potties. I was the FRB while No Man and Just Ali were co-FBIs. Buttler was our DFL, but that was because he was distracted by the turkey in Harvard Yard. It would not be his only brush with wildlife on the night. Clockwork drank for his June birthday, then it was onto the virgins. Virgin Kagan (like the Supreme Court Justice) was brought by Clit Notes, except Kagan called him Clitoris Notes. Virgin Ethan found us on the internet, and Panic at the Dildo brought Virgin Jennie. Po Po led the dementing and asked the virgins what advice they would give to a bachelorette for her wedding, to which they answered do not clench, bring a friend, and have fun. They weren't worthy, but we took them anyway.

During accusations, Panic at the Dildo accused Just Remy of having a dildo in his backpack. It was one of those push tubes that you compress to squirt liquid out of, and it was indeed shaped like a penis. He struggled to fill it with beer, at which point Just Ali, who has professional experience with specula, helped show him how to handle his insertion tool. He drank his down-down from the dildo tube to all of our amusement. Remy hadn't hashed for two years, but if he sticks around this time, keep this story in mind for his naming.

I was then accused for sprinting to the shot check, but that's because I had inside info that there were some decent shots in there. Testicular accused Just Ali of trying to recruit the skater boy before saying see you later boy. Then Just Remy, Douche, and Clit Notes drank for backsliding. Now remember Buttler and the wildlife? At some point in circle he saw two hares in the darkness, and Buttler being Buttler, he gave chase around Cambridge Common. So we accused him of hare coitus interruptus. Clitoris Notes was then accused of bringing an anthrax expert to trail, which gives us something to ask Virgin Kagan about next time we see him.

Just Ali was accused of alcohol abuse at the beer check--she only had half her beer before we were on-out, but that was really my fault for having a conversation with her that was so engaging she forgot she was holding a drink. So I joined her for the down-down. As did Buttler for some reason. The hares were accused of saying there wouldn't be any tit checks or dick checks on trail, then laying them anyway. (I guess that's one trick that turned out to be a treat.) Lastly, Buttler proxy drank for Snatchchat's early departure.

Announcements on the night included Dribbles' Beantown trail on Sunday starting from the Beacon Hill Pub, a trail on July 14 that will be exclusively laid in hash sitapedes, and antibuffett. On a personal note, honor to all the veteran hashers I overheard welcoming and getting to know our 7 combined Virgins and Justs.

June 16 Hash Trash

License to Kong Trail

Hare: Quarter Mile Queer

Bag Car: 5 Inch Penalty

Pack: Chunderelli Chuderelli, Cums Like Clockwork, Dimebag Daddy, Extra Terresticle, Fellowship of the Cockring, Full Frontal Fireball, Hand Job for Humanity, Just Ali, Just Joel, O'Boner, Patron Taint, Po Po Peepshow, Shits N Ladders, Sir Menage-a-lot, Sketchy Ho, Snatchchat, Testicular Mechanics, The Buttler Hit It, Tinder Dick, Wikipedophilia

Pre-lube: Hong Kong

Beer Check: Lederman Park

On-in: Galvin Memorial Park

I guess that when you're halfway through HongKongukah, everything starts resembling a scorpion bowl. Or at least you'd think that was the case had you witnessed last night's circle, where Wiki and a few others attempted to weave scorpion bowl references into every down-down song. Does anyone even know what goes into a scorpion bowl? Does it even matter? According to Yankee Pay $5 More, the alcohol is premixed according to a secret family recipe, then combined with a blend of fruit juices. Ignorance is bliss, right?

Trail was a fine urban jaunt around the West End of Boston. There was a healthy share of count backs (including a CB1 at City Hall), a few view checks, and one of those angel wings paintings for the Instagrams. Pack was exceptionally speedy on this trail--you really were either among the FRBs, or getting swept up by Fellowship at the checks, there was no in between.

At circle, Topless Barbie autowanked over to join pack. She tried to claim FBI, but that distinction went to Just Ali. Testicular was FRB and Butter was DFL. Barbie and Shits were accused of sweat test failures. Then our visitors Sir Menage-a-lot of San Francisco and Patron Taint from Long Island Lunatics did their down-downs, with Taint singing us the (now defunct) Knickerbocker H3 song and giving us an underpants show. O'Boner, Shits, and Cums Like Clockwork drank for having June birthdays, while Tinder Dick did a down-down for their three-year hash analversary.

At this point, Snatchchat accused O'Boner of tech on trail, but it was because she was looking up a song about scorpion bowls (as opposed to making one up), which she (mercifully) sang on-key. Buttler accused O'Boner of not completing her down-down, but that ended up being a false accusation, so he drank. Menage-a-lot and Just Ali were accused of layering up at the on-in, then Testicular, Buttler, and Just Joel were accused of putting trash in the recycling (or was it the other way around?). Shits et al drank for non-hash attire, Po Po for not peeing at the porta potty because it was too far, and Shits and Sketchy for being left at the karaoke altar.

Shits told us the story of how his name was called for karaoke while the pack was leaving chalk talk, and how he made eye contact with hashers as they left for trail leaving him to sing all by himself at the pre-lube. Just picture Shits giving you a sad puppy dog face begging you to stick around to hear him sing, but abandoning him to do trail instead. From his perspective, it was a sad story. Unfortunately while telling this story, he used his nerd name, so he drank for that.

The last story of the night concerned the first hash sitapede, where after everyone stood back up, O'Boner spotted a small puddle on the ground. Apparently one of our San Francisco hashers accidentally peed on the other one while in the seated position, so they both drank (I understand that there are pelvic floor exercises to help with incontinence).

The night ended with a round of announcements: On-after at the Hong Kong (duh), Barbie and Dribbles haring next Wednesday in Harvard Square, there's an email list on the website, pay O'Boner hash cash, Shortest Night Dumbest Trail this Friday, and a finish the beer trail that won't end until all the beer is gone.

June 9 Hash Trash

69 on 6/9 Trail

Hare: Extra Terresticle

Pack: Angry Crotch, C*ntcussion, Dribbles, Edward Sissyhands, Frosty the F*ckman, Full Frontal Fireball, Handjob for Humanity, Holy Dumpster Fire, Luva Lamp, Mudslut, No Man on the Moon, Puker Blooper, Quarter Mile Queer, Shits and Ladders, Sir Menage-a-tw*t, Sketchy Ho, Snatchchat, Spunk in the Trunk, Swedish Eagle, Testicular Mechanics, The Buttler Hit It, Topless Barbie, Virgin Charlotte, Virgin Rose

Pre-lube: Columbus Memorial Park

Beer Check: Extra Topless’s Backyard

On-in: Columbus Memorial Park

It feels a little self-serving, writing the hash trash to my own trail. I mean, I can keep in all the good parts of trail, and leave out the shitty parts, right? Also, aside from the beer check, my reporting will be second-hand, so I’ll tell the story of how Sketchy acted sketchy, then dive into the circle write up.

At the pre-lube we were joined by Hoover McSuck N F*ck, who graced us with his presence since we were starting down the street from his place. He told me ahead of time that he wasn’t running trail, but apparently didn’t tell anyone else, which is relevant. After chalk talk, Hoover started walking home, at which point Sketchy, who was running late, joined him thinking that he was on the walkers’ trail. They went to his place and enjoyed a beer, which led to Sketchy thinking that he was hosting the beer check. It wasn’t until some time passed before she asked him when pack was getting there, and he told her he wasn’t doing the rest of trail, so Sketchy finished her beer and continued on toward the actual beer check. Pack, which wanted to wait for Sketchy and Hoover (remember, nobody else knew he wasn’t doing trail), turned the beer check into a two beer check, before they gave up waiting and left for the second leg. I started driving to the on-in where I intercepted Sketchy and told her pack departed, so she about faced and walked back to the park. At the on-in, pack saw Sketchy, but not Hoover (again, nobody knew he was going home), and well, now there’s a narrative that if you invite Sketchy to your place for a beer, you might never be seen or heard from again.

In circle, Buttler and Sketchy were the FRB and FBI, while Spunk was DFL. We met Handjob who transplanted from San Francisco and Sir Menage-a-tw*t who was visiting from San Francisco. In the wildest of coincidences, Handjob moved to Acton and Menage-a-tw*t was visiting family in Acton. Super weird connection there. Handjob met her husband at the hash "by the keg," and he's newly working in Cambridge, so we can expect to meet him sometime soon. Snatchchat brought Virgin Rose and Handjob brought Virgin Charlotte. They gave the standard virgin answers to our questions, acted out their favorite barnyard animals having sex (I think I heard sheep noises), and were welcomed by the pack. Luva Lamp drank for lost shit: his 2019 Anthrax giveaway that had been in my basement throughout the entire pandemic, and Fireball did a down-down for her lost shit: her favorite grocery bag. C*ntcussion, Sweagle, and Butt Pug drank for serving Malort at the bonus shot check on their stoop. Many drank for the backsliders down-down.

Around this time, a cop drove by, but didn't stop. I pointed out that we were on a dead end street and they'd be driving past us again, which they did, and again did not stop. Phew. Everyone who spotted a 69 reference (like the bus lane on Mystic Valley operating from 6-9 a.m., or gas being $2.69 a gallon) on trail did a down-down to Sweet 69 (sang in the key of Sweet Caroline). Angry Crotch and Shits drank for being new Medford residents, and Sketchy drank for being able to see into their kitchen (as if she wasn't sketchy enough). Snatchchat drank for pooping at the beer check, which I was going to let slide until another hasher asked me if I was letting her defile my bathroom. I drank for a 69 trail on 6/9 on a hump day to a song Sissyhands sang about having three balls, and then drank for having solid non-beer options (cider and two kinds of hard seltzer). No Man and Testicular were accused of aerating the Malort, C*ntcussion for sending Sweagle home early to get her pizza, and Menage-a-tw*t for some story about frozen pizza back in SF. Nobody accused Buttler of making grilled cheese sandwiches for everyone during circle, but that was a thing.

As for announcements, Moon trail on Friday, Shortest Night Dumbest Trail on 6/18, Hongkongukah, Beantown H3 on Sunday in Charlestown, and Sweagles Midsummer trail on 6/30.

May 19 Hash Trash

King’s Cup Trail

Hares: Silence of the Skin Flute, Testicular Mechanics

Pack: Bring Out the Gimp, Chunderelli Chunderelli, Clit Notes, Comes Like Clockwork, Cuntcussion, Edward Sissyhands, Extra Terresticle, Full Frontal Fireball, Goat Throat, Holy Dumpster Fire, Just Godfrey, No Man on the Moon, Orgasm Famine, Quarter Mile Queer, Sex the Final Frontier, Sketchy Ho, Snatchchat, The Buttler Hit it, Virgin Louis

Pre-lube: Conway Park

Shot Check: Abandoned lot next to Bailey Park

Beer Check 1: Albion Playground

Beer Check 2: Somerville Junction Park

On-in: Behind Veterans Memorial Rink

When we get old and tell our grandchildren stories of past trails, this one will stand out not for the theme, nor for the glorious late spring weather, nor for the brief visit by our friends in the SPD, but for the excessive laying of falses. Mother f*cking falses. We’re not talking one and outs or two and outs, we’re talking four, five, six marks in a row coming from the check followed by that dastardly evil YBF. I recall one check in particular where one direction had five marks followed by three horizontal lines, another direction had five marks followed by an F, and a third direction had five marks followed by a YBF. And this happened again, and again, and again. You couldn’t assume you were on-on until you found the next check. When the pack yelled RU, I was sure to turn around and give the on-on in air quotes, because even after three marks, you just weren’t totally sure. Sissyhands figured he’d just walk the trail because it took so long to solve each check, and that strategy worked pretty well for him. Gimp’s tracker had an even 3.69 miles, though Testicular said he was at 6 and change. In actuality, trail was probably in the five mile range.

As for that theme, it was an excuse to create a couple of new checks. The J in a circle was not a joke check, but a jack check, where someone named a category and everyone had to shout out something in that category. The Q in a circle was not a QAnon symbol, but a queen check, where everyone was supposed to ask a question of another hasher. The 9 in a circle was a bust a rhyme check. Creative additions, though most were forgotten by the second beer check.

On the trail itself, after climbing up and down the Somerville hills and having a God-awful nip at the shot check, I saw the shiny beacon that was the Somerville Wine & Spirits store. Two miles in and still beer-less, that package store called out to me like the Sirens to Odysseus and I stopped in to grab a four-pack that I shared with Sissyhands, Sketchy, and the Virgin.

In circle, pack commented that they weren’t f*cked enough. Virgin Louis, brought by Snatchchat, had to drink what I think was a Russian Irish Car Bomb, or something. It was his punishment for winning (losing?) King’s Cup. His ski slope description is backwoods, he’d get off on the bus full of lesbians, and he likes to think he’s good at math. No Man and Cuntcussion were co-FBIs, Chuderelli was FRB, and Buttler was DFL. Testicular drank for having a birthday, and Buttler, Gimp, and I drank for being conceived in May. Testicular also drank for his fourth hash analversary, and Cuntcussion joined him for celebrating her third year hashing. People drank for thinking the bag car key was lost, the hares drank for labeling the BN with a 5/19 to indicate the day (we were close to crossing over a past trail’s marks), and Silence drank for leaving his bag unattended. I was accused of using technology to record my scribe notes, as well as for my not all heroes wear capes moment of the mid-trail beer run. Then the cops showed up and told us it would be best for everyone if we wrapped it up (no babies!), so we whispered announcements and went home.

As for those announcements, there’s a ball-less dog ballbuster coming up, a finish the beer ballbuster, a Moon trail on Saturday, and Beantown Mywhorial and Independence Day trails. Mark your calendars, take the COVID rules survey, and be good to each other.

Till next time, on-on!