July-us Caesar Trail

7/27/2022 BH3 Trail: July-us Caesar Trail

Tales from a Front Running Bastard

I arrived at the prelube, Worden Hall, to find Wiki at the bar. I sat down and got a fried chicken sandwich and a coke. A few others showed up. There was confusion from some regarding the start location. The start had changed in the days leading up to the hash, and the details had not fully propagated across all communication channels. Wiki insisted that there was no confusion (“There is no confusion.” -Wiki 7/27/2022). But my flawless logic, pointing out both the confused people on the messaging apps, and the people showing up at the bar saying they were confused (“Wait I’m confused” -Tacos On a Bridge, 7/27/2022, “I am also confused”- Just Caleb, 7/27/2022) prevailed, and Wiki went out and laid clarifying marks from the old start to the new start. Pack continued to filter in. The hares, Frosty the Fuckman and Wikipedophelia, left at a reasonable hour, followed soon by pack heading out to put their bags in Spunk’s trunk, and to do chalk talk. Some of us donned togas for the Julius Caesar themed trail.

At chalk talk, Fireball explained the day’s special marks - “Backstabs” in place of checkbacks, and “you’ve been backstabbeds” in place of YBFs. We introduced ourselves. Pack consisted of Blue Balls Matter, Holy Dumpster Fire, Sex the Final Frontier, Beeestiality B4 Boys, Full Frontal Fireball, [Transplant] Tacos on a Bridge, Wax on/Wax off, Visitor Wrong-Thong, Visitor Pink Penalty, Visitor Hickey, Just Caleb, Just Virgin Andrew, Triceratopped, Orgasm Famine, Just Grace, Visitor Sweetheart, Edward Sissyhands, DJ Gags Easy, Strap on/Strap off, Sketchy Ho, Just Jan, No Man on the Moon, Qatar Mile Queer, Willy Wonka and the Backdoor Factory (latecomer), Fischdick, Mr. Bean, Zanbon-me (latecomer), and myself Shits & Ladders.

We started trail looking for marks that would lead us either deeper into South Boston, or towards the rest of Boston. I checked the "rest of Boston" way, and found a one-and-out. Others found the correct trail into Southie. I eventually found myself near the front of pack, taking turns with Blue Balls and Famine as one or the other of us guessed the correct direction from checks. We meandered in a southeasterly direction through the grid network of roads in Southie.

At one point, pack found a telltale mark indicating that the hares were lost on their own trail. We stalled for a bit at this point, unable to find additional marks. Some detective work was required to uncover a mark hidden under a trashcan, before we proceeded.

Blue Balls and I again got to work finding the trail, but then I noticed some people playing basketball in a park, and needed to stop and tell them to crash the boards and play D. They were not hustling and everyone knows you can’t win a basketball game with that garbage. This set me back into the midst of pack considerably. The front runners found some marks, and ran more of what would soon make itself apparent as a long checkback (er backstab).

We eventually ended up circling half of the Dorchester Heights hill. There was a beer-near, then marks going steeply downhill, which I was 98% sure would be a checkback, but checked out anyway. It was of course a checkback, and the beer check was of course on top of the hill. Duh. Never give up the high ground.

From the beercheck, hashers were able to watch a beautiful sunset. The hares had provided an "Orange Julyus" drink which was deemed to be pretty tasty, along with the beer. I think we picked up a Wonka here.

The hares left and the pack followed. I don't remember a lot about the next leg. It was short. There was another checkback/backstab, or two, one of them might have involved another steep hill. Who is truly to say what happened out there? Anywhom, we soon arrived to...

Beercheck 2, at Joe Moakley Park. Joe Moakley was some dude. I dunno, look it up, maybe he's on Wikipedia. More beer and Orange Julyus for the pack. There was some impromptu singing and general merrimaking. ZanBone-Me joined us at beercheck 2 to imbibe. Again the hares left and again the pack followed.

We came through a playground (many went around), and skirted a baseball field and amphitheater before exiting Joe Schmo Park southeastwards towards the beach. I front-ran again, this time with Sex The Final Frontier. The general location of the on-in was apparent, but the exact route was TBD, so we watched the ground closely for marks. There were many true trail marks in close succession, zig-zagging us this way and that, and encouraging us to “send it” at full throttle. We finally saw the hares awaiting pack. Sex tried to race me, but he is weak from skipping track workouts, and lost. Go run some 400s bud.

For circle, we went down to the waterfront, with the waves lapping up and down [at] our... feet. We had comments on trail, a song from the hares, a collective song from the multiple visitors, a de-virginzing of a virgin who didn't know he was a virgin (courtesy of dementress Spunk). He made a goat-gasm noise, which we were unable to confirm the accuracy of, without the presence of Goat-Throat, and with Famine inexplicably missing from circle. FRB, FBI, DFL, yada, yada, yada... Accusations happened, We learned that one of the visitors had backslid for 12 years. Pack tried to shame him, but I encouraged kindness to someone who must surely be, like, super-old. Non-togas were accused. The few brave enough to swim in Boston Harbor attempted to accuse the rest of us, but we counter-accused them of being radioactive. Gags Easy commented that we'd all be jealous of the additional appendages they would be gaining due to the toxic exposure. There were honor down-downs for bag car, and for the RA bringing us nice weather. We also wished Mr. Bean well, as he is soon to return to his home planet.
Announcements included a Moon trail this Friday (Start at Cambridge Brewing Company @ 6:30), and the fact that Beantown trails exist and will continue to happen at their normal scheduled times (Sunday afternoons weekly). Further useful details on the Beantown trails were sparse.

We then sang religion.

Afterwards, some hashers went to the Hong Kong to get a piece, of scorpion bowls, presumably. Hopefully visitor Wrong-Thong went to the right-Kong.

Ok, I think I'm done here.
-Shits

Monty Python and the Lost on Trail

July 13, 2022 Trail
Monty Python and the Lost on Trail

Hares: Do Me Decimal, Wikipedophilia
Bag car: Triceratopped
Pack: Beeeestiality B4 Boys, Blue Balls Matter, Bottom Wrangler, Bum F*cking Vagabond, Clit Notes, Cookies for Nookie, Cummy Sticks, Cums Like Clockwork, DJ Gags Easy, Dr. Blow, Dribbles, Extra Terresticle, Far Blow, Glutenless Maximus, Holy Dumpster Fire, Just Bird, Just Jeff, Kneels for Ginger Jizz, No Man on the Moon, Orgasm Famine, Shits N Ladders, Sketchy Ho, Slothy Seconds, Spunk in the Trunk, Strap On Strap Off, Testicular Mechanics, The Buttler Hit It, Virgin Janine, Virgin Sharon, Wax Off, Whorevette, Zamboneme

Pre-lube: Democracy Brewing
Beer check 1: Gardens at Greenwich Park in the South End
Beer check 2: Symphony Community Park
On-in: Charlesgate East Park

One of the marathon events lost to the pandemic was supposed to be Monty Python themed, so this trail offered up a chance for hashers to finally don their costumes. We had the lumberjack, the Black Knight, some chain mail wearers, and coconut shell knockers. That was mostly it though because in reality it was too hot for costumes.

There were virgins, there were visitors, there were virgins brought by visitors. There were justs--one not real and one that was "totally definitely absolutely not a virgin." Trail was a two-beer check trail that sliced through the South End, through Berkeley, and toward the Back Bay.

Comments on trail included: too many horses, hot enough coconuts, too many tit checks, serious lack of penguins, not enough Spam, too much Spam, and not enough dark alleys. Hares sang the Mobile song and circle continued. We had two virgins: Virgin Janine (Whorevette) and Virgin Sharon (Strap On Strap Off). Sharon would help her uncle Jack off, Janine prefers groomed trails, neither are good at math, and one identified Mickey Mouse as her favorite cartoon character. They were not worthy, but we took them anyway.

Visitors included Bottom Wrangler, Glutenless, and Whorevette. During circle, we were also visited by the local neighborhood watch--Spank Me May I Have My Mother. There was also an I Eat T-bags appearance. Goat Throat was spotted on trail, but not seen at circle. Celebrating birthdays and analversaries were Wrangler, Do Me, Triceratopped, Wiki, and Spunk. Our FRB was Testicular, our FBI was Vagabond, and our DFL was Buttler.

Circle continued with accusations. I have "Beeees honor down down f*cking tourists," and I don't know if she was complaining about the f*cking tourists, or if she was f*cking the tourists. Whichever one it was though, she drank for it. Wrangler accused Strap On for assuming that we are all experts in strap ons. Apparently, there's a dildo called the Bad Dragon and only 1-2 hashers knew what that was.
Everyone who didn't eat Spam did a down-down (basically a social). There was some debate over whether the brown spots on the ground at the on-in were dirt turds or human feces. Beeees had an accusation about wanting to do more verses to the Mobile song. Then DJ was accused of thinking incest took place in Mobile when we all know it takes place in Texas.

Blue Balls was accused of injuring herself after last week's circle, and she was joined by Buttler and Testicular who had blood on trail. I have something here about Strap On not knowing the shape of the state of Georgia. Then anyone who complained a bunch got brought into circle to be Old McDonalded.
As for announcements, Hash Sitapede Cajun Redux Part 2 Electric Boogawho's lap am I sitting on trail on Wednesday, then on August 3 is the Pickles and Pikachu trail. And that is all.

7/6 XXXth anal IndePanties Day!

Hash Trash: 7/6/22 XXXth anal IndePanties Day!

Hares: Sweagle and C*ntcussion
Bag Car: Do Me Decimal
Virgin: Bird
Transplant: Zam-bone-me
Pack: Beeeestiality Before Boys, Blue Balls Matter, Clit Notes, C*ms Like Clockwork, Dr. Blow, Dribbles, Fellowship of the Cockring, Goat Throat, Frosty the F*ckman, Holy Dumpster Fire, Moaning Lisa, Mudslut, No Man on the Moon, Orgasm Famine, Popo Peepshow, Shart of Darkness, Shits and Ladders, Slothy Seconds, Spunk in the Trunk, The Buttler Hit It, Testicular Mechanics, Triceratopped, Wikipedophilia

Word warning: the word panty or its derivative appears 11 times in this trash. If that word is like nails on a chalkboard to you, just be glad they aren’t moist.

A pack gathered on Canal St. to celebrate an important milestone in American history: IndePanties Day. 225 years ago, our founding fathers (particularly Ben Franklin) were really into the idea of people having the freedom to take their panties off and switch with someone else. They don’t teach it in school, but most of the American Revolution was actually about sex stuff. The Boston Tea Bagging Party? One if by man, two if by she? No taxation without consummation? The cumshot heard round the world? Ben Franklin? Anyway, old Tommy Jefferson wrote a strongly worded letter about Life, Liberty, and the Panties of Happiness, and now we gather every year to thank the guy.
Participation in the theme was high, with panties ranging from (in order from best to worst to end up with in a swap) a pair of taco-themed briefs that said “all you can eat” across the front, a pair with a goat making a horrified teeth-baring expression, a pair with “On On VT” where the V was a hash foot, some lacy boy-shorts, thongs (glittery and otherwise), and a 5-pack of granny panties from CVS. At one point Wiki bent over to tie his shoes while wearing the goat panties and I’m telling you, if you haven’t made eye contact with a horrified stretched out goat on Wiki’s ass, your life is better than mine.

The hares knew what they were doing, and strategically placed panty-swap checks in very crowded locations. The men of the hash did not know what they were doing, and looked like a bunch of actual virgins handling ladies underwear. Panties were put on upside down, inside out, and sideways. Yes, sideways. Fellowship of the Cockring probably made it about ¾ of a mile in a sideways thong covering one cheek without even noticing that something was off. I tried to teach the boys about gussets, but I couldn’t even feel it when Goat Throat inserted his finger into mine.
Mudslut got in on the do-you-know-how-to-wear-underwear action by somehow getting a brown stain on the white granny panties. We will optimistically assume this was mud. The other notable trail fail falls on the shoulders of the whole pack: the hares reported that they left 27 shots for a pack of 30, and 3 went unconsumed.

We had a virgin! Virgin Bird. He’s probably not real. Popo Peepshow was both his sponsor and his dementress, because why make it a threesome when two will do. Although the “all you can eat for under a dollar” question was enhanced by the model wearing panties that literally said "all you can eat" under the dollar, V-Bird’s answer was a still-laudable “moneyshot.” I hope he comes back if he’s not a drone.

After circle closed, Blue Balls Matter came through with an 11th hour hash crash while helping carry some trash to the bag car. Ya’ll, she broke her thumb! And got some horrible road rash on her shoulder that looks like a nipple if you squint just right. This is your reminder to never do nice things.

A townie spoke for everyone who witnessed this trail when he accosted Sweagle at the first beer check and said, “Stop doing that shit.” So, eventually, we did stop doing that shit, and went to Hong Kong.

On – Semper Ubi Sub Ubi – On,
Slothy Seconds