Boston Hash Trash

Chasing Boston Strangler

2011-12-09T16:56:00.000-05:00

Chasing Down the Boston Strangler Sunday Hash 11/20/11
Hares: Boston Strangler and I Eat Teabags
Bag car: Twat Tart
RA: +2 Coonass
Dementress: CPeeA
Hash Cash: Oink Oink (How did I get roped into that?)
Scribe: Oink Oink
Pre-Lube: Otherside Cafe/Mass Ave Tavern
Virgins: Virgin Taylor

Trail:
Just like the previous week the pack was lost from the get go. Took at least 10 minutes to find trail and get going in the right direction. To be expected; look who the hares were! The pack traipsed through the Fens park (stopping for hidden beers along the way), and into the Roxbury Crossing area. We lost High Anus at a left turn; he thought he could zen the trail and he was sorely mistaken. About a half mile down the road from that point, past a police officer with a curious look on his face, we found our delicious amber beverage at the first beer check.

After the check, we r*n past picturesque condo buildings with manicured lawns. The hares led us through a high school complex where the pack promptly got lost once again. We followed marks that led us to a backwards true trail mark - we had been duped or cut out part of trail. We finally collected ourselves and found trail again through some neighborhoods and wound up at the second beer check, at Dudley Town Common.

We all knew where we were headed. Boston Strangler has a great backyard, understanding neighbors, and a hot tub... there was no question. Lo and behold, we arrived at Boston Strangler's place for circle, food, and more beer!

Circle:
-FRB, FNI, and DFL were +2, Snap Off, and Pat My Fly, respectively.
-CPeeA called Virgin Taylor into the circle, who was already WELL past drunk (very hashman like), to start her dementing. TBags was a kind gentleman and let the virgin kneel on his back, but really he was just trying to get closer to her crotch. Her favorite barnyard animal was a pig (!!!!) and she had to demonstrate how a menagerie of farm animals would perform in the bedroom.
-Visitors were called into the circle, so Just Beat It (transplant) came to accept his fate. It somehow turned into a social with Bros, Mexican, +2, Just Paul, and Senor Cocksucker - no idea.
-Douche got called into circle for a hash crash
-Late comers were Bros and Buttler
-Sexy cop costumes were brought by Preggers, Just Lisa and Virgin Taylor. They were handcuffed together for more fun and made to drink.
-Bros and Mexican caught Boston Strangler so he was forced to drink for the Hare Snare.
-Other things happened but the scribe was busy drinking and her handwriting had deteriorated by the end of the night.

Patriots-themed Foray into Dorchester and TWO NAMINGS!

2011-12-09T12:33:00.000-05:00

Patriots Theme 11/13/11
Hares: Just Brandon*** and Stick it to the Bros
Bag car: Sketchy Ho
Chalk Talk: Krusty the Meat Miser
Dementress: CPeeA and Clit Notes
Scribe: Oink Oink
Pre-Lube: Brendan Behan Pub
Virgins: Virgin Jesse and Virgin Dave

Trail:
You know it's a Bros trail when the pack gets lost before they even lose sight of the pre-lube bar. It took a solid five or so minutes to get us on track (what a terrible omen), but FINALLY trail was found and we were off. We traveled down Centre street - miraculously no one was shot - and made our way into Roxbury towards the first beer check. The hares really chose a safe environment to stop in; we sang, drank adult beverages, and made sure to avoid the used syringes strewn about while sitting atop rocks at Horatio Harris Park.

The second leg of trail led us through projects and dilapidated homes (what else?). The driver of a giant pimped out SUV got out of the car to start running with us and a hasher threatened to steal the car! We make friends where ever we go. Somewhere in there was a Group Hug check next to a giant head (who said head?) statue. Creepy. Some hashers took the opportunity to roll down a hill full of leaves. We're all really five years old on the inside. Second beer check was in another park. And yes, we were all thinking, "Maybe that promise/lie about three beer checks was true?"

Trail continued on AGAIN and the pack searched for even more beer. One man yelled at the pack while we were r*nning with some very good advice: "Pick yo' kneeeees up! Pick yo' kneeeees up!" he screamed from his car. Thanks random guy. Beer was found another two miles through one of the scetchiest areas of Boston (Dorchester) in a park located across the street from what looked like it could be a porn shop or "Gentleman's Club" but was in fact a car stereo place. The hares provided not just beer, there were shots to be had! Blue and Orange drink with what I'm sure was the very best and most expensive top shelf liquor mixed in.

And then the horror set in: There is yet ANOTHER LEG OF TRAIL. Who let Bros destroy Just Brandon*** by allowing him to hare a trail? It was turning into a nightmare. More r*nning was awaiting us at the bottom of the gallons of shots.

Luckily, those tricky hares set off to mark trail that only went another block! We took one right and down the street just one hundred feet away was our On-in!! The Dot Tavern.

Circle:
-We of course sang "Shitty Trail" to our hares and they returned a lovely favorite of the hash, "I love my girl yes I do..."
-FBI Spunk and FRB toomuchhead were flipped off in "Not #5.." and DFL Spunk (yes she was both), sang us a song that doesn't get used to often: "I'm a harriette..."
-Visitors: Knight of the Cocksucker (transplant) from Rochester and Massive Cock Check from San Fran sang us some songs
-CPeeA and Clit Notes jumped in to dement our virgins Jesse and Dave. Virgin Dave would not get off the bus full of homosexuals AND his favorite barnyard animal is a PIG! #1 in my book, too. Virgin Jesse would help his uncle Jack off that tricky roof, but his favorite farm animal is a chicken so I'm a little disappointed in him.
-Willy Wonka and Friar had to drink from Virgin Jesse's very white shoes, and Friar even licked up every last drop. No surprise there; we'd expect nothing less from Friar.
-Snap Off got an honor down-down for her first trail after becoming a US Citizen!
-Backsliders Snap Off, Poopie Chutes, Yankee, and Puff and Stuff were called in to drink for their blatant disregard for the hash.
-Toomuchhead did a hot dog down-down! (It was as impressive as it sounds.)
-Sweat test failures included Downward Facing Dyke and Twat Tart.
-Puff and Stuff was called into circle to celebrate 10 YEARS of hashing! We also sang a very Hashy Birthday as well.

***Namings of Just Brandon and Just Katie***
First, our hare Just Brandon was called into the circle. He'd been with us for a while, c*mming every week since his virginity was taken. Hell, he'd c*m everyday if he could. Many suggestions were thrown out there by the pack: Lumber Jack Off (he won some lumberjack competition), Erect Penis Ass-ociation (EPA), Swollen Balls, Two Girls One Family (a personal favorite of mine). He told us a story about this one time he was fisting his sister, or maybe it was some girl and his sister walked in and joined them ... who really knows. The important thing is he got named "Little Sister Fister"! Please refer to him by his hash name from this day forth and always.

After Sis got covered in beer, it was time to call Just Katie into the circle. She had been once thrown back and the hash was determined to get her a good name. She told us a riveting tale about how this one time she was 20 at a college party and she hooked up with a 15 year old! "He told me he was 18," was all she had to say for herself. She also happens to be from that place in California where all the swallows go. Suggestions were as follows: Cradle Bitch, 15 Will Getcha 20, Just Swallows, and Baby Boinker. Ultimately, "Statutory Swallows" won out! She will hence forth be referred to as that forever. Or until she does something really dumb.

*Hashers, please know that the Dot Tavern is a very hash friendly place to be! They had free hot dogs, and after a while, the bartender loved us so much he was passing out free pitchers for our circle. If you will be haring a trail in that area, consider stopping at Dot Tavern at 840 Dorchester Avenue in Dorchester!

--------------------------------------------
Overheard on Trail:
"She walked out of the bar and all I heard was, 'I can't find my vagina.'"
-Willy Wonka and the Backdoor Factory

"I feel bad running through these projects, like we're assholes."
"Nah. We're just showing them they should be running."
"So you're saying WE'RE not assholes?"
-Exchange between Just Katie*** and a guy, (possibly a virgin) with long hair

AGM Weekend

2011-11-10T15:05:00.000-05:00

There are a lot of good combinations out there: Peanut butter and dark chocolate, cake and ice cream, pizza and beer, scribing and beer ...

Wait, wrong combo. Actually, it can be a pretty entertaining mix, but in this case the beer was a detriment. Yes, it's taken this long to decipher the drunken scribbles in the scribing notebook, a sure sign of just how AMAZING a celebration this past AGM was. So, without further ado, here is your AGM weekend hash trash!

Halloween Themed AGM 10/29/11
Hares: Outgoing GMs THE 2nd Cumming and Dirty Latte Sanchez
Bag car: ummm...
RA: Twat My Mom
Dementress: Yellow Dick Gnome
Hash Cash: Hare Club for Queers
Scribe: Oink Oink
Pre-Lube: Beacon Hill Pub
Pack: About 50 Boston wankers and visitors!

Trail:
It was a cold and rainy day (a snowstorm was looming!) when costumed hashers from far and wide made their way to the Beacon Hill Pub to meet up for what was promised to be an amazing trail from outgoing GMs 2nd and Latte. Trail wound about MGH and through the appropriately named "Beacon Hill" area where the pack's collective quads screamed for a long downhill path. We came upon Boston Common and the Public Gardens, but at this point the pack was already lost and zenning to pick up marks as we were desperate for beer or - there it was! Along the esplanade near the Hatch shell stage was a glorious shot check; your pick of red drink or blue drink with gusty winds and rain pelting your face.

The pack took off quickly after the shot check on account of the rain and all, and crossed over Storrow Drive towards the hoity-toity Back Bay area. Soon they were scaring rich residents and pretend rich shoppers along Newbury Street. After meandering around Boylston Street for a while, the second beer check was discovered! Slightly shielded from the rain and wind, (or hardly at all...), underneath a Mass Pike bridge.

The pack didn't stay long at the check. We all knew where we were going to wind up. About a half mile up the road was Ramrod and the hash and Ramrod have a deep, meaningful, mutual love for each other. We barreled into the On-In for the warmth, the beer, and our dinner.

Circle (which the scribe tried to keep notes on... silly scribe):
Twat took the mic and called up our outgoing GMs, THE 2nd Cumming and Dirty Latte Sanchez. We knew that these two LOVE the ice so we sang as many songs as we could to prolong their joy! The pack serenaded the two of them with Chicago and S&M Man. They then witnessed a de-virginizing (yes, there was a virgin at AGM!), and the calling out of the FRB (Douche), FBI (Jello), and DFL (Buttler). Hare Club took the mic (while they were still on the ice), and read the names of ALL the past Boston Hash GMs and the dates they signed the Sword. Those present made their way to the circle and sang More Beer all the way up to the number 34! Zoopada Zoopada was sung to keep those GM asses nice and cool, they signed the sword, drank from the shoe, and FINALLY they were released from the ice, their duties as hash GMs complete.

Incoming GMs Goat Throat and Sketchy Ho took their places on the ice while Velvet Pelvis gave some sort of speech, and then we sang them Yogi Bear and When it's Hog Calling Time in Nebraska! Outgoing RAs Twat and Bend Over Mommy listened to us croon Yo Ho, and incoming RAs Krusty the Meatmiser and 2nd had to suffer through Gangbang.

Other ice block sitters:
-Outgoing Hash Cash: Hare Club, High Anus, and Spunk in the Trunk (sang There Was a Little Bird...)
-Incoming Hash Cash: same as above!
-Outgoing Haberdashers: Mexican Humping Queen, My Chemical Homance
-Incoming Haberdashers: Willy Wonka and the Back Door Factory, Mexican, and Homance (sang Wiener breath)
-Outgoing Hareraiser: Goat
-Incoming Hareraisers: Senor Cocksucker and Twat
-Outgoing Scribe: Goes Down on Buoys (sang Some Die of Masturbation)
-Incoming Scribe: Oink Oink Ohhhhhh
-Outgoing Beer Bitch: The Buttler Hit It (sang You're #1)
-Incoming Beer Bitches: Buttler, I Lick Butts
-Outgoing Dementress: Cum Locker and Yellow Dick Gnome (sang Shitonya)
-Incoming Dementer/tress: Certified Poop Accuntant and Clit Notes (sang Put Your Left Tit)
-Outgoing Holiday Party: Bondage Barbie and Mexican
-Incoming Holiday Party: Just Victoria and Miami Slut Machine
-Marathon Chairs: Twat and Gimp
-Outgoing Hash Hos: Spunk, Bondage Barbie, and 2nd (sang Follow the Hares)
-Incoming Hash Hos: Twat and 2nd (sang Glorious Victorious)
-Songmeister: Velvet Pelvis and Piss Stop (sang He's the Meanest)
-Alcohol Abuse: Pierce My Saur-ass, Goat, Coochie, and Buttler
-New hasher badges: Front Running Bork Bork Bork, Senor Cocksucker, Clit Notes, Oink Oink Ohhhhhh, Jello Wrecked 'Em, Balls Deep, and Pierce My Saur-ass.
-Visitors: Rainbow Fuckin' Brite and Face Down (sang Face Down Ass Up)

Announcements:
-Sign up and pay for Marathon!! Only $49 until November 20th! bostonhash.com!
-See 2nd Cumming for information on how to get your very own Boston Hash mug!! Complete with your name carved and painted.

Then hashers split off for more drink, chatting, and of course, strippy cup. The hash isn't complete without strippy cup.

AGM Fatboy 10/30/11
Hares: Incoming GMs Goat Throat and Sketchy Ho
Bag car: None, this was a fat boy trail!
Brunch Pre-Lube: Club Cafe (11:30 am)
Trail Pre-Lube: Clery's (1:30)

To be honest, this scribe drank way too much. I didn't make it to the Fat Boy trail because my liver was still screaming at me from the debauchery the night before. I think the pack eventually appeared at Hong Kong, an excellent choice.

But you can help write this hash trash! Comment on this post and let everyone know what happened! You know you want to.

Don't forget to check out bostonhash.com and @bostonhash for all your Boston H3 information and news!!

ON-I don't know how my liver will survive another year-ON
Oink

Boston Moon Trail #110

2011-10-31T10:42:00.000-04:00

Here it is! An actual trash from not only someone that was present at the last moon trail, but from a hare herself!! Holy hell fire shit, tell us about it Balls Deep!!!

Boston Moon - Trail 110
Hunter's Moon - 10/14/2011
Hares: Balls Deep and Dildo Vajayjay Baggins
Bag Car: Friar F*ck
Trash writer: Balls Deep
Edited by: Oink Oink Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

It was a dark and rainy Friday night. The hashers creeped and crawled their ways to the White Horse Tavern for a pre-lube experience. Balls Deep arrives hashinably late but is greeted with smiles and orgasms by several other wankers. We enjoy a beer... and another beer... slowly realizing that the co-hare, dildo vajayjay baggins, is nowhere to be seen. "Why are we waiting? We could be......" He finally arrives around an hour late... still hashmanlike behavior. Hares away.

Disclaimer: the events of trail are mearly a speculation as the trash is being written by the hare. Any inaccuracies.. and accuracies are purely coincidental and do not reflect any actual stories.

We followed trail through the ghetto shiggy of Lower Allston, grabbed a slice of pizza at Regina's, over the pike, through the houses, and we came (oh yes we came) upon an illuminated statue of Jesus. The hash sang their praises; can I get a Hail Mary? Then ON-ON we went. Shortly thereafter we played at the playground of some higher learning establishment. OH NO - a fence! The plight (or joy!) of moon hashers. The first over-achieving wankers scaled the fence while the slower and wiser hashers realized there was a hole in the fence. Oh Glorious hole! Around the corner, past the Dunkin Donuts, and all of a sudden the pack was stonewalled... literally a stone wall. Easily scaled by said over-achieving wankers to find the golden brew for the first BC in Franklin Park.

Introductions were had since the rain had subsided. Those stupid idiots who came included the aforementioned hares Balls Deep and Dildo Vajayjay Baggins, The hasher from Rhode Island whose hash name I cannot remember, Stick it to the Bros, The Buttler Hit it, Friar F*ck, Chap Dick Charlie, Takes it in the @ssburger, Clit Notes, E=I'maDouche, Roscoe P. Cumstain, I Licked Butts, Yoron Weed, +2 Coonass, Pubic Service Announcement, Wikipediphilia, and Rogaine Sally. Rogaine brought with him a virgin: Virgin Mary. I'm not shitting you, and she was quite hashmanlike. We drank and we sang, the hares pounded their delicious PBRs and were away once again.

The hares scaled the outfield fence with the ease of gazelles, laying flour and chalk for the pack to follow. The trail took the pack past the CBS station with the giant satellite dishes. The hashers all turned into mutants. Not X-men like mutants, but like Teenage Mutant Ninja Hashers. The trail then went near the Shaws supermarket and around the construction, I swear it crossed Western Ave 69 times and then we came upon a check. Yes, trail can go in any direction including up... which it did - over the soldier's field road and into the park next to the Sweet Charles river - Can I get a Proud Mary??? Can I get a Count Back? Yes, count back and then the ON-IN at the Publik Theatre. We drank and we sang, we sang and we drank, it rained and rained some more. We spanked the virgin and she was a virgin no more.

FRB was Chap Dick Charlie due to his pre-cognative abilities, and because he helped BD scout trail... hey lower Alston can be scary at night. [That's not an FRB, that's a secret hare! Tricky Charlie!] FBI was Bros. DFL was +2 coonass. RAs were Dildo and BD. Accusations were made and many were called into the circle. I honestly can't remember who was accused of what or what comments were made cause I was pretty toasted - so much beer. All I remember is +2 wearing the disco tron ON-ON marquee shirt. Crazy honey badger.

On-After ended up being at Charlies in Harvard Square, where we finally dried off and thawed out over decent beer, warm food, and lots of humping.

ON-my-first-stab-at-writing-hash-trash-ON
Balls Deep

Epic Hashing Weekend

2011-10-25T12:13:00.000-04:00

This scribe got lost in that damned Danvers Corn Maze this week. I REFUSED to call 911 like those pansies though, (seriously, you can WALK THROUGH CORN "WALLS") so that's why this post is a tad late...

Hashers, there were three, count 'em, THREE opportunities to hash this past weekend! This only happens maybe once every six months: Full Moon Friday, 3rd An*l Pearl Necklace Saturday, and the good 'ol standby Sunday hash.

SO: Here's what you missed if you didn't hash at all this weekend. (...more virgins and beer for the rest of us!)

BMH3 #110 Friday 10/14/11
1) A rainy, cold moon hash that included locals and visitors from far and wide alike!
2) SO MUCH BEER at said moon hash.
3) Inaugural trail for new GMs Balls Deep and T Bags!
4) An hours late T Bags blaming traffic for his tardiness, but we really know he was working on his swag in the mirror to try to seduce harriettes later that evening...
5) It really cannot be stressed enough that there was SO MUCH BEER. This is why Moon trails are the best trails.

3rd An*l Pearl Necklace "Wicked Itch of the East" Saturday 10/15/11
Hares: There were a lot of them
Bag Car: There were a lot of them (or just one?)
Pack: About 45 unlucky wankers from near and far that were crazy enough to rego!
Visitors: Yoron, Harlot, Squatch, Roscoe ... and a lot of other people.

Trail:
Pre-lube started at Tavern on the Water. In case you were wondering, Tavern on the Water is in fact on the water, and no where near any T stop. Except one bus line. Who's idea was that? There was, however, a magnificent view of Boston to remind us all of the city we crisscross weekly. And most importantly, there was BEER.

After a quick chalk talk where were all discussed where one visiting hasher may end up after sufficiently drunk that evening, we went out to find trail. (Anyone know what actually happened to him?) The pack promptly got lost within the first five minutes. Tricky hares. The first leg led us to some glorious truck stops with Porno Mags galore! The first circle included some big butt beauties found on the pages of those magazines, and some very, VERY drunk hares. It ended when we ran out of beer. A sad sight to see.

The second leg of trail led us through Chelsea and East Boston for a beer check under Route 1, a terribly marked trail where this scribe got separated from the pack, got lost, and ultimately ended up stopping into Dunkin Donuts to refuel with a delicious hot latte. Not the Dirty Sanchez kind, sorry boys. Poor AB got injured and had to limp off to lay down and die... By the time the scribe caught up with the pack at the second circle in Belle Isle Marsh, the pack had picked up a spontaneous virgin!! Can you believe it? We are an attractive bunch; I guess she couldn't resist our charm. We also celebrated the completion of the 13 beer challenge by FRBBB, Maid of Honor, and someone else. They could barely stand.

Third leg of trail finally included some lunch, and found us drunkenly stumbling into Beachmont and Revere. Honestly, I don't really remember what happened, except that we r*n in a straight line for a very long time until we wound up at The Cove! Third circle and the celebration of the end of Pearl Necklace commenced. We renamed an out-of-town hasher from Burlington, VT. Her NEW name is Harlot Globe Fondler!

Hashers listen up! We named Just Kathryn! She will forever now be known at the hash as Tail Gagger! She also goes down in history as the fastest naming ever at the Boston Hash.

BH3 Sunday Trail #(figuring that out...) 10/16/11
"The Longest Fat Boy Trail EVER"
Hare: Wikiepedophelia
Bag car: Butler
RA: Nips
Sub-Dementress: Oink Oink
Scribe: Oink Oink
Pre-Lube: Punter's Pub
Pack: Roscoe, Nips, Assburger, Goat, Bros, Douche, Better Late then Pregnant, Dribbles, Just Dave, Just Frank, Sugar Hump Fairy, Just Brandon, Just Arjil, Pat My Fly, Just Mark, Just James, Oink Oink, and Virgin Liz!

Trail:
We all knew it was c*mming. A wonderful fatboy trail where we could drink beer while slowly moseying along. Wiki was dressed in jeans at the bar and he didn't even bring chalk or flour to mark trail and was begging for donations. And then Bros happened. Bros made a comment to Wiki that not everyone had been at Pearl Necklace the day before. Wiki felt compelled to give these lazy wankers a trail; he changed into appropriate clothing and took off.

The hare got lost. And so did the pack. A huge Mass Ave intersection left us completely blindsided and lost for 15 minutes. In fact, we trudged along for almost FOUR MILES before we found the first beer check in the Fens. Our favorite game Bag-O began! Pat got into the check just as we were leaving and had no beer to drink and no orange food to eat! About a mile after the first check the trail changed to cajun. Wiki was out of chalk and the pack was about to be on their own. After two miles we came upon a Shaw's Supermarket. Second check was in an alley behind it - chosen specifically so Wiki could buy flour to continue trail. You heard that right. We had now covered over six miles and Wiki was buying materials to continue trail. Fortunately, Wiki knew there would be a mutiny if he didn't mark trail and lead us to some beer soon. Flour was strewn all about the sidewalks - not in clumps - in lines so the pack couldn't get lost. And then it happened: We found the On-In exactly where we had left it. We staggered into Punter's Pub, an A-A "fat boy" trail complete.

Circle:
-Wiki got called into circle of course. Who sets a 7+ mile trail after a Pearl Necklace?
-Bros was called into circle for causing the 7+ mile trail
-Virgin Liz was called into circle and Oink tried her hardest to de-virginize properly. At least we got to witness the demonstration of her favorite sexual position!
-Overachievers were called in for attending all three trails: Assburger, Roscoe, Wiki, Bros, and Yoron
-Visitors: Yoron and Roscoe
-Sweat test failure: Cherry Poppin' Patty
-A few wankers stopped for food on trail: Yoron, Better Late, and Douche all stopped to eat! In the middle of trail!
-FBI: Dribbles
-FRB: Bros
-Backslider: Better Late than Pregnant

So there you have it! Detrails are of course fuzzy due to copious amounts of beer, but you can be sure you missed an epic weekend of debauchery.

Don't forget that AGM is this upcoming weekend! See bostonhash.com or our very own twitter feed @BostonHash for detrails.

Angry Birds Hash

2011-08-03T16:00:00.004-04:00

Hello Wankers, Discussions were had at last night's trail re: what a "Hash Trash" is? That made me realize that no one has written one up in a while. I will try and attempt one, and will allow myself to be corrected by the current Scribe if he did in fact take notes.

Disclaimer: No notes were actually taken, all is from memory or fabricated.

Trail: the Angry Birds Hash 8/3/11
Hares: Twat My Mom & Clit Notes
Bag Car: Willy Wonka and the Back Door Factory

The Pack: Dirty Latte Sanchez, Sketchy Ho, The Butler Hit It, Yankee Pay $5 More, Jello Wrecked 'Em, CPA, The 2nd Cumming, Spoonful of Semen, Peppermint Pussy, Bend Over Mommy, Goat Throat, Frontrunning Bork Bork Bork, +2 Coonass, Yellow Dick Gnome, Stick It to the Bros, X Marks My Twat, Dribbles, Cherry Poppin' Paddy, Nice Tits, Mexican Humping Queen, Vagaterian, Mangina, Oink Oink Ohh!, Goes Down on Buoys,and more that I cannot recall. Just Prezel, Just Mike, Just Max, Just Dave, Just Many Others... (see Disclaimer above, or hurry up and get named)

Visitors: Pork Boy from Baltimore; Just Baker from somewhere; female hasher from Burlington; male hasher from Chicago; and others. (see Disclaimer above)

11 Virgins: one wore a boa, one was a very tall slender woman, many looked like angry birds

Chalk Talk: I, Nice Tits, tried to get everyone assembled and explained marks to our 11 virgins, who promptly forgot them within 5 minutes. Introductions were made, virgins were sized up by the rest of us, and then we all sang about Father Abraham before heading out.

Trail: If you want to make birds (or hashers dressed like birds) angry, all you have to do is circle jerk them around the Longwood Medical area ending with a very long drawn out hill. The 1st part ended up having an interesting cross of the J-Way that almost decreased pack size, but luckily only ended up with many horns being honked and no fatalities. 1st BC was outside the Bird Sanctuary in Brookline after we ran along wooden boardwalks; 2nd was in between parking garages at Beth Israel hospital. This was where Just Max decided to shimmy down a rusty pole to reach the pack when he was mistakenly 2 floors above while Buoys yelled encouragement. We finally made our way around the projects and through a park (at this point it was dark and many people fell) and up Mission Hill where we ended in an even darker parking lot

Circle: Mommy took over RA, while I (T*ts) went back to collecting your $$$

Virgins: Too many to count, were demented in quiz show style with 3 questions being asked by Yellow. Only 2 virgins knew that we were there to drink Beer... bad sponsors, bad!

Visitors: listed somewhere above sang a short non-verse song. Boo.

Accusations

Just Baker tried to give a false name, so he was made to drink along with
Paddy (a reformed self-namer)
Blood on trail - at least Peppermint and CPA went down, cannot recall the rest as I did not push them
Yankee had to drink for getting so lost that he ended up at Circle 2/3 of the way through

Best Dressed: Nominations were made, and the winners included Oink Oink for her amazingly home knit blue angry bird hat and throw balls. She swears she is not a spinster and "her friend" made them. Bork Bork Bork won for dressing like a Blue Man Group reject, or at least one who was colored blind, in a full green body suit covering his face and hands. He somehow still managed to drink his down down beer in this. What a talented Swede!

Announcements:

2 very long trails are coming up: Ball Buster's Labored Day Run on Saturday 9/3 and the 3rd Annual Pearl Necklace (East Side!) on 10/15. Both promise 13+ miles, have rego beforehand and a cap in the number that can be accommodated. Contact +2 for info on the 9/3 Ball Buster version, and either Nice T*ts or Anal Beads for the Pearl Necklace on 10/15. There are rumors that IEC may be helping to hare the later.

If you like free beer, come to the Summer BBQ. 1230 HST on 8/13, there will be a short trail and free food. Check the list for more emails re: start location

That pretty much ends what I can remember or make up. Oh, we ate wraps and pizza and there was an on-after at The Crossing.

Thanks to Twat and Clit Notes for setting this trail, and Willy for getting all our sh*t to the end!

-T*ts (1/2 RA, Scribe, and Hash Cash for this trail)

BOM Says Other things which should be included in this Hash Trash:

Just Max For sliding down said aforementioned Pole has now been named:Tetnus in my Rectus.
Also Named was Just Mike. For a story about being an army helicopter pilot and falling asleep at the helm along with his co-pilot he iis now know as: Black Cock Down.
Please address your Hash brothers accordingly from now on...-on

-BOM

Hot Tub Redneck Hash

2011-04-27T16:10:00.011-04:00

The Pack: around 40-45 - I dunno... the 2nd cumming has attendance, ask him.
Prelube: Banshee / Dorchester JFK T-Stop
Chalk-Talk & RA: Tw*t My Mom
Hares: Boston Strangler and Accidentally An*l.

So this is basically what happened if you were too lazy / hungover to cum last Wednesday: So we had about 6 Virgins, but I got 3 names I wrote down - Jason, Duong (The Duong-er), James and Paul. OK, so that's 4.
The Virgins were brought into chalk-talk and we sang "Hey, My Name is Joe" for warm-up and off we went.

Trail was actually pretty well marked, and I would say with the penmanship of a writing teacher. That was probably the high point of your trail, Strangler. Good penmanship with the chalk. Actually this trail rocked out with its c*ck out, so if you missed this one that's your loss. Wankers. We went through, around, over and below various spots in Dorchester to wind up at our first beer-check, Malibu Beach - around 2 miles or so 'til the first BC. We drank cheap beer and it was good.

Trail then went another mile or more and the Boston Strangler took us to a nice little playground where little Buoys / errr... boys like to play. We know how your mind works there, Strangler, lucky for all the little buoys out there we were able to chase you down pretty quickly. There was more beer, and life was good. I believe we were at Downer's Avenue playground, or so my sketchy writing says...

The On-In was at Boston Strangler's House in Dorchester, close to Savin Hill. The REAL On-In was his hot-tub where after circle about a dozen naked hashers sat in the tub, staring at their toes with their hands neatly folded. Yeah, right. Anyway, I digress.

Comments on trail included: "Get 'er Done" and "My Mustache is gonna get gray" as well as "I wasn't supposed to be within 15 feet of a playground"

The Hares sang "Hog Calling Time in Nebraska" - which nobody in the entire hash seems to know more than 3 or 4 verses to so it was a short song.
The Virgins were demented, now they are Just Paul, Just Jason, Just James and Just DUONG (still think the Duonger is a good name) and maybe I heard Just Sharma.

FRB was Stick it to the Bros, FBI was Pubic Service Announcement, DFL was Plus Two Coonass and 2nd Cumming. Backsliders claimed to be F*cked by Job and Whiskey D*ck... well, that's what I wrote. Implant from the New Orleans Voo-Doo Hash are Like a Virgin.

Tallest and Shortest Drank: 2nd cumming and Goes Down on Buoys. They held hands, the pack sang, it was cute. Apparently there was Ice Cream on trail by the Savin Hill T-Stop near Strangler's place, I thought the chalk mark was mocking us. Peppermint P*ssy and possibly Miami Sl*t Machine partook. Possibly not. Willie Wonka may have partook of said cream. Vagitarian too.

Oh, DRIPPY SPIGOT was on trail! He had lots of iced cream. We miss you Drippy, you big backslider.

Best Redneck was easily Oink, Oink, OOoooohhhh. Drippy, Tw*t My Mom, JC Whore and An*l were runners' up.

Naming O' The Evening: Just Kyle. One of the many brothers, who's been hashing for about a year and a half. Kyle, what the f*ck haven't you been doing? Just Kyle pissed on his father one evening while drunk... but apparently stories having to do with this great feat didn't get him his proper name. He was not named Princess Choad, but will now forever be known as "Family Business". Go figure.

We Swang Low, made announcements about NURD and Pittsburgh. Then we ate pretty damn good redneck food, and somehow about 1/4 of the pack got into the hottub nekkid. Too bad you weren't there.

Goes Down on Buoys

Just Kyle was named accidental golden shower. Family business was rejected. There you have it. Never let the truth get in the way of a good story. Too bad this story wasn't good.

Mardi Parking Garage Hash

2011-03-06T01:01:00.003-05:00

Hares: Goat Throat and Fire in the Hole
RA/Bag Car: Bend Over Mommy
Scribe: Jolly GREEN Vagina
Sweat Test Failure: Just Meg
Weather: Overcast and cool

Pack: HR Puffnstuff, High Anus, Sh*tty Meats, Grease My Monkey’s Nuts, Virgin Collins, Virgin Michelle, Just Kat, Just Kyle, Virgin Sean, Inconvenient Poop, Virgin Mike #1, Virgin Mike #2, Just Nicole, Just Matt, Time of the Munch, Rosetta Bone, Necrophiliac Jack, Yankee Pay Five Dollar More, Dribbles, Wikipedophelia, Spank Me May I Have My Mother, Friar F*ck, Stop the Flood Plug the Dyke, Boston Strangler, Peppermint P*ssy, Vagina Dentata, Just Brad

Last Sunday’s trail began at Cornerstone Pub at Broadway. I don’t recall ever going there before, and it seemed like a fairly unremarkable kind of place. Except for the GMILF convention going on in the banquet room. I’m not really sure what the occasion was, but hey ... GMILFs. Rawr.

The trail was ostensibly a Mardi Gras theme, although there was little evidence of this. Fire and Goat were both wearing some sort of white face paint, but on the other hand it could have been sunscreen because this is the time of year that UV levels start getting dangerous if you're a ginger. Friar showed up in some sort of blue leotard that made me thankful I’m colorblind; however, this is also fairly typical Friar attire more or less year round. Stop the Flood was wearing a green bikini over her r*nning clothes. When pressed to explain how this related to anything remotely Mardi Gras-like, she explained, “It’s the warmest day of the week, so why not?” So ... yeah.

Trail started out by going over that weird overpass over 93, and then immediately took us into what I have since realized was the real theme for the afternoon’s hash: parking lots. Lots and lots of parking lots, in all their infinite varieties. Wide open parking lots. Wide open parking lots covered with snow banks. Wide open parking lots covered with snow banks and surrounded by chain link fences. Wide open parking lots in hollowed out brick buildings patrolled by cranky janitors and surrounded by snow banks. And, of course, parking garages.

After our first song check in a parking lot in a hollowed out brick building patrolled by a cranky janitor, we climbed over a snow bank and blundered into a playground full of Tit Check. Let me explain: there were some sort of hopscotch-looking circles painted on a walkway that went halfway around the area. Each one had been thoughtfully tagged with a nipple, so that even that chick with the three hooters from Total Recall would have had to spend like a full minute flashing in order to pass all of them legit. Or I suppose she could have just run through and left the guys in the cold, like our harriettes did.

Then we ran through another parking lot. Then we ran under a parking garage. Then we ran half way around the BU Medical Center Parking Garage. Then we ran up into the BU Medical Center Parking Garage, where we had a beer check. Afterwards, we ran around the other half of the BU Medical Center Parking Garage and then sang “My Girl is a Vegetable” in front of the Emergency Room.

Trail then took us through a blissfully short stretch of non-parking lots before pulling up to a T/E split ... in the middle of a parking lot. Since almost everyone was Zenning around the edge of the parking lot, and the Eagle was clearly, “Climb this half-acre of grungy snow bank and then rejoin trail,” everyone opted for the Turkey.

Peppermint, however, realized that the hares had left a bottle of some quality whiskey (by which I mean it maybe cost upwards of six bucks a quart) on the snow bank. In an amazing display of hardcore alcoholism, she climbed a chain link fence, retrieved the whiskey, and returned to the pack with it, whereupon Sh*tty Meats and Grease My Monkey’s Nuts drank about half.

Beer check #2 was at Roxbury Community College. In a parking lot. However, it was a parking lot right next to a Roxbury Community College building, so that we could look through the windows and check out the students’ projects for their Shop Class while we drank. We were also directly across the street from the Boston Police Department, which made the pack a bit nervous, so that when some random guy drove up and parked next to the bag car, everyone panicked, chugged, and bolted.

The final leg of the trail was fairly short, mostly consisting of a circle jerk around the ugliest architecture that Northeastern University has to offer. As ugly architecture goes, Northeastern has some pretty impressive sh*t. Trail ended at Punter’s Pub.

Highlights of the circle included Goat going topless and then performing an impromptu (and unasked for) Dick Check, although it took him an uncomfortably long time to locate his junk. When Virgin Mike #2 was asked his favorite sexual position, he responded, “Pile driver,” which I had thought was more of a professional wrestling move than a sexual position, although apparently I was mistaken. He was then asked to demonstrate this position with Virgin Mike #1, which Virgin Mike #2 attempted with both great enthusiasm and a certain degree of confusion as to which parts plug into where. For his part, Virgin Mike #1 seemed very eager to bottom, leading Just Matt to remark, “No doubt about who’s the man in this one.”

Wikipedophilia was brought in for a down-down for having “gay-ass” shoes, which were slip-on leather penny-loafers or some kind of crap. There was a token protest, but when you’re wearing slip-on leather penny-loafers to a hash, you’re pretty much guaranteed to be drinking out of those motherf*ckers because they are clearly f*cking gay-ass. Circle ended with Swing Low, towers of beer, and some vaguely pizza-flavored grease.

Overheard on trail

When one bald guy drinks, one bald guy drinks! –Yankee, explaining why he will soon be needing a liver transplant
I’m kind of a whore. –Rosetta Bone
Who *hasn’t* made out with Kosher in a bathroom? –Jack
When you’ve just been talking and you see the scribe furiously writing stuff down, that’s not a good sign. -Jack

World Cup Hash

2010-06-09T23:43:00.037-04:00

HARES: Twat My Mom and Night of the Giving Head and Goes Down on Buoys as the shitty Sweeper.
BAG CAR: I Eat Tea Bags
PRE-LUBE: JJ Foley’s Fireside Tavern: Across from Forest Hill Station
BEER CHECK: 1. In Franklin Park somewhere 2. In old Bear Cages Franklin Park
ON-IN: Doyle’s
SCRIBE: Sugar Plum Fairy
JUSTS: Dan, Hayley (Snatchlight), Melody, her friend, Mike, Ray, Kath, Alicia and Ben
VISITORS: Mincer (Sheffield H3), Tight Sphincter (Munich H3), Silent But Deadly (Guam)
VIRGINS: Jeremy (Sponsored by Mincer)
LATE CUMMERS: Bend Over Mommy, Octopussy, Beat By A Girl, Pygmy Poker (from Guam by way of New Bedford.)

PACK
High Anus, Dribbles, The 2nd Cumming, Bondage Barbie, Catheter the Great, Sucker’s Bet, Dirty Latte Sanchez, Twat Tart, Taj My Hole, Immaculate Erection, Necrophiliac Jack, Grease My Monkey’s Nuts, Spoonful of Semen, A La Cunte, I Licked Butts, Bring out the Gimp, Goat Throat, Cum is Kosher (driving her car right through the Chalk Talk) with Schindler’s Fist, Cum Locker and Accidentally Anal.

TRAIL
On a dark and drizzly night, hashers gathered together at JJ Foley’s Fireside Tavern wearing their favorite soccer playing nations colors for a wet and lovely run around JP. Chalk Talk was interrupted by Cum is Kosher in a “ look at me I’m Lady Gaga” moment driving her car directly through circle after which the Cajun trail made it’s way down the street east toward the overpass. Trail then went right up the hill into the Forest Hills Cemetery where Night of the Giving Head got his name a year ago at the Zombie hash. Possibly because he remembered what happened last time he went through there, NOTHGH and Twat decided to make it a short trip through the cemetery and out the main gate. Bringing up the rear I noticed that the Zombie Police were on hand to make sure we made it safely out of the cemetery. It’s great that we have a sweeper to make sure everyone is able to find trail, but who finds trail when the sweeper gets lost, WITH A FUCKING MAP! Goes Down On Buoys was trying his best to help us stragglers find the first beer check, and kept going different which would have been okay except that HE HAD A FUCKING MAP! So, fanning out in different directions, finding bits of trail here and there and bellowing RUs and listening for On-Ons, we finally found the first beer check on a rock outcropping in somewhere in Franklin Park. Deciding to trust to providence and not Buoys anymore, we followed trail out of the first beer check and after a swing around a football stadium we found ourselves in the old over grown and abandoned Franklin Park Zoo bear cages. Although they looked like a set out of the television series LOST, they were actually used in the filming of “Mystic River,” according to a local film historian or some alcoholic hasher. We left the beer check en route to the On-In where some people decided that they would get there faster if they followed Buoys and guess what? He got lost AGAIN. Poor Buoys. Basically trail left the cages went down a hill to Washington St where we turned left and entered the back room at Doyles.

CIRCLE AND ON-IN
The 2nd Cumming and Necrophiliac Jack did RA by committee and one of the best comments on trail was “What a waste of the date of 69.” For which the hares were given a well-deserved down down. People drank for various offenses, like visiting and not ever hashing before or not hashing lately and then Just Hayley came up for her naming. Unfortunately, Hayley had made the unfortunate mistake of dating Twat My Mom and Just Dan who proceeded to lay her whole sexual history open to the hash. She was almost named Jug Burns for getting her nips rubbed bloody on a rug next to the hot tub while she was being……..you know. But it was her use of a flash light as a sexual aid that bestowed upon her the name, “Snatchlight,” and so she shall be known hereafter. Later On Just Dan was laughing it up afterward but Dan didn’t seem to
forget that being a “Just” means he will be named soon and payback is gonna be a bitch..

HEARD AT THE HASH
“All right Princess. Let’s go,” Twat My Mom to Night of the Giving Head as they left to set trail.

P.S. Nobody knows if Buoys made it home though he did have a map.

The Shiggy Trail

2010-05-26T01:00:00.001-04:00

Hares: +2 Coonass, Dazed and Confused
Bag Car: Just Hayley
Weather: Nice
Wankers: Bend Over Mommy, Accidental An*l

Start: Brown bag start at the Newton Center T stop

Beer Check: 416-492 Hammond Park Pkwy (parking lot of Congregation Mishkan Tefila)

On-In: Roggie's

Pack: The Buttler Hit It, Yankee Pay $5 More, Necrophiliac Jack, Friar F*ck, 5" Penalty, Tw*t My Mom, Tw*t Tart, Mexican Humping Queen, On Your Back, Screaming Japanese Girl, Grease My Monkey's Nuts, Peppermint P*ssy, Nice T*ts, The 2nd C*mming, Bisexual Bondage B*tch, Dribbles, Goes Down on Buoys, Bondage Barbie, Yellow D*ck Gnome, An*l Beads, Stretch P*ssy, Legally Bound & Gagged, Taint My Problem, E = I'm a D*uche, C*ms Early, Goat Throat, C*mlocker, Just Erin, Just Dan, Just Melody, Just Ryan, Just Paul, Just Dan, Virgin Ray, Virgin Jess

(This is my first hash trash, so if I spelled your name wrong, or left you off, well too bad)

So the pack started gathering train-by-train and the locals stared on in bewilderment as we congregated in our circus socks with our brown bags—or was it because Buttler paced around shirtless, I don't know. But what I do remember is Coonass leading the chalk talk as he had a few special marks to introduce, including the use of a triangle as the flour version of BVC and a turkey, eagle, and chicken split. And a CJ for circle jerk.

The hares left and the pack waited for what we thought was the required 10 minutes. However, no less than five minutes after the pack was away, Necrophiliac Jack managed to snare the hares. To help us pass the time as we waited the five minutes, Goat Throat led the pack in a singing of Every Day is Wednesday in the middle of an intersection. We wrapped up our song and resumed trail, continuing along more side streets (wasn't this supposed to be the shiggy trail?) to Beacon St. where we finally ducked into Hammond Park.

We zig-zagged around the park and the pack ended up splitting between those willing to dash through the poison ivy and low brush and those who wanted to tread carefully. Trail led up to a fence that separated the park from the green line tracks and from here we had a one-foot wide dirt ledge to walk along, or we could trudge through the swamp. Impatient with squeezing between trees and the fence, I chose the latter. We eventually emerged from this shiggy (finally!) area and came upon Hammond Park Pkwy, and the beer check.

The beer check was notable for Just Ryan taking off his shirt, causing Necrophiliac Jack to refund his beer. What a waste. Hares were already away before any of us got to the check so when it came time to pick trail back up, nobody had a clue where to go. Someone finally saw a mark across the street and we plunged into the other side of Hammond Park, traversing the woods. We came upon what I thought looked to be a botanical garden of sorts and I immediately realized that the circular shape of the garden paths made this the location of the circle jerk. Sure enough a minute later I heard two people shouting on-on and I made the decision to follow the on-ons coming from the back of the garden, outside the region of the paths. Success. We continued on the trail and found a fence that we thought was closed shut. Buttler proceeded to climb the fence while Grease My Monkey's Nuts wandered around looking for an edge to circumvent. Should've waited though as C*mlocker found a latch and opened the gate right up.

Out of the shiggy, we followed a false trail, where Necrophiliac Jack spotted the manhole that he came into--err out of on the "follow the sewer tunnel" trail last year. We returned to the last check the find the rest of the pack emerging from the circle jerk and through the fence and we continued up another street. This started a deathmarch along Beacon Street, long enough that I was convinced we'd encounter a check back. But my intuition was wrong this time as trail led to the edge of the Chestnut Hill Reservoir.

Here was the site of the turkey, eagle, chicken split with turkey taking the long way around the reservoir, chicken taking the short way, and eagle going through the reservoir. A number of us thought about taking the plunge, but didn't until Yankee Pay $5 More offered to carry phones, trail notes, pants, etc. At this point Goat Throat, Buttler, C*ms Early, and myself handed Yankee our valuables and jumped into the very warm water. I bailed pretty quickly as my sneakers were weighing me down too much and Butter and C*ms Early also got out of the water shortly after, but Goat Throat made it to the other side where we met back up with Yankee and walked the rest of the way to Cleveland Circle. It was here that Goat commented that he "should probably put his pants back on." From Cleveland Circle, Buttler craniumed off to 2nd C*mming's apartment while Goat and Yankee crossed the street to Mary Ann's. All were wrong though as trail headed up to Roggie's for the on-in.

I missed the start of circle, so the only comment on trail I took down was my own: that it was a nice trail, so nice that I was able to cleanse myself of the shiggy from Saturday's moon trail (if you haven't heard, it was a seven-mile trail through nothing but woods, swamps, and a junkyard with five beer checks). Next was the dementing of the two virgins. Nice T*ts made Virgin Jess come, and we learned that her favorite sexual position is the reverse cowgirl. Stretch P*ssy made Virgin Ray come and he couldn't remember what his first blow job tasted like, but his favorite barnyard animal is the rooster. Apparently because he loves the c*ck. At this point, 5" Penalty told someone (a virgin maybe?) that the hash is "a judgement-free zone. F*ggot!"

Our DFL at this point was An*l Beads, who showed up 30 minutes after everyone else. He claimed that as he ran through the botanical garden, he was intercepted by "two sweet little old bitties with a dog." They asked him if he was part of "that running group" and then told him that he was not allowed to be in there. They told him that they had called the BC police and the real cops. AB just brushed them off and proceeded along trail, but no less than a few minutes after coming through the gate did a police cruiser drive up very slowly next to him. The cops asked him if he was part of that Hash House Harriers group and said that some women had called complaining of kids drinking and doing drugs in the park. AB told the cops that he had not been doing drugs, which was apparently enough for them (note, he did not deny that he had been drinking). Hopelessly lost at this point, he asked the cops how to get back to a main road, but that was no help, so he called the hotline, got the location, mapped it on his phone, and saw he was two miles away. What a pisser.

The FRB and FBIs were Goes Down on Buoys and Just Ryan, but the circle had trouble figuring out which one was which, so they were both declared FBIs and C*mlocker was declared FRB.... Shortly after this, someone shouted shots fired, which somehow resulted in Coonass and 2nd C*mming performing a reverse cowgirl on the floor. Necrophiliac Jack was accused of refunding, which he tried blaming on Just Ryan for running shirtless, but that's hashmanlike behavior. He also was accused of finding his manhole on trail, so he did a triple down-down.

Coonass and Dazed and Confused were accused of being snared. Legally Bound and Gagged, Bisexual Bondage B*tch, Tw*t Tart, Screaming Japanese Girl, Taint My Problem and Nice T*ts were accused of backsliding. Then at least a dozen hashers were accused of wearing marathon shirts and/or socks. Just Paul drank for trying to name himself Tricky Dicky during chalk talk (we'll take care of your name, alright?). Then all the Justs drank for being Justs.

Next we tried naming Just Ryan. We learned that he's from Maine, he's a climber, he likes to put his fingers in cracks, and he assaulted a civilian on his first hash by smacking her *ss. We also learned that he's a LARPer. Suggestions included Dust, Small Balls, Tent Pole Too Short, Shivel Shot Score!, Tent Rage, Kitty Tent, Puppy Tent, Stuff Sack, and D*uchebag. Nothing stuck so he was thrown out.

Buttler accused the hares of leaving chalk behind on trail, but the chalk was actually 2nd C*mming's, so Buttler drank for the false accusation. On Your Back was introduced as a transplant from China. she was asked to tell a joke, which was something about Moses in a desert talking to God. Nice T*ts tried naming Just Dan, which upset Just Hayley because she was the one who brought him into the hash and thought she should be named before him (sorry, not necessarily how it works). But we didn't try to name him as the pizza was out and circle had gone on long enough. Hash religion was sung, pizza was consumed, and the drinking continued.

-Tw*t My Mom

P.S. The World Cup Hash/69 Hash is next Wednesday. Don't know what to wear? Maybe these pictures will provide some inspiration. Or scroll down to the bottom of this page. I guess now we know the real reason Yankee's heading out there next week.... (mildly SFW)

ON-ON

April Moon Hash

2010-04-25T00:20:00.001-04:00

Hares: Bloody P*ssy (Brigham Tongue), Cocksmith (The Buttler Hit It)
Bag Car: Accidental An*l
RA: Tw*t My Mom
Wangers: Better Late Than Pregnant, C*m Locker, Fat Box (Willy Wonka and the Backdoor Factory)

Pre-lube: J.J. Mulligan's, Braintree

On-in: Casa de Brothers Just (Scott, Brad, and Kyle)

Weather: mid-60s to mid-50s as the night wore on; overcast but not raining although it did sprinkle at one point (in the graveyard, of course!)

Pack: Bolitas An*ales, Bring Out the Gimp, Peppermint P*ssy, Yankee Pay $5 More, Octop*ssy, Bondage Barbie, Spitz, Immaculate Er*ction, Just Scott, Just Brad, Just Kyle, The Crying Gay (I Eat Tea Bags), Tongue Me Please, e=I'm a Douche

Well, we got started very late. The hares were wicked disorganized if I do say so myself, sheesh. And then everyone wanted to visit and take pictures! But seeing as I'm one of the hares I can only describe what I heard from trail, and where it went.

Soooo … trail started out through the municipal parking lot and up some side streets to Thayer Academy where there was a song check outside the `edmaster's office. I can only hope they sang something appropriate to the Tigers. Then, trail ran across the athletic fields, past the track, and up by where the Thayer cross-country course runs, before craniuming over towards the lake. There was a check with a false that led up towards Braintree High School. Peppermint P*ssy was in the front of the pack up to this point, when she went the wrong way. Oops.

Next, trail cut down south for a block or so before going through a graveyard, and over a very tall fence. I am pleased to report that all hashers made it over the fence, despite some protestations (well, one could just as easily walk around if one were so inclined). Although trail ran along the beach and included a song check, for some reason everyone skipped out on this but managed to find trail when it left the municipal beach. From here, it was a pretty straight shot (with a view check, which, not surprisingly, no one understood) to the first beer check which was behind an abandoned building.

Now the next leg of trail was interesting, mainly because it was unsufficiently scouted. After running down the main roads a bit, trail went over a bridge, along a river (on what the hares swore was public property but some abutters had other ideas and hassled the pack a bit), through a bunch of brambles and sh*t. Now, Cocksmith swore that there was a way to get through this to a public park ahead. I had no idea that I would get cut up so much that would still have scratches on my legs a week later, but, well, at that point it was too late to turn back! Eventually we all emerged on the other side. The pack, when running through here, found a wooden ladder with three steps that they took with them and apparently used in all sorts of places (like crossing a stream, climbing a fence, etc.) to the point where they apparently wondered if it had been placed there on purpose to ensure completion of the rest of trail!

After emerging from the woods and going through a park, the trail crossed a major road, wound behind some buildings by another lake (there was a fabulous view from here, if anyone stopped to see it), across a looooong parking lot to a check by the railroad tracks. Apparently no one ran the false, because again, where Cocksmith is involved, trail is going to involve live railroad tracks. Well, no one was killed. At the top of the hill emerging from the tracks there was a HUGE break in the fence, under which one could easily climb. But instead, the pack apparently used the ladder to climb the gigantic fence.

Then, trail went through another cemetery where there was a CB3, which somehow managed to lose the pack for about 15 minutes. I mean, you came from one direction, there is a CB the other direction, it's not like it's a CB27 or anything like that … and you're in a graveyard where the marks are on ROADS and not grass. I mean, how hard can it be? Ha, well anyway eventually the pack found the trail, including the zombie check, claimed that they didn't know they were on trail but well at some point they found the beer check which was among extraordinarily large piles of composting leaves and other organic detritus (it was the Braintree Municipal Leaf Composting Site, to be official). I am proud to report that Peppermint P*ssy was FRB at both of the beer checks! She had a good nose for where trail was going today, apparently.

The hares got a bit of a late start due to leaving both cranium lamps in bag car when assisting bag car with the beer. Oops. Well, after the leaf composting site the trail went down a couple of residential streets down a hill into a park. There was a check by some tennis courts where dirt trails ran in two directions. Now at this point, yours truly got somewhat lost because there were more trails but I had scouted during the day and could no longer see them. So, I decided to cut and run, but then wound up arguing with my co-hare and the end result is that the pack was literally about 200 feet from us at a couple points from here on out, but apparently didn't realize it. This is why I generally prefer to scout trail in its entirety, preferably twice, before haring but that just didn't work out logistically this time, unfortunately.

So, from here on out we laid check after check, t*t check after t*t check, and basically took the main roads up past the shopping center to the Braintree T, where we *again* managed to get lost by turning the wrong way out of the station (the exit Cocksmith had scouted was not the one I was familiar with). I am really not sure how we didn't get caught. One of the Brothers Just saw us, I can no longer remember which one, but he wasn't on trail so we told him to get his butt back on trail. I don't count that and besides, by the time he hopped the wall we could have laid a t*t check to stop him in his tracks, ha! Eventually we figured out the right way to go and laid trail to the end.

Circle was in the backyard, and, yes, the parents of the Brothers Just were watching from the driveway. Hopefully the kids will be let out again to play after this …

The hares led the pack in a stirring rendition of "Follow the Hares" even if Cocksmith did have to try and make trouble by suggesting that his wife won't be coming back from South Africa. Well, we'll see ...

Comments on trail (note that I don't really understand all of these, Gimp was taking notes and he even claimed he wasn't very good at it, so I say, don't quit your day job. Or, let Douche be scribe (hope you get a job soon, Douche!)):

Tw*t new song fail
Cocksmith Italian fail
Moon hash is the hangover hash from the Seacoast An*lversary hash
12 months without a Bloody P*ssy
Too short
Not enough graveyards
Not enough blood
Good shiggy
Great shiggy
I didn't break a sweat
The description didn't mention needing a tetanus shot
I got lost for 2 hours
Not enough d*ck checks
Not enough uses for the ladder

An approximation of what happened in circle:

FBI/FRB – Peppermint P*ssy and Tw*t My Mom; DFL – Yankee Pay $5 More
The Brothers Just were apparently Mexicans, and were made to put the ladder over their craniums (the RA said head so we paused to comment), and drink beer while turning around in a circle.
So then we tried to name Just Brad. Through this process we heard a number of inappropriate stories that I refuse to commit to paper, other than to report that apparently he once had a girl run out of the room when he showed her his c*ck. Now, as embarrassing sexual situations go, that one is a winner! Oh, and to report that we did *not* name him Nasty Meat Whistle because he liked the name. And his parents report that "he's the good one." So remember that, ladies!
Backsliders – Tongue Me Please, Immaculate Erection, Just Scott, Just Kyle, Just Brad, C*m Locker (wait, what? She hared the m*rathon hash! Well, whatever), Octop*ssy
Bloody P*ssy drank for losing a hubcap (s*x toy I guess) on trail, as well as a pair of panties that were not lost on trail but were in a pair of Under Armor shorts that I thought were Gimp's. Oddly, he took my panties and did not take the shorts (the shorts are still in my car). But he did return the panties. And, for the record, they were clean – the darn things must have come out of the laundry together. Or, at least, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Sweat test failure – C*m Locker, Fat Box, and The Crying Gay who apparently doesn't sweat. And Bondage Barbie and Spitz, who walked. Not sure why Immaculate didn't drink because he walked too, but maybe he does sweat.
Tongue Me Please drank for being the only one who did NOT have blood on trail. I am really not at all sure how she managed that, to be quite honest.
Moonburn – Bondage Barbie, Yankee Pay $5 More, e=I'm a Douche, The Crying Gay, Accidental An*l, C*m Locker, Bolitas An*les, Peppermint P*ssy, Bloody P*ssy, and Bring Out the Gimp for being bald. In other words, it was pretty well a social. Moonburn, pffft.
Speaking of bald, Gimp and Yankee did an honor down down for Glitorus (Hare Club) who is, as always, at the moon hash in spirit
Technology on trail – Tongue Me Please, and one of the Brothers Just, so all the Brothers Just drank
Bondage Barbie accused Yankee Pay $5 More of joining the walkers (hahaha, probably it was that second leg that did him in). So, again, Gimp joined him because he is bald.
Then someone accused Peppermint P*ssy who apparently was a walker at some point along the trail, of being spotted in a car asking for directions. Or, possibly, Peppermint accused one of the walkers of being seen in a car. Eh. Whatever, someone drank …
Then we sang a song for Wang. Don't remember why.
Next, Douche drank because he had sustained some sort of repetitive motion injury on his right arm. Can't imagine how that could have happened. Well, actually we could, which is why we made him drink.
For some reason, people wearing moon hash sweatshirts, hares, bald guys, and all Braintree residents drank. Just Brad did not finish his down-down but somehow escaped a redo.
At around this point the parents got bored and stopped observing our shenanigans, so the Brothers Just drank again, and were joined by the hares because someone accused Cocksmith of something (ok in case you haven't noticed by now, I have written these last 5 bullets just now and I can't remember quite what happened. Moral of the story is, write the hash trash before you have to make sh*t up!)

Last but not least, and this I do remember, I did an honor down-down mainly because I am now a proud resident of Cape Town, Western Cape, South Africa (as Google keeps insisting I enter it) but ostensibly the reasons were that my last few trails had some serious hills and serious shaggy, and apparently yellow fever although that doesn't make a lot of sense as Massachusetts is not in the yellow fever belt. Nor is South Africa, in case anyone is now scared of coming to visit me …
Announcements … GAP is sold out, NURD is still open. Well, considering it's on today this news is a bit late!

The next moon hash is May 22nd at Tea Bags' something. It looks like rash. It's probably house.

Following circle, we tried to order pizza only to discover that literally every place in the area was closed. Apparently Braintree shuts down of a Sunday night, around 8:30pm. As I write this now it sounds a bit ludicrous but it was annoying at the time. Anyway, Applebee's was open and willing to accept us so we all caravanned down there where more hilarity ensued. We christened Bolitas Anales "Rough McNasty" as a moon hash name but as it didn't happen in circle I'm not sure it counts. I will leave that to the powers-that-be to decide. Apparently BA is moving to Kentucky (which we all agreed is more exotic than Africa) for school, after spending the summer in California. BA, we will miss you!

Heard before and after the hash:

"It's not big enough." – Peppermint P*ssy
"If I can have s*x with a condom on, you can dance with a ladder on!" – Spitz
"How far into her was he?" – Yankee Pay $5 More
"I don't have a pen*s! I'm a lady!" – Spitz
"I lost $.60!" – Spitz (wow that looks weird, and I've only been in SA for less than one week!)
"The hard part is breathing. I was breathing beer fumes." – Douche
"I'm also not pregnant." – Gimp
"You all will enjoy me by the end of this meal." – Douche (yes, he really said this, and yes, it was as terrifying then as it seems now)
"How much have you had to drink before you got here?" – waitress to Octop*ssy
"Oh you want my number?" – Douche (this was accompanied by quite the wink, although I can't for the life of me remember who he was winking at but I think it was Bolitas Anales)
"Bolitas is the only man at this table I'd be gay with." – Douche (yes, he really said this, and yes, it was as terrifying then as it seems now)
"I don't even know my roommates and I will force you on them." – Douche (yes, he really said this, and yes, it was as terrifying then as it seems now)
"That's not a fry that's a puddle of goo." – Accidental An*l

And, a conversation that still cracks me up now:

Waitress: "Do you need a box for that?"
Bolitas Anales: "No, I'm going to eat the hell out of it."
Waitress: "Beat the hell out of it?"

Marathon Monday 2010

2010-04-19T17:05:00.008-04:00

Apologies in advance for the sketchy nature of this write-up. I'm not even sure why I'm doing it other than that I promised I would.

Pack at Beer Check: (as far as I can remember it ... I know I am missing a ton and I probably have people in here who didn't c*m!) Peppermint P*ssy, High An*s, C*m is Kosher, Grease My Monkey's Nuts, Puff'n'Stuff, The Buttler Hit It, Brigham Tongue, Sp*nk Me May I Have My Mother, Mexican H*mping Queen, Be All That You Can Blow, Stick It to the Bros, Screaming Japanese Girl, Bleeps Sweeps and Creeps, N*pples Erectus, Bend Over Mommy, Goat Throat, Uncle John, Donkey Ho Te, Friar F*ck, Maid of Honor, GAP, Bondage Barbie, Stops to Pet the P*ssy, Sugar Plum Fairy, P*ss Stop, Lube Me In, Yellow D*ck Gnome, +2 Coonass, Goes Down on Buoys, Taj My Hole, Accidental An*l, Pbvzzzzz, C*ms to the Rescue, C*m Locker, C*ms Alone, Willy Wonka and the Backdoor Factory

"Hare": Brigham Tongue

RA: GAP

Pack at Circle: (there were more in & out and at Crossroads but I can't even come close to remembering everyone. Fortunately, my memories of circle were aided by the Facebook pictures of one of the virgins. Unfortunately, these pictures are on Facebook): Peppermint P*ssy, The Buttler Hit It, Brigham Tongue, Sp*nk Me May I Have My Mother, Bleeps Sweeps and Creeps, N*pples Erectus, Goat Throat, GAP, Bondage Barbie, Stops to Pet the P*ssy, Sugar Plum Fairy, DEEP Black Hole, `Edmaster, P*ss Stop, Save a Tree Ride a Cowboy, Goes Down on Buoys, Taj My Hole, Accidental An*l, Immaculate Er*ction, e=I'm a Douche, Willy Wonka and the Backdoor Factory, Stick It to the Bros, Spitz

Giving out beer at the m*rathon … what can I say, it's harder than you might think! Lube Me In had arrived there quite early to get a good parking spot on Comm. Ave, which he used to power a flat-screen TV off of his car battery. Nice setup, and it allowed us to watch the coverage of the r*ce, the better to see when the elites would be coming by.

The only reason I am bothering to write trash about this at all is that this group of strange people handed out papers in sealed envelopes. The contents of this are pretty hilarious and there is no way I can do it justice except to quote certain segments. At one point I was loudly summoned from the grill where I was cooking some wieners because, apparently, it was very important that I write this up in hash trash. Please note that I am not correcting for grammar:

"It just happens to be that the white race has set up the many so called religions. They are the ones who portray all the people in the Bible as white. The scriptures do not teach this. They are the ones behind the atheists. They are the ones behind Santa Claus, Christmas and the Easter bunny and the trinity." Yes, they were giving this to white people. If I am behind the Easter bunny then I can say I'm proud of it!
"All the religions of the world are set up by the devil. God only set up one true religion … This message is not for the purpose of gathering members, but to defend the word of God. Because you people have been misusing the word of God for a long time." Um, if *all* the religions of the world are set up by the devil, does this make the one religion otherwordly?
"The Boston M*rathon is a good example of mankind's stupidity. People want to glorify themselves. They run so that they can be seen. What have they accomplished? The bad spirits in them want to keep the people so occupied with silly things like the M*rathon. They run 26 miles and put tremendous stress on their body." – Yes, I am sure THAT is why people run the m*rathon.
"Those who sit around and watch the people run are just as silly because they are wasting their time encouraging the runners to behave in such silliness." – Wonder what handing out beer to runners would be considered?
"This m*rathon is just an example of people wasting their time. You are all lost in sin and going to hell." – No comment
"We are telling you this so that you have no excuse that you were not warned. What a shameful bunch of human beings." – Reverse psychology at work??

For more information or perhaps amusement check out www.hear-the-truth.com.

So anyway I had marked "trail" from Crossroads to Sp*nk Me's, because we had so much leftover beer and the bar was crowded, but we wanted to make sure everyone could find the place.

At some point in the evening, I was inside, something happened to trigger a circle. Someone called "And the hares!" and someone yelled out that I was the hare. Well, whatever, I laid the closest thing to a trail for the day and I didn't mind an excuse to drink …. For some reason Goat drank with me. Can't remember why.
Comments on trail:

Not long enough
Too many marks
Not enough t*t checks
Not enough d*ck checks
Not enough locals at Corner Pub asking me what I was doing (GAP wouldn't let me make my own comment at circle but he can't stop me here!)
What trail?

Hmmm, what else happened in circle?

People who had giveaway socks drank. People who wore m*rathon shirts drank and I drank because I thought that Bros, who had abandoned circle to go hit on someone was wearing a very similar color but it turned out not to be the same.

Visitors drank. I drank because I'm moving. Someone accused SATRAC of having new shoes. She swore they were not new. GAP smelled one and proclaimed it stank. When asked for a second opinion I agreed. It wasn't the worst-smelling shoe ever but most certainly did not smell new. When SATRAC complained that I said her shoe was stinky I asked if she wanted to drink out of it or not!

Oh, and we had virgins! Just Melody apparently made them all c*m, and Peppermint P*ssy attempted to dement them but for the most part they were not cooperative:

Virgin 1 just laughed at everything. Then she brought out her phone and started texting in circle!
Virgin 2 refused to give his real name or really do much of anything except refuse to cooperate. Peppermint kicked him back and refused to dement him.
Virgin 3 … don't remember much
Virgin 4 was asked what her favorite circus animal was. I think she said bear. But she refused to make the sound of a bear having an orgasm, so Goat Throat who had been a bear for m*rathon did so for her.

Then we all drank a bunch more. And GAP had an 8:30 bus he was trying to catch. Despite asking the time every 15 minutes since about 6pm, and claiming he wanted to get on the bus early, at about 8:25 I saw him sitting on the floor with his laptop plugged in and yelled at him that he needed to go. Not sure if he caught his bus or not; I sure hope he did!

Well that's all I can remember. And there goes 10 minutes of your life you're not getting back!

- Brigham Tongue

2010 Boston Marathon Hash

2010-04-17T10:15:00.006-04:00

Bag Cars: Spitz, Sp*rm Bumpin Shorty, Just Amanda -> C*ms to the Rescue
RA: The 2nd Cumming
Hares: An*l Beads, Maid of Honor, C*m Locker, Fire in the Hole

Pre-lube: Hennessy's upstairs, Boston

On-in: Kitty O'Shea's upstairs, Boston

Weather: Varied! Started off high 40s and drizzling, ended cloudy and in the 50s

Pack O'Locals
1 Girl 2 Cups, Accidental An*l, Aim For My Chin, Be All That You Can Blow, Bend Over Mommy, Better Late Than Pregnant, Blows My Mind, Bondage Barbie, Brigham Tongue, Bring Out the Gimp, Catheter the Great, C*cktologist, Coochie Monster NumNumNum, Crucifux, C*ms Alone, Deaf Dumb and Do Me, D*ck Jockey, Dirty Latte Sanchez, Double Flush, Dribbles, Drippy Spigot, Dumbledocker, E=I'm a Douche, Five Inch Penalty, Gay Pride, Goes Down on Buoys, Grease My Monkeys Nuts, Hare Club for Queers, Harpoontang, Headmaster, High An*s, Hoover McSucknF*ck, Horse's *ss, I Eat C*m, I Eat TBags, I Heart Poo, I Licked Butts, Just Jess, Just Becca, Just Hayley, Just Jeremy, Just Lesley, Just Sandra, Just Susan, Kick Me In The Nuts, Krusty the Meat Miser, Lick Hole Ah, Mexican Humping Queen, My Chemical Homance, NAMBLA, Necrophiliac Jack, Nice T*ts, N*pples Erectus, Papa Skwurf, Pat My Fly, Peppermint P*ssy, Pink Thing, Piss Stop, +2 Coonass, P*bic Service Announcement, Puffy, P*ssy Long Stockings , PVBPVbvpbvzzz, Save a Tree Ride a Cowboy, Screaming Japanese Girl, Shawsk*nk, Shorn Scrotum, Sketchy Ho, skibobbitt, Slush Hussy, Snatchsquatch, Spank Me May I Have My Mother, Spoonful of Seamen, Spunk In The Trunk, Stick It To The Bros, Stretch P*ssy, Sucker's Bet, Sugar Plum Fairy, Taj My Hole, Tampon Jelly, The 2nd Cumming, The Buttler Hit It, Time of the Munch, Tw*t My Mom, Used to Live with a Crack Wh*re, Vagetarian, Willy Wonka and the Back Door Factory, Yankee Pay 5 Dollar More, Yellow D*ck Gnome, and You Oughta Blow

Pack O'Visitors
69 on the Rectum Scale, Avalanche, Bleeps Sweeps and Creeps, Bobbin for Buttplugs, BORT, Brownie, Brrrggghhhhhh, Chinwacker, Circle Jerkinator, Counterfeit D*ck, Cuffed and Stuffed in da Buff, DEEP Black Hole, Deep Sh*t, Donkey Ho Te, Ear Shot, Fossil, Friar F*ck, Fuwangi Boner, General *ss Pounder, Goat Throat, Ice Princess, International Virgin, Jimmy Crack Wh*re, JuicyPearl, Just Lisa, Just Rachel, Kitty Kitty BANG BANG, Knees Up, Mount Me in the Mud, Mouthful of Girlfriend, My C*ck Is So Long That Even On A Cold Day It Flops Down and Hits The Urinal Biscuit! (Seriously? This is someone's name? I want to know how in the world he got named this and *didn't* like his name!), Nookie Monster, One Drunk Walking, One Hasher At a Time, Peace O Chum, Phantom of the Areola, Pig F*cker, P*ssy Factory, Roscoe Pee C*m Stain, Seizehercooch, Sister Golden Showers, SpongeBath SquarePants, Stops to Pet the P*ssy, Swamp Gravy, Swamp Whine, TheRapist, Two tickets to Pair-a-Thighs, Uncle John, Village Tool, Vincent Van Goat F*cker, Wang Chunks, Watergate and Yoron Weed

Well I would have given myself carpal tunnel typing up all those names if it weren't for the wonders of cut & paste. Where do all you circus freaks c*m from anyway???

M*rathon Saturday: the pack gathered on a cold, drizzly day. To all those people who said it never rained on m*rathon day, thanks a lot! Not much of great interest happened at the pre-lube other than that we got to check out each others' costumes, or in the case of those of us who declared it too cold to wear our costumes, we had to explain this over and over. When I first laid eyes on The 2nd Cumming and from across the room, I thought he was a girl. Not kidding.

Then someone yelled "bag car, 2 minutes" so I chugged the rest of my beer. But bag car was not for another 10 minutes or so, whee. Eventually after piling everything into the three cars, we craniumed up to the Government Center plaza next to the circus tent for chalk talk and introductions. This took about 20 minutes, but luckily it was already warming up at this point. And, perhaps just as luckily, no trapeze artists came flying out of the air to hit any of us. Group photos took another 5 minutes, so let's just say there was no shot of a hare snare on this first leg!

Of special note is that the satellite map on Google shows the circus at Government Center. It does not, unfortunately, show us. :( Anyway after all the photo opps we quickly found trail, which went right by BBAG and Dude's place. Unfortunately they were not out front with Cletus (I mean Emmet), or, if they were, I didn't see them.

Predictably, after that, we went down the stairs into the Boston Common. I skipped out on the real trail and ran over the ice rink because I thought that was more fun. We had a song check in the middle of the Public Garden, amongst the willows and the tulips and the tourists, singing something about working in Chicago.

From there, trail led out to a check on Beacon Street. For some reason everyone headed outbound on Beacon, but Tea Bags, Tw*t and I decided to head into the Beacon Hill street, figuring it looked more promising. After an on one, Tea Bags saw a true trail, and we were off to the races. And by the races, I mean the footbridge over Storrow where Just Zeth was hanging out at the top with yellow and red shots.

At the end of the bridge there was a check. I followed it east which was really stupid, when I think about it, because clearly we were going along the Esplanade. Someone yelled that we were following marks from the beer mile but actually we weren't since they had been washed away. However, after a two and out, we ran part of the beer mile course up to rejoin the rest of the pack and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran (yes the Esplanade is a deathmarch, if an incredibly scenic one!), until we hit the duck-eagle split which no one including the RA understood at chalk talk. It now made sense. Ducks were supposed to swim across the water to the other side. A couple people (yes, like Goat Throat) actually attempted this but everyone else ran around. And this time, The 2nd Cumming was not able to walk on water (this was the same spot he had run across the ice on the VD trail a few months back. Yes, I remember random sh*t, so better watch out you never know what I might remember about you!).

Crossing at another footbridge, we ran down Dartmouth Street for a while. The entire pack had blown right past a check by some public alleys so a few of us stopped to scope this out. Turns out the pack was right, and trail led up, hung a left on Newbury, where we dodged a lot of bemused civilians in an interesting remake of the Halloweenie hash. A couple people including Bring Out the Gimp tried to cut the corner and run through a church archway only to be blocked by a large metal fence.

We rejoined the rest of the pack in Copley, some of whom were singing something that I can't remember and a couple people were posing on the statue of the hare and the tortoise. After we were done, a bunch of people hit up the row of port-o-potties that were there. One hasher purposefully opened the door on another hasher, prompting a "What the f*ck??" which amused me in passing as we continued on.

Next, we continued through Amtrack Back Bay station where, I think it was Spunk kept telling everyone "Welcome to Boston." I bet the ones who were leaving were thinking something entirely different. On the other side, we temporarily lost the trail before finding that it went through the T station and emerged on a narrow park on the other side. We ran down this for a little while before coming upon an unexpected but very welcome beer check. Apparently the beer check had to be moved from a park a little further away. Not sure why. I think someone said noise, but that didn't make any sense unless the beer check was moved after half the pack was already there. I mean, how much noise can 4 hares and 3 bag cars make? Ok, never mind ...

After enjoying snacks and Sam Adams and continuing to check each other out, the pack departed and ran through where the beer check was supposed to have been. I somehow wound up running into another park where I either had to backtrack or jump the fence. I bet you can guess which one I chose. We continued on for a bit, through a playground, and on through Blackstone Square into Franklin Square where we had a song check. As this one was in the shadow of some huge church, and we hadn't sung it yet, we had a nice long rendition of "Jesus Saves." Free beer!

The pack took off along Brookline Street before someone pointed out that no one had actually seen any marks. I ran up St George Street and happened to glance left into an alley where I saw a mark, and, of course, figured that was the right path. Turns out I was right - after another arrow there was the turkey-eagle split. Now, having been party to inside information that the turkey trail was over 5 miles I decided to run the eagle trail. Yes, sometimes I am a glutton for punishment.

Unfortunately, despite a number of us yelling as loud as we could, most of the pack apparently never found the split and ran the turkey trail instead. I wondered why there were so few people on the eagle trail, because usually most people run the eagle. Unless it's a GAP trail, that is, but we don't have many of those any more.

So one of the first things we ran by was a mental hospital, and P*ssy Long Stockings announced that she worked there. Either that or she lives there and is let out occasionally. So we ran along a bunch of really boring streets then across the Mass Ave Connector. It was around this time that Hare Club spotted a building full of rock salt piles and wondered why no one had run up them, so he and I headed towards them at a full sprint but we both wimped out a bit ... I was scared because I wasn't sure if the salt was going to be so soft that I would sink in, or so hard that I would trip and crash against it and hurt myself again. As it turned out, it was somewhere in between. Whatever. Buttler, showing either no fear or no common sense, take your pick, made it to the top of the pile.

Trail wound back around, down South Bay Ave and past a prison where the hares had chalked "On-Inmates" and "On-K-9" a little while later. Unfortuately the location of the K-9 had changed since they chalked it, and the K-9 decided to bark at us repeatedly. Well, to be fair, I probably would have too had I been in its position. The C.O.s, however, just looked at us with some amusement.

We continued our deathmarch, and turned left through the shiggy behind a tall fence. Emerging on the other side, we saw that trail went up some stairs to an overpass over the highway. We also saw Tea Bags on the other side of a very tall fence yelling "Help!" Of course, there was a door to the fence about three feet from him, but I guess he was having fun playing inmate for a while.

So if I thought the last deathmarch was bad, the next mile or so of trail consisted of running alongside 93. Hare Club didn't make me feel much better at this point when he announced that he knew were the on-in was and it was nowhere near here. Well, not like I didn't know what I was getting myself into. Nice T*ts and I amused ourselves by checking out the smashed up police cruisers to the right of the road, and were a little bummed when we were practically DFL to the beer check. Then I realized it made sense since we had run twice as far as all the turkeys.

Following the beer check, we made it pretty quickly to the vicinity of the Mass Pike, where we got very, VERY lost. The FRBs had hung a left on Marginal then realized there were no marks. We ran just about every direction, including the right direction several times. Turns out the first mark from the check was not only a block away from the check, but was halfway down the *next* block, so everyone who ran that route didn't see anything and came around. Well, on the plus side, we all got more exercise.

Once we finally found trail again we ran through Chinatown, dodging civilians left and right. Someone announced that there was a third beer check by the Barking Crab. At this point, nothing would have surprised me. While we did wind up going that direction, we went through South Station (again welcoming everyone to Boston) and continued up Atlantic to another song check where, again, I forgot what we sang. Well, that's what I get for not writing this up for a week.

From here I was able to follow the pack pretty easily to the end, which turned out to be Kitty O'Sheas. After most everyone had a drink, the RA called us to order and made the hares sit on the ice blocks. They announced that this felt "just awesome." Bullsh*t, bullsh*t ... after a sufficiently long rendition of "The S&M Man" (the best part was when C*m Locker wanted to sing a verse, even though her *ss was on the ice!), we shot the hares with silly string and let them drink.

Then visitors were called in but there were too many of them to sit on the ice, so they were spared. Of everything but the silly string and the drinking, that is.

So we didn't do comments on trail which means I'm just going to make up some comments of my own:

Not long enough
Too many marks
Not enough real ducks on the duck trail
Not enough t*t checks
Not enough pigeons attacking GAP (yes, this really happened, I saw it)
Not enough gambling in Chinatown
What turkey-eagle split?
Not enough civilians calling us "hash housers"
Not enough Japanese tourists taking pictures
Not enough sh*tty beer at the beer checks (well, I didn't mind and BBAG wasn't around so I guess that's OK)

For those who want to see a map of trail one can be found here.

The rest of circle

Nominees for best-dressed male: The 2nd Cumming, The Blue Man Group of GAP and Bros (who claimed they did not blow each other), Wang Chunks, BORT, Stops to Pet the P*ssy, Bleeps Sweeps and Creeps, Hare Club for Queers, Tw*t My Mom, Goat Throat, and NAMBLA. Unsurprisingly, The 2nd Cumming won in a landslide. I just wrote handslide, which, well, heck it seemed funny at the time.
Nominees for best-dressed female: Bend Over Mommy, Sketchy Ho, Sucker's Bet, C*m Locker, An*l Beads (!), Fire In The Hole, Better Late Than Pregnant, International Virgin, Coochie Monster NumNumNum, and Swamp Whine. Sucker's Bet, Bend Over Mommy, C*M Locker, and Fire in the Hole sat on the ice for a vote. Bend Over Mommy and C*m Locker were the two finalists and somehow C*m Locker wound up winning. Don't understand that one myself (no offense, C*m Locker!).
The 2nd Cumming and Accidental An*l drank for being FRB and FBI. Not sure being a wanger counts as being an FRB but I seem to write that every week... anyway Hoover and Yankee Pay $5 More joined them, as DFL
Next up was the tallest hasher: Goat Throat, 'Edmaster, Goes Down on Buoys, e=I'm a Douche, Urinal Biscuit, Be All You Can Blow and Hoover McSucknF*ck. Buoys won this one.
You guessed it ... shortest hasher. Sp*rm Bumpin Shorty marched into the middle of circle and no one dared challenge her. So Buoys and Shorty had a mini-drinking contest which was easily won by Shorty, especially as Buouys wound up spilling half his beer down his chest.
Fuwangi B*ner loudly announced "We have a f*cking loser!" when asked if there were any accusations. Clearly he was referring to himself, so he drank.
The half-minds who thought they were ducks instead of various other circus animals drank: Urin*l Biscuit, Hoover, Tea Bags, and Goat Throat.
Yellow D*ck Gnome had apparently been hounding +2 Coonass to get new shoes. He did, wore them, and made her join him in drinking out of them.
The following wankers lost tags on trail: Bring Out the Gimp, C*m Locker, Mouthful of Girlfriend, Krusty the Meat Miser, and P*ss Stop, who lost hers at AGM. Tea Bags lost his underwear (what's so unusual about this, I ask?). Wang lost his later, but luckily for him it was after circle and given that his costume change involved a non-circus-related bathrobe is probably not that notable anyway. So these fools sat on the ice for a while then drank a beer.
The following groups of people drank for wearing the same outfit: me and Bondage Barbie (as lions), GAP and Stick It to the Bros (as Blue Man Group), a bunch of clowns, and Sketchy Ho and Catheter the Great should have drank (as tattooed ladies) but Sketchy never showed up. I think Catheter should have drunk her beer in a proxy down-down but didn't think of it at the time.
Next up, the m*rathon co-chairs Spank Me and Dirty Latte Sanchez drank, and were joined by Nice T*ts who was hash cash aka The Bank.
Just Amanda was wearing a lovely fireman's outfit with an enormous d*ck protruding from the front. I am not sure what firemen really have to do with the circus, but I can't fault her on her costume, really! So as she had attended a bunch of hashes we felt it was time for her to be named. Candidate names included: Bathroom B*tch, Pipe Dreams, Hos Me Down, Period Piece, Lady D*ck, Here's to Not Sucking C*ck (my personal fave), C*ms to the Rescue, I Got Gas, Flaming Ho, and Short'n'Curlies. The group consensus was C*ms to the Rescue!

And with that, we did hash religion and proceeded to get very drunk and debaucherous. Although nothing quite like the Fat Boy, but that's a story for another scribe...

Heard on trail and after the hash

Hasher: "You have the best *ss of any of the harriettes!" Harriette: "Really? Whose *sses have you been checking out?" Hasher: "All of them."
"Oh, this is all coming off!" - Bondage Barbie
"That girl can swallow!" The 2nd Cumming in reference to Sp*erm Bumpin Shorty
"Tea Bags, be careful, you're getting it in my eye!" - Brigham Tongue (he was waving Latte's wig around like a mad man)
"I got of it off in the bathroom." - Stick it to the Bros (after I commented he was no longer blue)

- Brigham Tongue

New Moon Marathon Hash

2010-04-14T16:29:00.000-04:00

Hares: I Licked Butts, The Crying Gay (Tea Bags)
Bag Car: Mangina (aka "the Boston Strangler")
RA: Tw*t My Mom
Wangers: Better Late Than Pregnant, Accidental Anal

Pre-lube: Tom English's, Dorchester

On-in: Pavilion on the water, near the Bayside Expo Center

On-after: Tom English's, Dorchester

Weather: High 50s and clear

Pack: Sp*rm Dumpster (Buoys), Bloody P*ssy (Brigham), Glitorus (Hare Club), Cocksmith (The Buttler Hit It), Bring Out the Gimp, Bondage Barbie, Aim for My Chin, Willy Wonka and the Backdoor Factory -> Fat Box, Sucker's Bet, The 2nd C*mming, Peppermint P*ssy, Hoover McSucknF*ck, e=I'm a Douche -> Amelia Airfart, Just Megan, 5" Penalty, Yankee Pay $5 More, An*l Beads

Tom English's. Where we would have ended last week's trail if they'd given us a better deal on beer. C'est la vie. So the pack gathered for a drink, and the hares took a good long time to take off, because the pack seemed pretty small. I presume everyone was still recovering from the JP hash the night before, and weren't trying to attend every hash event in the week. Which makes them all way smarter than me.

We circled up in the parking lot next to the bar. Bag car had taken off without the chalk, so luckily Preggers agreed to take it with her. Nothing like wasted chalk.

Since we were ostensibly searching for STD on trail, this was explained to us. Printouts of STD had been printed out and would be used as checks, and two together as t*t checks. This worked pretty well until, I guess, the hares ran out of printouts. I can only wonder what the locals must have thought the next day when they saw pictures of a guy in banana yellow pants all over town.

Anyway after quick introductions we were off! It somehow took us a while to find trail, but it went east through some very nice neighborhoods with well-kept triple-deckers. Eventually we headed south, crossed Dorchester Ave again, and some idiots ran up Whitby Terrace to a checkback (STD used to live at the top of that road). I waited at the bottom. A little while later, we ended up at the first beer check which was in Mangina's backyard, which had a great view of downtown Boston, and was within spitting distance of STD's old place.

The most exciting thing that happened at the beer check is that Willy Wonka sat on a box, which was empty, and collapsed underneath her. She was spontaneously named Fat Box in honor of this event. And I think it's fair to say that she wasn't very pleased by this.

Following the beer check, we charged up to the top of the hill (!!) before, yes, running back down. Well, this is Dorchester. About halfway down was a song check where we sang a few verses of Tampon Factory. It was a pretty sad rendition since no one knew many verses and Gimp sang an exact verse over, like two verses after it had first been sung. Clearly we need to sing this song more often. At the next song check we sang Chicago, which went much better.

Coming back down off the hill, we turned back south onto Pleasant Street. For the first time we crossed over the trail from the previous Sunday. Today's hares had put a check at the bottom of the hill and since we had been up there the previous week, we at least knew trail didn't go that way. Although that would have been pretty devious.

Crossing Dorchester Ave again all the men were held up at a t*t check. Sucker's Bet and I apparently felt more like running than flashing, so we went and found the trail but the men still waited around to see some flesh. Ha. Of course, they caught up with us eventually as there was a check at Savin Hill Ave. I turned right, with Sp*rm Dumpster, figuring we'd go somewhere around Savin Hill Park. He ran right to the top of the hill and into the park then had to stop because he had no cranium lamp. Oops.

At the top of the park there was a check, and trail led down the far side, to a beer check at the bottom of the hill. We drank until we realized we were a bit chilly then craniumed off into the night, following the hares. And not following last week's marks. Not too far along there was a d*ck check that looked to me like a dog's bone and I didn't quite process what it was until right around the time that a d*ck was whipped out!

From here, trail went down a dead end street and across Morrissey Blvd. Only a few people were nearly killed, most of us waited for a good break in traffic. But we were excited by SN, which meant the shot check was near. Then somehow we managed to get lost and wandering around in the shiggy. I did get to see a beautifully naturalized daffodil.

Anyway the bottle of whatever ... whiskey of some sort but someone said it was American which would make it bourbon, no? Well whatever, it was at the Vietnam War Memorial. So we stopped there and drank most of the bottle before running on a lovely deathmarch along the water, up to a check. Trail actually ran across another pretty big road to a large grassy area where we lost it for a while and picked it up again in a parking lot. Then there was another t*t check and this time along I decided to help the guys out so I said "wait for the cars" to which someone responded "wait for them to go, or for them to get here!" Not wanting to be called in for indecent exposure, I had meant the former.

Moving along ... trail went through the shiggy for a bit before another quite long deathmarch in front of all the condos over to the on-in. Bag Car was parked a bit away so a bunch of us went to unload. Helpfully, someone had abandoned a shopping cart so we loaded it up with bags and Douche pushed it across the field, with some difficulty. Something about wheels not being designed for soft surfaces.

Comments on trail:

Short
Not enough dongs
Not enough deathmarches
Not enough locals asking what we were doing
Too many arrows
Nothing
Not enough old marks
Not enough of Buttler's p*nis
Fabulous d*ck check

The rest of circle:

Peppermint P*ssy did an honorary down-down for STD who was not available
Then the GMs drank for some reason. Any excuse...
The 2nd Cumming and Accidental Anal drank for being FRB and FBI. Not sure being a wanger counts as being an FRB but I seem to write that every week... anyway Hoover and Yankee Pay $5 More joined them, as DFL
Glitorus drank for being a backslider. You'd think he had something going on in his life more important than the hash!
Cocksmith, Butts, and Accidental Anal drank for singing too much (??), and were joined by the other GMs. And bald guys.
Tonight was Tw*t's upside down 69 an*lversary. So he was demented, which consisted of demonstrating an upside down 69 with 5" Penalty, who didn't know what it was.
The 2nd Cumming produced a Mexican wrist band that said "Hair Club" so made Glitorus and the other Mexicans (Yankee Pay $5 More, Gimp, Aim for My Chin, and 5" Penalty).
Then Sp*rm Dumpster accused Douche of looking like Montgomery Burns
Cocksmith accused The 2nd Cumming of racist behavior
I Licked Butts accused Cocksmith of finding more of my s*x toys on trail
The Crying Gay accused me of using the s*x toys, following that up with "I like Bloody P*ssy" which he said in such a way that he got accused of coveting another man's wife ... that would be me.
Then I had to drink. I'm not sure why.
Aim for My Chin accused the 2nd Cumming of ignoring calls on trail from both his mom and his dad. Not sure why she knew this, but that's probably why she was made to drink, too.
Tw*t and the Crying Gay drank for wearing the same shirt, and they were joined by all the hares and GMs.
Next, Douche had to drink for "warming up" The 2nd Cumming. Of course, he was joined by The 2nd Cumming.
Fat Box drank for not drinking in honor of her new name
Douche, An*l Beads, Bondage Barbie, Just Megan, and Suckers Bet drank for not drinking enough
I Licked Butts accused The Crying Gay of making false accusations. So she drank, because he didn't really make any. So all the GMs drank. Well, that's one way to get him to drink ...
The RA got confused and missed his own down-down so he drank for that
We decided to name e=I'm a Douche at the moon hash. Candidates included: Mr Burns, It Burns when I Pee, Amelia Airfart, An*l Baron, Douchebag Car, C*m In his Eyes, Squirts Too High. Amelia Airfart was the overwhelming winner. He was wearing aviator glasses on this evening.
5" Penalty accused the hares of naming a hash after a Twilight movie.
5" Penalty was accused of knowing the name of a Twilight movie.
Then the GMs drank again for some reason, with Peppermint, Amelia Airfart, and An*l Beads who were having a private party
Finally, there was a social for everyone who didn't accuse anyone of anything

Tired, cold, and trying not to become too wrecked before the beer mile a number of us traipsed back to Tom English's and had pizza from Pantry Pizza next door before heading out for a relatively early night. Somewhere on trail Hoover had found a license plate, complete with license plate holder. This is still in my car, as a matter of fact...

Heard on trail and after the hash:

"You're lucky I didn't have a few more swigs of this genuine American whiskey - I'd be on the street!" - Just Megan
"Well that was before I started playing with you." - Bondage Barbie to Douche
"And then I grabbed your leg." - Douche to Bondage Barbie
"Sing me a song at least before you r*pe me!" - The Crying Gay
"I'm glad I had goggles on." - Amelia Airfart

- Bloody P*ssy

Easter Hash

2010-04-04T08:12:00.016-04:00

Hares: Octop*ssy, Accidentally An*l
Douchebag Car: e=I'm a Douche, Yellow D*ck Gnome (injury)
RA: The 2nd Cumming

Wanger: An Inconvenient Poop

Pre-lube: Mission Bar & Grill, Boston (by Brigham Circle! Whee!)

Beer check: On the shores of Jamaica Pond

On-in: Midway Café, Jamaica Plain

Weather: Hot and sunny. Well, I was hot. Let the jokes begin.

Pack: Dirty Latte Sanchez, A La C*nte, An*l Beads, I Eat Tea Bags, Brigham Tongue, Jimmy Crack Wh*re, Goes Down on Buoys, Stretch P*ssy, Sucker's Bet, The 2nd Cumming, The Buttler Hit It, +2 Coonass, Taj My Hole, Dazed'n'Confused, Sugar Plum Fairy, Tampon Jelly, Pbvzzz, Just Edward -> Bolitas Anales, Willy Wonka and the Backdoor Factory, C*m Fly With Me, Just Evan, Bend Over Mommy, Tw*t My Mom, Nice T*ts, Virgin Kibbles, Horse's *ss, Blows My Mind, Virgin Leslye, Virgin Megan, Spunk In the Trunk, D*ck Jockey, Floppy D*ck

Easter, Easter. Let me see, the day that Christians become upset that spring holiday is all about eggs and the Easter Bunny, no longer about celebrating the resurrection of Santa Claus? The day the Christians worship their undead lord? Who knows. Sadly no one dressed as a zombie Jesus, but it was far too hot for that sort of an outfit anyhow.

The pack slowly gathered at the Mission, hopefully happily sated after Easter brunch. Or, you know, brunch with the family. I guess the Mission is the place to start a hash if you want unseasonably warm weather! The 2nd Cumming walked our three virgins through the marks. As it turns out, he probably should have refreshed the hares on how to draw a true trail mark, but we'll get to that later.

From the first check a bunch of us ran gamely down Tremont on a false before, DUH, trail went up the stairs by Stop & Shop, through the parking lot, and directly up a hill into a park. Then we ran down the hill, and back up the other side before pausing for a song check. Well, AB didn't pause very long for the song check but instead bounded up some stairs, announced he was either on-on or on a false (well, DUH), and waited for us to sing a couple verses about crazy sh*t that happens in Chicago. Turns out he was on-on, as we headed up the stairs through a parking lot, and out to another check.

Instead of running up or down the street, a few of us headed across the park, which turned out to be the right way. In the park there was a d*ck check, and happily for me Jimmy Crack Wh*re helped me out there. The 8-year-old boy behind me may not have been as pleased. For the record, Jimmy Crack Wh*re is one of my all-time favorite hash names. Love it, just love it. In any event Jimmy and I ran down some steps but couldn't find anything. So we ran back up, rejoined the others, and ran down a false. Apparently marks started not just down the stairs but across the street and part way down the block. Well, ok.

So we gamely ran all the way down to the bottom of the hill before finding a CB5, which was, you guessed it, at the top of the hill right by the stairs. Since Jimmy hadn't found anything going one direction earlier, we craniumed the other direction over to a song check where Tw*t and Tea Bags sang to us about a couple of starfish on a rock. And some waves. Or something, it was pretty boring.

Following the old adage not to lose elevation most people just continued straight from the song check. However, finding a quick on two, I figured that was too easy and started down a really steep hill which would have been a really, really, really bad idea except for that we finally found a third mark at the bottom of the hill around a corner about a block from the last mark (right about when I was getting really scared that I'd have to run up that hill again!).

We ran up Heath Street a bit, and Jimmy and I found some shiggy around the back of a building before rejoining the pack, running through a parking lot and then in a really long deathmarch along South Huntington Ave, before a BVC by the Jamaicaway, and another song check in the park. At one of these 81 song checks we did our duty by singing "Free Beer for all the Hashers." It might have been this one, I forget.

The deathmarch continued down the Jamaicaway. The 2nd Cumming ran off into the woods at some point for some reason and a bunch of people followed him, for no reason other than that it seemed like it might have been a good idea. Yet the trail was pretty clearly marked. It was a little boring though so maybe they just wanted some excitement.

After essentially running in circles around Olmstead Park and dodging civilians, we ran down a bunch of steps and along the edge of Jamaica Pond. The water level was quite high, causing the walkway to be single-file, and lots of trees to be coming up out of the water. The island that appears on the map? Yeah, not so much with the island. Anyway we were all quite relieved to find bag car there with some mimosas. Very theme-appropriate.

After the mimosa check we ran back across the park, across the Jamaicaway again, and through some very nice neighborhoods. At one point Sucker's Bet and I ran the wrong way from a check but happily the road connected back up again so we didn't completely have to backtrack. It was around this time that I saw +2 Coonass and Dazed'n'Confused carrying one of those wooden cut-out things people put their craniums in in order to have funny pictures taken … this one had a nice circus theme, and props to them also for carrying such a heavy object for half of trail!

So we ran along and ran along, and finally encountered an arrow that had been turned into a check. Clearly someone was here ahead of us and so we concluded that the trail could not go straight (since the CB was that direction) and instead started run in every other possible direction, but all we found was a CB going south … so either it was some sort of funky double check-back or goodness only knows … but eventually we ran straight from the checkback, to yet another song check by the Green Street T stop. Here we sang "Whip It Out at the Ballgame" in honor of the Sox opening night [soon to be win against the Yankees! Whee!!].

Continuing on, we ran down a couple of streets, across some Astroturf, down the road, and to the on-in at Midway Café. Rarely have I been so relieved to see an on-in … this weather is very taxing if you're not used to it. Fortunately I kept my mouth shut so no one could give me a hard time. About whining, that is. OK blah blah blah, comments on trail:

Not enough check backs
Egad! There was some shiggy!
Trail of the month
Not enough d*ck checks
Not enough churches saying take it in the rear
Not enough large bodies of water

You can see an approximate map of trail here. It wound up varying a bit due to fences, or other changes of plans.

The hares, in a fit of extreme creativity, led us in a very loooooooong version of "Free Beer for all the Hashers."

Then we drank for Willy Wonka's one year Boston an*lversary. She even brought her own drinking supplies for this (a bottle of Jager). Go Willy Wonka! Then we drank for C*m Fly with Me and D*ck Jockey, who had actual birthdays that week.

Next up, Mommy demented the virgins:

D*ck Jockey and Nice T*ts made Virgin Kibbles c*m. Nice three-way they have going on there. For some reason, after refusing to get on his knees, he started to pull his cell phone out in circle. Not even sure what to say about this, but as it turns out he masturbated in the last week. Ok moving on …
Stretch P*ssy made Virgin Leslye c*m. Virgin Leslye is a kindergarten teacher and her favorite number is 13. Not being able to do anything with that Mommy moved on to
Virgin Megan. +2 Coonass made her c*m. She picked 26 as her number, prompting the "what's the best thing about 20 6 year olds? There are 20 of them."

Yeah ok ok … so we accepted these virgins and moved on to discussion of all the various flavors of 69 that were written on the easter eggs that were hidden on trail. "69 shaved cats" was my favorite. I Eat Tea Bags found the egg with plain old 69 on it and for this he won a Monty Python's Holy Grail Ale.

Moving on to accusations, etc:

Spunk in the Trunk accused Accidentally An*l of dropping her map on trail … and not only on trail but at the first check. Ouch.
+2 Coonass and Dazed'n'Confused did an honor down-down for finding the aforementioned m*rathon-themed object and carrying it on trail. Then people threw eggs at it. Yippee. Despite their best efforts, these two strapping young men were unable to kiss each other by sticking their craniums through the holes. Wow, not going any further with that one. Oh, except to note that they started drinking before we started singing "down down down." Bah.
Just Edward and An*l Beads drank for blood on trail.
I Eat Tea Bags drank for falsely accusing Buoys of having a cranium cover in circle, when Buoys wasn't actually in the middle of the circle but was only standing in circle.
Tw*t My Mom accused Octop*ssy of managing to hare in both Boston and Montreal on the same day. And when one hare drinks… or anyone in bunny ears … or, well, pretty much anyone …
Then The 2nd Cumming dropped the h-bomb (aka as the h-word)
Next, Tampon Jelly brought up Spunk's exhortation for him to remove his clothes (see below!).
All the kilted/skirted hashers then drank – Spunk, Jimmy, Pbvzzz, and Tampon Jelly
Jimmy Crack Wh*re drank again for being a hash wh*re and visiting us. Joining him in the down-down was Dazed'n'Confused who is a transplant from Tucson. And he's single, ladies!
Buoys accused Octop*ssy of dressing like a piano, then he was accused of wanting to finger her!
Jimmy Crack Wh*re and Floppy D*ck were accused of technology on trail, and were joined by Just Kibbles for his tech in circle. Somehow this turned into a massive social, but I didn't have any beer left, bah.
The hares left what was almost a true trail mark on trail … it was an arrow with two lines through it, not three. So, of course, they drank! Then Tea Bags drank for claiming this was acceptable behavior … on a moon trail, which this was not. So Buttler joined him as moon GM.
Brigham Tongue, and An*l Beads were FBI and FRB, respectively. For some reason I didn't quite catch, Horse's *ss, Blows My Mind, I Eat Tea Bags, and An Inconvenient Poop joined us. One of them was DFL (not sure being a Wanger counts as being DFL other than by definition…)

Announcements:

Marathon is capped, yadda yadda …
JP trail the week of marathon in JP (where else??)
Moon trail the week of marathon in Dorchester
GAP is coming up the last weekend in June, and will be AMAZING
+2 Coonass announced nothing
The last Sunday trail of the year is next week in Dorchester, hared by yours truly & Bring Out the Gimp. And I am willing to bet that a lot more people have read that post by now than have gotten to the bottom of this one…..

Heard before and then after the hash:

"No comments in the rear…" – The 2nd Cumming
"Tampon Jelly would you please take off your clothes. You're making me hot." - Spunk
"When I tell someone to take their clothes off I expect them to do so!" – Spunk

Last but not least, on the way back to the car I saw two fighter jets fresh from a Fenway flyover. Yeah, baby, that's some afterburn!

- Brigham Tongue

Johnny Cash Hash

2010-03-30T11:50:00.001-04:00

(because Johnny Cash is cooler than worms)

Hares: I Licked Butts, The Crying Gay
Bag Car: Bloody P*ssy
RA: Tw*t My Mom
Pack: e=I'm a Douche, Cocksmith, Goat Throat, Tw*t My Mom, Bondage Barbie, Yankee Pay $5 More, 5" Penalty
Wanger: Bend Over Mommy
Pre-lube: Casey's, Somerville
On-in: Under the Charlestown Ave Bridge in Cambridge
On-after: Courtside, Cambridge
Weather: Lousy!! 50 degrees, raining and windy; the middle of a Noreaster that continues to pummel the state

A small pack gathered at Casey's, much to the chagrin of the hares who were hoping to recycle the trail for marathon. Suckers. I was so happy to discuss Don Cherry with 5" and $5 that I nearly let my parking meter expire. Slumerville has apparently decided that it thinks it is Boston, with meters running until 8pm.

Right as we were leaving for bag car, Goat Throat showed up. Great timing, I expect running trail in the rain with a bag is probably not the most fun …

So I have no idea where trail went or what happened on trail. No one would tell me. So here is what else happened:

The beer check was in a sandbox under a roof in Ryan Playground, near the big Sullivan Square rotary. Since it was rainy, windy, and cold, we didn't stay there that long. Just long enough to drink a beer, eat some cheesy poofs, and all shout out "Moose" at the same time. And I got to relay my favorite story of an out-of-stater trying to pronounce a Massachusetts name: Cochituate came out "Cock-a-twatty." Not kidding.

So when the hares said that there was a check in front of bag car, what they neglected to note was that it was a t*t check. And of course, Goat refused to carry the beer to the car until he saw some t*ts. Well, he got me back later.

The on-in was under the bridge that connects Charlestown to Cambridge. I was quite amused sitting in my warm car watching the pack wander around through the park trying to find trail. Suckers. Although they had all acquired hubcaps on trail, apparently from running through a recycling center.

We quickly circled up and after quickly serenading the hares and performing an abbreviated version of "I used to work in Chicago" (I will note that both of these songs allowed the Crying Gay to brag about the size of his c*ck, prompting cries of `b*llshit, B*llshit…), we proceeded on to comments on trail:

My shoes are too dry
Not enough hubcaps on trail
Annnhhhhh
Not enough paper separated from plastic
Not enough white trash, too much wet trash
What trail?

Accusation, etc:

FRB/FBI – Goat Throat, Bondage Barbie, Bloody P*ssy
The Crying Gay is building a garden. Apparently he needs some Mexicans like 5" Penalty and Yankee Pay $5 More to help him out. So they all drank.
Cocksmith accused Glitorus of not being in attendance, so he drank for him
Bloody P*ssy, The Crying Gay, and e=I'm a Douche had moonburn (in my defense, I was under shelter nearly the entire hash!)
I Licked Butts drank for accusing The Crying Gay of being hilarious (clearly a false accusation)
Bloody P*ssy drank because bag car lost its hubcaps (apparently, at least, although none of the hubcaps produced actually match the car!)
Bloody P*ssy drank again for somehow losing a s*x toy on trail despite not running trail but shall we just say this particular item was so impressive in size (I would estimate its height at about 3 feet) that I agreed to drink anyway
Then Goat Throat made Cocksmith drink for making Bloody P*ssy need s*x toys
Then Goat Throat made Tw*t drink for not drinking enough in circle
Cocksmith drank for not smoking enough in circle
Barbie drank because her gloves were wet, so clearly she was fingering herself on trail
Then there was a social because we were all idiots for being out on such a night
Finally, The Crying Gay drank for bestiality. I forget why.

We finished up circle and quickly proceeded to the on-after to drink overpriced PBR and eat very doughy pizza. But the bartender had some amazing facial hair going on. And the Bruins beat the Devils!

Heard before and then after the hash:

"What's that sound? Oh wait, it's me!" – Ice Princess (oops, sorry, wrong hash, but I still find that hilarious)
"Give me an alley and my pants are down." – Goat Throat
"I promised myself I wouldn't get wet tonight." – Bloody P*ssy
"I usually try to say at least one stupid thing just so I can quote myself." – Bloody P*ssy

- Bloody P*ssy

March Madness Hash

2010-03-21T13:27:00.004-04:00

Friar says:
Hello everyone - since none of the regular scribes were there, I am attempting to scribe. At the Newtowne, I took notes on a paper plate (which I still have) but started half way through the virgins. I filmed the opening circle so I'll be able to get the attendance list that way.

Nips/Jamaican - do you remember the names of the virgins. I got the last two. I remember a lot of them were with the Army and not supposed to be drinking.

Did anybody know where trail was supposed to go. Hares - this is your chance to set the record straight, since I'll have not choice but to believe you. As usual, I caught up with the people who were lost - Oh wait, that was most of the pack at some point.

Anyway - going through a particularly bumpy patch of sky, but it's not that much worse than the Silver Line to the airport.

Someone responded with:
For the virgins, I cant remember their real names.... all I can really remember is:

Loud Red-Neck guy wearing jeans/t-shirt and carrying a bottle of Gatorade filled w/ piss colored vodka
Business Casual Walker who dresses better for a hash than I do for work

Song Checks (fail):

I used to work in Chicago, Sh*tty Trail

Comments on trail:

"With this many virgins, we can afford to lose 2-3 and no one will notice"
"With the trail this well marked, it must be False" (it was)
"Are you running for beer?" ( 8 year old girl in playground)
"The geese definitely havent migrated north yet....this baseball field
isnt covered in sh*t " (Gimp)

On-in comments:

"Wow, we really stink" (Jamaican Me C*m)

Accusations:

Failed Sweat Test (Gimp memory failure of who actually got called in)
Marks too close together
Moose Knuckle had more marks on trail than the hares

St. Patty's Day Hash

2010-03-14T18:00:00.016-04:00

Hares: Dribbles, I Eat Tea Bags
Bag Car: Bondage Barbie

Pre-lube: Hanc*ck Tavern, Quincy

On-in: Cagney's, Quincy

Weather: Lousy!! About 38 degrees and pouring rain; the middle of a lovely Noreaster

RA: Bend Over Mommy

Wangers: e=I'm a Douche, Tw*t My Mom

Observer: Cyrus

Pack: Brigham Tongue, Ski Bobbit, C*mlocker, Bend Over Mommy, The Buttler Hit It, Wee Willy W*nker, Virgin Edward, Stick It to the Bros, Stops to Pet the P*ssy¬

OK, well I am surprised that I even made it to this trail between the hangover from the Seacoast Green Dress run the day before, and the fact that the weather was just flat out lousy. And apparently no one can be bothered to go to Quincy which is sad, because there are some great trails down there.

Bend Over Mommy was channeling Goat Throat by wearing a skin-tight cellophane (or whatever, it was red plastic) number which she thought might keep her dry. I, on the other hand, like an idiot declined to wear my waterproof jacket instead opting for a sweatshirt that was more like 20 pounds of dead weight within about 15 minutes.

After a quick chalk talk on the back of Buttler's jacket, we were off to find trail. Happily for everyone the hares weren't trying to confuse us so we pretty quickly found trail, and ran through the neighborhoods and a pretty cool stretch through some campus before commencing what felt like a deathmarch past an elementary school and up to what appeared to be a beer check, because we saw bag car, the hares' bags of flour, and a trail leading into some sort of marsh park. However, we couldn't find the hares anywhere, and really who cares about the hares but we couldn't find the BEER.

Barbie called and confirmed that the hares were indeed in the park somewhere so we wandered in. Eventually I quit trying to avoid walking through the puddles since my feet were already soaked. We found the hares (and Guinness and whiskey!) by an old cemetery facing out deeper into the marsh. Apparently that is where trail was supposed to go, but what had been navigable mud when scouting had turned into an impassable river, and luckily for us our hares weren't *that* crazy.

So after the beer check we headed back out to the road. Virgin Edward found an unopened Bud Lite on trail and proceeded to throw it away (for which he later drank beer that wasn't so sk*nk). After running down the road a bit, the remainder of the trail was mostly shaggy – it cut into the marsh and ran essentially along the edge of it. Jumping over the natural and man-made culverts was great fun … for a while. At one point along here I made the comment that the only part of me that wasn't soaking wet yet was my *ss, then I got lazy and nearly didn't make it over one of the culverts. I can tell you, landing *ss first in one of those would definitely have gotten it wet in one of the most unpleasant ways possible!

Emerging on the other side of the marsh near a school we came across C*mlocker who had lost trail. We found it, though (the more eyes the better when the flour is quickly washing away) and ran through what appeared to be cross country trails for a while until we lost trail again. Happily, upon gaining higher ground we figured out where the pack must have emerged and C*mlocker saw a mark cleverly hidden behind a tree. A bit too cleverly, I am so glad she was there!

We ran past where the January moon hash ended (this has all happened before, and will happen again!) and back down the hill. Cheaters that we are, we knew one of the directions off a check led nowhere so we followed the real trail up to 3A where we found empty bags of flour, a couple faint chalk arrows, and not long after were on hare (Tea Bags), and walked the remainder of trail (which he promised was a half mile and was actually more like a mile!). Note to future hares – when laying flour trail in a monsoon, you need about 1 ½ times as much flour as usual (as I had discovered the day before!).

Arriving at Cagney's was very exciting mainly because we could all change into some dry clothes. The walkers' trail today involved walking 4 blocks to the T, taking the T one stop, and walking to the on-in. Nice. I'm surprised the walkers hadn't started in on the sandwiches & stuff while waiting for our soaking wet butts to arrive!

After everyone who wanted to had changed, Mommy called us to circle.

Comments on trail:

Not enough shiggy
Not enough crawling through the mud
A little too dry
No t*t checks
Not enough swimming

Today we had one virgin, who apparently came to part of trail last week but was never demented. Virgin Edward claimed that the internet made him c*m (that old story again). He would "of course" get off a bus full of homosexuals, and while he was a math major did not know the square root of 69 although he did get the joke pretty quickly. Other good quotes: "That's $1 in front of a v*gina"

When asked if he would help his uncle Jack off the roof: "You've got it! He's my uncle, man, that's family!"
If he were a male sheep he would f*ck a female sheep (really, what sort of a question is that? That's just silly). His favorite sexual position is reverse cowgirl.

Out of a pack of nine, we had three visitors (Ski Bobbit from Old Fahts, Stops to Pet the P*ssy¬ from Burlington, and Wee Willy W*nker from White House H3). Thank goodness for the visitors! Dribbles drank as an ex-co-GM and so Tea Bags drank for being her co-hare, and Buttler and Mommy drank for also being current GMs.

Accusations and other stuff that went down in circle:

Someone accused the walkers for taking public transit, but since that was the walkers trail it was a false accusation
Dribbles accused Tea Bags of spilling Guinness on her
The hares were accused of choosing a pre-lube that did not serve Guiness (but it did have Long Hammer IPA and free goldfish!)
Stops to Pet the P*ssy¬ accused the RA of causing the terrible weather but then had to drink too because that accusation made no sense whatsoever
Mommy accused the hares of trying to re-create the Pearl Necklace by making us hash in a monsoon
Buttler accused Mommy of blood on trail but she wasn't actually bleeding so he drank for a false accusation
Buttler accused Brigham Tongue of having a sex toy on trail (this was a rubber ball) but Mommy proclaimed that he had to drink for calling a breast implant a sex toy
Then Ski drank for spilling beer
Buttler had to drink for trying to take over running circle from the RA (booo!)
Stops to Pet the P*ssy¬ then drank for accusing Mommy's socks of being new shoes (ok this doesn't make a lot of sense but that's what my notes say!)
Stick It to the Bros actually accused someone of something, and brought up Just (formerly Virgin) Edward's discarding of an unopened Bud Lite on trail, so Just Edward drank.
Brigham Tongue, The Buttler Hit It, Bondage Barbie, I Eat Tea Bags, and Stops to Pet the P*ssy were crazy enough to hash both days of this sh*tty weekend (although I will say … what else are you supposed to do in such lousy weather???), so we drank an honor down-down
C*mlocker drank because she hadn't done anything stupid. And she was a backslider along with Ski Bobbit and Wee Willy W*nker
Dribbles and Just Edward were last up, and they drank for having a private party. And the same hairdo. I sincerely hope they were not talking about their hair during their private party!

Announcements:

Wednesday May 12th – Marching Tour 69th hash with Ski Bobbit. Or something like that.
There's some event involving the Boston marathon in a couple of weeks. Apparently it involves hashing every day for a week. Sounds like fun.

After circle we all attacked the piles of sandwiches. Apparently cold can make you hungry! Not long after we finished, Tw*t and Douche showed up to help us eat the leftover food.

Heard before and then after the hash:

"She's Irish. She should be drenched in beer." – I Eat Tea Bags after spilling Guinness on Dribbles
"We have to get high and look for Mommy" – Brigham Tongue (I was talking about elevation; she was wearing a bright jacket. Really …)
"Where's the food?" – The Buttler Hit It (the food had been sitting out since we arrived at Cagney's)
"Where's the food?" = e=I'm a Douche (there was less of it at this point. Perhaps it was hiding)
"She's getting P*ssy." – Bend Over Mommy when asked where Bondage Barbie was. Ah, the difference a capital letter can make.

Sorry this was late, and I'll be missing a few due to sprained ankle and travel, but I'll see you all at the hash on Easter weekend!

- Brigham Tongue

Toga Hash

2010-03-07T09:07:00.010-05:00

Hares: Spitz, Mexican Humping Queen
Bag Car: Just Amanda
RA: Shawsk*nk
Pre-lube: Beantown Pub, Boston
On-in: Good Bar, Boston
Weather: Gorgeous!! Sunny and mid-50s. Spring has sprung!

Pack: Brigham Tongue, The Buttler Hit It, Hoover McSuck'nF*ck, Sugar Plum Fairy, C*m Fly With Me, S*xtra Credit, Just Kara, Virgin Brad, Virgin Jeff, Shawsk*nk, Puff n' Stuff, Grease My Monkey's Nuts, Just Stan, Yellow D*ck Gnome, Lick Hole-a, Virgin Alicia, Virgin Kristen, Tw*t My Mom, Virgin Hayley, +2 Coonass, Virgin Melody, N*pples Erectus, Blows My Mind, Horse's *ss, Stick It To the Bros, Floppy D*ck, Bleeps, Sweeps, & Creeps, Jimmy Crack Wh*re, Nice T*ts, Better Late Than Pregnant, Just Kyle, Just Scott, Necrophiliac Jack, Just Lesley, Just Danielle, Virgin Rob, D*ck Jockey, Bondage Barbie, I Licked Butts, Goes Down On Buoys, Far From F*cking, Immaculate Er*ction, Taj My Hole, The 2nd C*mming, I Eat Tea Bags, Target Practice, Just Patrick

Late C*mmers: Time of the Munch, Peppermint P*ssy, An Inconvenient Poop, Vagetarian
Wangers: Bend Over Mommy, Willy Wonka and the Backdoor Factory, Jamaican Me C*m

I am sure I missed some people in the headcount, this was officially the biggest pack of the year so far and probably the biggest since the nice weather last fall when we kept ending at the Hong Kong.

So we started out front of Beantown Pub, and ran past BBAG's place where, for like the third time in a row, there wasn't a beer check, a song check, or any such thing. Trail then ran through the Boston Common up to a check back; the trail ran parallel to Beacon up to the next set of stairs, then up Joy Street, and down Mount Vernon to a check. Not surprisingly, we ran through Louisberg Square then back up the hill and around for a while. At a certain point a small contingent ran up the hill at a check, and yelled "On-on" while some others had found a check at the bottom of the hill. Either the first set of runners were nuts, or the pack managed to shortcut trail and find a check.

Not long after that we raced across Cambridge Street, up some stairs, past some shops and over to a beer check in the park near all the hospitals. For the first time in a long time, the pack wasn't freezing cold after five minutes so this beer check lasted a little while.

Upon heading out, we quickly found that trail went across Staniford and up some cool twisty steps to a song check at what appears to be a mental health hospital. In the hurry to find trail after, there was a t*t check at the bottom of the stairs after which pack got really, really lost … I finally found what I think was trail heading out essentially backwards from the t*t check, and around the corner, to what looked like a crossed-out mark through a parking garage. Tea Bags and I ran though there and found nothing, but ran far enough along that we finally found a check. Trail led into the North End from there, and around a little bit. At one point there was a CB4 or some such, so we marked the check and ran the only other direction we could – I was at the front of the pack with Bros and Tea Bags and we literally ran right past the beer check up to Christopher Columbus Park before doubling back and realized that the beer check was at the little park across from the Living Room. We stayed at the beer check long enough for Buttler to break a 40 he'd found on trail (apparently another sex toy), prompting a yell of "The Buttler Did It!." It was also at this beer check that An Inconvenient Poop deigned to join us, and I think I saw Peppermint and Vagetarian here for the first time as well.

Pack was away not long after the hares, after Nice T*ts saw people in apartments on the phone looking down at us. I was running with nearly a full cup of beer at this point, so luckily there was a song check by the Aquarium. After this I got a little lost with all the crazy cow path streets, but we did have an RIP song check outside the Hong Kong (oh, I have so many happy memories there…), and perhaps not incidentally when trying to find trail we ran right past a fire truck with a bunch of not-too-shabby-looking firefighters. Unfortunately this was an unnecessary detour because we'd gone the wrong way from the check and missed the on-in. And so it goes.

Into the basement of the bar we went; it was great because it had both strobe lights (which were turned off at some point), and a stripper pole. And some random guy, probably either from the press or the FBI, took a picture of us halfway through circle. If you're not afraid, maybe you should be ….

Comments on trail:

It sucked
Not enough song checks
Not enough t*t checks
Not enough t*ts
Not enough pole dancing
Not enough hot firemen
Not enough beer
Not enough marks
Hashmanlike behavior

We had a ridiculous number of virgins. Luckily since none of our dementors were there, N*pples Erectus stepped up to the task of coming up with unique questions for all the virgins:

No one made Virgin Kristen c*m, not even the internet! Tea Bags was more than happy to step forward as her sponsor. For whatever reason of her own, she would prefer to be with Tea Bags than with a mechanical device with batteries. Well, to each her own.
Just Kyle made Virgin Brad c*m. Virgin Brad and Just Kyle are brothers, as is Just Scott. Happily, this is the first time either brother had made Virgin Kyle c*m.
Tw*t My Mom made Virgin Melody c*m, but since Tw*t was sponsoring someone else, The 2nd Cumming stepped up to sponsor Melody. Melody would not get off on a bus full of lesbians.
Tw*t My Mom made Virgin Hayley c*m. This one claimed she was good at math, and did in fact guess that the square root of 69 was slightly more than 8.
Floppy D*ck made Virgin Alicia c*m. She didn't know if his d*ck was floppy or not, at which point Floppy apparently demonstrated, causing Virgin Alicia to exclaim "Thank God I was facing that way!" (away from the display)
Shawsk*nk made Virgin Chris c*m. He had no idea what the strategically placed dollar bill was for.
Shawsk*nk also made Virgin Jeff c*m, and since Shawsk*nk was otherwise occupied Buoys was called upon to be his sponsor. A stallion is his favorite barnyard animal (yes, a stallion, not a mare)
Virgin Mike got picked up on the street by Just Cara, so I guess she made him c*m. There was another virgin with him who Just Cara picked up at the same time, but I didn't catch his name. Virgin Mike said that he would be the pitcher in a relationship between the two of them. Not everyone in circle agreed with Mike on this one!
Virgin Rob's hand made him c*m. Not sure I understand that one. Apparently he had a real sponsor, and a hot chick no less, but he prefers his hand. Well, to each his own. He somewhat redeemed himself by saying that he would choose Just Danielle over Stick It to the Bros, and he would also choose GAP (who he apparently knows from somewhere – this guy gets around!) over Bros. To top this off, he would take both Just Danielle and GAP over having one at a time. Like I said, this guy gets around…

Accusations and other stuff that went down in circle:

Puff `n Stuff, Jimmy Crack Wh*re, and Grease My Monkey's Nuts were visitors
Then Puff `n Stuff kept talking and not giving proper respect to the RA, for which he was made to drink. And when one bald man drinks, all bald men drink. And when one swim coach drinks … well you get the idea. Nice T*ts serenaded this lot of unworthies with some song derived from "I Will Survive" that I forget everything about other than that it was cool
Backsliders – S*xtra Credit, Far From F*cking, An Inconvenient Poop, D*ck Jockey, Peppermint P*ssy, Floppy D*ck, and Jamaican Me C*m. For some reason Time of the Munch wasn't in circle (or I didn't see him) but he's a big backslider too
FRB – The 2nd Cumming. No one knew who the FBI was, so N*pples Erectus volunteered to drink. In another big surprise, no one knew who was DFL so the lovely pair that is Buttler and Tea Bags volunteered to drink for that.
Dribbles and Just Hayley had on new shoes (booo!)
Sweat test failures – Willy Wonka, Jamaican Me C*m, Peppermint P*ssy
Just Stan was made to drink for announcing at a beer check that his racist behavior time had decreased since he started hashing
Speaking of racists, S*xtra Credit had on racist attire and drank for it
Lick Hole-a for going to Atlanta to defend her dissertation rather than hashing
Just Patrick was accused of something
I Eat Tea Bags, Goes Down on Buoys, and Peppermint P*ssy were all wearing the same shirt, which is the shirt that Stick It to the Bros wears on like every hash except for this one. But he had to drink anyway.

At this point all the female Justs were made to do a pole dance, with the winner getting called in for naming. Personally, I thought Just Amanda was the best – that woman knows her way around a stripper pole! But the general consensus was that Just Danielle had been the best. Unfortunately since this was just her second trail, no one knew anything about her and she was tossed back.

Just Patrick had hashed a few more times than that, so he was called in for naming. Names ranged from Whiskey D*ck to Little Bunny F*ck You to Undercover C*nt to the eventual winner – Yankee Pay Five Dollar More.

Announcements:

Seacoast Green Dress Run, The Cove Lounge in Revere, Saturday, March 13th at 1pm HST.
Something is going on at Da Pitts at some point. Check the web site or something.
March moon hash will be on the 30th
No one announced it, but register for marathon already.

Heard before and then after the hash:

"I'm just waiting for my 30-rack." – Mexican Humping Queen to the bartender
"I'm not that big." – Puff 'n Stuff

Next week is a big week with two St. Patty's day-themed hashes, BOTH of which are T accessible. And I'm haring one of them! Ok, enough self-congratulation for one night … Hopefully see a lot of you then!

Brigham Tongue

Olympic Hash

2010-02-28T15:32:00.000-05:00

Hares: Necrophiliac Jack, Shawsk*nk
Bag Car: Accidentally An*l
RA: Bend Over Mommy
Pre-lube: Hogan's Run, Brighton
On-in: Jack's Sister's Place, Cambridge (NOT Whitney's Café!)
Weather: Cloudy, mid-40s, and windy

Pack: High An*s, Virgin Danielle, Tongue Me Please, Brigham Tongue, Luck Hole-ah, +2 Coon*ss, The Buttler Hit It, Mexican Humping Queen, Just Carol, Just Stan, Virgin Cassandra, Virgin Paul, e=I'm a Douche, Tw*t My Mom, Just Patrick, Bend Over Mommy, Rocky Mountain Wh*re, Stick It To the Bros, Mooseknuckles, Sugar Plum Fairy

Jack, as we'll hear later, had a birthday the day before this hash. What on earth possessed him to sign up to hare the day after his birthday is beyond me but anyway about 3:10 the hares sauntered in, and were away shortly thereafter. On a side note, my first experience with Bud Light Wheat was pretty positive. The orange was a nice touch.

We had three virgins, who listened very carefully during chalk (well, flour) talk. Then, we were off to find trail, which craniumed towards the river with a check on the corner of Western Ave and Market Street. Way to slow the pack down! Buttler nearly got himself killed by running in front of a car that was turning right on a green arrow but luckily for all involved (and spectating), the car stopped in time.

We ran over the Charles on Arsenal, then along Greenough Boulevard until a check by the Grove Street hill. After following all the false trails someone decided to bite the bullet and run up the hill, whereupon we found trail, which ran along the road for a while before going past a parking area and up a hill through some shiggy, then back down the hill. Back on Grove Street, we continued for a few blocks before running through a parking area towards some Soviet-era looking building with four very large, very yellow smokestacks and onto some abandoned train tracks. We ran about a block before emerging onto a road, with a check. By the time I got there people had gone both directions along the road, but no one thought to run straight along the abandoned tracks except for High An*s, who I followed. At the very least, it was scenic – it also happened to be true trail, and, better yet, BN!

The beer check was underneath a bridge (the road above turned out to be Mount Auburn Street). At this beer check, we learned that Virgin Paul, who is going to university in New Hampshire was down visiting for the weekend and he had just had his birthday on Friday, adding to the already large list of hash birthdays for the weekend. Since he looked like he was about 18, the next logical question was how old he was, to which he replied 21. Hashing in this close proximity to his 21st makes him officially THE YOUNGEST HASHER EVER.

Moving on… after the beer check we had to climb up a concrete wall that was probably 5 feet tall (but there were enough steel beams to help us up). We proceeded across Mount Auburn and through the neighborhood, emerging on Huron by Fresh Pond but instead of heading towards Alewife we turned back in through the posh neighborhoods, eventually emerging onto Fresh Pond Parkway and running towards the river again. Someone had suggested that we might be ending in Harvard Square, so when trail proceeded down Brattle this seemed like the logical conclusion. Happily, the hares cut off what would have been a long deathmarch by leading us down to Mount Auburn and placing a song check by the hospital. Now what else would we sing at a song check by a hospital but "My Girl's a Vegetable?"

Proceeding on, we ran down Mount Auburn until we reached a d*ck check at Longfellow Park. Bros refused to help out the ladies because apparently the cold "wouldn't look real good for the Bros." Thanks a lot, buddy. After this check, trail went through Longfellow Park where of course the dog that was out for a walk went right for the girl in the white pants. Well, I knew they'd get muddy some way or other, but this wasn't quite the way I was predicting …

Emerging back onto Brattle, we ran into the walkers but quickly left them in the dust as we kept running, and running, and running, and finally our deathmarch ended at Brattle Square with a song check where we sang "Free Beer For all the Hashers." We were at the song check long enough to spot the direction that we thought trail went, and we were right – up Mount Auburn. Now I totally missed it, because I saw a big true trail mark in flour but we ran right past Whitney's where apparently some guy was scratching out the "On-In" that had been placed there in flour. Apparently when the hares arrived, the bartender refused to let us end there because he had some problem with dirty songs being sung (despite the fact that the manager had approved it a few days beforehand). Well, there you have it people – a bar that refuses to let 25 people in who are going to drink a bunch of beer. Guess they don't need our business then.

Anyhoo, the revised trail continued along Mount Auburn for another block or so then turned up towards Harvard on the corner by Finale. Once we got to Harvard a bunch of civilians told us where to go, and we continued through Harvard Yard and past the science center then turned up Oxford and just continued along Oxford another third of a mile or so until we reached Jack's sister's place.

As luck would have it, there was some beer remaining in a keg and some mixed drinks. All was well until Just Patrick kicked one such drink over (a full drink, too!) but we got him back for that in circle.

You can see a map of trail here.

Comments on trail:

Not enough Mount Auburn Cemetery
Excellent use of mass flour dumpage area
More d*ck checks
Not enough t*t checks
Bigger song checks [they were pretty massively huge … that's what she said]
Whitney's now our favorite on-in

We had virgins! Here's what (not who, sorry, I'm not privy to *all* the details) went down:

Tw*t My Mom made Virgin Cassandra c*m. When asked what is her favorite sexual position when Tw*t makes her c*m, she replied: "What???" Not getting anywhere with that, she admitted that she had faked an orgasm but when asked to fake an orgasm for the group she just laughed. Apparently she laughs when she c*ms, gentlemen!
E=I'm a Douche made Virgin Paul c*m. When asked the square root of 69, he guessed 8. Pretty close, and he also figured out pretty quickly what the real answer meant. This one's a keeper.
Tongue Me Please made Virgin Danielle c*m. Virgin Danielle would stay on a bus full of lesbians.

Accusations and other circle shenanigans

Birthdays: Just Paul, The Buttler Hit It, Necrophiliac Jack, Shawsk*nk, Tw*t My Mom – all are one year closer to death!
Just Paul drank for being the YOUNGEST HASHER EVER
Backsliders – Tongue Me Please (who hadn't c*m in like 6 years) and Just Stan (for whom it had been all of like four weeks)
Just Patrick drank for the above-mentioned alcohol abuse
Mooseknuckles drank for racist behavior, and Buttler drank for falsely accusing Bros of racist behavior, and then Bros drank as a proxy for Sugar Plum Fairy who accused Buttler of something (even though he was already drinking) that was determined to be hashmanlike behavior
Shawsk*nk proposed an honor down-down for Necrophiliac Jack, who had apparently gotten wasted the night before in some series of activities that involved body shots, getting naked and trying to take out the trash, and puking in at least 6 different places. As I said above, if that had been me I'd have been in bed moaning (and not in a good way!) rather than out laying trail the next day, so props to Jack!
Buttler, Bros, and Tongue Me Please were having a private party and were made to drink
Bend Over Mommy lost one of her tags in circle, and drank for that

Announcements: reminder to all to register for Marathon. The Seacoast Green Dress run is starting in Revere and will be held on Saturday, March 13th at 1pm HST.

Heard at circle: "Are you short?" Bend Over Mommy to High An*s

And that's it for now. Up next, the Toga hash and then a whole weekend of St. Patty's Day debauchery! My favorite holiday! :)

- Brigham Tongue

Snow Moon Hash with No Snow

2010-02-27T12:29:00.000-05:00

aka the Thank Goodness for Hare Club hash

Hares: Saskapoon, Muddy Buddy
Bag Car: Just Keri, D*ck Bank
RA: Tw*t My Mom
Pre-lube: Victory Pub, Noddles Island (I mean Orient Heights)
On-in: Some park on Deer Island
Weather: Clear, cold, and wet [it had just rained] (in the mid-30s)

Pack: Tw*t My Mom, Bloody P*ssy, Mr Papagiorgio, Cocksmith, Bring Out the Gimp, Father Shishkapoo
Latecummer: Glitorus

Between the weather, Burlington Mardi Gras, and it being a Saturday night a relatively small pack gathered at Victory Pub. The crowd of locals was smaller than usual, but the ones who were there were great. Just Keri hit Saskapoon on the *ss (lightly), I don't know why, and when the locals protested claimed it was just foreplay, prompting one of the locals to exclaim: "Foreplay! He's black and blue!"

D*ck Bank (wife of Muddy Buddy) thought that Bring Out the Gimp was my husband which was amusing because while I do have three husbands, Gimp is not among them. And no, I'm not taking more applications thank you very much.

Since we didn't have any pack chalk other than the chalk that Cocksmith and I brought, and no virgins, we skipped chalk talk and went out to find trail. Of course that intersection right by Victory Pub is a pain in the neck; I went to look north but the trail went south. The half the pack that found trail couldn't go any further because there was a t*t check and yes, I was the *only* girl on trail. Hah. And no, this wasn't the only t*t check. Thanks guys, really. :P

We got lost pretty soon after that. There was a check, and we could only find marks heading towards the water facing Logan Airport, but at the end of those marks was a big old F. So we wandered around for a while, checking for a check, or a turn, and all the other directions. Eventually someone ran northeast far enough to find another check so we headed over there. At the next check we got lost again – someone in a car stopped and asked us if we were lost and needed help finding anything, to which we replied that we were indeed lost but there was no way he could help us. The next check was somewhat easier because one of the two possible ways trail could have gone was a dead end. You may sense a pattern here as much of the first half of trail was staggering from one check to another because the chalk was too dark for us to see (pink and blue don't work so well at night, especially when it's wet).

Trail wound along 145 past Belle Isle Lobster and Seafood. I had a bit of an advantage at this point because from scouting trail in this area I knew exactly where trail might have gone and was not fooled by the checks. Except that High Anus and I ran right past a check, and also right past some arrows that drifted off to the right of us because we were so focused on the road right under our feet. And it was actually well lit! I still say we fared better than Gimp and Cocksmith who followed marks through holes in the fence into a private yacht storage area. Having finally found trail, we ran (literally) into Tw*t My Mom who was exiting a parking garage having apparently run through the yachts and emerged on the other side. This was the location of yet another check where we couldn't find trail. It went east, then south, then at a check Gimp ran one direction and Father Shishkapoo ran the other. Gimp yelled "on-on" and we couldn't hear Father Shishkapoo, so we followed Gimp for a good couple of blocks before he hit a YBF and we backtracked.

Trail actually went through a park that had lots of little walkways and pathways on which we could look for marks. Father Shishkapoo was apparently yelling at us where to go, but none of us heard him. Eventually we figured out where we were going and emerged on the other side. Trail next ran through Winthrop Center which is actually incredibly cute, or so it seemed at the speed at which we ran through there. A few blocks later we emerged back onto 145 and proceeded in quite the deathmarch (broken up only by about three checks), before coming across the beer check at Saskapoon's house. Father Shishkapoo had beaten us here, despite blowing right past the beer check and continuing up the road, heads-down like he was a racist or training for something. Or something. Maybe this is where the hares got the idea to lay a great long YBF and make him run the same stretch twice, pointlessly both times.

Now I must say this was quite probably the most scenic backyard I'd been in recently, right up on the water, with all sorts of boats moored out there and the whole thing illuminated by moonlight. In fact, it would have been romantic except that the beer check was punctuated by conversations like the following:

Just Keri: "Did you go to the Halloweenie hash?"
Bloody P*ssy: "Yes, I did."
Just Keri: "Yeah, me too. I had to show a lot of guys my t*ts."
D*ck Bank: "I used to do that. Now they are just dried up like nuts."
Tw*t: "Brigham, are you getting this???"

Maybe you had to be there. Moving on. There was a check just out front of the beer check. Father Shishkapoo and Cocksmith headed straight across the road, but the rest of us quickly found multiple marks heading east and started off at high speeds without even bothering to look behind us to see if the other two were following. Big mistake. We went a quarter of a mile (about about 12 marks, not even kidding) before finding a big, fat, YBF. Yeah, we sure as heck were and although we *knew* that trail would have to run past that general area again we didn't know exactly how so we ran back the quarter mile. Turns out we didn't entirely waste our time because in the meantime Father Shishkapoo and Cocksmith had tried every direction from a check before finally figuring out the right way (which was into the shiggy and really, shouldn't that have been obvious??).

So we ran through the park, through a playground, past the Winthrop Fire Department and over to a long stretch along the beach. Up ahead of us was a huge hill with a water tower with blue, white, and red stripes on it. At the bottom of this hill was a check, and from the beach the other direction emerged Glitorus, who had spoken with Just Keri at the beer check and parked at the on-in. Rather than thinking for 6.9 seconds about this, we all proceeded to run (or, walk…) up the steep hill to the top, despite not seeing any marks. Finally we figured out that was wrong, and trail actually went along a seawall the direction Glitorus had come from. Well, I don't regret it – the view from up there was stunning, and running along the ocean in the moonlight was beautiful.

Unfortunately from there on out trail necessarily got boring with a lot of straightaways along and near the beach before meandering through the neighborhoods a bit, through a parking lot, and up a really, really muddy hill to the on-in. I was pretty relieved at this point because I felt like I had run 6.9 miles. Father Shishkapoo's GPS said he ran 8 miles making this both the longest and most scenic hash I think I've been on.

The original idea was to do down-downs with Gatorade and vodka (the better to hide from the cops, who apparently are cutthroat in Winthrop). Sanity prevailed and beer was procured from bag car.

Comments on trail:

Enough with the deathmarches
Not enough marks in black unseeable chalk
Not enough beach

Muddy Buddy had been accepted as a transplant back in the summer, but this was D*ck Bank's first trail since she moved from Houston. We asked her where she was from and she finally remembered she was from Dallas, but then she didn't realize when we were singing her down-down song and so got a bit of a late start. She also chugged an entire cup of vodka and Gatorade which, while impressive, also took a really, really, really long time.

Accusations and other circle shenanigans:

Moon hash backsliders – Saskapoon and Muddy Buddy (yes, the hares!)
Birthdays in the past week – Bring Out the Gimp (one year closer to death!!)
Muddy Buddy accused himself of getting lost on trail. Well, if that's not enough, accusing yourself is an accusable offense …
Father Shishkapoo and D*ck Bank were having a private party and were made to drink. Apparently she needed her pants checked? Yeah I don't know what was up with that, and I probably don't want to.
Moon burn – Tw*t My Mom and Saskapoon
At this point D*ck Bank asked why we were all inverting our vessels over our craniums, so we demonstrated a down-down for her, and, of course, made her then demonstrate that she had learned her lesson
Just Keri, Saskapoon, and Muddy Buddy were having a private party
Someone produced a bag of chalk that the hares had lost on trail, to which Muddy Buddy quipped before he drank: "All the marks you didn't see on trail? That's why!"
FRB/FBI - Father Shishkapoo and Bloody P*ssy (first and only!); DFL – Cocksmith
Glitorus was made to drink for being a latecummer
Social started by Cocksmith's production of a Christmas wreath (another sex toy I had apparently lost on trail. Now not knowing how I would actually use such a thing as a sex toy I claimed it was a false accusation and it just degenerated from there)
Mexican down-down: Father Shishkapoo, Muddy Buddy, D*ck Bank, Saskapoon

At this point D*ck Bank pointed at me (with her finger no less!) from the middle of circle and accused me of being too serious. Saskapoon chimed in that he was the hash drunk of the moon hash and it was unacceptable for anyone not to be drunk at his hash. Well, almost everyone had driven there so we couldn't very well get drunk but we did have a social.

Announcements consisted of a reminder to register for Marathon, and an announcement that the Seacoast Green Dress run is starting in Revere and will be held on Saturday, March 13th.

Some of you may or may not remember that attendees of this hash were told to bring $1 in addition to the $5 hash cash. After hash religion, we noticed a bus pulling away from the parking lot at the bottom of the hill. Apparently this bus runs once an hour, and we had clearly just missed it, hence the thank goodness Glitorus showed up late and could shuttle half of us back to the start! It was cold at this point and the prospect of waiting an hour or walking 4 miles were equally unpleasant.

Glitorus took off after dropping us off because amazingly, no one needed a ride back into Cambridge. The rest of us congregated at Little Asia which was really *just* awful. Really, hashers, don't eat there. Or if you do, don't order off the all-day specials menu; I guess the regular menu items were somewhat better. Even more surprising was the fact that no one ordered anything to drink and pretty much everyone went home after. I guess there is a combination of trail length and temperature that can make hashers quit drinking, at least for the evening!

Heard before, on, and after trail:

"Are you employed by the government? What country?" – local in Victory Pub to Saskapoon
"I don't know what you've got planned for tonight but count me out!" – Bring Out the Gimp to Saskapoon and Just Keri
"I knew trail didn't go that way. I just wanted to run up the hill." – Glitorus
"It's been 7 years!!" – D*ck Bank
"I have a little throat." – D*ck Bank
"Just open your throat and let it go down." – Just Keri
"My husband is my vibrator." – D*ck Bank
"I'm a great lay." – D*ck Bank
"How many strap-ons do you have?" – Just Keri (NO, I am NOT making this up! And no, I don't know the context …)

- Bloody P*ssy

VD Hash 2010

2010-02-14T16:04:00.000-05:00

Hares: Catheter the Great, Jamaican Me C*m, Pbvzzzvvzzzz, Tw*t My Mom
Bag Car: Accidentally An*l
RA: The 2nd Cumming
Pack (I may have missed some; if so I'm sorry, there were a lot of people!): Just Patrick, e=I'm a Douche, The Buttler Hit It, Tampon Jelly, High An*s, 5" Penalty, Pig F*cker, Goes Down on Buoys, Brigham Tongue, Better Late Than Pregnant, Screaming Japanese Girl, N*pples Erectus, Necrophiliac Jack, Sucker's Bet, Bondage Barbie, An*l Beads, Just Emmy, Dirty Latte Sanchez, Just Becca, Virgin Josh, Horse's *ss, Taj My Hole, Pat My Fly, Floppy D*ck, Just Jen, Just Leslie, Virgin Scott, Virgin Brad, Sketchy Ho, C*m is Kosher, Blows My Mind, Virgin Phil, Virgin JJ, Jolly Green V*gina, Peppermint P*ssy, Bend Over Mommy, Queer Leader, Stick It to the Bros

Wangers: I Eat Tea Bags, Dude Where's My Virginity, Shorn Scr*tum, Sugar Plum Fairy
Pre-lube: The Lower Depths, Kenmore
On-in: The Hub Pub, Downtown Crossing
Weather: Clear, cold, and windy (in the 40s but high 20s/low 30s with wind)

I love The Lower Depths. Although really anyone who expects patrons actually to drink Tusker beer should have another think coming. I had arrived early and by around 2:40pm the pack was about five people so I was starting to get worried that hashers might actually have something better to do on Valentine's Day than come run a trail and so there wouldn't be much trash to talk. Boy was I wrong! We entertained ourselves eating hot dogs and watching men with big guns on TV until the hares left.

I have to say that this was by far the most awesome bag car I'd ever seen – because it was not a car, but was a really sick pickup truck. Go Accidentally An*l!

The 2nd Cumming led chalk talk in the middle of Comm. Ave which was amusing mainly because he had put an "F" right next to a "YBF" and someone spelled this out to read "F*ck Your Boyfriend." Also because there were five, yes FIVE virgins, two of whom were wearing jeans. Crazy b*stards you'd think they'd fit right in … An*l Beads told them to take a look at his t-shirt which, well, I can't make a square root sign but it spelled out that equation we all know so well.

Moving on … The 2nd Cumming explained that instead of a turkey-eagle today's trail featured a single-taken split (hence the need for four hares), and the first man and woman after the split were to go into the first store they encountered, say they were a hasher, and receive a gift. What could go wrong there?

Eventually we headed out and found trail pretty quickly; it headed up Charlesgate and down Boylston. At this point we all assumed the trail went into the park so we ran over there … no. Then we assumed it went south … no. Then we assumed it went along Boylston … no. Finally someone figured out that trail actually went over by Fenway and around under Charlesgate (clever, hares…), before emerging on the other side and coming up on Bolston again!

There was another long delay at the Mass. Ave song check (we sang "My Girl's a Vegetable") as some people ran down Boylston, and I headed south which was the wrong direction. Eventually we figured it out, and came upon the single-taken split. I started off down the taken path – the FRBs on this leg were High An*s and N*pples Erectus who emerged from the store with sexually explicit pastries that they then had to carry for the rest of trail. Not sure what happened to them after that but I have a few guesses.

Anyhow we followed trail into the center of Comm. Ave, but then couldn't find anything after the last mark we saw. Maybe we missed a check, I don't know. So we ran around for a little bit, trying to find trail – eventually came upon a YBF in the other direction on Gloucester Street. At this point we were totally off trail and lost, and I saw a bunch of people running up on Newbury Street by the mall so I ran up that way, and I think I may have found my way onto the single trail. Figures that I'd start off taken and wind up single, that's what Valentine's Day is all about right? I guess it's fitting since the only valentine I got was from a girl (although she is pretty hot… ).

From there we didn't have too many problems following marks through the alleys and roads of Back Bay and over a pedestrian footbridge to the Esplanade. There was a check and one arrow pointing out into the Charles River – The 2nd Cumming decided it would be a good idea to walk across the ice and go check it out; happily for everyone involved he didn't fall in! At around this time we came upon a song check which Tampon Jelly, Just Emmy, and Necrophiliac Jack decided to blow through without singing! Suckers Bet and I managed to sing and then chased after the FRBs, who might have just gotten overly excited by the presence of the beer check by the Hatch Shell. Otherwise known as by the Massive Wind Tunnel Created By the Hatch Shell.

There was a lot of ice by the wall people were sitting on, and Virgin Josh nearly brained himself by sprinting towards it and then slipping … why he was exhibiting such athletic prowess I do not understand. Buttler did manage to eat it for our first and only ice-related hash crash of the day.

We got very cold and so headed out, over the other pedestrian bridge and into Beacon Hill where we ran by a tremendously cute house with a garage that was bigger than the house, and then hit a check back. The revised trail headed into the Boston Common where we paused for another song check before trying to find trail. A bunch of us wound up on the wrong side of the frog pond from trail so decided it would be fun to run over it. This was great until we got to the far side where the ice looked a little sketchy and there were four or five people all approaching it at a run … but it did hold out, thank goodness.

We ran through the rest of the Public Garden and across Boston Common, and up some steps. Trail led right past BBAG and Dude's place, with a YBF arrow pointing at the door to their building. We then ran down Beacon and shortly after that the hares were apparently snared (all four of them, as a group)! The on-in at The Hub Pub was all of a two-minute run from there, which made the whole thing particularly amusing.

Something approximating what I ran can be found here: http://www.mapmyrun.com/run/united-states/ma/boston/870126618379879677 (iPhone gen 1 does not have GPS, so no, I didn't run through buildings – walking through walls is hard enough)

Comments on trail:
- GAP trail of the year
- Not enough t*t checks
- Nobody blew me at a beer check
- Not enough hares
- Not enough hairs
- No single people (apparently everyone ran the taken path)
- Couldn't find one mark in my car

After guest singer Pig F*cker treated us to "Pissonya" or whatever that song is called we proceeded to dement the virgins! Now you might remember that there were five virgins at the start … by this time we were down to three. The two with the jeans on were at the beer check and then vanished. Which means they drank beer and didn't pay any money for it, which quite possibly makes them smarter than the lot of us, although definitely wankers! Anyway on to our real virgins:

The 2nd Cumming made Virgin JJ c*m, and he couldn't figure out what the strategically-placed dollar bill was all about until we clued him in
The 2nd Cumming also made Virgin Phil c*m (with a name like The 2nd Cumming this is not surprising now is it), so Bend Over Mommy was kind enough to proxy for him. Fittingly, Virgin Phi's favorite barnyard animal is a goat, but his impression sounded more like a donkey (or so someone said, but why they would know that is … well, ok not beyond me but nothing I care to dwell on)
Virgin Josh made himself c*m, well actually the internet made him c*m. Heck, who *hasn't* the internet made c*m? That's not very creative. An*l Beads stepped in as his sponsor. Virgin Josh was asked what the square root of 69 is and he actually remembered what was on AB's shirt … although then he didn't know what it meant. Maybe not the brightest then … anyway his favorite sexual position is doggie style which I Eat Tea Bags was only happy enough to help demonstrate to the pack.

After accepting the unworthy virgins into our cult … I mean club … the accusations began:

Sweat test failure – I Eat Tea Bags and Shorn Scr*tum
Transplant from Vegas (ok that's not an accusation) – Just Jen
Backsliders – Just Becky, Queer Leader, 5" Penalty, Shorn Scr*tum, An*l Beads
Honor down-down for The 2nd Cumming for leaving more marks than the hares
An*l Beads, Goes Down on Buoys, and Pig F*cker for being … something that I can't read (I was using a napkin at this point maybe some day I will remember to bring a notepad…)
Taj My Hole and High An*s for having a beer before the on-in (apparently they zenned to the incorrect on-in and had to be rescued)
Tampon Jelly, Just Emmy, and Necrophiliac Jack for blowing through a song check
Goes Down on Buoys and Stick It to the Bros for blowing through a t*t check (the horror!)
Social for current and former GMs for some reason
As FRBs N*pples Erectus and Necrophiliac Jack received some apparently very high quality lube
As DFL Shorn Scr*tum got a Duracell battery or some such thing …
Technology on trail – Taj My Hole, e=I'm a Douche, Brigham Tongue, Stick It to the Bros
Social for everyone wearing a shirt that somewhat resembled Bros' red shirt (Take off that red shirt! Oh, wait, wrong club …)
Sketchy Ho for taking a train from the start to the beer check

I think that was about it. For the second week in a row we tried to name Just Emmy but the names weren't much better this week than they were last week (ok really we need more than one week to dig up more dirt on the girl than the fact that she's a Yankees fan!).

At some point during circle Tampon Jelly yelled "Will he Taj my hole?" to the general horror of everyone who heard this utterance. Somehow Pig F*cker wound up with Jack's tags and I wound up with Just Patrick's valentine but in the end sanity was restored and we retired to eat appetizer platters and drink beer until we all got really hot and bothered. No, really, it got really hot in there because we were on the top floor and there were a lot of us.

That's all for now, hopefully see a lot of you at Preggers' and my trail next week in Southie!

- Brigham Tongue

Founder's Day 2010

2010-02-01T11:53:00.003-05:00

Hares: Nice T*ts, N*pples Erectus
Bag Car: Drippy Spigot
RA: The 2nd Cumming
Wanger: Mr Rogers
Pre-lube: Honey Fitz, Malden Center
On-in: Honey Fitz, Malden Center
Weather: Clear and cold (20s)

Pack: Ski Bobbit, Hare Club for Queers, Sucker's Bet, C*mlocker, e=I'm a Douche, Brigham Tongue, Pbvzzzvvzzzz, Willy Wonka and the Backdoor Factory, The Buttler Hit It, High An*s, Tw*t My Mom, Blow My Mind, Horse's *ss, Mexican Humping Queen, Peppermint P*ssy, The 2nd Cumming, Just Mike -> Deaf Dumb and Do Me

The pack assembled for the pre-lube at Honey Fitz in Malden Center. The first real excitement was when I managed to trip, fall, and twist my ankle running the 20 feet from the bar to bag car. Ha.

We found trail pretty quickly; it ran through a plaza and down the road before we completely lost trail in the middle of the median on Route 60. Somehow we found trail again, running down a bunch of really dark roads that didn't seem to have any distinguishing characteristics, in an industrial area. We did pass the Mystic Valley Gun club before veering off through some shiggy and parking lots. Trail must have been really well laid because until we ran through the parking lot of some big building and got lost, we didn't have too hard of a time finding trail. Shame on us for getting lost where we did, though – trail went exactly where it should, through some old or abandoned equipment and across a playground before running us along a ridge with a beautiful view of some tributary of the Mystic River at night before the beer check which was off in some sketchy park.

After the beer check the trail ran through some lovely Malden neighborhoods. After running a couple of blocks there was a check, and of course trail goes up, right? Well, sure, until you hit a great big False! We ran down Main Street a couple of blocks and somehow became very, very lost … we ran every direction except, of course, for the right one. Guess it was too dark to see the marks properly without a cranium lamp. A similar situation occurred a couple of blocks later in a park … the logical place for trail to go was up the park but someone swore they had just been up there and couldn't find trail. What we didn't realize was that "there" was the road paralleling the park, not in the park itself.

At this point we saw the bright lights of Malden Center ahead of us and figured we were going back there …. But where? Trail was supposed to be A to B, so we just kept plodding on. A couple of falses later (one of which was like 5 marks, sheesh!) we crossed back over Route 60, up through the Exchange Street garage and pedestrian walkway (a nice touch), back up to Pleasant Street and Honey Fitz.

You can check out trail here: http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?hl=en&ie=UTF8&vps=1&jsv=202c&oe=UTF8&msa=0&msid=118272277346908244801.00047db4c18da20c49597

The hashers swarmed the Subway sandwiches and mostly ignored the cupcakes. Geez you'd think we were an athletic group or something the way we were acting! After everyone had eaten their fill and moved on to the beer, circle began with comments on trail:

Not enough falses
Didn't see enough t*ts
Not enough d*cks
Not enough abandoned railroad tracks
Best trail I never ran
Best trail with check backs and falses
Shortest distance ever between A to B

After a surprisingly lively rendition of "Follow The Hares" we proceeded on to accusations:

Spunk in the Trunk for being DFL at the beer check but an FRB at the on-in
Brigham Tongue for something boring that no one really cared about
The Buttler Hit It for accusing Brigham Tongue of doing something boring that no one really cared about
The 2nd Cumming for wearing his girlfriend's clothes to the hash
Brigham Tongue, Sucker's Bet, and C*mlocker for not knowing which one of us was FBI
Social – GMs, former GMs, and bald guys
Brigham Tongue for hash crash on the way to bag car
Willy Wonka and the Backdoor Factory and Mexican Humping Queen for sitting in circle
Tw*t My Mom for noticing The 2nd Cummings nipples enough to comment about them
Peppermint P*ssy for whining on trail that she got beer all over her mittens
Social – Ski Bobbit made the LA transplants and former GMs drink with him
Ski Bobbit, Mr Rogers and Pat My Fly because it was Founders Day
Brigham Tongue for the an*lversary of my first hash
Mexican Humping Queen for turning red
Pbvzzzvvzzzz, Hare Club, and Horse's *ss – Mexican down down (somehow Mexican Humping Queen avoided this one; not sure how!)
e=I'm a Douche for seeing which way the hares started laying trail but running the other way at the beginning of the hash when looking for trail
e=I'm a Douche, Mexican Humping Queen, Willy Wonka and the Backdoor Factory, and Peppermint P*ssy for trying to look slimmer by wearing all-black outfits. Peppermint claimed her pants were navy, not black. I think she was just trying to demonstrate her fashion knowledge.

Willy Wonka had pink icing on her nose for a good part of circle. What's better than that? White icing or similarly-colored substances maybe … 

Noticing that we had a hasher named Just Mike who had been hashing since the fall if not earlier but didn't have a name, the pack took it upon itself to give him a name. Despite the fact that we know there was a story that he refused to tell about what happened at Anti-Buffett (I guess what happens at Anti-Buffet stays at Anti-Buffet…) a couple of names were tossed out most of which were really lame but the decent ones were:

Dirty Rotten Sh*t (because someone said it was a dirty rotten shame that he hadn't been named yet)
Don't Talk Dirty to Me
Deaf Dumb and Do Me (the latter two because Mike is so quiet, especially when being named he looked like the most miserable person on the face of the planet and no I'm not making this up)

The pack voted and, Just Mike will hereafter be known as Deaf Dumb and Do Me.

Heard on and well, actually mostly after trail (one of these days I'll bring paper with me on trail …):

"I don't carry a shotgun in my car" – Brigham Tongue
"He didn't tell me to … what is going on?" – e=I'm a Douche
"Stupid Moon Hash" – The Buttler Hit It
"I'm not that wet" – Brigham Tongue
"I think you were enjoying that a little too much" – e=I'm a Douche
"Are those two really married?" – The 2nd Cumming referring to Buttler & Brigham

- Brigham Tongue

Wolf Moon Hash

2010-01-26T11:51:00.012-05:00

Hares: Mr. Papagiorgio, Tw*t My Mom
Bag Car: The Crying Gay, I Licked Butts
RA: The 2nd Cumming
Pre-lube: Alumni Café, Wollaston, Quincy
On-in: Merrymount Park, Quincy
On-after: Alumni Café, Wollaston, Quincy
Weather: Clear and cold (30s but it felt colder in circle!)

Pack: Accidentally An*l, Cocksmith, Bloody P*ssy, Peppermint P*ssy, Master Gator, C*mlocker, Just Carol, Beat By A Girl, The 2nd Cumming, Sucker's Bet, Bondage Barbie, +2 Coonass, Virgin Phil, Night of the Giving Head, Glitorus [in spirit], e=I'm a Douche, Just Amanda

Amid the cold and deep snows of midwinter, the wolf packs howled hungrily outside Indian villages. Well, so says the Farmer's Almanac and hence the Wolf Moon. I'm betting the wolves were howling because they knew the people in the villages had beer (or other mind-altering substances) and they weren't sharing.

For the first time in what felt like months the hash started somewhere other than Boston, Cambridge, or Somerville. And what a wonderful location Quincy – there was a Brigham's Ice Cream, a Middle Eastern grocery, and a dive bar. Oh, I guess I could be talking about Watertown too … anyway moving on … pack gathered in the lovely Alumni Café for some libations before the hares were away in a surprisingly timely manner.

Since we were promised shiggy, half the pack headed directly for the marshes trying to find trail but what do you know, trail went the other way, through a parking lot, down some stairs, and along a long deathmarch straightaway until …. CB8! For better or worse once we got back to the check there was really only one way trail could go and from there it went along almost exactly the same route as STD's going away hash last August, including a t*t check and the crazy short tunnel heading directly out to a major road where we all did our best to be very careful. OK so I don't really remember if STD had a t*t check there but it sounds like something he would have done. The more the merrier except when it's cold out hey although come to think of it maybe that's the point …

On the other side of the tunnel most of the pack again assumed this was a recycle of STD's trail so headed towards Furnace Brook Parkway. For some reason a bunch of people stopped to stretch once they realized that was the wrong way. Not sure what was going on there. Trail, of course, went the opposite way before heading up a steep hill, and up, and up, and …. CB6. Sheesh … back down we went, then around, and back up (I'm getting dizzy just writing this). Luckily we stopped for a song check, singing "I Used to Work in Chicago." Moving on …. At the next check we found a quick series of marks which turned out to be a false. Figures, since the beer check was about 20 feet in the other direction in Furnace Brook Golf Course, through a hole in the chain-link fence. Happily, unlike STD's trail there were no killer mosquitos out, or poison ivy for that matter. I guess there are some good things about winter.

After a while we realized that we had lost Master Gator somewhere on trail. No one remembered him being at the song check, and The Crying Gay figured that he probably just went home. However, he showed up – not entirely sure what he was doing during his separation from the pack but one might postulate that it has something to do with his name. Or maybe wolves. Peppermint also left after this beer check, something about being tired, or something, whatever it was her excuse was boring.

After the beer check we ran downhill for a little bit before heading up the aptly-named Summit Ave, because this was a hill to remember. Night of the Giving Head was so far ahead of the rest of us that The 2nd Cumming and I blindly followed him all the way up to the summit of the hill before realizing that we hadn't seen any marks in quite a while. So we ran back down the hill, found the check (and the rest of the pack), and had to run back up the same hill on another road. Got what I deserved I guess.

Trail headed straight across the golf course, through a turkey-eagle split, and rejoined shortly thereafter on Furnace Brook Parkway, running up it, through some huge building's parking lot and out over to Adams Street where the FRBs wandered aimlessly for a while before finding trail again. Unfortunately the town of Quincy didn't know how to spell Buttler correctly, as we saw a sign for Butler road right by a song check where we sang "The S&M Man." At this song check we realized we had lost BBAG, and after this song check there was yet *another* false.

Finding trail again and crossing 3A, we got into some more serious shiggy. At a check, half the pack went towards the marshes and I hear that some people actually started wading into the channel before we heard "on-on" from the path not taken. Figures that the path not taken would be the one we were meant to take, doesn't it?

We emerged from the woods onto a field and immediately lost trail – there were about 10 of us looking in all different directions before somehow someone figured out that we'd reached the on-in and called everyone over. Turns out BBAG had gotten into bag car at the beer check. Well, he was pretty drunk to start out with…

Comments on Trail

Not enough hills
- Not enough BBAG
- Not enough shiggy
- Not enough t*t checks
- F*ck you and your CBs
- Not enough déjà vu

BBAG demented Virgin Phil, who did not know the square root of 69 – this question was met with dead silence and not even a guess! His favorite barnyard animal is apparently a pig, so he and his sponsor Accidentally An*l were made to demonstrate pigs f*cking (and this has nothing to do with Pig F*cker who I am sure would be sad to hear what he missed!). Somehow, he was found worthy of the hash.

Accusations

Bloody P*ssy for leaving yet more sex toys on trail (this time a tennis ball and a rusty screwdriver, which is apparently not the selection The 2nd Cumming would have picked for himself which leads to the question what is!)
Night of the Giving Head, I Licked Butts, C*mlocker, Bondage Barbie – Moonburn
BBAG, I Licked Butts, and The Crying Gay – FRB/FBI (yes, this was the contingent that rode in bag car)
Social for moon hash backsliders
Members of the community stretching group (it was too dark for me to see anyone clearly other than Just Carol)
I'm a Douche for whining that Dinah was unsatisfying on concrete (good to know that he has personal knowledge of how satisfying Dinah is in other locations!)
The 2nd Cumming, Cocksmith, I Licked Butts, The Crying Gay, Beat By a Girl for a variety of infractions – singing the wrong verse, being GMs of the moon hash, having grey hair …
I'm a Douche, Cocksmith, and Just Carol – Mexican down-down

"Jesus Saves" ended unceremoniously when The Crying Gay tried out a new verse "Jesus can't lick bloody p*ssy cuz he pushes all the fluid to the side" (not that I mind being the center of attention but that just don't make no sense!). Much better received was the "she came down from Worcester looking for someone to fist her" chorus which got BBAG howling "Oh! Oh! Oh my! That's a new one!" Context is everything isn't it?

I also feel compelled to say that for a pack that wasn't drunk enough or cold enough, we managed to mess up the lyrics to almost every single song we tried to sing.

Heard on and after trail (sadly, I forgot a lot but some is better than nothing):

"These stairs are coooooooooooool" – BBAG
"You might look at this cone and go, it's just a f*cking cone" – BBAG (ok this one sounded funnier at the time)
"The nice thing about song checks is that they are never upside down" – e=I'm a Douche (as opposed, of course, to regular checks that are even more symmetrical …)
"A female douche" – Bondage Barbie (as opposed, of course, to the male kind) to e=I'm a Douche
"We don't kid about too many things … oh wait, we kid about everything." – BBAG to Virgin Phil
"Let's just end this" – I Licked Butts
"Really let's just finish this up." – I Licked Butts
"WHO THE HELL IS NELSON???" – The 2nd Cumming at least three times, to various people

You can check out trail here: http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=3413205 but be careful; I accidentally modified the trail and had to click Undo; it doesn't seem like there is any way to lock it down.

We got cold pretty fast, so wrapped up circle and headed back to the on-after. Notably we walked through more shiggy to get back to the bar than we had run on trail! Unfortunately we were trailed by a cop so people had to ditch their beers. Look at those cops making us abuse alcohol like that, it's a sad, sad thing. When we got back to the on-after the locals remembered us and then also started singing but unfortunately I think they were singing to the juke box rather than drinking songs.

See you all next month, same bad time, same bad channel…

- Bloody P*ssy

Robbie Burns Hash 2010

2010-01-24T11:55:00.012-05:00

Hares: Ski Bobbitt and Cum Fly With Me
Bag Car: Ski Bobbit
Pre-Lube: The Cask n Flagon near Fenway Park (Beat By A Girl and Dude Where’s My Virginity with Cletus the Fetus On-board left after pre-lube)
Whiskey Check: Swam Garden Walkway next to Amory Park Brookline
Beer Check: The shores of Ye Olde Loch Muddy
On-In: Punters Pub
Scribe: Sugar Plum Fairy

Pack: High Anus, Necro Jack, Brigham Tongue, The Buttler Hit It, Nipples Erectus, Taj My Hole, Fucksaw, Pat My Fly, Spitz, Vagitarian, Shawskank, Dribbles, Stick It To the Bros, Immaculate Erection, The 2nd Cumming, Bondage Barbie, Brzzzz, Double Flush, Cums Alone, Catheter the Great, Dirty Latte Sanchez, Floppy Dick, Hoover McFuck n Suck, Jamaican Me Cum, Vagitarian, Cum Locker, Viagra Doubt Fire and Lube Me In with Just Riley, Sperm Breath,
Justs: Mike, Evan, Stan
Visitors: Jimmy Crack Whore, Pig Fucker, Counterfeit Dick, Pussy Factory and Anti-Cock
Transplants: Just Carol (Madison), Horses Ass, Blows My Mind, (sorry didn’t
write it down) Plus 2 Coon Ass and Swamp Gravy (Atlanta)
Returning: Rocky Mountain Whore
Virgins: Leslie
Late Cummers: An Inconvenient Poop
Lame Non-Cummers: Bend Over Mommy. I would call her a late cummer but she arrived so late I’m not sure she came at all oh and, Velvet Pelvis

Ski Bobbitt treated everyone to a celebration of Scotland’s most favorite person next to Jackie Stewart and William Wallace. As we gathered at for the 69th stumbling of the Anal Robbie Burns Hash. The first thing I noticed about the upcoming shitshow was that it was no where near Charlestown or Malden.

After circling on top of a parking garage next to the Cask behind the Green Monster, trail led us around Fenway Park down Lansdowne Street and around Fenway Park toward Brookline Ave and the Riverway. It was at this point that Pig Fucker, Velvet Pelvis and I veered toward the Fenway neighborhood. PF mistakenly thought he saw pack go that way and we followed him a few blocks before we decided that following Pig fuckers only leads to one thing, feeling like you have been fucked by a pig.

PF and VP decided to go back to following marks and I ran toward the Muddy which I intended to follow until I hit trail which I thought I would soon see. I was actually right, and began to see orange blotches and thought I was wicked smaht. As soon as I lost sight of the orange blotches I spied the walkers cumming toward me.

They told me they were going to the Beer Check which was a long the shores of the roaring Muddy and that to get to the Whiskey check would take forever so I waited for the rest of the pack with them. Real trail went toward Brookline via Beacon Street and ended at the Whiskey Check off the wooden walkway next Amory Park. I wasn’t there but I’m pretty sure whiskey was drank producing many a sour puss. Following the Whiskey Check I was informed that trail went through Brookline and the Longwood Medical area and around Emmanuel College back across the Muddy to where Oat Cakes, Shortbread and Belhaven Scotch Ale were waiting.

At some point an entire pizza floated down river which we assumed was Hare Clubs idea of speedy delivery. We stayed there until Necro Jack bitched about being cold which was not surprising when you wear shorts and a light shirt in winter time. Trail then snaked its way through the Fens the warmer environs of Punters Pub on Huntington Ave.

CIRCLE:
After making ourselves at home our sexiest RA Shawskank got our circle going so we could chastise the hares for their shitty trail. Over the inane babbling I heard, “Not enough Turkeys.” I also heard Bondage Barbie say not enough dick checks to which I offered my own private check in the corner. I figured with Tea Bags being laid up and me being the giving person I am, I would fulfill her request. Sadly she declined.

Cum Fly with Me sang a great song that I could barely hear but I think it had something to do with a Scotsman finding out his girlfriend is a man bye looking under his kilt. There were quite a few visitors and transplants my favorite being Just Carol who gave us an early look at the full moon before the Full Moon hash on Tuesday 1/26.

Our one Virgin Leslie was demented and apparently she moos like a cow when she is REALLY excited. 2nd Cumming was also demented….Nobody knows why. Accusations were made down-downs quaffed and we were all reminded to register for Marathon 2010. Swing Low was sung; we ate pizza (no not the floating kind), drank beer and made the world safe for democracy.

HEARD AT THE HASH:

“You ruin everything!” Necro Jack to Tampon Jelly who tried to impose himself in the shortest kilt contest for women.
“Redtube?” Me to Spitz

Furry Hash

2010-01-10T12:01:00.002-05:00

Hares: Maid of Honor, An*l Beads
Bag Car: C*mlocker
RA: Necrophiliac Jack

Pack: Brigham Tongue, Vagetarian, Better Late Than Pregnant, Tampon Jelly, High An*s, Bring Out the Gimp, Octop*ssy, Mooseknuckles, N*pples Erectus, Necrophiliac Jack, The Buttler Hit It, Catheter the Great, Nice T*ts, Bleeps, Sweeps, and Creeps, Bend Over Mommy, Goat Throat, e=I'm a Douche, One Girl Two Cups, My Chemical Homance, Schindler's Fist, Pbvzzzzzz, F*cks All, Just Rebecca, Just Susan, Dirty Latte Sanchez, Tw*t My Mom, Jamaican Me Cum

Latecummer: Just Melvin (showed up at or around the first beer check and took his usual place as FRB)
Wangers: Beat By A Girl, Dude Where's My Virginity, Krusty the Meat Miser, P*bic Service Announcement, Spunk In The Trunk

Pre-lube: Charlie's Kitchen, Harvard Square, Cambridge
On-after: The Pub, Ball Square, Somerville
Weather: Clear, sunny, and cold (20s)

Amazingly the entire pack wasn't wasted at the start thanks to the slaughter masquerading as a Patriots game and not enough parfaits. Gagh, well there's always next year.

Given that this was a furry hash, some people came well prepared. Mooseknuckles had moose ears (nice!). The hares, of course, were hares (haha), Tw*t My Mom was a bloody version of the Cookie Monster, e=I'm a Douche was a gorilla, and Bring Out the Gimp wore a yellow chicken outfit brought by Maid of Honor because Necrophiliac Jack refused to wear it. Guess he must have been concerned about his appearance that day because he had gotten a haircut and complained that none of the people who mentioned it actually said he looked good. Octop*ssy asked Douche if he had a head, which was hilarious on many levels.

Goat Throat was visiting and apparently confused red cellophane with fur, as he was wearing a copy of his attire for the Seacoast Red Dress run, namely he wrapped himself in red cellophane and called it a day. I really hope there are pictures of this on Hashspace because it was probably the most weather-inappropriate attire I have ever seen. Also on our way to bag car a civilian told Goat that his shoes didn't go with his dress – although I am hard pressed to think of shoes that would go with that dress.

I am also compelled to note that BBAG showed up with a standing lamp for Catheter the Great, who announced she was not taking it on trail. But it was a nice lamp.

Bag car was parked on JFK but since no one knew exactly where on JFK we walked the long way around the block in the freezing cold weather. In the process of getting to bag car we found a check so after an extremely abbreviated chalk talk we headed immediately to the check. About half the pack apparently found the right trail but either didn't tell the rest of us or, more likely, we couldn't hear them due to the lovely sounds of Harvard Square. The rest of us tried to find trail, heading towards Harvard Square proper. We didn't find trail but some Japanese tourists took our picture.

Eventually we did find trail but were quite confused to find a mark pointing the wrong way. This was one thing leading up to the check we found but entirely another once we were on-on and heading in the proper direction. Heh. Anyway trail led down a few blocks and back up across Mount Auburn and up to the Harvard campus. Just inside the gates there was a song check where we sang a few verses of "Yogi."

Inevitably, trail led up the stairs, past the libraries and through what is apparently called the Sever Quadrangle. Less inevitably, trail did not go up the art museum ramp but instead just went around the corner on Cambridge Street. After running past the library yard pack somehow got lost even though the marks were fine. Eventually we found where we were going, saw a BN, and from there it was a quick run into the first beer check which was outside An*l Beads' place.

At this beer check the hares reported that they had already had their photos taken with an Indian family and a cop. Wonder what the cop thought about two hares running around on a night other than Halloween. Buttler had managed to find a very large frozen cucumber on trail, and Necrophiliac Jack was heard saying "I just got shanked by chalk, and not in a good way." As opposed to getting shanked [by chalk] in a good way I suppose.

After quickly drinking our beers (hey it was cold), we headed out – crazy me I hit a F, but the rest of the pack went the right way. Due to this I was near the back of the pack when entering Lincoln Park and encountered some guy laughing maniacally at us from 100 feet away. At first I thought this was another hasher but I guess it was just some random guy but he was literally cackling at us – loudly – he sounded evil. Not even kidding.

Running away from the scary-*ss guy we continued up and around through the streets of Somerville. When crossing, I think Highland Ave., I heard one of the funnier comments on trail: "The chicken went that way and hasn't come back yet." Well, it was funny at the time. Right around this time Buttler found a Christmas wreath on trail which he wore the rest of the time. Kind of furry, I suppose.

The promised urban shiggy was in the form of going through a fence and along live train tracks before veering off the tracks and running past an abandoned and half-collapsed International Paper Company factory where we had our second beer check. The hares clearly had the most fun today because they ran into some crazy lady who was going off about how much she loved rabbits. To snuggle, or to eat … or both, perhaps! The hares ran away before being subjected to any of this.

After the beer check trail was pretty well a straight shot to The Pub. Oh, silly me, no, the on-in wasn't inside on a freezing cold day instead it was in the parking lot across the street by the train tracks. In the hares' defense I suppose that with the NFL playoffs on it was probably hard to find a bar that would allow our shenanigans.

It was far too cold for me to take any sort of notes so apologies for the sparseness of the recounting of circle. The hares sang us "My Girl's a Vegetable" and pretty much right when that was done the pack got really cold.

I do remember that there was a social for everyone not in costume (which was at least half the pack).

Buttler accused Bloody P*ssy (who dat?) of losing her dildo on trail and produced what was at this point a broken frozen cucumber. Lovely …

We tried to name Just Melvin (who really does need a name) but were far too cold to think of anything creative. Which is good because I was too cold to write any suggested names down. He was tossed back and the pack went through quite probably the fastest version of "Swing Low" in recorded history, much to the apparent disgust of the RA, who was probably too cold himself much to care that he lost control.

I had to leave just after circle so I'm not sure what debauchery went on at The Pub at the on-after.

I am now going to get on my soapbox and implore winter hares: Unless your trail is long (like over 5 miles), consider having only one beer check. Beer checks are cold, we lose our warmup, and there's less money to spend drinking at the on-after where it's warm. Just my $.02.

- Brigham Tongue

Pickup Hash

2010-01-03T12:07:00.005-05:00

Hares: Necrophiliac Jack, 5 Inch Penalty, Shawsk*nk
RA: Shawsk*ank
Pack: Bend Over Mommy, Dribbles, Just Sam, Brigham Tongue, Octop*ssy, Just Melvin, The Buttler Hit It, e=I'm a Douche, C*umlocker, Virgin Desiree
Wangers: Vagetarian, Jamaican Me C*m, Stick It To the Bros, Bondage Barbie, Twat My Mom, I Eat Tea Bags
Pre-lube & On-In: Sligo in Davis Square
Weather: Clear and cold (20s)

A pickup hash, in case you are not aware, is where the first hare runs until he or she gets caught, then the snare becomes the hare. The unfortunate part of this is that the FRBs become the hare, thus leading to perhaps a longer hangover hash than people were anticipating. Oh, also this was a Cajun trail.

So Jack walks into Sligo looking like death warmed over, or at least someone who had a really, really, REALLY good time at the Twelve Bars of Hashmas. Unfortunately for him, because he was hoping no one would show up, a bunch of crazy hashers did indeed make the trek.

Eventually Jack realized that the sooner he got started the sooner we'd be done and went off to go lay trail. Eventually the rest of us decided it might be about time to go follow him, so after a quick chalk talk (we *did* have a virgin after all) and were off. We ran through Davis Square but probably for the first time ever, did not run through the T station but instead headed up Holland Street before cutting west and running through the neighborhoods. At one point along the bike path we hit a check and one direction had a whole bunch of snow plows out so we sincerely hoped trail did not go there as the marks would be gone. Luckily, it did not.

Trail wound up to, and through, St. Paul's Cemetery by route 16. On the far side of this, on Broadway, 5 Inch Penalty finally caught Jack who had stopped to walk. And a good thing, too, at the rate we were going we probably never would have caught him!

5 Inch led us down Broadway back into Somerville. So we figured at this point, this being a hangover hash and all, that trail would lead back down Holland in a relatively straight manner back to Sligo. Boy were we wrong! I'm not exactly sure where we went but we wound up running north through the hills over to, and through, the Tufts campus. At this point C*mlocker had a particularly bad hash crash but, like Wes Welker (too soon?), she made it up and was able to walk. Unlike Wes Welker, she was able to run so it was all good.

Shawsk*nk snared 5 Inch on College Ave very near Sligo, so her part of trail lasted all of about 5 minutes but was notable because we doubled the distance we ran by not paying attention when trail turned, and trail led us through a parking lot and courtyard with a door that I at first couldn't open. Happily I figured it out because the fence didn't look sturdy enough to climb.

For some reason the pack was less than enthusiastic in our singing. I think we were all shellshocked that the trail was more than about a mile! Virgin Desiree either did not remember or did not want to share her first sexual experience. I'm not really sure which of those options I prefer. Anyway as a result her sponsor Octop*ssy had to share (and demonstrate) her favorite sexual position which happens to be reverse cowgirl. Excellent choice Octop*ssy.

Anyway, accusations:

Jack for technology on trail (Buttler and I joined him as we all had YakTrax)
E=I'm a Douche for being himself (best accusation ever!)
Just Sam for sitting in circle (ha I should do a down-down right now for spelling sitting "citting" twice in a row, well it is about time to go to the gym and what workout is complete without beer??)
Octop*ssy for having a cranium cover on in circle while sponsoring a virgin (not such a good choice Octop*ssy)
C*mlocker for her hash crash
Social for everyone who didn't attend all 12 bars the night before
Social because the pack was not singing
Bros for jumping at the wrong verse of "Dinah"
Jamaican Me C*m for falsely accusing me of technology in circle when I was trying to take notes (one of these days I'll need to remember to bring paper and a pen hey…)
5 Inch Penalty for eating yellow snow
The Buttler Hit It for thinking that U-N-C-L-E spells daddy
Virgin Desiree for wearing underwear (boxers) as outerwear
Bondage Barbie, Tw*t My Mom, & I Eat Tea Bags – latec*mmers
Me for accusing the accusations of being repetitive and boring and refusing to continue to record them
Shawsk*nk for prominently displaying her n*pples in circle (yes, she did keep her shirt on making the feat much more impressive)
Bros for leaving circle to watch football
Bros for not paying attention when he was being accused of leaving circle to watch football
Bros for hitting on the virgin (apparently his pickup line is "You'd make a good beer bitch." Ouch …)
Virgin Desiree for being scared of us (gee now I have to wonder WHY ….)

At this point we wrapped up circle and all went to get food from Anna's. Mmmm Anna's … oh yeah and more beer too. That's it for now – next up: The Furry Hash!

- Brigham Tongue

Blue Moon Hash #2

2009-12-30T12:04:00.006-05:00

Hares: Cocksmith, The Crying Gay
Bag Car & Navigator: Just Amanda, Vagetarian
Pre-lube: Red Hat Cafe near Government Center
Weather: Clear and cold (20s)
RA: SUPER Teflon Dong

Pack: Glitorus, General *ss Pounder, Cum is Kosher, Mr Papagiorgio, Invisidick, Saskapoon, Bloody P*ssy, Peppermint P*ssy, Hoover McSuck'n'F*ck, P*bic Service Announcement, Octop*ssy, Father Shishkaboob, Just Mike, Crucifux, e=I'm a Douche, Nipples Erectus, Time of the Munch, Tampon Jelly, Bondage Barbie, What Can Brown Do To You?, Schindler's Fist, Tw*t My Mom

Wangers –OR– People That I Don't Recall Seeing On Trail Or At Circle But Who Did Show Up Either Before The Hash, After The Hash, Or Both: Wang Chunks, An*l Beads, Dirty Latte Sanchez, Catheter the Great, Dude Where's My Virginity, Beat By A Girl, Krusty the Meat Miser, Shawsk*nk, Redtail Swallows, Stretch P*ssy

So it turns out that this may not have been a real blue moon. I am no longer in any way sure what a blue (blew?) moon actually is so I'm just going to shut up and talk about trail. Blue moon or not it was the last Boston-area hash of the year!

A very large group of hashers congregated at the Red Hat Café much to the bemusement of the locals (oh, wait, that isn't news. Moving on …). The Red Hat did have red jello shots, upon hearing which SUPER Teflon Dong immediately ordered 5. Not all for himself. Really.

After extricating the runners from the drinkers, the pack left the lovely Red Hat Café and spontaneous RA visiting from goodness-knows-where-anymore SUPER Teflon Dong led an energetic rendition of "Michael Jackson Likes Little Boys." Saskapoon was already drunk at this point. Remember this fact.

Pack found trail pretty quickly, through a parking lot, behind the State House … and through the winding streets of Beacon Hill. Somewhere along the way we managed to lose trail for no good reason except that it looked like trail would go around a 20-foot fence. Oh and those false trails didn't help but we pretty quickly learned that all the flour trails were falses and started ignoring them. At least until they stopped all being falses. Trail wound back over Cambridge Street and past a bunch of cops and the Whole Foods before taking us on a guided tour of a bunch of hospitals. Right about when I lost my bearings there was a turkey-eagle split. The eagle leg led up some stairs and down into the parking lot for Mass Eye & Ear, location of the first beer check.

Bag Car wasn't at the beer check because she had gone to find a parking spot. Unfortunately all the way around, she was delayed getting back due to parking in a garage and losing the ticket in the dashboard of the car … and while Just Amanda and Vagetarian's hands may fit some other places just fine, they didn't fit down the dashboard of the car.

Somewhere on trail Tampon Jelly had found a frilly pink …. I don't know – dishcloth? He said it must be a harriette's negligee. Well it did have satin on the outside. Perhaps in his dreams harriettes wear square pieces of cloth about 1 square foot in size for clothing but not on a cold December night!

Also at this beer check, Saskapoon announced "I wish I were a smokin' hot chick!" In his defense, he was drunk at the time. Remember this fact.

Pack took off because we were cold and had been there for at least 15 minutes. Trail led down Storrow and did *not* go over the pedestrian bridge but instead wound through more of the West End. At one point there was a turkey-eagle split and the FRBs announced that the eagle trail was a YBF. Tricky hares!

After dangerously proceeding through Leverett Circle (a few hashers jumped out in front of cars, a particularly bad idea at that intersection!) we found a park with the second beer check. Rather, we found the hares claiming that this was the location of the second beer check. But bag car wasn't there. Apparently the pack isn't supposed to leave until bag car leaves or something. Whatever. We were cold. And were cold again waiting for beer – but the beer arrived and all was well. At this beer check GAP shared a couple tricks of the trade including how to make beer float.

Eventually we realized the hares were away and since we were cold again, took off.

Trail wound through the park then towards North Station. When in doubt, trail goes through … as it did in this case. Trail was marked with yellow sticky notes; emerging on the other side the pack pretty quickly figured out that trail did not go over a two-story concrete wall but instead led around the wall, over the dam by the state police and to the no-name park under the Zakim Bridge.

Pretty sure our RA was drunk by the time circle started so there was much craziness, singing of songs, and handing out of tags to people who attended both blue moon hashes.

Accusations:

Hash crash – Bloody P*ssy (enabled me to say the word eponymous in a sentence, never a bad thing!), Bondage Barbie, The Crying Gay, P*bic Service Announcement
Dumping beer (alcohol abuse!!!) – Tampon Jelly
Moonburn – Bloody P*ssy & Hoover McSuck'n'F*ck
Serious situations (or some such) – Crucifux for her engagement to I Eat C*m, and Immaculate for his son's bar mitzvah.
FRB/FBI (aka cheaters, apparently??) – Father Shishkaboob and Octop*ssy
The hares were made to shotgun beers because bag car was so late to the beer check.

Then Tampon Jelly danced around with his pink thing.

Finally all attendees of both blue moon hashes partook of the bottle of Blue Moon Grand Cru that was provided for the occasion. Nice of them to make a special edition drink in honor of our hash!

At some point along here Saskapoon wanted to say something about the hash drunk, whose birthday it was that day. Saskapoon was drunk and apparently forgot that the Boston Moon Hash is *not* the Boston Hash, whereupon Saskapoon was nominated as hash drunk of the Boston Moon Hash. The pack roared in approval, and we now have an official hash drunk!

Finally, realizing it was cold and we were due at The Cellar for on-after, circle ended and we were out.

- Bloody P*ssy

Blue Moon Hash #1

2009-12-02T12:09:00.000-05:00

Hares: Bloody P*ssy, Bondage Barbie
Bag Car: Hoover McSuck `n' F*ck
RA: Glitorus
Pre-lube: Victory Pub in East Boston
Weather: Clear and mid-40s (some light rain started up as circle was ending)

Pack: Octop*ssy, I Eat Tea Bags -> The Crying Gay, The 2nd C*mming, High An*s, Invisidick, Just Amanda (Houston transplant), Just Amanda (Stuttgart transplant), Cocksmith, Bring Out the Gimp, N*pples Erectus, Hash Mattress, Inspector Gadget, Chunnel (I heard she got renamed but she was Chunnel that day), D*ck Jockey, Just Melvin, Far From F*cking, F*cks All, Just Ben, Mooseknuckles, Peppermint P*ssy, Father Shishkabob, Just Mike

Not the brightest idea in the world to have the hare write hash trash but I guess that's what you get and, after all, never let the truth get in the way of a good story. Sooooooo …

From Victory Pub, trail headed down to a not-at-all-dangerous-to-be-finding-trail-around rotary, and from there a couple of blocks to the base of a hill and then UP three flights of stairs to the Madonna Queen National Shrine, perfect location for a t*t check, followed by a d*ck check 1 block later before trail headed DOWN the same hill the pack had just run up. Suckers.

From there trail went around a curve over, and through the Suffolk Downs T stop. On the way, one hasher (to remain nameless) just HAD to write their hash initials in wet pavement. Leaving our mark in East Boston … the first beer check was just after the T station in Belle Island Marsh Reservation. The beer check location was particularly notable due to the planes landing at Logan flying about 200 feet above. Invisidick was the first runner to the beer check, mainly because he managed to get lost on trail and zenned his way to the beer check. While we're on the subject of Invisidick, he managed to show up for a moon hash with advertised shiggy without a cranium lamp, OR a cranium cover. Oddly enough, he took up Bring Out the Gimp's offer to borrow a spare cranium cover, but not fleshlight. Wish I'd remembered that when I was filling out nominations for the Hash Darwin award.

After the beer check, trail wound through the reservation with a false trail over a bridge ending by some crazy-looking structure … maybe a lookout tower or something, before heading back to the main road, through a ball field, through some tennis courts, up a hill, back down a hill, and then straight through the marsh. Luckily it was not high tide but nonetheless I managed to take a wrong step and sink in up to my knee (luckily I could get out, stranded hare would make for a fun snare for everyone involved but me!), and one of the other hashers managed to have a marsh crash as well. This segment of trail was accompanied by much whining about potentially toxic sludge and the potential presence of rotting mob bodies.

Trail continued down an access road, near the beach and paused for a song check at the bottom of a hill by a highly decorated house. After climbing up the hill, trail wound around to give the pack a lovely view of Boston before heading back down the hill. At this point Cocksmith decided to cut across the lawn which was not received well by the property owner who promptly shouted "No no no no no no no Get Off My Property!"

After this, the pack followed trail through puddles, a stand of sumacs, a bunch of construction equipment, and over a fence before continuing through the projects and then through some very, VERY dark streets in Winthrop. I mean, what up Winthrop can't you afford ANY street lamps except on major roads? Sheesh … anyway the pack eventually emerged for beer check #2 which was at the other side of Belle Island Marsh in some scrub grass. At this beer check, the beer was supplemented by some blue Gatorade with blueberry vodka.

Due to sh*tty planning by the hares, we nearly ran out of chalk and had to borrow some from the pack but I was somewhat redeemed by storing said chalk in my bra. Not sure where Bondage Barbie put hers.

Following a sufficient pause, the hares departed leading the pack past a bunch of boats, behind a carwash and Dunkin' Donuts, past Belle Island Lobster & Seafood, and over to the ritzy neighborhood facing Logan Airport (no, that's not a contradiction in terms. There is water in between the two). At this point there was a turkey-eagle split, with the turkeys running on the road and the eagles descending to crawl along the rocks by the water. Trail reconvened by the Orient Heights Yacht Club, site of another d*ck check (apparently missed by the pack, sadly ….), and then ran along Constitution Beach in true Chariots of Fire fashion, ending between the hockey rink and the ocean. Somehow the pack got lost for about 5 minutes at a check about halfway along the beach, but eventually made it to the end.

Songs sung on trail included End of the Month, My Girl's a Vegetable, and I Used To Work in Chicago (when not being interrupted by planes flying overhead).

Here is a map of the trail, with some of the high (and low…) points noted

Notes on circle are a bit spotty but here is what I remember:

Hares' song: Free Beer for All the Hashers

DFLs: The moon GMs, Cocksmith and I Eat Tea Bags ambled in after circle started. Not entirely sure what was keeping them together on trail so long. Planning the next moon hash, perhaps? Yeah, that must be it….

Comments on trail: Not enough planes, checks too small, not enough marks with a smiley face and "BB" next to them, not enough d*ck checks, not enough t*t checks, no one ran on the Eagle trail, too much Air Lingus and not enough c*nnilingus

Winner of best spandex: Hash Mattress. Winner of worst spandex: I Eat Tea Bags.

Since I Eat Tea Bags was a moon GM without a moon name, the decision was made to name him. I didn't follow all the ins and outs, but The Crying Gay beat out I Prefer It in the Rear. I Eat Tea Bags will henceforth be known at the moon hash as The Crying Gay.

Due to sh*tty planning by the hares, there were only about 45 beers (including 12 Blue Moons, let it be known!) 30 blue jello shots, and the remaining Gatorade/vodka for circle, so Hoover volunteered to go out and get more beer. Before he returned with an additional 60 PBRs, the pack had been reduced to drinking blue Gatorade mixed with vodka for down-down drinks. Which would have been fine except that the ratio of Gatorade to vodka was about 69:1.

Following circle, the hash attempted to fit all the trash into the solar-powered trash compactor. It didn't work. A hardy contingent headed back to the pre-lube for the on-after but most hashers headed home. I later heard something about a "hash crash of the year" involving Hoover, a bunch of other hashers, and the 2nd Cumming's bag, but I was too busy downing free drinks at Victory Pub. I must say the locals at this particular bar were very bemused by the hash, to the point of insisting that Chunnel not leave on her own when she was clearly leaving with a decent-sized group. Good to know chivalry is still alive and well in East Boston.

- Bloody P*ssy (with help from Cocksmith and Bring Out the Gimp)

The Mad Hatter Hash

2009-11-22T17:53:00.005-05:00

Hares: Nice Tits and Just Jess (Chunnel)

Bag Car: Nipples Erectus

RA: 2nd Cumming and Necrophiliac Jack

Dementors: Beat By a Girl and Jamaican me C#m

Scribe: The Maid of Honor

Where: Pre Lube at the Powder House Pub

Pack: (or as I like to call them: those F#ckers who wouldn't stop coming through the door making me write so much instead of drinking) An@l Beads, High Anus, Cock Monkey, Sh!tonya (Coolest H@sher from the north), Phbbbbzzt?, Hoover McSuck 'n F#ck, Suckit Wrench, Jimmy Crack Whore, Sugar Plum Fairy, Watergate, F#cks like a Rabbit, Piss Stop, Just Matt, Cocktologist, F#cksaw, Just Ted (Mooseknuckles), Cum Fly with me, Wicked Witch of the Wet (German visitor!), Tampon Jelly, Catheter the Great, Dude Where's my Virginity, Just Emmie, 5” penalty, Spank me may I have my mother, Sextra Credit, Octop#ssy, Bend Over Mommy, Goat Throat, Beat By A Girl, Hare Club, Just Mike, Spunk in the Trunk, Just Sager (A La C#nte), Bring out the Gimp, Grease My Monkey's Nuts, Far from F#ckin, Fire in the Hole, Granny Sex?, Just Jason, Mr Bean.

Virgins: Virgin Andy, Under-aged Virgin Lea, Virgin Alden (dad of Virgin lea and Just Jason), Virgin Cat, Virgin Emma, Virgin Evan, Virgin Paula, Virgin Sarah (or as I think of her: “HOLY SH!T YOU MEAN SHE HAS A TWIN!?!?!? and to be referred to as by her future name of: Fire in the other hole!)

Late C#mmers: Wang Chunks, Willy Wonka and the Back Door Factory, Jamaican me C#m, Bringham Tounge, The Buttler Hit It, Shawskank, Queer leader, Stretch P#ssy, Floppy D!ck

God I hope that is everyone. Took me long enough to write that all down. If I missed you, than you are probably not that cool for not introducing yourself to me. Now back to your social phobias and no heckling the Scribe! If this is not the case than you proved unmemorable. My suggestion would be to submit your name, number, and willingness to wear a furry costume while running on the side of a full be3r to the scribe. I digress!

The Pack started our day out at the Powder House Pub. (for all you future Hares this is a pretty god On-In. Very cheap be3r and pizza located next door. The owner has screwed us over with space a few times... but at $6 a pitcher we can be forgiving)

A mad mad assortment of hats was indeed on display. AB had a flasher hat, 2C had a bunny cap which later fellated him, and MOH demonstrated a proper respect for safe hashing by wearing a safety helmet. Virgin Alden had a goofy hat, which seems all the more appropriate as he brought us his under-aged virgin daughter. While we are very accepting of virgin sacrifices in the H@sh, we do insist that they can be legally inebriated before we do so. Soon... So Soon! (All creepiness brought to you courtesy of the mind-bending, Pedo Stache I'm sporting for next week's Stache H@sh at Our House East, 2:30 HST 11/29)

Interesting side note. I am writing this trash out on a new laptop. Apparently there is training period to get the spell checker in line with some of my terminology. For instance, “fellated” it refuses to accept or even give a comparable replacement for. And flagellated is fun but not what I was thinking just now. Save it for Stocks and Bondage round 2.

Pre-lube notes:

AB: “Your stache is so awesome! I wish I had one to warn the kids about my proclativities. So jealous MOH!”

2C was labelled as “size M”

The Hares set out and the pack went outside for circle. The astounding number of virgins and visitors got the pack all hot and bothered. Perfect start for trail. We soused out trail. We really enjoyed finding a stop light which faced directly off of the train bridge at the beginning. No car has seen those lights in many years. Way to be MA DOT.

The trail wound it's way away from the comfort and normalcy of the Red Line. We wound our way deeper and deeper into East Somerville out of Camberville. Along the way the hares treated the pack to many a tit-check to which the fine ladies of the pack were happy to comply. Spreading joy and cheer to the pack and on-lookers.

We burst forth from the bowels of Slummerville (this is what you get for picking a scribe from Davis) and crossed the Wellington bridge towards President's landing and Wellington Station. We found our first BN and all cheered. Several miles later of arduous hunting we actually found the BC behind a parking garage for Wellington Station (I have been informed by the esteemed Harriet that the distance between BN and BC was “relatively short.”) (We were “relatively thirsty” at this point and will hear no further arguments as to the distance travelled for be3r).

A fine assortment of the finest fare awaited us in the bushes (PBR and high life count). MOH declared he needed to hump a leg for warmth. Goat helped him out. FML. Though it was warming. Still warding off the chill (and looking for cheap excuses to rub all up on...) we revived the Pearl Necklace's penguin huddle and several of the pack crowded in together while jumping around and making penguin squawkings. Sh!tonya is the bomb or this. Somewhere in here the pack spotted Rent-A-Cops looking down on us from their garage. Was it fear? Disapproval? Awe? We may never know. The Police also did a drive by but didn't even bother to stop and make us drink faster. Made for an excellent excuse to drink faster anyways.

Fire in the Hole caught up to us with “HOLY SH!T YOU MEAN SHE HAS A TWIN!?!?!?” (AKA Virgin Sarah) Amidst the conversation ensuing from this the name: “Fire in the other Hole” was tossed about. What an excellent name. If only there was some way a permanent record of this brilliant idea could be maintained...

(Full disclosure: the scribe is recovering from serious things for both hot red heads and twins. This was quite the moment.)

The Pack set out and quickly were directed up the stairs of the parking garage. Only to be cut off by the rent-a-cops. The garage is apparently “A no trespassing area, which is only for people with cars in the garage.” Thanks for that info... Also “The Medford police are on the way.” Bugger! The pack back-tracked down the steps and went after trail. BOM and MOH went back for the walkers to let them know that this was a poor time to relax with the beverages. All turned out ok.

Several wrong ways later we got back on track in the neighborhoods of Medford. Also there were even more tit checks and not a single hasher was stranded. I'd suggest that more d!ck checks need to be laid down to repay the harriets, but something tells me they might not appreciate the gesture. Trail met a turkey/eagle where none of the pack felt able to follow the turkey trail. Instead all found a path over a wall and fence junction, complete with BBQing neighbor to complain about us damaging his fence. I guarantee the aesthetics of the giant hole in the fence belonging to the decrepit railroad are were in no way changed by the pack's passing. (Ow Ow! To Phbbbzzt....'s running kilt going up and over this wall!)

Followed the abandoned tracks for a bit and burst back onto the roads near a commercial Bakery churning out chocolate chip cookies. The smell was.... Well if someone ever makes that into a perfume/cologne I promise it will get you tail.

Followed some roads through commercial districts and blasted past a check mark. Just Sager was clever enough to turn and check the sketchtastic parking lot next to the check. Wise man. We turned around after our trail died and found BC #2. Can't remember if anything worthwhile happened at this BC, but this will amuse you: Something like this (SFW)

The Hares and pack away one more time. Short bit of trail later and we found the On-In at Honey Fitz.

If you would like to see a map of where we went than here you go to this Google Map. The anonymous source of this really cool map would like to inform everyone that if someone tries and call them out for tech on trail they will be forever remembered for the time they tried to pleasure Bob Dole.

Nice Trail Hares!
By which I mean: S H I T T Y TRAIL

Circle!

Comments on trail

Twins!!!!!
Too few Rent a Cops
Four Tit checks too many!
More Po Po Please!

Virgins! 6 Virgins enter... Hey where the cr@p did our other virgins go? The Virgin family realized at some point that perhaps this was not the right place for an under-aged daughter... may be right!

Virgin Evan (Cum Fly with Me) Remembers his first BJ well! And remarked it was quite salty. (touche')
Virgin Sarah (Fire in the Hole) Would Definitely get off if she were on a bus full of lesbians.
(uhm..... I can't deal with thinking about this anymore)
Virgin Paula (Wicked Witch of the Wet) Was not able to calculate the square root of 69. The pack informed her of the proper response!
Virgin Cat (brought herself) Could not figure out what one boob said to the other. (We have got to stop letting this dick get between us)
Virgin Emma (brought by virgin Cat) Was intimately familiar with the sound a pony makes when it has been treated right.
Virgin Andy (F#cks like a Rabbit) Was not ok with demonstrating any acts with his sponsor. Some BS about incest being off the menu.

Visitors! (holy bajesus there were a lot of you too!)

Sh!tonya (Burlington), Wicked Witch of the Wet (Germany), Jimmy Crack Whore (Happy Valley), Suckit Wrench (Happy Valley?), C#nt Monkey (lazy scriberville), Watergate (I give-upia), and F#cks like a Rabbit.

Accusations:

FRB: High Anus
FBI: Fire in the Hole
Sitting in Circle: Sextra credit, Cocktologist, Just Sager, P!ss stop
Hat in Circle: Most of the Pack
No Hat on Mad hatter H@sh: The rest of the Pack (Notable excuse for hatless state: Hoover McSuck n F#ck was afraid to wear one, even after one was offered, because he was worried about the police...)
New Shoe Penalty – Fire in the Hole. Graciously shared the penalty with OH GOD THEY ARE IN THE CIRCLE AGAIN TOGETHER.... Virgin Sarah.
Backsliders: Maid of Honor (family gatherings and getting some (separate occasions)), Bring out the Gimp (wild kink parties), An@l Beads (sex with 2C's mom), Hoover (Pelvic fracture – BS alert), C#m Fly with me (evil law firm), P!ss stop (no excuse)
Late C#mmers: Wang Chunks, Willy Wonka and the Back Door Factory, Jamaican me C#m, Bringham Tounge, The Buttler Hit It, Shawskank, Queer leader, Stretch P#ssy, Floppy D!ck

Namings!

Just Jessica- Stories were about her making bets involving giving Sager BJ's, dating men with enourmous veiny members, and her cavernous tw@t.
Possible names: BJ Bet, Blew the Big One, Gamble the Goo, 8 something, You're so Veiny, and Chunnel (the enormous truck sized hole connecting England and France) We now pronounce you: Chunnel
Just Ted – Wore running tights with all sorts of definition going on (not all flattering) Possible names: Nutcracker and Moose Knuckles. We dub thee: Moose Knuckles
Just Sager – Stories included: his roots in Butte, Montana, Sex involving a stripper he brought home from a strip club, memorizing the list of services available off the menu at strip clubs...Possible names: Bridezilla, Butte Pirate, Allegedly had Sex, Banana Montana, Skinemax, Spankovision, A La C#nte. Be forevermore: A La C#nte!

The scribe notebok was stolen at this point and there is a very important message written for the scribe to pass on to the kennel. If any of you can decypher the code of three pictures of cocks, one set of boobs, “cocksucker”, “penis”, and another cock picture than please inform the pack of the meaning.

The H@sh went in peace.

And then played limbo. Willy Wonka used this opportunity to show the dangers of uncontrolled forward momentum. Luckily she had a carefully placed wall to impede her dangerous trajectory.

And that's about it.

-The Maid of Honor

Special thanks to P!ss Stop for the groovy new Scribe email and the postings to the H@sh trash Blog. http://bostonhash.blogspot.com/

The Return of GAP

2009-11-08T14:30:00.020-05:00

HARES: General Ass Pounder, Goat Throat
BAG CAR: Cums Alone
WEATHER: sunny, warm, a great day for a hash

A: Mt. Vernon Pub, Somerville near Sullivan Sq.
B: The Hong Kong in Quincy Market, Boston
Turkey Beer Check: on the water taxi across Boston Harbor
FRB Shot Check: at the wrong park Paul Revere Park near the wrong Marriott in Charlestown (was supposed to be in Boston. Christopher Columbus Park and Rose Garden, a bag car oops)

Visitor: Pig F*cker from Half Mein (he had to leave before the circle started)
Virgins: none
Late Cummers: Wang Chunks, An Inconvenient Poop, Welcum Wagon

Hashers Present:
Bend Over Mommy, Brigham Tongue, Bzzzzzzzzzz (or something like that), The Buttler Hit It, Catheter the Great, Cocktologist, Dirty Latte Sanchez, Dribbles, Dude Where's My Virginity, Fire in the Hole, 5" Penalty, Floppy Dick, F*cksall, Gay Pride, High An*s, Immaculate Erection, Jamaican Me Cum, Just Ben, Just Jennie, Just Melvin, Just Mike, Just Ted, Krusty the Meatmeister, Necrophiliac Jack, NAMBLA (left before circle or got lost somewhere), Nipples Erectus, Pat My Fly,Peppermint Pussy, Petting Officer Stuffing *ss, Queerleader, Sextracredit, Shawshank, Spunk in the Trunk, Stick it to the Bros, Taj My Hole, The Second Cumming, Time of the Munch, Willie Wonker & the Back Door Factory, You Want to Blow

The Start, the trail:
Hashers gathered at the Mt. Vernon Pub, vastly outnumbering the somewhat nonplussed regulars. Eventually, the hares took off to set live trail. The pack finished their beers and circled outside. Trail took off through the wilds of E Somerville and Charlestown. Eventually trail led the pack to a turkey-eagle split. The turkeys went to the Charlestown Navy Yard, where they boarded the commuter ferry across Boston Harbor. As Bag Car driver I had to drop off the beer for the turkeys with Goat Throat and then get to the Eagle vodka check. GAP said he'd be at the park near the Marriott, and I saw him run past the Marriot in Charlestown, and had a blonde moment, and assumed the check was at the wrong park. Shortly thereafter the eagles arrived at Paul Revere Park and they had their vodka check there. We thought we were probably in the wrong place, but the eagles, bless em, figured it didn't matter too much where they had their check. They then crossed through the locks at the end of the Charles River for a scenic meandering through the North End and other environs of downtown Boston. Several got lost, somehow following traces of earlier hash runs, but some did make it to the park, where they rejoined the turkeys for the remainder of the trail. Rumor has it trail may have gone over Beacon Hill prior to arrival at the hash favorite venue, the Hong Kong.

The On-In:
Those who arrived at the on-in early, pre-lubed with scorpion bowls, or good beer. And they waited for the pack to arrive. There were civilians at the Hong Kong, but most left in haste once the pack arrived.

The Second Cumming was RA (I think, I was in the back row). Comments on the run included: Not enough boat rides, not enough swimming, best trail I've run in a long time (a late cummer), not enough cops, no tit check, too many old marks, too many pack marks, more stairs, way too many marks for a GAP trail, no marks but I got here anyway, not enough old people ready to die, not enough impromptu beer checks. GAP was welcomed back to Boston (only visiting, he's doing well in med school in Baltimore) and given his well-deserved down down.

Visitors: Since Pig F-er had to leave, Spunk did a proxy down down for him.
Backsliders: Sextracredit, GAP, Goat Throat, and Second Cumming got down downs.
Sweat Test Failures Wang Chunks, Gay Pride, Necrophiliac Jack and Welcom Wagon got down downs.
Infractions: Accusations went on for about an hour for every conceivable infraction. Private Parties, late cummers, missing the boat down down, same shirts, etc. etc. All hares got to drink a number of times, as did all RAs and former RAs and GMs and former GMs . and on and on.
Naming: Just Jenny was due for a name. There was discussion of her stepping in dog poop, something about a marathon with sailors, and then how she threw up into two pint glasses. This inspired the following possible names: Cud Slut, Pampered Pussy, Likes Long Time, Two Sailors in a Cup, Long Dong, Two Pints of Puke, and finally the winner . One Girl, Two Cups. Thus she shall be known in the Hash.

We finally did hash religion, and adjourned to eat home made tacos provided by GAP and Peppermint Pussy. And it was good in Hashland.

--Cums Alone, Scribe & Bag Car Driver

Beaver Moon Hash

2009-11-02T11:23:00.015-05:00

Hares: Invisidick, Just Ellen, I Licked Butts
RA: Glitoris (Hare Club)
Pre-lube: Newtowne Grille in Porter Square
Weather: Clear and not too cold (until circle, that is)

Pack
Hey, I know that some of y'all have moon names that I don't know. So if you do, send me an email and I'll make sure to use it going forward. I forgot half the pack but this is what I remember: Hare Club, Goat Throat, Bend Over Mommy, Saskapoon, Bloody P*ssy, Peppermint P*ssy, Wang Chunks (he may have been a latecummer; I'm not sure. Don't recall seeing him run, but then I am not sure I have ever seen Wang run!), Cocksmith, Willy Wonka and the Backdoor Factory, Maid of Honor, Shawskank, BBAG, Fire in the Hole, Stick It To the Bros, Nice T*ts, I Eat Teabags, Just Heather, Just Becky, Virgin Maura

From the Farmer's Almanac
"Many moons ago when hunting was vital to preparation for the winter season, Native Americans would set traps for beavers. Beavers provided warm furs to help make the cold temperatures more bearable. November was a good month for hunting beaver since the swamps were not yet frozen. So as tradition had it, November's full moon became known as the Full Beaver Moon." Hahahaha, "beavers provided warm furs." Moving on.

Trail
So I wasn't aware until this hash that MIT's mascot is the beaver. I would laugh, but Babson also has a beaver as a mascot. The best (or so I have heard) is when the diving team is announced: "the beaver divers." Not kidding. Not quite as much fun as a USC/SC Trojans vs. C*cks game but at least it's on theme. Not on theme but I am obligated to say here that nothing, and I mean nothing, is as stupid as the Stanford Tree. Moving on.

The hares were wearing cardboard beaver tails, which Just Ellen had apparently made at work. A pretty good-sized pack formed for a Monday night. The 2nd Cumming explained marks to our virgin. This was all old hat except for the pineapple check (it was supposed to be a beaver tail).

In a scene reminiscent of the previous day's hash, the pack spent about 5 minutes going every way except for the right way before finally finding trail. Trail wound through the neighborhoods before ending up in an abandoned lot on Summer Street near Davis Square, apparently owned by the T. Just Heather managed to have a hash crash at the beer check, much to everyone's amusement. After the hares had left a cop showed up. I wasn't sure whether he was more annoyed or amused, and he made us pick up trash that wasn't even ours (which someone, I wish I could remember who, actually told the guy!).

The next leg of the trail went past a shop called Kick*ss Cupcakes. This conjures up all sorts of bad, bad images. Somewhere along this leg, The 2nd Cumming found a picture of some lions sitting out with the trash. And what else to do with a picture of lions than pick it up and carry it along? Not long after that, trail craniumed up. And up. And up some more. And around a corner and up some more. Seriously, Somerville must be like the Rome of the greater Boston area or something. Luckily, someone had left a rolling chair out with the trash, which Tea Bags put to good use. Perhaps when realizing that gravity would take him back down the hill, he abandoned the chair.

The second beer check was at Bailey Park, right next to the Somerville Hospital Nursing School. At this point, The 2nd Cumming began drawing the anatomically incorrect body parts [for lions] on his lion picture. Well, really, what else do you do with a picture found on trail?

The final leg was relatively straight and downhill, and the pack had no problems finding trail, at least for a while. While the males of the pack were waiting at the beaver check in front of Butts, Ellen, and Maura's boss's house, the hares were unloading the bag car in plain sight, about half a block down the hill. Now, had the pack been aware of their surroundings and scouting for trail, rather than beaver, they would have noticed that the trail went behind the abandoned house on Central Street and through a big hole in the fence into the vacant lot, rather than around the corner, behind Wings Over Somerville, and over an 8-foot fence with a nasty picker bush on the other side. But hey it's not a moon hash if you don't have to climb something, so much of the pack climbed the fence with gusto.

Circle took place in half a building, and unfortunately I don't remember too much about it because I was too busy picking the aforementioned pickers out of my pants. Well, it beats some other things that could have gotten onto my pants.

Virgin Maura was demented to great acclaim when asked her favorite sexual position she actually asked "Do you know what a dirty sanchez is?" Seriously, Virgin Maura, you clearly don't know the hash very well! Yet. The pack attempted to name Just Ellen but couldn't think of anything so she was tossed back.

The on-after was at Razzy's, where the pack broke into a spontaneous second circle in the back room, singing "The S&M Man" and "I Used to Work in Chicago" until we were notified by management that open mike comedy night was starting and our comedy wasn't on the schedule. The funniest "comedian" was the one who started making fun of the audience, in particular Just Becky. The "comedians" were NOT happy about the presence of a drunk, sarcastic, foul-mouthed mob at the bar, mocking (loudly) every word that came out of their mouths. However, one did come up to us after his bit and said that he wanted to join the hash, probably because we will be a never-ending source of material I'd wager.

- Bloody P*ssy

Halloweenie Hash

2009-11-01T11:44:00.001-05:00

As I did not see any Scribes present by the 2nd beer check, I thought it proper that someone enlighten those of you who missed this event as to what may have happened on trail today. I did not have the foresight to find someone with either a pen or a photographic memory so you will have to settle for what I remember of trail.

It all started at BHP with 2 bright-eyed hares: Necrophiliac Jack & Just Ted who had grand ideas of what trail could be so we sent them off with their hopes, their dreams and their eagle scout uniforms that apparent still fit after 10 years... This is what they gave us:

A start that was eerily reminiscent of STD's first trail set with Bros as we were yet again cluster fucked near Mass General Hospital. Is trail going over the Longfellow? Along Storrow? Towards North Station? Into MGH (Just Ted's Scrubs seem to indicate that this last option was possible). No! We headed down Charles St. towards Beacon and unlike the aforementioned trail... there were marks! Already this trail was looking good.

They properly falsed us over the walking bridge to the Esplanade, where Buoys and a few others decided to wait at the end of the other side until most of us had made our way over before calling it false... wankers! Once we were turned around and making our way deeper into Boston, an alley way with a pleasantly surprising BN came into few and we drank warm Miller High Life before I had even heard anyone b*tch about needing a beverage... thank you hares.

Earlier during chalk talk the 2nd Cumming had ripped up pieces of orange paper and had thrown them on the ground illustrating what we may see later on trail. A collective groan escaped from the pack as these crumbled bits easily blew away in the wind. Krusty and Kosher were among those grumbling that perhaps they could have also used pavement colored chalk... another hash favorite for laying super secret trails. These pieces of paper, however, were actually quite visible in both Macy's and Downtown Crossing were the regular patrons looked in awe as The Butler Hit It and PPBBVVvvvzzz power walked through the perfume section. Awesome!

While they did not lay any invisible marks to get the pack turned around, they did manage to get lost on their own trail and were snagged by myself @ 4:21 pm and then again by Krusty, Crucifux & IEC who missed the 2nd beer check and had to ask the hares for directions as not to miss a second opportunity @ piss warm High Life. The 2nd beer check was right in the middle of Liberty Square. We all finished our warm beers and headed in the direction Krusty indicated eventually making our way to on-in @ the Hong Kong.

Circle was relatively short and aptly led by The 2nd Cumming. The Hares sangthe S&M man and were ridiculed for getting caught and bitched at for warm beer: apparently the hash drunk has standards... who knew?

There were 4 virgins demented by BBAG and Jamaican and I apologize for either making up or forgetting your names:

Virgin Gary - Kosher's cousin
Virgin Carrie - Just Sager appears to have brought her
Virgin Ben - picked up on the T by Peppermint Pussy and Kosher
Virgin ---- - Forgot your name, but I remember Just Jessica brought you and you live in Somerville

There were a couple of birthdays: Nips & Taj and PPBBVVvzzz had her Analversary: One Year Closer to Death

Hmmm, what else about circle. Oh, the hares had small nips of alcohol to award best costumes. I believe there were 5 categories:

Most original: Went to PSA for Beerbarella (did she drink all those High Lifes? Did she coordinate with the hares to have her costume match the beverage of choice at the beer check? Did she give her Miller points to 2nd Cumming? all great questions that I do not have answers to)
Best female: Dude for her dead Dalmatian shawl and great Cruella impression
Best male: Spank Me as a geek who will never get laid (yes, he actually wore a costume)
Sluttiest: cannot remember who won although Jamaican was nominated for her gold tight pants and mesh shirt, and Munch who came late as a French maid complete with a green feather duster
Worst costume: Buoys for dressing like Immaculate. When dressing like another hasher, you need to choose someone who wears pretty much the same thing to every hash and can be loud and obnoxious enough to draw attention to themselves... hats off to Butts for choosing to dress as BBAG our hash drunk.

It was announced that there are upcumming events in which your merriment may continue. First is a Full Moon Hash tomorrow night taking off from Newtowne Grill in Porter Sq @ 630 HST, and an amazing away event in VT as Anti-buffet is in it's 6th year and is happening the 1st weekend in Dec. Sign up here.

That rounded up our night, and Swing Low made it official.

Buoys then serenaded us with Puff the Magic Tampon earning himself a free pint at the bar and the rest of us a desire to get those 5 minutes back in addition to the daylight savings hour we got earlier today.

That is pretty much it. I hope to see you all next week, as I believe we have some hashers that need to be named: Just Ellen, Just Ted, Just Sager and Just Sara to name a few... Get to know these new hashers as we need good dirt to name them properly.

Un-officially Scribing, Tits

The C#mbridge Salem Halloween Hash

2009-10-24T22:06:00.000-04:00

The C#mbridge H*sh Hallloween run 10/24/2009

Salem, MA

Pre-lube: Porter's Bar and Grill

Hare: Wang Chunks

Bag Car: Stretch P#ssy

RA: Krusty the Meat Miser

Surprise Scribe: The Maid of Honor

Da Pack:

Jimmy crackwhore, Dirty layte sanchez, Dude, where's my virginity, P#ssy factory, Counterfeit dick, Peppermint p#ssy, Inconvenient poop, Fisty, Nancy Reagan, G-string, Pbbv..., Bbag, Gay pride, Cougar consulting, Cletus the fetus

So uh... I'm a lazy bum and I agreed to write this one about a month ago. Since then I have slacked like crazy. I also wasn't the designated scribe until afterwards, so no notes. We shall see what I can remember.

Now that I have whined I will commence with making up great stories about all of you.

On-ghouls-gone-wild-On!

The Pack slowly assembled in Porters and had ourselves some early afternoon brews. Apparenty MOH didn't get the memo that we were in the witches and warlocks themed costumes. Everyone else showed up in there dark garb while MOH showed up in A jester outfit and some killer running tights. Pbbzzt... and MOH remenisced about the good old days of writing suggestive messages all the way up Pbbbzzzt...'s leg on the graffiti h*sh. Oh the good ol days.

We had some strange conversations in the bar including one in which the stereotypical image of lesbians was shot down as the norm. The locals agreed. Someone may have mentioned lipstick lesbians as the cure to the broken fantasy. H*sh managed to avoid offending any die-hard feminists in our midst. We left the Porters and tromped on down to North Station.

Most of the pack managed to follow the instructions and make the train to Salem. Most...

The train ride was about as subdued as could be expected from a group of folks applying black lipstick to their male contingent and Fisty trading her corset off to another h*sher. Fisty, it looked great on you too, don't worry.

Arrival in Salem and we met up with a few more brave h*shers willing to face the drizzle. Nancy pulled up in style only to realize he and MOH were both jesters. Faux pas!

Wang let us know what we were doing and we scurried off down an abandoned rail bed. Got lost several times before finding a marked trail that actually led into Salem. Finally the travesty could begin in earnest.

Off to a good start we had a song check directly in front of a line for a haunted tour bus. Salem in October is full of a lot of freaks. Our pride continues that we can still top the bunch and really confuse, amuse, and generally make people feel uncomfortable. We rock.

Back to trail. Which, as it turns out was getting very challenging to follow. If I remember correctly, this was a dead trail on a fairly rainy day. In other words.. fading fast! We hustled down the main street of vendors in Salem, speculating that there was a trail hidden somewhere under there feet. Whatever the case was, we did find trail at the end of it. More mucking about the residential neighborhoods finally pointed us towards the harbor shore.

We found one of the best BC's ever. Wang and Stretch had a small burner out the back of a truck warming a pot of cider to which excellent things were added. This is a very good way to make the pack happy.

The BC came to an end and Wang pointed us towards the continuation of trail. More Running through throngs of costumed people.

And then we came to a very special place! A giant statue of Bend Over Mommy's ancestor. I think he was standing triumphantly with virgins fawning at his feet. Makes sense with a cool descendent like BOM.

All the vendors around town were really starting to make me hungry! Between the hot salted nuts and spicy giant sausage I was salivating. (I believe the stache made me write that again)

We found the On-In which was some chill divy bar/restaurant. No idea what it was called. Bu they were very cool with us taking over their back alley to sing songs and drink beverages.

Circle involved calling out C#mbridge virgins, hat wearers, non-costume wearers, late-c#mmers, backsliders, and generally anyone who just deserved to drink more.

Somewhere along the line Krusty found the mankiest rotting roller blade I have ever seen. Which we then tried to get one of the pack to drink out of. He refused claiming something about standards... BS.

Most importantly we gave a shout out to our favorite future H*sher: Cletus the Fetus (currently residing like a creepy alien in Dude, Where's my virginity's belly)

BBAG was kind enough to be a surrogate down downer for his spawn.

We finished up and went into the bar to settle into many pitchers and a bunch of cheap, mostly edible food.

We took our dear sweet time and missed the first train. So that lead to more pitchers.

Which got us into fine form. I can now continue my H*sh grooming styles commentary with a shout out to Fisty sporting the Adult woman, full, but not out of control styling.

Eventually we extricated ourselves and blazed a trail back to the train. With so many pitchers in us it just didn't seem right to let the peace rest. And so we sang. Oh did we sing. The platform of that train may never be the same. Verse after Verse of Yogi, S&M Man, old department store, and one particularly cruel rendition of Jesus saves once a sign-board man approached us with his “Jesus Saves!” Signs.

Forget it dude. We are beyond saving.

On-Halloween-debauchery-On

-The Maid of Honor

The Big Lebowski Hash 10/11/2009

2009-10-11T17:58:00.000-04:00

What: The Big Lebowski H@sh

When: A long friggin time ago(AKA Oct 11th)

Who: Hares Shawskank and 5” Penalty

Bag Car: Just Sarah (F#cksaw)

RA: Necrophiliac Jack

Scribing: the Maid of Honor

Pre-lube: Clark's in South Station

Pack: The Maid of Honor, Floppy D1ck, Cocktologist, Necrophiliac Jack (RA), Just Raina, Better late than Pregnant, Just Sandra, Grease my Monkey's Nuts, Just Heather, Virgin Mark, Just Kim, Just Zeek, Sugar Plum Fairy, Pat My Fly, Just Jenny, Jamaican me c#m, Hare club, Just Ted (Moose Knuckles) Goat Throat, Bend over Mommy, Stickin it to the Bros, Just michelle, TBags

Memorable phone call while waiting at the pre-lube: Shawskank: So is Clarks IN South Station...

an auspicious start!

Things started off normally enough. Some choice beverages and a few people in appropriate bathrobes. Soon after we saw off the hares and the pack settled back into their beverages. Soon we too had to leave the warm confines of the bar and brave the chilly Boston air. Outside of South Station we flumoxed about a bit trying to find trail but picked it up heading south toward the piers. This was going very well with the sun shining down on us and we followed happily along a well marked trail.

Funny thing happened.. We realized it was in fact not the correct well marked trail. It was the AGM trail. FML! After some back tracking we got back to what we assumed was trail and followed it for a bit.

Deja Vue time, We then found the Moon H@sh trail of two days before. At this point as I remember it (and lets face it who are you to question what I'm saying here. I had a very official looking notepad, which I would never write lies in just to prompt messages like this later) we started to test out methods for dating the h@sh marks. Close visual examination seems to be the go to with taste tasting coming in as a sorry second. Old chalk and new chalk both taste similar. With a refined palette the subtleties of the drunken p1sses and hobo stank will start to show through in the older marks.

Back on subject! We back tracked more and eventually found what looked like fresh marks and a part of town that no one could remember running on at any of the other recent H@shes. Progress? We got down near the fish pier and ran smack into what we all agreed had to be a meeting of the mafia. Down on a pier in classic, well-maintained American cars... wearing suits and calling eachother a mix of Vito's and Tony's. Sure it could have been the American Legion.. but this is the H@sh! Boring things don't happen! Also thikn we spotted the oldest hookers ever out on the pier.

Right about then (on what I think was 3+ miles in with our detours) most of the pack took a left towards the fish wharf and I started following a very well marked trail. G-damn. Not the trail again.

We back tracked and out on the end of the Fish Pier we found the pack happily drinking white russians and enjoying a quick dip in the harbor.

Wait what? Yeah that's right. Goat throat went swimming. Luckily the only state troopers we met from this harbor swimming trip were in cars. And they didn't bat an eye at us.

Overheard at this point:

Shawskank to her co-hare 5” “You are such a needy cohare!!”

Just Sandra: “I want bigger!”

Jamaicain: “Yeah, but sometimes the big ones are to much work”

Whatever that means. Hares away and the pack follows soon after.

I should have mentioned that on the way down we passed by the convention center and what not. Only say this because it helps set up the confusion that ensued when we AGAIN passed by following trail and found the old cement colored chalk was now crossed out with a new direction. This was a flash point for a moment of tension when part of the pack which allegedly had been utilizing A MAP!!!!! went on the old trail and the folks who had been painstakingly following the trail knew this was old trail. They did not inform the folks running back in a circle. Was there map involved? Who knows, but they were a fit bunch and clearly needed the detour.

The trail continued meandering back towards South Station, at one point crossing back onto itself... which also meant it was now on top of the current H@sh direction 1, AGM, and moon H@sh... This was difficult to follow. Seriously, I had a headache! (Full disclaimer: I think I was hungover as sh!t) This was about the point we all started to cheer that a long trail (pushing 5-6 miles by now) was coming to an end and that perhaps this was an A to A trail.

Nope. More time spent being lost and back tracking. Soon we found ourselves in the neighborhood of the Hong Kong. Surely the madness was coming to an end. Not even close. Henceforth the act of bringing the pack near the Hong Kong but not ending the trail in its hallowed halls will be known as a “Kong Tease.” So yea, Shawskank is a giant Kong Tease. Our esteemed Hares managed to find one of the sketchier alleys behind Hong kong and we had BC #2. At this point we were all a bit tired but still up for the sport of things. We came to a discovery that Necro was sporting a perma-boner. I know some people tried to take pictures with it. More novelty than impressive. However that didn't stop the harriets from chalking it. To try and distract the pack from his half mast, Necro attempts to climb the side of a building. He managed to climb a ways, but apparently it was an exhilarating experience as he came back from it at maybe ¾ staff. Pack is very ammused. Just Zeek takes it upon himself at this point to welcome Necro down to Rhode Island H3 anytime as it is “A strictly gay H@sh.”

Hares away again. And the pack to follow. Much of this next section my mind has blocked out to preserve some semblance of happiness. We made it to the Common and found a Check back. Yea.. It is impossible to over mark a trail.

I won't go into the details of how we again found the trail but it was an act of desperation. Quite a few of us were starting to pretend we were cast offs of the old fahts H@sh with knee and ankle complaints running wild. Pretty sad.

We made it to Jacques!!! which was the On-In!

Everyone staggered in and sat themselves dejectedly around the tables in one of the H@sh's favorite watering holes. Even though we didn't end at BBAG's place, we did manage to bump into our drunk and he stopped by Jacques for a bit. Never one to shirk his duties!

More interesting quotes:

Necro (in regards to a hot asian tranny) “And then she grabbed my junk!”

Just Sandra “It's better to not get stiff..... well SOMETIMES!”

Circle

Virgin Mark was called into the circle. His sponsor Just Kim accompanied him. Upon being asked to demonstrate a proper lap dance he readily complied! Just Kim confirmed through her response that he was indeed doing a good job. Especially after the shirt came off. We'll wait for confirmation from them to see what happened later.

Visitors:

Grease my Monkey's Nuts and Goat Throat sang about incest. No surprises there.

Backsliders:

Just Sandra, Just Kim, Tbags, 5” penalty, Better late than pregnant, and Jamaican. I'm sure they sang something. Lets pretend it was a rousing round of Poker Face.

Accusations:

FRB: Hare Club

FBI: Just Heather

DFL: Tbags

Sitting in Circle: (F you all I was trying to take notes) The Maid of Honor

Stripping: Goat Throat and Tbags

Map Checking: Necro, Just Ted, Just Zeek, Bros

And then someone realized we were all wearing red for some reason so we had a red shrt party and all drank.

Necro then anounced he had snared the hares.

And proceeded to try and pants the harriet.

Word to the wise: Depending on what reaction you want, ascertain the presence of undergarments before pantsing someone in running tights.

Word to the Harriets: Landing strips are an excellent decision.

Word to the Pantser: expect swift justice from the pack... and male trimming might just give you that optical inch you desire. Ref http://www.shaveeverywhere.com/

Passing over my strong urge to document further H@sher grooming techniques (Fisty, I get it! You are a strong proud woman!)

NAMING TIME!

Just Sarah: Who has so nicely hared and bag carred repeatedly was called into the circle with little chance of escaping.

Stories: on her first H@sh she performed admirably and woke up in the ER with a recorded BAC of 0.369. Props!

I also have a note here that said she gave a pole dance demonstration on Jack's Pole. If that means more to one of you than to me I welcome the input. (welcoming input.... I made a funny)

Naming possibilities: “No Beer without ER” “Pole .369”

New story about her and a perpetual in and out machine at work.. She declared it a “F#cksaw!”

No surprises here, We now present you with “F#cksaw!” (Less shocking a month after the naming, but at least it is documented)

More Accusations:

Half Mast Buddies: Necro and Just Zeek (contagious boys?) Thank goodness we had the C0cktologist on hand to let them know that they were approaching the point at which they should seek medical attention.

Beer wasting (BOOOO!) Preggers

Pre-emptive fluid consumption: Virgin Mark and Just Kim (was there post H@sh fluid consumption as penance?)

Ironic pointing: Cocktologist

Private Party: Just Zeek and Preggers

And that did it. We ate tasty sandwiches, drank a few more drinks, and then bemoaned the lack of tranny shows on Sunday afternoons.

-The Maid of Honor

P.S. The Stache H@sh is next Sunday starting at Our House East at 2:30 HST. I have been growing out this beast for all of you and I need it gone. c#m and validate my efforts!

P.P.S. The Furry H@sh is January 10th.www.Spirithalloween.com is running a special on halloween costumes until the 29th of November. You can now find yourself a cheap furry suitable outfit.

Tom Cruise Hash

2009-10-04T12:16:00.005-04:00

Hare: Gay Pride!Spontaneous Hare: BBAG
Bag Car: Floppy D*ck
RA: Jack

Pack: Taj My Hole, Just Heather, I Eat Teabags, Vagitarian, Dribbles, Show Me The Hole, Pat My Fly,The Butler Hit It, Brigham Tongue, Necrophiliac Jack, Sugar Plum Fairy, Just Jason, Just Zeke, Just Ellen and her Virgin, Just Jenny, Just Katie, Willy Wonka and the Back Door Factory, Peppermint P*ssy, and myself (Dude Where's My Virginity.) We unsuccessfully tried to recruit some famous people to be spontaneous virgins without luck (details below.)

Sorry, I probably forgot several people, I didn't write down names as I did not expect to scribe. However, given the awesomeness of the trail I have to do a short write-up!

Trail started at John Harvard's Brewhouse in Harvard Square. Note to newbies, there is a great place in Harvard Square called Whitney's where they have good cheap beer and the bartender is cool. Most of the staff apparently was decent at John Harvard's but the bartender was awful.

We ran in circles around and through Harvard and Harvard Square. We ran by BBAG's favorite building. We ended up in Cambridgeport where apparently the hares had a falling out and each set their own trail. Eventually, after about 3 miles we ended up at a beer check along the river. It was a nice location but the beer was warm and there was no water (it had gotten sunny and warm by now.) Good weather to hash!

The hares made out, I mean made up, and were off. Pack enjoyed the sun and Vagitarian going shirtless! As pack headed away, several of us noticed bag car was nowhere to be found and had not asked anyone to clean up. Vagitarian, Just Heather and I went back to clean up. Pat My Fly had gotten most of the cans together and we helped dispose of them. We also found about 10 leftover beers! Alcohol abuse! Since we are bad*ss, we decided to carry them on trail. And it was a good thing we did!

Just Heather took the lead as we ran along Memorial Drive. A pack of runners approached us. Just Heather grabbed a beer and tried to give it to the hot guy at the front of the pack. He gave us an award-winning smile and said (and I quote) "No Thank You." His quite attractive wife smiled at us. The body guards gaped. I stopped short and yelled, "HEATHER, DO YOU REALIZE YOU JUST OFFERED TOM CRUISE A BEER!?!?!?! And that was Katie Holmes right behind him!!!"

We laughed, screamed, and Vag ran back after them. The bodyguards waved her away. She yelled "Tom I love you and want to have your baby!" We celebrated by shotgunning beers on Mem Drive. We called the pack to see where they were since we were hopelessly behind and couldn't find any marks.

To make a long run short, we met up with the pack at MIT where BBAG led the group to a free concert (Mission of Burma.) The leftover warm beers came in handy for the lucky few who drank behind a sculpture so the cops wouldn't see them. The music was good but we didn't stay long because we all had dangerously low blood alcohol levels.

We then ran to Courtside. Some people allege that trail was 10 miles. I say 7-8. At that point there's not much difference. Circle was short. The virgin was demented (nice demo with Just Ellen of reverse doggy-style.) Two transplants were introduced (Just Jason from NY and Just Zeke from RI.) Pizza was eaten. Beer was enjoyed. Tom Cruise was discussed. Yes, he is pretty short!

-Dude Where's My Virginity (one time only scribe so I can tell you how awesome Just Heather is, and she really needs a name.)

The Tom Cruise Hash

2009-10-04T11:33:00.002-04:00

Hare: Gay Pride!Spontaneous Hare: BBAG
Bag Car: Floppy D*ck
RA: Jack

Pack: Taj My Hole, Just Heather, I Eat Teabags, Vagitarian, Dribbles, Show Me The Hole, Pat My Fly,The Butler Hit It, Brigham Tongue, Necrophiliac Jack, Sugar Plum Fairy, Just Jason, Just Zeke, Just Ellen and her Virgin, Just Jenny, Just Katie, Willy Wonka and the Back Door Factory, Peppermint P*ssy, and myself (Dude Where's My Virginity.) We unsuccessfully tried to recruit some famous people to be spontaneous virgins without luck (details below.)

Sorry, I probably forgot several people, I didn't write down names as I did not expect to scribe. However, given the awesomeness of the trail I have to do a short write-up!

Trail started at John Harvard's Brewhouse in Harvard Square. Note to newbies, there is a great place in Harvard Square called Whitney's where they have good cheap beer and the bartender is cool. Most of the staff apparently was decent at John Harvard's but the bartender was awful.

We ran in circles around and through Harvard and Harvard Square. We ran by BBAG's favorite building. We ended up in Cambridgeport where apparently the hares had a falling out and each set their own trail. Eventually, after about 3 miles we ended up at a beer check along the river. It was a nice location but the beer was warm and there was no water (it had gotten sunny and warm by now.) Good weather to hash!

The hares made out, I mean made up, and were off. Pack enjoyed the sun and Vagitarian going shirtless! As pack headed away, several of us noticed bag car was nowhere to be found and had not asked anyone to clean up. Vagitarian, Just Heather and I went back to clean up. Pat My Fly had gotten most of the cans together and we helped dispose of them. We also found about 10 leftover beers! Alcohol abuse! Since we are bad*ss, we decided to carry them on trail. And it was a good thing we did!

Just Heather took the lead as we ran along Memorial Drive. A pack of runners approached us. Just Heather grabbed a beer and tried to give it to the hot guy at the front of the pack. He gave us an award-winning smile and said (and I quote) "No Thank You." His quite attractive wife smiled at us. The bodyguards gaped. I stopped short and yelled, "HEATHER, DO YOU REALIZE YOU JUST OFFERED TOM CRUISE A BEER!?!?!?! And that was Katie Holmes right behind him!!!"

We laughed, screamed, and Vag ran back after them. The bodyguards waved her away. She yelled "Tom I love you and want to have your baby!" We celebrated by shotgunning beers on Mem Drive. We called the pack to see where they were since we were hopelessly behind and couldn't find any marks.

To make a long run short, we met up with the pack at MIT where BBAG led the group to a free concert (Mission of Burma.) The leftover warm beers came in handy for the lucky few who drank behind a sculpture so the cops wouldn't see them. The music was good but we didn't stay long because we all had dangerously low blood alcohol levels.

We then ran to Courtside. Some people allege that trail was 10 miles. I say 7-8. At that point there's not much difference. Circle was short. The virgin was demented (nice demo with Just Ellen of reverse doggy-style.) Two transplants were introduced (Just Jason from NY and Just Zeke from RI.) Pizza was eaten. Beer was enjoyed. Tom Cruise was discussed. Yes, he is pretty short!

-Dude Where's My Virginity (one time only scribe so I can tell you how awesome Just Heather is, and she really needs a name.)

Daylight Moon Hash

2009-10-03T08:55:00.002-04:00

Moon hash apparently doesn't have a scribe, but that doesn't mean there's not trash to be aired, so I figured I'd volunteer, starting as far back as memory (kind of) serves. Until I decide not to. Or get replaced. Or, you know, move to Africa.

Hare: Goes Down on Buoys (Sp*rm Dumpster)
Bag Car: The Buttler Hit It (Cocksmith)
RA: Puff'n'Stuff
Pack: Hare Club, High An*s, Goat Throat, Bend Over Mommy, Just Sager (Saskapoon), Brigham Tongue (Bloody P*ssy), Stick It To The Bros, Peppermint P*ssy
Latecummer: Wang Chunks
Pre-lube: MJ O'Connors in Boston
Weather: Drizzly and cold

Not only was this a full moon hash without a moon, but it was a Cajun trail. This was all very novel and exciting, but the excitement wore off when the pack got lost within the first 5 minutes. Actually, it was more like the first 2 minutes. We found the first few marks just fine, then spent 15 minutes trying to find trail. Apparently a yellow "X" was a mark (silly us, we assumed chalk marks would all be arrows, albeit not necessarily pointing in the correct direction, and that "X" meant false. Apparently not).

Trail went through the Boston Common, and on past BBAG's place (where, sadly, there was not a beer check). Goat Throat proved to have a knack for finding the deviously-hidden marks, which were on things like trees, and underneath scaffolding in the shadows… unfortunately by the time we got back to near the
Common, Goat's luck deserted him. Someone went running off to the north while the rest of us looked by the Common, in the graveyard, up and down both sides of every road … well, except the road trail went down, where the mark was cleverly hidden behind a dumpster. Nice.

We then ran through the seating area of a restaurant called Marylianes advertising $1 oysters between 4 and 6pm (the things I notice…) and then pretty quickly got lost again. Around this point the pack lost trail again. Mommy reported that someone had called the hash hotline, and the beer check was under the bridge by the Barking Crab. So, we all proceeded directly there, confusing the hare and bag car who were expecting us to come from the other direction.

At this point, Peppermint P*ssy showed up, having run at least part of the first trail. Not sure what her excuse was, something about work? Or something? The pack encouraged the hare to be less sneaky by half with the marks, so we had a prayer of finding them. Once we got a little bit cold the hare headed out and pack was away!

Trail wound through Seaport and after about 5 minutes (we could actually find the marks on this half of trail), the pack got a serious case of déjà vu as the trail was almost exactly identical to AGM the week before: running through a parking lot, then by the Seaport hotel, but this time rather than up steps by the seaport we ran upstairs in a bus station.

Heading towards the convention center I was far in front of the pack. Having found a check I headed off to scout trail and somehow managed to fall down while running at high speed. The pavement was uneven, or that's my story and I'm sticking to it. No one witnessed this epic hash crash, but the evidence was quite apparent (and it still hurt like a b*tch the next week when I was scouting trail, OW!). From this point forward trail was almost identical to the AGM trail, including the long deathmarch near where the BC was at AGM. This time, the pack got lost (surprised?) very near the on-in and spent a little while looking for trail in a parking lot, down some railroad tracks, etc., and in the likely direction of the all the bars in Southie until I think Hare Club zenned or saw the hare/FRB/bag car at the on-in location, which was an abandoned lot, and led us there forthwith.

So we had something like 300 Natty Ice and Natty Lites for 11 people, and we decided to do the best we could to drink all of the beers. After we had drunk about half the beers, Wang Chunks decided to show up to help us with the other half. Apparently he had nothing better to do on a Saturday afternoon.

We had some moon hash namings! Starting with me, because of my aforementioned accident. Between the road rash and stories of my kitten who likes to jump onto my shoulders via the skin of my back, I was renamed Bloody P*ssy. That took about 2 minutes and was really the only decent suggestion.

Goes Down on Buoys was, after much back-and-forth, renamed Sp*rm Dumpster. I'm not sure why. But he seems to hate the name, which means it's a good name.

Just Sager (who STILL doesn't have a Boston hash name … seriously, people!) was christened Saskapoon, I guess because North Dakota where he is from is somewhat close to Saskatchewan. I don't know. But it was better than the other names, which I don't remember.

Finally, The Buttler Hit It was renamed Cocksmith due to an high school incident involving duplicating keys, and NOT GETTING AWAY WITH IT.

This lot must serve as an ad hoc dog park, because at some point during circle this beautiful dog came to visit us with its owners. Also, there was a party going on under a tent about a half a block away. People sounded like they were having a good time, and at one point I could have sworn I heard "On-on!" coming from under the tent but I must have been hearing things.

I don't really remember too much about the rest of circle thanks to the quantity of beer, and something about "when one p*ssy drinks, all p*ssies drink." Also, Cocksmith's attempt at new lyrics to When It's Hog Calling Time in Nebraska did not go over so well. Eventually we actually finished the beer, ended circle, and headed to Cornerstone Pub for on-after. I don't remember too much about that either, except I was told that Goat Throat stole a plate of chicken wings from a child. That doesn't seem like it could possibly be quite right, but there it is folks.

After the on-after, Buttler jokingly asked if we should crash the tent party. Emboldened by alcohol, I proceeded to do just that. Surprisingly, the partygoers were very welcoming and shared their beer until it ran out (but they went to go get more, so all was well). We entertained them with stories of hashing, and I did a solo rendition of Yogi, much to their bemusement. I don't remember very much else (surprised?).

- Bloody P*ssy (aka Brigham Tongue)

AGM Fatboy

2009-09-27T11:31:00.002-04:00

Good Evening one and all! And greetings from a very warm and happy place that is the post AGM weekend h*sh trashing. If you want to know what happened at AGM you should have been there, or you should pester your other new scribe: Sugar Plum Fairy! I got nothing on that one. What I do have is the valiant tale of a few brave h*shers who braved the rain and wrath of new GM’s. Yes, what I have for you now is the tale of the Post-AGM, Hungover, Fat-Boy Trail.

Pre-lube: Doyle’s
Hares: Our new GM’s: Bend Over Mommy and High Anus
Bag Car: Goat Throat
Virgins: Nope. Only used up ol’ H*shers here.

Pack: The Buttler Hit It, Peppermint P#ssy, Jamaican Me Cum, Cocktologist, Pat My Fly, Maid of Honor, and last but not least, one of our new favorite h*shers Just Jean….keep reading to find out more!!!

My morning started off stupidly early to do Hub on Wheels. It was wet and they gave us schwag for riding bikes around Boston. But who effing cares? I got home and Jamaican reminded my dumb arse that the h*sh started at 1. Davis and Forest Hills are not that close together. I ran out the door and hopped on the T. I dashed into the bar at 1:15 expecting to find pack away and a hunt for trail in front of me.

But no. MOH is an ignorant “baby-h*sher” (thanks for reminding me of that several times at MJ h*sh Fisty) and in fact this was a fat boy h*sh. A beautiful time when h*shers slow down, get fat, and do a very relaxed version of our normal shenanigans.

I moved into Doyle’s and found a small, but dedicated group of h*shers drinking their first round and looking at the menus. Then we got ourselves the back room and proceeded to order up a great brunch and booze. Many of us paid homage to our roots and got big steaming plates of h*sh. It is delicious and you all should do this. All the food any of us were unwilling to eat, Buttler found a place for. IN HIS BELLY! I tried to figure out what drink to order to go next to my coffee, but then found I can get it IN my coffee. Terrific way to start.

Hares were away somewhere after 2:00. Pack was away shortly there-after. Goat Throat let us all know that there were marks and that we should follow them. So we did, at a very brisk walk. Wouldn’t want to spoil the digesting of a fine h*sh!

Very soon we came to our first be3r check. There was High Life and a giant spider that had a thing for Goat and Buttler. We told stories. We noted stories from Just Jean.

Hares Away….5 minutes later and Pack Away!

Still at a brisk saunter, except for Peppermint who ran off deciding she needed to stretch her legs. Moments later we were treated to another be3r check! Here the wise new GM’s served us healthy doses of Be3rmosas. Truly brilliant creation using the champagne of be3rs and OJ. Quite tasty.

Hares Away….3 minutes later and Pack Away!

Peppermint runs off followed by the shambling mass of h*shers. And Lo and Behold! What did we see? Doyle’s! The deja-vu On-In. And here is a handy map of our harrowing journey.

We returned to our back room table and sat back in our still-warm seats. We were well be3red and started circle (at the table.) Everyone had their turn at this Circle.

GM’s High Anus and Bend Over Mommy drank for their sh!tty trail
Cocktologist drank for being a backslider (claims he has a job)
Just Jean drank for having special needs when she claimed she couldn’t drink our fine be3rmosas as she has “citrus allergies”
Pat My Fly for not realizing he was drinking booze in his be3rmosa
Overachievers: Peppermint P#ssy, Just Jean, and the Maid of Honor
The Buttler Hit It for being boring
And Goat Throat for setting off his car alarm at a be3r check and drawing the attention of small children… which he claims he is usually very good at sneaking up on.
A few accusations were tossed around and then the H*sh went in pieces.
Well that really involved a continued stay in our seats and more pitchers.
Memorable Quote: “He tried to bleach the NAMBLA out of his @ss”

But now for what was one of the best parts of the h*sh and what I think will be the most amusing part of this h*sh trash. The fun facts we learned about Just Jean……. And her spontaneous naming!!!!! Just Jean is one of the newest additions to the BH3, but she has h*shed with both the Portland, ME and Baltimore harriers. She is a feisty type who tries to beat up everyone once she’s had a few. She was playing the quiet game to avoid us getting too much dirt on her…. Since apparently there is quite a bit to be found. And most importantly, she isn’t on the list serve yet so we thought it would be fun to share this with all of you now.

Fun Facts:

Last night Just Jean was out with some ladies and got into a bunch of “lady drama” instead of joining us for AGM. Instead she walked away with a wad full of $1’s. She wouldn’t divulge further.
Recently, Just Jean was approached by a guy with the line: “I have some peppermint schnapps and I lost my virginity while drinking it. Want some?” And it worked! So she spent the evening drinking rumple mintze with the guy and chasing it with monkey bread.
Finally, She enjoys tanning naked on her porch with her coffee whenever she can. She is working on her “nipple tan”.
This folks is a fun h*sher who you will all enjoy getting to know. We all had been discussing the recent onslaught of spam that the listserve has been getting hammered with, and kept joking about the “Screaming Japanese Girls.” Jokingly we told Just Jean that if she didn’t spill the beans we would have to name her that. She gave a very strong reaction of dislike… and we know how that works in the h*sh. Spontaneous name vote goes out, RA makes a ruling, and voila!

We present to you: *Screaming Japanese Girl* (Just Jean no longer)

Also she then made pouty faces, voiced her indignation, and attacked us with fearsome blows. All of this only further cementing that she is in fact a Screaming Japanese Girl.

Hope ya'll enjoyed this edition of H*sh trash

-the Maid of Honor

AGM 2009 aka Assholes on Ice

2009-09-26T09:56:00.003-04:00

HARES: Goes Down On Buoys, Nice Tits
BAG CAR: My Chemical Homance
PRE-LUBE: The Corner Pub, Leather District Boston
BEER CHECKS: Alleyway in South Boston and Our Lady of Great Sodomy Park in South Boston
ON-IN: Kiley’s in the Horseshoe Pit out back.
SCRIBE: Sugar Plum Fairy
VISITORS: 2nd Cumming’s Hot Mom
LATE CUMMERS: Cums Alone, Crucifux, Jamaican Me Cum and Just Brigid

PACK: High Anus, Necro Jack, Dick Jockey, I Eat Cum, I Licked Butts, Better Late Than Pregnant, Spank Me May I Have My Mother, Cocktologist, Coochie Monster, Bend Over Mommy, Hare Club For Queers, Peppermint Pussy, Brigham Tongue, Catheter the Great, Dirty Latte Sanchez, The Butler Hit It, The Jizz Mopper, Nipples Erectus, Target Practice, You Oughtta Blow, Fire In The Hole, The Second Cumming, Taj My Hole, Beat By A Girl, No Boner Left Behind, An Inconvenient Poop, Dude Where’s My Virginity, Schindler’s Fist, Dooky
Plows Her VD, I Eat Tea Bags, Sextra Credit. Justs …… Ellen, Katie, Sarah, Raina, Adam and Heather

TRAIL

It was sphincter shrinking time at the Anal General Meeting Hash as we kicked out the old and ushered in the new group of losers we call Mismanagement. It all started at the Corner Pub near South Station in the Leather District. Arriving early I was told that Goes Down On Buoys was, “Out looking for cock.”

I said that maybe he should be looking for chalk as that would be more helpful to setting and marking trail. When he did show up he had his chalk in his hand. No word on his other search.
We circled for chalk talk in the alley behind the Corner Pub which had all kinds of exotics smells.
“I especially love the smell of Urine,” said 2nd Cumming’s Mom. Didn’t know she was into that kind of thing, but then again she is from California and was a Raiderette so….?.

I followed several Zen masters out of the alley way and as they took off for the Boston Common, I shadowed the pack expecting them to go left, which they didn’t. Trail went through Chinatown and took u-turn back to South Station. I could see this from a distance as I took a wide swing around Federal Reserve building assuming the beer check would be under the bridge near the Itching… uh I mean Barking Crab. Trail actually went into the South Station T-stop and came out on Summer street leading hashers over the Fort Point Channel into the Seaport area.

Trail cut across a large parking lot and went back through the courtyard of one of the seaport hotels and came out by the Convention Center. Trail then turned toward South Boston and after a long straight away and a detour provided by I Eat Cum we reached the first beer check in an alleyway behind an industrial area.

Hashers were greeted with all different kinds of microbrews, the kind that makes most people happy and Hare Club sad. Beat By A Girl was also sad because he was hoping for really shitty beer and even threatened to drink a non-alcoholic beer. He was so distraught he went to a liquor store to by some Colt 45 to make up for things.

We must have looked like a gang of meth addicts, because a woman driving down the alley in her SUV and yakking on her cell phone looked up, saw us and immediately backed out of the alley. IEC led the hashers out of the beer check and up toward Broadway which was unfortunate because he wasn’t following trail just making up his own.

Peppermint Pussy, Nipples Erectus and I zenned our way to Telegraph Hill where I saw a rogue arrow courtesy of IEC. I went down the other side toward Carson Beach and realized I had overshot the trail which wound it’s way around Dorchester Street a and deposited hashers in an assphalt park with some benches know as Our Lady of Sodomy Park with a statue of Mary as it’s centerpiece. Surprisingly lightening did not strike anyone.

Trail then made its way to ward Old Colony Ave past a tit check where I sadly missed a pair of perky breasts being displayed. Doh. Almost immediately we were at Kiley’s, a wonderful dive with a horseshoe pit in the back which was perfect for Circle.

When hashers arrived and were fully lubed up, the RAs, a doubled headed estrogen monster known as Crucifucks and Bend Over Mommy called the hairs and outgoing GMs. Nice Tits and Buoys, into circle to place there asses squarely on blocks of ice their to listen to lonnnng drawwwnnn out discussions about how shitty their trial was and to suffer for their years of crimes against Hashmanity.

After we were sure they had frostbitten cheeks, they were kicked out of circle and more asses were placed on the ice for different violations of the unwritten hash laws. At some point Buoys pulled his shorts down and hopped around in the circle. Nobody knows why.

We finally came to the point of this whole nonsense and ushered in a new group of saps that can be blamed for everything that goes wrong this year.

Here now is the list of the sacrificial lambs (including yours truly).

HASH HO – Nipples Erectus
HASH FLASH – Better Late Then Pregnant
HASH DRUNK – Beat By A Girl
MARATHON CHAIRS – Dirty Latte Sanchez and Spank Me May I have My Mother
HOLIDAY PARTY – Pubic Service Announcement and Fire In the Hole
DEMENTING – Bbag and Jamaican Me Cum
BEER BITCH – I Licked Butts and according to my notes, cny
SCRIBE – Me and Maid of Honor
HABERDASHERY – My Chemical Homance
HASH CASH – Nice tits and Taj Ma Hole
RELIGIOUS ADVISORS – The 2nd Cumming and High Anus

Swing Low was sung and we were fed some tasty lasagna, salad and cookies. And that, as they say, was that until next time.

QUOTED

“Put the beer down and I’ll grab a load.” Catheter The Great. The look of disdain when she saw me writing this down was priceless.

Playground Hash

2009-09-23T12:17:00.006-04:00

* A quick note I was at the abortion masquerading as a hash last weekend and took notes thank god Dude wrote it up because I had noting but bile and invective.
Anyway, without further ado here is the Hash Trash...

Hares: Maid of Honor, Anal Beads and Special Guest Hare Cuffed and Stuffed in the Buff
Bag Car: The Second Cumming
Pre-Lube: Cross Roads Pub, Beacon Street Back Bay Boston
Beer Checks: Under the bridge near Longwood T and Playground in Coolidge Corner, Brookline
On-In: Ringer Park Playground Allston
On After: Our House on Comm Ave Allston
Distance: A long ways
Scribe: Me with Nice Tits as the attendance beyotch

Pack: Dirty Latte Sanchez, Goat Throat, Wang Chunks, Beat By A Girl, Stick It to the Bros, Vagitarian, Nice Tits, Grease My Monkey’s Nuts, High Anus, Nipples Erectus, Pat My Fly, Mr. Rogers, Necrophiliac Jack, Brigham Tongue, Goes Down on Buoys, Spunk In the Trunk, Dooky Plows Her VD, Night of the Giving Head, Shawskank, Inconvenient Poop and Peppermint Pussy

Nameless Wonders: Justs….Jean, Billy, Ryan, Becky, Ellen, Sarah, Raina, Alex, Adam, Catherine, Allison, Thomas, Jenny, another Sarah?, Ted

Virgins: Ryan and Michelle
Visitors: Fuwangi Boner (RIH3)

Amazingly this trail did not take place any where near Somerville. Also amazing was that20Wang Chunks didn’t do trail in his car but used his legs. Hope someone got a picture of that because you are more likely to see Sasquatch in person than to see Wang Run.
After circling in the alleyway behind Cross Roads, trail went toward Kenmore Square and past the first playground also known as Fenway Park where the Red Sox play with themselves and others. Trail then veered through the parking lot next to the Boston Beer Works toward Beacon St and the long lamented PJ Kilroys.

At this point I decided that trail would eventually turn toward the Fens and I made a B-Line line for the D-Line Fenway stop and lo and behold I saw a trail mark pointing toward the Fens. I found myself in the rarefied air of the overachieving FRBs like JMo, Inconvenient Poop and Shawskank I fell behind at the soon after the trail wound it’s way through the Longwood Medical Area and we were at the first beer check underneath the bridge over the Muddy River near the Longwood T station.

After the beer check, trail continued through Brookline and we passed through the first actual playground. MJ would have been excited. Trail turned toward Coolidge Corner and I was sure it would go up Summit Hill but was happily proven wrong and after going up Beacon St a ways and finding that trail turned down an alley behind an apartment block and ended at the second beer check which as fate ordained at a playground near a pond luckily for us all the mosquitoes were
dead.

Trail then craniumed up toward Washington Street and up a flight of stirs and then a Cuffy inspired CB brought us back down the stairs and toward Washington Square and into a schoolyard for a song check next to you guessed it; a playground.

Trail then skirted Summit Hill and turned down toward Comm Ave and across at the Allston Street intersection a turkey/eagle split brought us by different routes to the us the Ringer Park ALL TOGETHER NOW……. Playground! Where circle commenced

About this time I was dizzy dehydrated and experiencing hallucinations and was late for circle to start. So I missed quite a bit and had trouble keeping up

I was told later that we had two virgins Ryan and Michelle. Ryan likes golf and masturbation whereas Michelle likes pigs and Sugar Plum Fairys.

Just Allison was leaving so she needed a name and we found out that she passed out at Floppy’s house and woke up and put on his pants which led to suggestions like What Is Rufulin? It was revealed that she was a therapist for old people so we settled on the The Rapist. Yayyyy!

We then made our way to Our House on Comm Ave where beer and pizza were consumed in mass quantities and that as they say was that.

Playground Hash

2009-09-23T11:37:00.002-04:00

Date: Wednesday September 23, 2009Hares: Maid of Honor, Anal Beads and Special Guest Hare Cuffed and Stuffed in the Buff
Bag Car: The Second Cumming
Pre-Lube: Cross Roads Pub, Beacon Street Back Bay Boston
Beer Checks: Under the bridge near Longwood T and Playground in Coolidge Corner
On-In: Ringer Park Playground Allston
On After: Our House on Comm Ave Allston
Distance: A long ways
Scribe: Me with Nice Tits as the attendance beyotch
Virgins: Ryan and Michelle
Visitors: Fuwangi Boner (RIH3)

Pack: Dirty Latte Sanchez, Goat Throat, Wang Chunks, Beat By A Girl, Stick It to the Bros, Vagitarian, Nice Tits, Grease My Monkeyâ€™s Nuts, High Anus, Nipples Erectus, Pat My Fly, Mr. Rogers, Necrophiliac Jack, Brigham Tongue, Goes Down on Buoys, Spunk In the Trunk, Dooky Plows Her VD, Night of the Giving Head, Shawskank, Inconvenient Poop and Peppermint Pussy

Nameless Wonders: Just Jean, Billy, Ryan, Becky, Ellen, Sarah, Raina, Alex, Adam, Catherine, Allison, Thomas, Jenny, another Sarah?, Ted

TRAIL:

Amazingly this trail did not take place any where near Somerville. Also amazing was that Wang Chunks didn't do trail in his car but used his legs. Hope someone got a picture of that because you are more likely to see Sasquatch in person than to see Wang Run.

After circling in the alleyway behind Cross Roads, trail went toward Kenmore Square and past the first playground also known as Fenway Park where the Red Sox play with themselves and others.Â Trail then veered through the parking lot next to the Boston Beer Works toward Beacon St and the long lamented PJ Kilroys.

At this point I decided that trail would eventually turn toward the Fens and I made a B-Line line for the D-Line Fenway stop and lo and behold I saw a trail mark pointing toward the Fens.Â I found myself in the rarefied air of the overachieving FRBs like JMo, Inconvenient Poop and Shawskank I fell behind at the soon after the trail wound itâ€™s way through the Longwood Medical Area and we were at the first beer check underneath the bridge over the Muddy River near the Longwood T station.

After the beer check, trail continued through Brookline and we passed through the first actual playground. MJ would have been excited. Trail turned toward Coolidge Corner and I was sure it would go up Summit Hill but was happily proven wrong and after going up Beacon St a ways and finding that trail turned down an alley behind an apartment block and ended at the second beer check which as fate ordained at a playground near a pond luckily for us all the mosquitoes were dead.

Trail then craniumed up toward Washington Street and up a flight of stirs and then a Cuffy inspired CB brought us back down the stairs and toward Washington Square and into a schoolyard for a song check next to you guessed it; a playground.

Trail then skirted Summit Hill and turned down toward Comm Ave and across at the Allston Street intersection a turkey/eagle split brought us by different routes to the us the Ringer Park ALL TOGETHER NOW Playground! Where circle commenced.

About this time I was dizzy dehydrated and experiencing hallucinations and was late for circle to start. So I missed quite a bit and had trouble keeping up.

I was told later that we had two virgins Ryan and Michelle. Ryan likes golf and masturbation whereas Michelle likes pigs and Sugar Plum Fairys.

Just Allison was leaving so she needed a name and we found out that she passed out at Floppy's house and woke up and put on his pants which led to suggestions like What Is Rufulin? It was revealed that she was a therapist for old people so we settled on the The Rapist. Yayy!

We then made our way to Our House on Comm Ave where beer and pizza were consumed
in mass quantities and that, as they say, was that.

The MJ Memorial Hash

2009-09-16T16:52:00.003-04:00

Good Morning H@shers! Hope you’re all waking up around now and strapping on those dirty shoes, getting ready to H@sh like this AGM deserves! It’s been almost two weeks since the MJ memorial h@sh and I have slacked for long enough on this h@shtrash! Forgive me if it gets a little loopy. The Nyquil is wearing off and the caffeine is just kicking in.

Hares: Shawskank & Just Sarah
Bag Car: Just Ted
Virgins: Becky, Lisa, Billy, and Melvin…. Oh Melvin

Pack: Just Sarah (another one who needs naming pronto) Time of the Munch, Goat Throat, Just Adam (I guess we broke Nabeel on the best trail ever), The Buttler Hit It, Peppermint P#ssy, Schindler’s Fist, Sugar Plum Fairy, Necrophiliac Jack, Ski, Mr. Rogers, Nipples (erectus?), High Anus, My Chemical Homance, Spunk in the Trunk, Sketchy Ho, Just Ellen, 5” Penalty, Just Ryan, Bend over Mommy, and a bunch more that I couldn’t write fast enough to catch… and admittedly had too many later to remember.

The Pack met up at the Tavern at the End of the World and started our pre-lube. We drank our refreshing beverages and marveled at our Hariettes’ well-chapeaued, single-gloved, sparkling-chested attire. The Hares departed and Necro called bag car and chalk talk. But the Hares and Bag Car were still sorting things out. Silly Necro, going to have to learn not to go off early like that! We went back in and got some extra lube. Which, as I write about it now makes perfect sense on an MJ h@sh (Sorry Macaulay.)

Bag Car called for real and Chalk talk ensued. Necro lead it. I am pretty sure someone stole my notes at this point as there is something about Necro that says “Glove and Moose knuckle” Weird right?

We warmed up the virgins with a rendition of the S&M man. It really is a beautiful sight to see some of them cringe as they comprehend just what they have gotten themselves into.

Shortly there-after pack was away. I could tell you all the details of the run…. Or I could share the super hi-tech interactive map of it. (interesting notes are included if you care to read)

Not sure if the map covers everything, but it is way beyond what I was up for remembering.

Some key points if you chose to skip the map:

Unique check of this h@sh was an MJ check which involved singing and a h@sh-like amounts of crotch grabbing.
We had a return of the blue chalk. Pack got itself lost just a few times.
When we eventually did find BC #1 we were down some h@shers and virgin Melvin. Virgin Melvin is a quick lil Smaht kid who thought that scouting was more his cup of tea. I don’t know what he found on his travels… but it was not the beer check. Not for a while at least. Eventually we rounded folks up and Sketchy Ho found us. She apparently did this by asking the cops how to find us. Pretty sure I’m missing part of this story, or we are just that awesome.
Ran more etc etc

Beer Check #2: Pack was much more together this time. And then we were treated to the sight of the lady virgins sneaking off into the dark together. Details were not forthcumming on what happened in those short, shared moments in the dark. One can only assume what two cumly, sweaty virgins who have been drinking would be doing out there alone.

More running… and we reached Porter! From whence a barrage of insights arose: “We must be going to Sligo!” “Hurray we’re almost there!” “Wait! Why the hell are we going this way? Porter is behind and this is nowhere near Harvahd.” And my personal favorite from Goat Throat “Well sh1t! I am never again accusing chicks for laying short trails”.

Eventually made it in to Paddy’s. And may I take a moment to say Bravo! That’s a dive I would never have dreamed of and it was perfect for the the hash. Lots of food, as much of the bar to ourselves as we wanted, and a lot of cheap beer!

We circled up and got to the festivities.

Virgins!

Virgin Melvin (surrogate sponsor Just Ted) was asked the sqare root of 69 and worked long and hard to give the right answer… but failed to get 8 something
Virgin Billy (Mr Rogers) I believe this was the second week in a row we had a virgin decline to demonstrate favorites sex positions on the grounds of incest. He was then asked what MJ’s favorite position might be: bent over a see-saw.. He then capped off his performance with a superb MJ O-face satisfying the H@sh’s perverse desires.
Virgin Becky (Just Ellen) Turns out her favorite barnyard animal is the horse (I was impressed) and then she gave us first a horse faking an orgasm followed by a horse having an angry sex orgasm.
Virgin Lisa (Just Ryan who doesn’t even cum for his own virgin! Shawskank to the rescue again) Turns out Virgin Lisa, when faced with a bus of lesbians would not get off.
Good virgins – despite Melvin getting lost, and ESCPECIALLY for the lady virgin rendezvous in the woods. (Also, we like the just Lisa and Becky since they came back this week for the plague filled playground tour)

Accusations!

Just Ellen – coaching the virgins and warning them of what is to cum.
FRB – High Anus
FBI – Spunk in the Trunk
DFL – Virgin Melvin
H@sh Crash – Just Ryan
Racist Behavior – 5” Penalty
Female Virgins – for their trist
Cranium cover in circle – Just Sarah… when one hare drinks, so do Shawskank and Just Ted.
Sweat Test Failure – Just Allison (TheRapist as of this past wednesday) showed up late but we applaud her for making it out in the face of adversity and work.. responsibilities eh?
Backsliders – Mr Rogers
False Accusation – Fisty

We sang songs, we were impressed with the neat type-face on the ridiculously well planned out itinerary (have picture to prove), we drank beverages, we enjoyed a sandwich tray, salad, and wings!

Great H@sh! Thanks Bag Car and Hares!

I don’t know if anyone took many notes for this past Wednesday’s Playground Tour. Hope you all enjoyed at least some bits of it. If you want to see where you were supposed to run here is our map.

On-h@shing-cures-the-pig-flu-ON

Maid of Honor

No Theme Hash

2009-09-09T09:28:00.004-04:00

Evenin Wankers! And welcome to a special drunken collaboration Hash Trash! Special thanks go out to Jamaican Me Cum for assisting a surprised to be scribing, well-inebriated Maid of Honor. Any who!

PARTICIPANTS: (sorry if we missed you) Jamaican Me Cum (Special collaborating scribe), Maid of Honor, Bend Over Mommy!, Willa wanker, Bringham Tongue, Second Cumming (suited up!), Fire in the hole (bag car), Just Ellen, Bbag, Just Camilla -> Sextra credit!, 5 " penalty, Shawskank, Shorn Scrotum, Just sager *, *Just ted, Just Raina, Just Sarah, Nice tits, Goat throat, Just Allison, I lick butts, Far from fucking, Peppermint Pussy, and a very Smaht, late, and drunk ‘Ed master

VIRGINS! Virgin Molly, Virgin Megan, Virgin Kim,* *Virgin Nabeel, Virgin Adam, Virgin
Alex

THE START: Started out the evening at The Tam in the theater district. Arrived and ordered a bud light. Bartender mumbled something to me and I grunted back. Surprisingly this translated to “I would like a bud light and a regular bud, which I am more than happy to pay you for screwing up the order.” Hashers do not shy from opportunities though! So Shorn and MOH proceed to scientifically test if the two taste different. Shorn’s palate is still maturing, and insists they taste the same. MOH knows better and even after telling Shorn the taste difference is at the back of the throat (a well developed spot for hashers) he said they were the same. Further research to continue on Wednesday.

The Hares took off and the pack circled the virgins into an interlocked ring of fear and future depravity. Virgins spun around, names were yelled out, songs were sung and…

PACK AWAY! Quickly found some marks leading into the Boston common where the pack was
accosted by hula hoop bearing women and their hippy masters. Ran up the hill and circle jerked a monument (It was a thing of beauty). Just Camilla was spotted running off and shouting something about “On-???” Good enough! So off to the Public Garden we sped. Honking traffic, ducks, and disapproving mothers all were left in our wake.

Here we started to see the magical blue hash marks. Why are they magical you ask? Well it turns out though great LED fleshlights we all love are are actually more blue than white. Smaht kids, this one’s for you: What happens to Blue marks when you shine a blue light on them? Whatever it is, it is pretty F’n magical because they all disappeared.

Followed along in the park for a while and cut across towards the river. Very scenic blah blah blah, Crossed back over Storrow and got thoroughly off trail. Here a bit of Zenning happened with MOH following what may have been Shawskank or Nice Tits (either way not an unpleasant experience.) Eventually found a giant pink hash mark pointing across Mass Ave bridge and thought the hares had cum to their senses with a new color of chalk. Nope.

We found some of the pack running up from along Storrow and dragged them out across the bridge. Many Smoot marks but no hash marks. And back we went.

Beer Check #1 right next to the Mass ave Bridge… Where Fire, 2nd Cumming, and the Hares enjoyed a thrilling display of Adonis like runners backtracking all over. Found the check, jumped off an overpass to get there, and drank some beers. Here MOH learned he was scribing. This news coincided with a sharp spike in his alcohol consumption, linked to Just Sager deciding he could not in fact handle his beer on his own. His loss, your gain, shenanigans ensue!

The pack is away, and for real this time we cross the Mass Ave Bridge. 364.4 Smoots later we reach the other side and find the bastion of Smaht kids begging for our distractions. I caught a ride on Just Raina at this point. She was excellent, and was very happy when I got off.

Found our first Turkey eagle split. Eagles are directed into a frat party. Not a welcoming audience, even after learning we were running for beer. Neither let us in, nor offered any of their fine brews. We found a chalk message saying: “look up” and found what appeared to be a hash check. Goat Throat and MOH run off behind some dumpsters to find trail and strangely came back with pants around their knees. Say the least, it was not a hash check, and that was NOT trail.

Found Beer Check 2 soon after in some park. Jack’s friend showed up with a head contusion. More Beer!

My recollection starts getting suspect here..

Pack away. Goes the wrong way. Goes the right way! Finds what may be marks leading across a baseball field. Players tell hash they didn’t go this way, please go around. Hash hears none of this and goes over. And shortly after under a dark and sketchy overpass finds….

Another Beer Check! Jaimaican’s direct quote on this: “Like homeless people we drank amidst
manholes, rocks and needles” eloquent! We start to see a theme that the Hares are devious fuckers who plan on getting us all drunk. Their plan is succeeding.

Away again and find what will turn out to be one of the more dramatic Turkey eagle splits in recent memory. Pack of sound mind follows the turkey trail and heads over the BU bridge. A smaller contingent of idiots follows Eagle path. Of note: Could barely blow a load without it landing on a virgin at this point. Very gung-ho, and well-represented group of virgins! Down into the depths of fences and briar we descend. And find Geese! I was kinda sloshed by now and found this very exciting. We find trail amidst the goose excrement and cigarette butts.

It lead onto the LIVE tracks going under the BU bridge. So scampering along, looking down through the ties at the murky waters of the Charles, listening for the oncoming roar of a commuter rail embodiment of death, we went. And found...

Another Turkey Eagle!! And I shit-you-not, the eagle trail was straightdown. It was a drop down between the ties to a foot path under the bridge. If you stretch out a virgin Megan to her full length (you may have to get her to demonstrate for a proper measure) it was still a good 3-5 foot drop. My knees helped solidify that I do in fact deserve a un-manly moniker, and I joined the turkeys to run around and meet the double eagles on the bridge underneath. We ran off and came up on the other side of BU bridge. Where we found no marks. So we ran. And found no marks.

Strange… Three-ish Hash veterans and virgins Megan, Adam, and Nabeel search near and far with the vets trying to corral the virgins back to something like a trail. We give up and call the hotline to be told the pack is right on the other side of the BU bridge. We later hear from the hares that they were laying this trail and thought no one was dumb enough to drop through the ties and take that trail.

It’s the Hash! We do this shit right! Also we missed a train by 2 minutes.

So after round 2 of dragging a bunch of zealous virgins past the check we hoof it back and hop the fence and find the...

ON~IN! Jamaicain says: On-in was in a HUGE park near BU East near to ANOTHER overpass and we had to climb ANOTHER fence to get there. Some people stupidly went down stairs only to climb over a MUCH taller fence.

Just Camilla's naming:

Story #1 --- Hooked up with her professor but didn't go all the way. Potential names ---- Sextra Credit, Blows for Bs, Teacher's Pet, Head in the Class, the B Job.
Story #2 --- She was at her gyno earlier this week who, funny story! Was also her mother’s Ob/Gyn for the birth of Just Camilla. In the Beer-addled mind of MOH, this evoked a beautiful image of those Russian Nesting dolls, which I thought were Kachina dolls ---- Potential name ---- Kachinacunt. Turns out they are actually Matryoshka dolls (and what funny name can cum from that?)
Just Camilla is henceforth known as Sextra Credit!

Virgins

Virgin Molly (Brigham Tongue) –drunk and don’t remember
Virgin Megan (Just Ryan) – Drunk and don’t remember but I think it was decent
Virgin Kim (Came by her own doing) --- favorite barnyard animal is a sheep and apparently they don't have orgasms. Poor sheep!
Virgin Nabeel – Doesn’t remember his first B Job. So sad, and I think we could get some helpers to jog his memory…
Virgin Adam --- would help his Uncle jack off
Virgin Alex (Doogie Plows Her) --- Alex doesn’t really have a favorite, but big brother Doogie's favorite sexual position is 69 --- declined to demonstrate on account of it being incestuous to suck on each other's dicks. Details details.

Accusations

Racist behavior --- Virgin Adam (he was also a fan of pint sized shorts (thanks for pointing that out Jamaican))
New shoes for Virgin Megan ---- Bad sponsor Just Ryan gets her shoe, and when one hare drinks, All Hares Drink!
Getting-what-he-deserves-for-that-double-eagle-split Necrophiliac Jack gets the other shoe.
Late cummer ---- ‘Ed master --- He was off being too smaht (dissertation defense) but did run the whole 6 miles to find us!
Beat by a Girl for being a crap Hash Drunk and skipping the third beer check

We go to the On After at the dugout and find out the Hares still had 5 30 racks ready for us if the Bag car had caught up to us at the On-In. We go in and all is well. Until some assholes decide it is ok to just walk up and grab a few slices of our pizza. Seriously, who the hell does that? Just Ryan glares at them and flexes. They cower. Are convinced they should buy us a pitcher to make up for it. They leave and we are less annoyed at them.

End of the night arrives and Fire in the hole is nice enough to give Shorn, Nice Tits, Peppermint Pussy, Just Allison and me a ride back to davis. I have the pleasure of getting a peppermint pussy in my lap. Let me tell you: This is an excellent and refreshing experience! Try it.

Memorable Quotes

Peppermint Pussy climbed a tree cuz she "likes to climb things"
Just Raina comments on how she loves "mouth to mouth" claims it is cpr related.. sound like bullshit to me, to me.
A Hasher (who may or may not be known for her Nice Tits) tells a story of how she got back at a douche bag by pissing on his Benz. Bravo!
Sorry for the novel. Hope you enjoyed my first attempt at scribing. And again thank you so much Jamaican for jogging my memory!

Maid of Honor

STD Going Away Hash

2009-08-19T17:04:00.002-04:00

Hares: STD and The Buttler Hit It (bag car: Preggers)
Start: Hancock Tavern
BC 1: A hilltop overlooking Dorchester next to a mosquito infested pond
BC 2: Just at the end of the street as we got out of the woods.
BC 3: The top of a parking garage above the on-in
On-In: A surprisingly friendly bar at the bottom of the parking garage.

The Pack: 5 inch penalty, An*l Beads, Beat by a Girl, Preggers, Brigham Tongue, Catheter the Great, Dribbles, Gay Pride, Goes down on Bouys, Hareclub, High An*s, I eat Tea bags, Jamaican me Cum, Krusty, Puffy, Spits, Spoonfull, Stick it to the Bros, Sugar Plum Fairy, Virgin Maureen, Friar, Just Michelle, Just Sara, second cumming, Just Craig => Bring out the Gimp, Just Delmar => The Night of Giving Head, Wooden Eye, Maid of Honor, Butts. I know I'm missing some, but BBAGs list is on my other computer..

I feel like I'm writing about a bygone era - it's hard for me to believe that this all happened just last week. I'm sorry if some of the details seem a little vague. I'm relying on my notes, but the really important facts are still written on my legs in Braille.

We pre-lubed at the Hancock Tavern. I really don't remember much about this except that the pack was assembled outside at around 7:30. There were the usual marks and we were off. The one thing I remember was that it was hot and muggy. There was a spot of road. My notes say "Two checks and a YBF". Eventually we got to a point where we got to scramble up a steep bank and over some rocks. Unknown to everyone, this is where the dreaded Poison Ivy (or worse) was lurking. It was too dark to see what was happening, and I probably grabbed onto any welcome plant to pull myself up. Clamber over a set of rocks and back onto the road. At least this part of the trail was well marked. Soon we were at the hilltop apartment buildings - site of many beer checks. There was a short stretch across the parking lot. Someone had left me a beer. Finally we went across the totally dark parking lot, up a hill (we had shortcutted) and to an overlook next to a pond. I took a few night shots (it was night by now) and didn't mind the mozzies - but enough people complained that the beer check was moved to the parking lot. This must be the only time that a beer check has been moved by popular demand. Good job Mozzies - you accomplished what only the police used to be capable of doing.

The next part of the hash was basically a circle jerk / scramble leaving us pretty much where we were. Actually I got separated climbing up some rocks though I think I was on trail part of the time. It's a very lonely experience wandering around on the top of hill - ducking into the bushes and reeds looking for trail, trampled grass, and the distant shouts of hashers. Luckily I found trail and virtually had to be guided in to the next beer check at the point where the woods met the road.

The main attraction was Second Coming and the wheelchair he found in the woods. The road sloped gently, making it perfect for gravity-powered wheelchair rides. Unfortunately wheelchairs are tippy, but this added to the fun. I wonder what the neighbors thought.

After this I truly got separated from the pack. People weren't marking checks. At one point I went back into the woods following dappled light on trees that looked like flour. It was another steep bank leading down to a road. Unfortunately I tripped over a birch branch that looked like a shaft of light. I decided (probably wisely) to try to backtrack to the road. Just then my phone rang. Perhaps Phoenix getting back to me (a little late now). Instead it was the world famous Enos calling to line up rooming plans.

"Hello mite ow you doing"
"I'm on trail"
"Say hi to everyone.."
"IF YOU'RE THERE - ENOS SAYS HI"

We were basically exchanging phone numbers for Winter Park. In desperation I called the hotline. Parking garage at Quincy Center. OK? How does one get to Quincy Center (where is quincy center for that matter). I aimed for the tall buildings in the distance. Perhaps I found trail by a burger king. Outside a bunch of kids were sitting outside eating and listening to one kid playing guitar.

Finally I ran into Anal Beads. Turns out the garage was not at the T station, and I was nowhere near the T station. Two wrongs make a right and I was at the beer check. BBAG and Buttler (who was wearing a coconut bra) were smoking at level 3. the beer check was at the end of level 5. Perhaps we were supposed to circle there but someone found out that the bar was hash-friendliy. I made a note that it was exactly 10:00 pm when we left the garage.

Comments on trail

Not enough drive by mosquitos.
Giving blood, wheelchair.
The hares sang "I love my girl" with the worst 4-part harmony I've heard this song sung

Virgins: Virgin Maureen was brought by PSA. She is from New York. To fake an orgsm, she goes "Ooh I can't" "Ooh I can't" (sort of like the little engine that could). She would get off the bus full of lesbians.

Naming: Just Craig has done 11 trails. I don't pretend to remember the stories behind some of the suggestions, but he was riding the wheelchair all through circle. Nominations were "Son Touch", "Jizz in my pants", "Salty Nuts", "Chocolate Salty Balls" (this was somewhat popular), "The Gimp" (also popular), "Bring on the Gimp" (most popular). From now on, Just Craig is "Bring on the Gimp".

Another Naming: Just Delmar has done 8-9 trails. Again - I forget the stories. Nominations were "Mexican Humping Queen", "Beat the Irish", "Sucks off Zombies", "I lick Brains", "BRAINZ", "Night of the Giving Head". The latter proved to be popular so from now on Just Delmar is known as "Night of the Giving Head".

Attempted Renaming: Spits was called out for renaming because of an incident. Crucifux and Spits went to Harvest Taqueria and Spits threw up on her burrito and tried to eat it. Suggestions were "Burrito Explosion", "Puke", "Puko De Bio", "Spits and Spews". We did not arrive at any sort of consensus on so Spits is still Spits.

Tech in Circle: Just Michelle.
Afraid to introduce a song: Immaculate
STD: Why are you leaving?
Quote related to me by BBAG: "Padded bras are the bane of existence"

People made their way home via car or T. We were a considerable distance from the start.

I wish the story ended here, but it didn't. I noticed redness on my legs. Oh - just a little PI. Should have thought about this after trail but even if it breaks out, a scrubbing of Tecnu usually clears it up. Not this time - the Tecnu (even the new stuff) had very little effect - The PI had spread from one leg to the other. I even managed to get it on the organs between my legs, which was most uncomfortable. I had not had such a bad case in years! My eyelids started swelling. One foot got larger than the other. Meanwhile the hash list was full of similar reports of PI.

With my legs (and other parts of my body) burning and itching, I rushed myself off to Ithaca NY, where there was a hash weekend, my condition worsening as i drove. I have to say that the treatment I received was top-notch, though not very effective. Within minutes of arriving, I was seen by a nurse who prescribed Benedrill for my eye and sent a lot of hashers off to look for anyone who had a supply. I was told to drink a lot of fluids (which I did - especially the Excelsior 10% beer) and get a lot of rest (which I did, thanks to the Excelsior). The next day I went to see a Herbalist who found some weeds growing by the trail which when squeezed and rubbed on my legs hurt like hell but were supposed to clear up PI. I was going to drive to Maryland, but instead scrubbed that part of the trip and drove EOD home. She took Benedrill because of the dog and fell asleep. I played the radio so that I'd get a few minutes more warning if I was going to black out (the pain was quite intense at this point). When I got home, I went to see a real doctor who prescribed Prednazone which has worked like a charm. Meanwhile the slight detour on the way home from Ithaca became a full-blown business trip with a budget to match. I'm not blaming anyone but myself, but THANKS STD.

Anyway - this is my last write-up for a while. During the summer I feel that I've got to know all of you so well that I'm sure if BBAG sent me the attendance sheet I could make up a completely ficticious but plausable story about the trail. Still, that wouldn't be fair, and so someone else is going to have to scribe.

Right now I'm sitting in my room in the Econo-Lodge finishing up the hash trash I started writing while waiting for Watergate to show up for the "dinner club" in Herndon VA (we had a great dinner). I'll do a little more exploring tomorrow, have dinner with Muffalota near BWI, and then fly back for a frantic few days of packing, winterizing, hashing, and partying. Then it's off to Colorado for IAH. I return on Tuesday (after Labor Day) at 10:30pm to Logan Airport. My mission, should I care to accept it, is to go home sleep (if time permits), load up the car, shut down the house, get the dog, drive to my new home in Takoma Park, unpack, sleep (if time permits), and then report for duty in Silver Spring at 0900 or perhaps earlier. All this must be accomplished in about 36 hours. Hopefully after that I'll be told what the real mission is.

Wish me luck! I'll need it!

-Friar

Twelfth Night Hash (Take 2)

2009-08-12T16:38:00.003-04:00

Hares: Anal Beads, Beat by a Girl, Backdoor Factory (Bag Car), Placentos the Fresh Maker (secret hare)
Start: The Sidebar (Downtown Crossing area)
Beer Check 1: Beat by a Girl's fabulous roof-deck overlooking the State House.
Beer Check 2: Across the lagoon from the Galleria Mall in Cambridge.
Circle: A circular paved area near where Memorial Drive meets the Longfellow Bridge.
On-In: The Muddy Charles (already crowded due to a game)

Present: I know I'm missing some but here goes. I also can't read my shorthand. The second cumming (initial RA), Fire in the hole, STD, Nice Tits, Gay Pride, Catheter the Great, Sketchy HO, just Amy, Just Angi => My Clitoral Law, just jenn, Coochie Monster, Just Sara, Dirty Latte Sanchez, Placentos the Fresh Maker, Spoonful of Semin, Muddy Buddy, Reclu, High Anus, Homobile, An Inconvenient Poop, 5 inch Penalty, My Chemical Homance, Floppy, Skibobbit, Dribbles, Jamaican me cum, Just Bridget, Brigham Tongue, Stick it to the Bros, Friar, Virgin Michelle, Virgin Ryan, Cum is Kosher, Crucifux, Bend Over Mommy, Sugar Plum Fairy. Peppermint Pussy, Boston Strangler, Dude where's my Virginity, Friar.

The pack gathered in the sidebar, first congregating around the table where Tits was trying to eat and then gradually taking over the bar. It was supposed to be pack away at 7, but I think we actually left a little later. We gathered at a brick plaza outside of Tj Maxx. There was a little horseplay and then the Second Cumming explained the marks. Nothing unusual, lots of tit checks and even a turkey/eagle split, but we were all encouraged to do the eagle. We were soon off!

Trail wound through the Downtown Crossing area, past the Old City Hall (now a steak house) where we were supposed to clamber down a wall. Coming up on Quincy Market was the turkey/eagle split. Even Skibobbit took the eagle!

The Eagle trail wound through Quincy Market, along what used to be the elevated expressway, and past a real live Carousel. I don't think any hashers got to ride it. There were several fountain crossings – the one near the carousel had water which spurted out randomly – almost daring hashers to run across it. I ended up falling behind as we wound back through the Financial District and Post Office Square (another fountain). I was now with the strays, and gradually we found more strays coming from different directions. Trail went through the commons and straight through an upcoming Shakespear performance. They were asking everyone in the audience to contribute $10 - but we ran right by.

After many years, hashers develop homing instincts. Given that one of the hares was Beat by a Girl, there was only one logical place for the beer check. Still, there might be another beer check so it's worth following trail - and we were certainly going in the wrong direction. Finally it was up up up hill past the State House and sure enough people were yelling encouragement from BBAG's rooftop deck. Everyone had to sign in. I signed in at 8:10pm. The beer check was just ending, but there was time to have a beer and take some twilight pictures from the roof deck. It was also last call for the bathroom. First things first.

A group of us piled into the elevator. Another group piled into the other elevator and pushed all the buttons, so going down took a while. At this point I caught up (or caught down) with Ski Bobbit. Trail went through Beacon Hill. Homing instincts again - there was only one place for the on-in, and we simply had to pick the most direct route there. Ski actually called someone (maybe the hotline) and said "yup - it's the BHP". Actually he called Dude, who said that the on-in WASN'T at the BHP. When we got the the BHP, there were no marks, but they did have bathrooms. Bros and some other hashers ran by. They had followed trail. I thought WE had followed trail. Anyway - call the hotline. We were going to the Cambridge Galleria, and basically bee-lined it there. This was a beer check on the other side of the lagoon. Some hashers contemplated walking across the channel, but I expect it was pretty deep. There was a motorboat, but it was tied up.

The beer check went on for a while, and eventually security came out. We left - going through the mall and along the river. Again – homing instincts. I expected trail would go over the bridge and back to the BHP, and was very surprised when we stopped at a sort of circular patio. Circle Up!!!

Crucifux was RA. "And the Hares".. We were asked to practice "Safe Public Drinking". There were two cop cars on Memorial Drive. Comments included "No Marks", "Clearly a Gap Trail" and Placentos the Fresh Maker was "outed" for being the mystery hare. The pack sang several verses of "Old McDonald", ending with the inevitable "whale" verse where the hares get soaked in second hand beer. Backdoor factory ran away and was chased with a full beer.

The hares were given the Option (sing a song or show your tits). Backdoor Factory showed her tits, but even that wasn't enough.

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? ?Thou art more lovely and more temperate:? Rough winds do shake the heaving bosoms of May,? And summer's lease hath all too short a date:? Sometime too hot the brown eye of heaven shines,? And often is the gold [domed] complexion dimm'd;? And every head [who said..?] from beer sometime declines,? By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;? But thy eternal summer shall not fade?. Nor lose possession of that beer thou owest;? Nor shall Shiggy brag thou wander'st in his shade,?When in eternal lines to time thou growest:? So long as beers are cold and marks are free.? So long as hasher friends gives life to thee.

Beat by a Girl and Anal Beads took turns reading this doggerel (evidently for the first time) while the hashers acted the part of "groundlings" and chimed in at every opportunity (the "head ...") part took longer than the rest of the poem.

Next order of the day: VIRGINS.

Virgin Michelle was brought by Anal Beads. She would not stay on a bus full of lesbians, but says Oooh Yesss when having an orgasm.

Virgin Ryan was brought by Just Jenn. His first blowjob tasted awesome and his favorite barnyard animal is a cow.

Next order of business: ACCUSATIONS

Backsliding: Coochie Monster was playing baseball. I Eat Tea Bags, Boston Strangler

Pouring beer out: Sketchy HO and Dirty Latte Sanchez.

Technology on Trail: Nice Tits but she was updating the hotline so Jamaican had to drink for a false accusation.

Song Check Skipping: Dirty Latte Sanchez, Peppermint Pussy

Pissing during circle: Boston Strangler.

Same Shirts: Placentos the Fresh maker, Bros, I eat Tea Bags, Spankme. This ended up as an ever expanding circle with All hares, All Gms and a lot of other people.

Leaving Boston: Crucifux, STD, Just Angi.

Naming: Before Just Angi leaves, we needed to name her. She goes to law school and was sent home in a cab at 7 pm. Mom walked in on her while having sex. Out of these great stories came "Mothers Love Bone", "Cummus Interruptus", "Mon San", "Keep it in the Family", "Cheap Date", and "Clitoral Law". The latter was Angi's least favorite, but her vote doesn't count and it was the overwhelming favorite of the pack. Votes weren't even counted and from until renamed Just Angi will be known as Clitoral Law.

Very Late Cummer: Wang Chunks. He was called into circle, along with an ever expanding group of hashers who had something in common with the previous set of hashers. I won't even attempt to explain the logic of this, because there wasn't any.

Announcement: We need HARES!!!

The on-in was at the Muddy Charles. There was a baseball game on, and the hash gathered in front of the overhead screen trying not to make too much noise (if that is possible). It was 10:10 and people were hungry. There was some beer, but because at least 8 people didn't pay hash-cash, there wasn't much. There was a lot of pizza, so I expect people had bailed before the Muddy. Speaking of pizza - I'm always amazed at how many people do not eat crusts. I like crusts. There were also whole pizza slices folded up and discarded with just a bite out of them. This is simply wasteful. I realize as I'm grazing on pizza crusts that I'd run out of words. My scribing duties ended at circle, and it was unlikely anything else would happen. I drank a Coke, went down to the basement to pee one last time, and hung out for a little with the herbal appreciation club. Time to begin the long journey home many miles beyond the last T station.

Well - that's about it. I'm sitting at a picnic table by Spot Pond (in the Fells) writing this. The sun is shining, not a cloud in the sky, and a gentle breeze is blowing. I should probably get moving – picnic tables aren't very comfortable to sit at for prolonged periods of time.

Cinco de Augusta Hash

2009-08-05T16:27:00.000-04:00

Hares: Hare Club for Queers, Fire in the Hole
Start: Space 669 in the parking lot of Oak Grove T station
Beer Check: At the bottom of an earthworks below a large rock pile
On In: No. 9 Ale House (118 Ferry St Malden)

The pack: I counted 38 people, but more may have came later: Dribbles, Fuwangi Boner (RIH3), Stick it to the Bros, High Anus, 6 inch penalty, Peppermint Pussy, Sugar Plum Fairy, Necrophiliac Jack, Jamaican me Cum, Dirty Latte Sanches, Catheter the Great, The Jizzmopper, Anal Beads, Beat by a Girl, an Inconvinent Poop, Floppy, The Butler Did It, Ski Bobbit, Target Practice, Drippy Spigot, Sketchy HO, Just Jenan, Homobile, Muddy Buddy (Dallas), Shorn Scrotum, Just Adam, Just Angie, Wooden Eye, Just Sara, Just Michael, Just Ellie => Brigham Tongue, Just Lloyd => Maid of Honor, Virgin Cindy, Virgin Rana, (Muddy's virgin), You outta Blow (latecummer), Friar F**K

Who says Boston can't set a shiggy trail, but one which you can get to on the T!

There was actually a space 669, which was empty. Fuwangi parked next to it and was there when I got to the station (at around 6:20). Muddy Buddy and his virgin were there too, and one of them brought beer. Interesting that the only people to get to the start of the run on time are visitors. It's getting dark early folks. 6:30 HST and the hares aren't there - more important the prelube beer isn't there.

Eventually people started rolling up including Hare Club who had much needed refreshments. We had quite a crowd before Fire in the Hole showed up. Shortly after that (or after we finished the beer and the hares were away) there was a quick circle conducted by Jizzmopper. There were fairly standard marks - and a portion of the trail was laid in flour (represented by faint squiggles). Unfortunately Jizz used the H word early on and we spent a lot of time giving the appropriate response. Finally after a quick circle we were off.

Trail started going along a bank, through an apartment complex, and across a main road. After that it was a scramble up a very steep bank. I could barely get myself over the wall, but some hashers helped me. We were now in Pine Bank Park. When I first came to Boston, I'd go exploring by taking the T to the end of each line. Pine Bank Park was my first wilderness experience in the area. Anyway it was great to be in an area I was vaguely familiar with. We passed a ball field and were into the woods. Muddy Buddy lost his virgin. Some of the trail was pretty hard going. Rocks are slippery, and covered with moss. Luckily there were only a few hash crashes, and no serious injuries. There was a check which dead-ended at a spectacular view, but people found trail and there was the all important Beer Near. To get to the beer, we had to cross a few piles of rocks - beyond the piles of rocks was a dirt excavation. Jamaican remarked that this trail was just like the ones in Port of Spain.

The beer was definitely needed, and soon we were off. Trail started off going down a steep gravel hill, but some of us went the other way and had to crawl under a fence. I started to fall behind and caught up with Ski - who I knew had a map. Unfortunately he was heading in the wrong direction. When the cross street wasn't shown on the map, it's time to ask passers by for directions. It's a couple of miles away - go back the way we came. We were actually very close to Oak Grove and it was a straight shot past an endless cemetery. Many of the graves have blue patio lights - I guess these are a stand-in for candles but it made part of the cemetery look like an airport runway. I heard what sounded like a beer check in the cemetery, but Ski said that he didn't hear Jizzmopper so it was probably some random people. As we were walking towards Malden, we ran into some hashers who must know something the rest of the pack didn't. Finally we could actually use the map, and navigated through Malden. The rest of the pack caught up to us, coming in from all directions.

The real trail was in the woods. It was totally dark by this time, and the trail was very steep.

We reached the No 9 Ale House. There were disco lights and very loud music - not the place to conduct a circle. Beer started flowing, and it was time to hang out. Finally the music was turned down and we all gathered around some tables for circle. Jizzmopper was the RA.

Comments on trail: None that really stuck. "Too long and too dark" were too obvious to say. The hares song was Alluette'ing Virgin Cindy.

FRB: Dribbles, Stick it to the Bros (though there was some question as to whither he was first, or was simply called in out of habit), High Anus.

DFL: Jamaican, Just Angi who took a cab to the on-in and called for directions.

Visitors: Fuwangi from RIH3, Ski Bobbit from the Boston Old Farts Hash (yeah right), Muddy Buddy from Dallas. Ski's excuse was that he needed help changing his catheter so of course Catheter the Great joined the visitors in circle. Fuwangi tried to sing the A songAaa; A great Aaa; A long great Aaa .....This song keeps going forever, unless the pack stops it - which they did after a few verses.

Hash Crash: Fire in the Hole, Beat by a Girl.

Erasing the marks with his Urine: Anal Beads (in the winter, urine can be used to mark checks)

Backsliding: Homobile

Racist Behavior (wearing a race shirt): Dirty Latte Sanches.

Birthdays: Catheter the Great, Fire in the Hole.

Pussy Foot (complaining about sand in the shoe): Shorn Scrotum.

Virgins: Virgin Rana was brought by Just Sara. Her favorite sexual position is
the Spoon.

Virgin Cindy was brought by Target Practice. Her favorite barnyard animal is a goat, and she has an orgasm with a goat by going "baaaa".

Virgin (sorry I didn't get your name because there were too many PRIVATE PARTIES) was brought by Muddy Buddy.

Namings: Jizzmopper picked on all the "justs" with more than 5 trails and kept
3 of them for naming. Just Ellie was from Utah so the name "Brigham Tongue" was suggested. Nobody could think of anything better, and instead of voting on it we
simply named her.

Just Lloyd has the same name as Andrew Lloyd Webber so there were various suggestions. "Dont cry for me Gonorrhea", "Alice", "Joseph and The Technicolor Dream C*nt". Unfortunately he liked some of these but told us a story about recent marriages in his family which prompted the name "Maid of Honor". This was the overall favorite so Just Lloyd will be known as Maid of Honor.

Just Sara has something to do with gorillas. "Gorillas in the Fisted", "Gorillas in the Fist", "Who flunked Who" were suggested, but none were the overwhelming favorite so hopefully she'll be named next time and remember to do something really stupid.

Jizzmopper was accused of pointing in the circle.

We did Swing Low and made a grab for the many Pizza's around the bar. There was a little bit more hash beer, but the bar was setting up for Open Mic night. Just Michael went up and sang "Egan" and "Top of the Pops". He used to be a recording artist, and is currently playing with a band called Pleasant Sweaters. http://www.myspace.com/pleasantsweatersUnfortunately most of the pack had left by this point.

-Friar

The Lasagna Lipstick Hash

2009-07-29T21:09:00.000-04:00

Date: 2009-07-29 Wed
Time: 6:30 HST (pack away by 7:30 or so)
Hares: Time of the Munch, Splitz, Shawshank (Bag Car)
Start: Mary Anns in Cleveland Circle
Beer Check: The same park on Summit Ave where we always do beer checks.
Circle: Ringer Park (at a large pie chart painted on the tarmac -
great for circle)
On-In: The Silhouette Lounge (where else??)

The pack: I counted 28, but more may have arrived later: Sugar Plum Fairy, The Butler Did It, Friar F**K, Stick it to the Bros, Catheter the Great, Necrophiliac Jack, Jamaican me Cum, Goes down on Bouys, Skibobbit, Taj my Hole, Grease my Monkeys Nuts, Better late than Pregnant, Hareclub, 5 inch Penalty, High Anus, Backdoor Factory, Bed Over Mommy, G re - (that's what my notes say), An Inconvenient Poop, Second Cumming (RA), Just Lloyd, Just Dan, Just Greg, Just Ellie, Immaculate, Bend over Mommy, Sketchy HO, Virgin Bridget.

Hashers gathered at Mary Anns for a few cheap beers. Talk was about Bouys moving adventures, concerts (Depeche mode coming up), and other topics. Mary Anns proudly displays it's "Worst of Boston" plaque. Unusual for a Boston hash - there was no dress code or theme today. Eventually Shawshank showed up and we all went outside for bag car/ chalk talk.

Virgin Bridget was our only virgin, and was introduced to what seemed to be every mark ever used in Boston. We did introductions and were off.

There seemed to be no trail anywhere near the bar. That has never stopped hashers though and everyone followed sheep-like in one direction and then the other. Finally we found trail. There was not much to remember about the trail until we got to the Boob Check. SPF blew through this one, but all the guys hung out. Finally Jamaican showed her tits and we were off. We were near Summit Ave - guess which way trail went?

The beer check was at the park we always use on Summit Ave. Some of you may remember it as the place where Anal Avenger and Deposits got married. There was a compass on the ground (large circles seem to be a theme) and people made the 6 and 9 into a 69.

I started with the runners and ended with the walkers. The map said that the on-in was at the Swillo (where ELSE would the on-in be, given that we were within a 2 mile radius). We got there - some hashers were already there. We had beer. We had food (well - popcorn). Why leave. After a few beers we went up to Ringer Park. Circle was being held at a painted pie-chart. Some hashers came in with large stuffed fishes.

We had one visitor who sang Hog Calling Time in Nebraska

Backsliders: Grease my Monkeys, Nuts, 5 inch Penalty, Shawshank

False accent: Jamaican me Cum

Virgins: Virgin Bridget was our one virgin. Jamaican me Cum made her cum. Bridgets favorite sexual position is the Cowboy (we had a demo) and she fakes an orgasm by laughing.

FRBs: Stick it to the Bros, Backdoor Factory.

Late Cummer: Time of the Munch, Shawshank,

Hash Crash: Just Lloyd - Blood on trail

Blew through Tit check: SPF who sang "I love my girl"

Racist Behavior: Immaculate.

Necropheliac Jack drank out of SPF's shoes for no reason (popular vote)

Hares got a downdown for sending the walkers to the on-after.

Anniversary: Better Late than Pregnant, Jamaican me Cum (Self).

Leaving us: SATRAC - she's going to DC.

We did swing low and went to (or back to) the Swillo where we had (guess what) Lasagna and more beer.

Friar posted pix of this event on Hashspace.

The Wang and 2C Trust Me Hash

2009-06-20T13:26:00.000-04:00

Hares/Organ-izers: Wang Chunks and Second Cumming
Religious Advisor: Krusty the Meat Miser
Assistant Transportation Fluffers: Stick It To The Bros, Floppy D*ck, Save A Tree Ride A Cowboy
Scribe: Jolly GREEN Vagina

Pack: Fire In The Hole, You Oughtta Blow, Super Teflon Dong, Anal Beads, Pubic Service Announcement, Schindler’s Fist, Drippy Spigot, I Eat Teabags, Laa Laa, Dirty Latte Sanchez, Peppermint P*ssy, Stretch P*ssy, Filthy Rhode Island Scum: Fuwangi Boner, Swamp Whine, Anal Crabs

In retrospect, I suppose should have been worried when Second Cumming started talking about a Trust Me Hash. Not because a Trust Me Hash is a bad thing, but because of he the way he pitched it, which sort of sounded like he was trying to convince everybody that he had a ton of really great candy in the back of his van.

In any event, I, like about two dozen other hashers, were dumb enough to get in the back of the metaphorical van and showed up at An Tua Nua early Saturday afternoon. STD was, of course, already drunk, and I don’t believe he left that state at any point during the weekend. In fact, I have credible reports that he didn’t get down to a BAC of .08 until late Tuesday night.

After some pre-lube beer and pre-lube food, the hashers piled into a half dozen volunteer cars, including Wang Chunks’ SUV which has a carbon footprint roughly equal to all of the cow flatulence in Brazil. Then we drove. We drove so far away. We drove both night and day.

Sorry about that. I couldn't resist. We didn’t drive that long. It was only like an hour or an hour and a half, depending on whether your car stopped for a six pack of Burger King Gristle Shots or not. (Mmmm, mostly sphincter-free mystery meat grilled long enough to kill almost all the E. coli, then covered with a layer of warm cheese product, sprinkled with tasty pickle puree and delicious single serving condiments, and finally wrapped in tender whitebread buns. Heavenly.)

Eventually, we arrived in Newport, at a super-classy Econo Lodge, which only smelled a little bit like Indian food. While we unloaded the vehicles, 2C and Wang went downstairs to convince the management that we wouldn’t break things or light things on fire. Immediately after dropping our stuff in the rooms, Teabags rounded up a couple people and started playing Frisbee in the hall, while STD went out to the balcony and burned a decent quantity of vegetable matter.

After a few minutes, the hashers piled into a three cars and started driving to pre-lube #2. Out of the 20 or so hashers, about twelve decided to get into 2C’s vehicle. I’m told that the highlights of that particular ride mostly revolved around STD being on, under, or intertwined with various harriettes. The highlights of the ride for the other vehicles were trying to find which of the 69 red Jeep Cherokees on the road was the red Jeep Cherokee that we were supposed to be following. And we also got to see Laa Laa press ham. Whoever owns the car that he was in, I hope that by now you’ve cleaned his skidmarks off the rear window.

Pre-lube number #2 was a place called Cappy’s, which had a large banner announcing that they “Proudly Serve Narragansett Lite.” I want you to consider that for a moment. "Proudly serve" right next to "Narragansett Lite." All done? Okay, moving on.

At Cappy's, we also picked up our Rhode Island contingent of Fuwangi Boner, Anal Crabs, and Swamp Whine here. Then we drank. I think we spent a pretty long time drinking, because by the time we left, the golf match on television was beginning to seem interesting to me. Also, my trail notes from this point on are almost completely illegible.

Wang split his time at the pre-lube looking either outside at the sky, which was filled with extremely dark, threatening clouds, or at the television, upon which a weather guy was pointing at a flashing red storm front with a caption that said “HERE BE TORNADOES” on it. It was just slightly south of us.

“Only a 20% chance of rain,” Wang assured the pack.

At around 4:30, hares were away. Around 4:50, the pack went out to chalk talk, where we drew penises on the ground, much to the amusement of parents with young children passing by.

Almost immediately upon being on-out, Teabags did a faceplant while running through a public park. Not to be outdone, STD performed his own faceplant immediately after. Well, actually, he was sort of outdone, because Teabags’ flop was a lot better. Then we hit a song check. I have no idea what we sang.

Back on trail, STD bummed a half-drunk Red Bull off a couple of townies, which he downed while running. Did I mention STD didn’t bring shoes and was running in flip-flops? No? Okay, well, STD didn’t bring shoes and was running in flip-flops. Then we ran through some sort of nature preserve thing with huge, old, stately oak trees which were great for ducking behind and pissing on.

On the other side of the nature preserve was a rocky shore, where we had our first Beer Check, and frolicked in the ocean mist. Or sat there and sweated and drank beer in the ocean mist. I think most of us chose option B.

Following the Beer Check, trail followed a walkway along the shore for a bit, then crossed a road, and a muddy culvert for storm runoff. Besides the storm runoff, the culvert also held the second largest snapping turtle that I have ever seen. The shell was something like two feet long. The head was about four inches across. It could have swallowed a tennis ball whole.

And the hares had marked it with flour. Right on the top of the f*cking shell. F*ckers.

At this point, the pack proceeded in a couple different ways. Laa Laa went upstream to where the culvert was shallower and the water was turtle-free and crossed there. I followed the culvert on the near side until I hit trail again. And a bunch of idiots crossed the culvert, many of whom didn’t even notice that they were splashing around right next to something that could have easily taken a chunk the size of a filet mignon out of their calf.

Surprisingly, we had no casualties.

After our encounter with Newport’s giant mutant snapping turtle, trail followed the beach and then took a long windy path through residential summer houses and stuff. Then we hit our second Beer Check, at another rocky shoreline cleverly hidden behind a few acres of poison ivy. Despite the rocky shoreline, heavy surf, and possible riptides STD and Teabags went swimming.

Surprisingly, we had no casualties.

Trail ended there, and we piled into various cars to go to a microbrewery to have our On-In, which is seriously the best thing that has ever happened in the history of the Hash. It was so cool that even Latte showed visible emotion, and said things which ended in exclamation points. Apparently 2C knows the owner, although I suspect that having the Hash there for two hours might have strained their friendship. I mean, if someone I knew brought Laa Laa to my company, I’d probably never speak to them again.

Anyway, after some beers, Circle started. I have something in my notes about Krusty wearing tighty whiteys. I don’t know how I came by that information, but I wrote it down, so it must be true. After whatever it was that involved Krusty’s undergarments, there was a bald guy down-down, followed by a C*mbridge virgin down-down, and a Smaht Kids down-down. Then Drippy and Stick It had a same shirt down-down, and apparently there was some trash talk in the circle, because they had a bukakke fight on the way out.

Next, STD and Teabags got a Darwin Award down-down, for being dumbasses and swimming under conditions that routinely claim the lives of drunken morons. Then we awarded a down-down to Brent, our server, and he acquitted himself well. Then came Blood On Trail, which was quite a list, and included also SATRAC, by reason of menstruation.

Then I and Laa Laa were called in for same shoes. Same make and model and everything, and yes, this was a drinking out of the shoe down-down. Sort of. I’m not ashamed that I chose to wear the beer rather than drink it, on the basis that I know where my shoes have been, and that getting a reputation as a wuss was preferable to … oh, for example … dysentery. I got Old MacDonalded anyway.

Finally, Krusty brought out the condom. Brent, our server, was given the choice of who would drink out of it. He chose wisely.

So after SATRAC did the condom down-down, we closed Circle with “Today is Monday,” and then had burgers and hot dogs (for which we offer many thanks to Fuwangi, who slaved over a hot grill for us). And we also had more beer.

Oh, and just about then, it finally started to rain. I guess it really was a 20% chance after all.

Overheard on Trail:

Things happened in that car that we shall never speak of. –PSA
That’s my wankin’ hand! –Unknown, possibly Krusty
Booby, booby, booby … that’s the name of a bird. –Anal Crabs
I was mentally born retarded. –Teabags
When you’re bouncing, I can’t read. –Anal Crabs
What is on my butt? –Anal Crabs
Those are Bead marks. –Anal Beads
This burnt Cheeto tastes like burnt Cheeto. –Krusty
I just got wet. Who did that? –PSA

AFTERWORD

I don’t usually write up things that happened after Circle, but I’ll pass on a few gems from later that evening:

After the brewery kicked us out, most of us went back to the motel, showered, and went downtown to some bar that someone recommended. Most of the bar appeared to be well below the age of 21.
Some random woman did shots with STD. Then she stole his paper Burger King crown, which he wore to the bar. Apparently, the ladies love it.
I think there was a DJ. I think there was dancing. I think I danced.
I’m pretty sure I was not the whitest guy who danced.
When the bar closed, the hash wandered out to various pizza places. At one place, STD ordered two pizzas, then realized he left his debit card at the bar. He ran back to the bar and got his credit card, but forgot about the pizzas he ordered and ended up going to a different pizza place. Teabags had to pay for the original pizzas.
Trying to catch a taxi back was tough because all the bars emptied at the same time. One cabbie called out the window, “Hey, I’m looking for Dave! Some guy named Dave ordered a cab?” Without missing a beat, STD grabbed Floppy (whose nerd name is Axel) and said “Yeah, this is Dave, right here! There’s our cab, Dave!” STD referred to Floppy as Dave the entire cab ride back.
Back at the motel, Fire In The Hole, SATRAC, Peppermint, and Drippy shared a room. Fire got one bed to herself. SATRAC, Peppermint, and Drippy shared the other.
The next morning started with the Gatorade-and-Advil fairy making the rounds. Despite many people partaking of the goods the Gatorade-and-Advil fairy offered, no one offered him a blowj*b as a reward for a job well done.

Zombie Hash

2009-06-10T18:09:00.002-04:00

Date: 6/10/2009
Hares: I Licked Butts (virgin lay) & Beat by a Girl (hash drunk, 2008-2009)
Scribe: Friar Fuck
Bag Car: Stretched P*ssy & I Eat Teabags
Pre-lube make-up artist extraordinaire: Jamaican me 'cum

Promises: There will be all things ZOMBIE such as...lots of ICE-COLD sh*tty beer...tight, short trail with 3 (that's right, i say three) beer checks (w/ZOMBIE snacks)...very light shiggy (about 2 on the scale; no fence jumping)...outdoor circle (w/delicious ZOMBIE food)...very awesome ON-AFTER ZOMBIE hang out

Finally the truth can be told...

Beer check 1: in Forest Hills Cemetery by some sort of spirit catcher thing.
Beer check 2: in Forest Hills Cemetery by a set of pigeon holes.
Beer check 3: who knows?
On-In: A roofless hall-like structure in Franklin Park

The Pack: This time I tried an experiment for taking attendance - I started to pass my list around so people could check their names off. Spunk took the list and walked around checking people off, but people took off before she got to everyone. If you were standing to my left, see me after class.

Crucifux (RA), Drippy Spigot, Dribbles, Dirty little Sanchez, Friar F*ck, Gay Pride, GAP (didn't he leave already), Goes down on Bouys, Goes down Syndrome, High An*s, Hoover mc Suck n F*ck, I eat cum, I eat Tea Bags, Jamaican me Cum, Jizz Mopper, Just Ellie, Just Meg, Just Tom, Las Laa, Necrophiliac Jack, Nice Tits, Pat my Fly, Peppermint P*ssy, Placentos the Fresh Maker, SATRAC, Shorn Scrotum, Stinky D, Spunk in the Trunk, Stick it to the Bros, Sugar Plum Fairy, Super Teflon Dong, Sketchy Ho, Vagatarian, Time of the Munch, Just Bert, Virgin Ellen, Virgin Ryan, Virgin Melissa, Virgin Kelly, Spoonfull of Semin. Just Dave.

I arrived (running late as usual) just around 7pm, and the hares were in no hurry to leave. People were getting drizzled with strawberry syrup, and having "one more beer". So much for HARES AWAY AT 7.

Eventually we did circle up. With barely enough time to take attendance and introduce the virgins, we were off! I was with the Walkers, so we had a somewhat direct route. It didn't take long to get to a big iron gate and we were now in Forest Hills Cemetery. The map was not very helpful at this point, so we followed trail or rather followed all the noise as the pack found trail. There were quite a few circle jerks, clambering up banks, etc and eventually we got to the first beer check.

Forest Hills has a lot of quirky art installations, and the beer check was next to some sort of canopy made of wire mesh. This was conveniently hidden in the trees. The trail meandered through the park after this, and we got to the second beercheck near a sunken maze with a set of cubby holes at the end. The sun was setting and it was getting late. The rest of the trail meandered through the park, but we saw green lights on the road. Park security was following us around, and it was time for a little haphazard running. I actually didn't see the cop cars, but we did meet two guys walking dogs who told us that we were probably locked in and should look for a hole in the fence by the side of the park. For a few us, trail basically ended at that point. One hasher (just Dave) got a ride to the entrance in the back of a security car. The hash is not really welcome in Forest Hills.

We made our way to the side of the park. A woman in a house outside the park directed us to the hole in the fence (it is a local landmark) and we were soon on the other side of the cemetery - on some unknown street with no marks in sight. Here's where the great comedy of errors started to happen. We were well equipped - a map, several cell phones, even a GPS unit. Here's what happened:

The person with the map wandered off. Now we had no clue where were were going.
I got a call - one of those really helpful hash calls "You know that bridge near the hospital - well you go under it and then cut through the woods and we're right there...". That could be pretty much anywhere.
Someone started laying pack marks, so now we were always on trail.
We somehow got back to JJ Foleys. I needed to pee so this was a welcome stop. I contemplated buying a round, but felt that this might be seen as a misuse of state funds. Besides when I came out, everyone had left.
I followed the pack marks, and I found what was left of the pack looking at the GPS trying to figure out where to go.
As we're standing in the street, the bag car goes past to get pizza. We get another map. We're in Franklin Park. Now the directions make sense.
Since there are two ways to Franklin Park on foot (I always thought it was some distance away and one got there by T), we almost split up. Luckily we stay together.
By now it's pitch black. I have my tiny keychain light. Spoonful of Semen is trying to lead us in, but we spend a lot of time looking for each other.

Finally we get to a large open-air hall which is the on-in. It's a bit spooky, and circle is already under way. I missed "comments on the run" and can only imagine what some of them were.

Just Melissa - NEW SHOES
Drippy spigot - BACKSLIDER
Gap / Stick it to the Bros - Late Nite Adventures in Foxboro. Gap ended up in JAIL.
Laa Laa - VISITOR
STD - REAL BLOOD ON TRAIL
(someone) - FELL GOING DOWN STAIRS (I have a picture of her recovery "dismount" pose, but it's too blurry to identify).
Just Dave - GOT A RIDE IN A COP CAR
Virgins: Virgin Melissa brought by Stretch, Virgin Kelly brought by Second Cumming, Virgin Ellen brought by I like Butts, Virgin Ryan brought by Just Megan

Random notes which don't really make sense! Accusat an Kevin at the Gate. Beat by a girl Cheat sheet Revenge Satbend. Whodus got the key to Megan's chastity belt.

There was pizza, beer, a great view of Franklin Park from the windows. When the beer was gone, we started to drift away. For those on the MisManagement list, this trail started a great discussion. I think that this may be the trail that gets nominated for both Best and Worst Trail of the Year.

The Pajama Hash

2009-06-03T15:25:00.004-04:00

"If only you're legs were spread as wide as your marks, and your crotch was as warm as your beer" -Headmaster

I really can't do any better than that for a description of the run, but there are certain conventions to be followed when scribing, so here goes.

Theme: Pajama run (everyone wear pj's)
Hares: Target Practice, Shawsk*nk
When: Wednesday, June 3rd, 6:30 HST
Where: 973 Commonwealth (used to be T's).
Promises: Beer and pajama-appropriate mixed drink alternatives (I.E.
warm cheap beer)
Scribe: Friar Fuck

Beer Check 1: Some park in Brookline which wasn't shown on the walkers map.
Beer Check 2: The rose garden in the fens across the river from the Museum of Fine Arts
On In: Parking garage near Ruggles T station
On after: Punters Pub (where else)

Pack: An Inconvenient Poop, Beat by a Girl, Lunchmeat, Better late than Pregnant, Bisexal Bondage Bitch, Crucifux, Catheter the Great, General Ass Pounder, Goes down on Bouys, Goes down syndrome, Hare club for Queers, Friar F*ck, Headmaster, I eat Tea Bags, Jamaican me Cum, Jolly Green Vagine (arrived after run), Just Kristen => Vagitarian, Dirty litte Sanches, Just Elle, Gay Pride, Shorn Scrotum, Just Doug, Fck her in the A*s, Dude wheres my Virginity, Scrambled Porn, Spits, Necrophiliac Jack, wooden eye, Pat my Fly, Peppermint P*ssy, SATRAC, Sugar Plum Fairy, Super Teflon Dong, Taj my Hole, Virgin Ted, Virgin Ryan, Virgin Kara, Virgin Andy, Virgin Sophie, Virgin Melissa, Virgin Becky, Virgin Jack, Virgin Niomi (arrived after run), and many others whose names I didn't catch. There were about 46 hashers at the on-in.

People took the PJ theme seriously, and as I was getting out of my car, I met a young woman wearing space PJs who had arrived the same time I had (I didn't catch your name - sorry). The bar was full of PJ clad folks, including some men (Super Teflon Dong and I eat Tea Bags) who were wearing night dresses. If you felt funny walking around in PJs, imagine how they felt. Anyway the bar was spacious, PBR tall cans were $2.50, and the pack showed very little desire to leave (except for space PJs who felt hot). Finally it was time to call Bag Car and Circle. This was a ways up the road - past racks and racks of clothes. Circles on the sidewalk (even the wide sidewalks here) are a bit inconvenient - bemused passers by constantly had to be let through. Anyway the hares explained the marks, the virgins were lined up in the center, and everybody says their names faster than I can write. The walkers (I.E. Friar and Pat my Fly) were given maps. I'd normally tag along (unless the hares promised water crossings) but I need to talk to PMF.

Following a map is relatively easy, and we'd see hashers darting in and out. Occasionally we'd find a mark or two. It was getting dark.We were heading to the fenway area, towards the museum, where there was supposedly a beer check. There were no marks. Me and PMF explored every path in the area. I suggested that the beer check must be in the Victory Gardens, where it always is and we headed vaguely in that direction. I called the hotline "some park in brookline" That's miles away! Wait - people running with bags - THE HARES. We had gotten in front of the hares by bypassing a beer check. It was fairly easy to follow the trail - while on pavement. It was growing dark, and for a while I was following sounds. We arrived at the beer check which was in the rose garden. It was a beer check in name only - there was no beer. What to do? Mill about. STD and Tea bags disappeared in to the bushes... and came back holding long cat-tail reeds. There were several games that can be played with reeds - limbo, sword fight, and reaching into the crowd and tickling people with the heads of the cat-tails. The warm beer finally arrived - I personally don't mind warm good beer. In fact I've been on winter hashes where a warm cheap beer is most welcome as a hand-warmer. Here it was a little less welcome, but it's what we had. Preggers is still looking for people to join the trip to Scotland, which is sounding like a trust-me hash. If I wasn't living a trust-me life right now I'd be interested. Anyway - the police showed up. We're getting good at this. Drop the beer (in the box), and without making any sudden movements drift away. Luckily someone explained that we were a running club taking a break. Anyway it was the end of the beer check. Back to the map.

I'd been to the parking garage near Ruggles before for an on-in, so I immediately knew where to go. PMF assumed that every hash ended at a bar. It's good to have on-ins not at bars as it adds variety to trails, but we're running out of new parks and parking garages too. We took the elevator up. Most hashers will push all the buttons to annoy people taking the elevator, but nobody bothered to do this. We were on the roof deck, and the view was spectacular. I took several pictures. Hashers were rolling up in waves .. and there was no beer. There were people driving away from the parking lot, all of them seem to be having long cell phone conversations when they got to their car. Presumably they were calling security. Finally the bag car came up, and hashers swarmed the bag car like star-struck teenagers swarming around the Beatles limo. There were two 30 packs in the car. In about 1 minute there was one thirty pack in the car. Nothing to do but CIRCLE UP!

We circled up under the roof, and the acoustics were worse than in theold Boston Garden. Sorry if I didn't catch everything. Crucifux was our RA.

Comments on trail: "Too many cops", "too few marks", "if only you're legs were spread as wide as your marks, and your crotch was as warm as your beer", etc. The hares sang "Follow the Hares" (My girlfriend/boyfriends a ...). We then demented the Virgins:

Virgin Ryan was brought by GAP
Virgin Kara was brought by Jamaican me Cum
Virgin Andy made himself cum but Friar was his sponsor. His favorite animal is a pig.
Virgin Sophie was brought by Lunchmeat
Virgin Melissa
Virgin Becky
Virgin Ted was brought by Just Sara
Virgin Jack made himself cum (second time)
Virgin Naiomi(sp?) showed up late and got a down-down.

The sponsors did demo downdowns and then the virgins did downdowns. At this point, a man in a blue shirt and tiedown-weave blue tie came out. The only men who wear that sort of tie are store managers and security guards. Either way, we needed to wind things down. Tiedown- weave stayed around for the entire rest of circle. He even didn't seem to mind (or didn't notice) the beer poured into cups. It was time for announcements and swing low.

Friar took the now empty 30 pack box and wore it as a hat. I could see everything except what was directly in front of me. This was fine for the elevator, but a bit of a hazard on the road.

The on-after was at Punters. Hash-cash paid for a number of bucket sized pitchers, and we had the supermarket donuts and bagel store bagels we were supposed to have at the on-in. One of the patrons asked me how many cents were in a dime. A glom* formed around Virgin Naiomi. Eventually we got pizza. By the time the pizza arrived it was very late - almost midnight. I lost my pen at some point, so that's the end of my notes. I really don't understand how working folks manage to do Wednesday hashes and go to work the next day. I ended up taking the (possibly last) T to Allston Village with GAP and Peppermint, and back-tracking to T Anthonys to get some coffee. I got a lot of favorable comments on my outfit.

GAP’s last trail!

2009-05-27T12:14:00.011-04:00

Hares: GAP, Immaculate ErectionPrelube: Courtside
Bag Car: Friar F*ck
RA: Velvet Pelvis

Pack: Anal Beads, Bisexual Bondage Bitch, Better Late than Pregnant, Catheter the Great, Certified Public An*s, Cum is Kosher, Dude Where’s my Virginity, Dirty Latte Sanchez, Fire in the Hole, Friar F*ck, General A*s Pounder (GAP), Goes Down on Buoys, Headmaster, Hare Club for Queers, Hoover McSuck and F*ck, I Eat Teabags, Immaculate Erection, an Inconvenient Poop, Jamaican Me Cum, Jizz Mopper, Just Vicki with an “i”, a lot of other “Justs” whose names I don’t know yet—please try harder to be memorable next time. Making a fool of yourself is memorable. Moaning Lisa, My Chemical Homance, Necrophiliac Jack, Nice Tits, Nipples Erectus, Pat My Fly, Peppermint P*ssy, Pubic Service Announcement, Queerleader, Save a Tree Ride a Cowboy (SATRAC), Shorn Scrotum, Ski Bobbit, Snatchsquatch, Spank Me May I Have My Mother, Spunk in the Trunk, Stick it to the Bros, Stinky Digit, Sucks Hard for the Money, Sugar Plum Fairy, Taj My Hole, Velvet Pelvis, Virgin Cara, Virgin Dan, Wooden Eye F*ck Her in the A*s, You Oughtta Blow, about 5 others who I didn’t see or whose names I don’t know.

A hardy pack of harriers and harriettes (I’d guess about 60) flocked to East Cambridge to experience what could be the last GAP trail ever (unless of course he comes back from Baltimore to make some cameo appearances, hint hint). It was in many ways a sad day, but in most ways a glorious day, as it was evident that GAP’s ability to get people lost in all parts of Boston has touched so many.

After downing the requisite beers and shots at the prelube, the pack made its way to a parking lot across the street, where Velvet took charge of the chalk talk. We were informed that the eagle trail would be “extremely wet, and life jackets would be provided.” Speculation ensued about where this swimming might occur, with most thinking it would be a in a dirty river or perhaps a quick jump in the harbor. For most it would be neither, emphasis on the “most.” **

Trail led away from the bar, through a park, and then into some sort of secret forest village. Hard to say if it was just a trash dump or living quarters for the unlucky. We were lucky to get out of there rather quickly. Next we scattered about a sand pit/train yard, tricked by a CB3 written on a plow, until we found trail once more. Then it was through the streets of Boston until we got to the climax of the evening. Drum roll, please…

The climax of the evening was marked by a BN and true trail mark on the dock at one side of the harbor, right across from the USS Constitution, pointing across to the other side. We could see GAP, Immaculate Erection, and a few others, waving to us from the shore. Buoys estimated that it was a 20 minute swim. Most folks weren’t even considering it and left to go the long/land way around the edge of the harbor. Then there was a group of us that was considering it. First order of business was to figure out how cold the water was. Buoys estimated 55°. He mentioned hypothermia being possible at such temperatures. Next came speculation about how strong the currents would be. Then, we noticed a police boat hovering near the dock. At that point Buoys deemed it officially a really bad idea to even consider swimming, since we might possibly be arrested. I (and I think many others) were happy to defer to the D1 swim coach’s opinion. It didn’t seem like anyone was gearing up to take the plunge, so the majority of the remaining pack started running.

When we made it to the beer check, we realized that some of the folks there were looking across the harbor towards the BN dock, and had spotted swimmers in the water! Who WAS it? As more folks filed in, it slowly became evident that it must be You Oughtta and The Second Cumming.

Boom! A cannon fired (a nightly ritual on the USS Constitution, but timed portentously), and at that very moment, the police boat started quickly moving towards the swimmers. As we watched the chase from shore, a semi-panic set in. It somehow seemed logical that the police boat was going to radio to the land force, and soon we would all be encircled and arrested for public drinking. I became terrified that You Oughtta may have (finally) managed to successfully sabotage her future career in medicine. While some kept reiterating that we should probably get out of there, most of us were too absorbed in the chase to stop watching. You Oughtta was out ahead, and had just managed to out-swim a large passenger ferry. It was harder to tell if The Second Cumming, was in its path or not.

After the ferry passed, the police boat swooped in and picked up The Second Cumming. You Oughtta was only about a 150 m swim from shore. Could she out-swim the police? Um, obviously not, as was aptly pointed out by Necrophiliac Jack, as the boat was, in fact, a boat. It came up alongside her, and, reportedly, she told them she was “fine” and wanted to keep swimming. But alas, the police did not oblige her request, and You Oughtta was also picked up by the police boat.

On the boat, the police lectured the two swimmers about the danger of hypothermia and informed them that most of the people pulled out of those waters were already dead. Go You Oughtta and The Second Cumming for beating the odds! “It will, however, make a great drinking story some day,” conceded the cops. Or in about 20 minutes! After giving their names to the police and officially refusing medical attention, the two hashers were let out on the pier and trudged to the on-in, still managing to arrive well in advance of bag car.

So for those of you who weren’t there, can you guess the on-in? OBVIOUSLY the Hong Kong. Everyone was thrilled to get there, and then not thrilled to discover that Friar and the bag car were lost somewhere in Greater Boston. Some of the savvier hashers had their IDs with them and were livin’ it up while the rest of us wallowed outside. Luckily, there was some outdoor entertainment in the form of a party trolley full of nursing students who had just graduated. Their shirts displayed the motto of the evening—“Nurses need shots too!” That group piled into the HK while the trolley blasted such classy tunes as Britney Spears’s “If You Seek Amy,” which has a really deep hidden meaning, in case you didn’t know. FINALLY, GAP ran down Friar, somehow managed to squeeze himself inside a backpack, and directed the bag car to the on-in.

Since this Hash Trash is way long enough already, I won’t say much about circle, but it was rather hilarious. Virgin Cara and Virgin Dan were demented, GAP was accused of being the worst hare in the history of the Boston Hash, You Oughtta and The Second Cumming obviously drank for being over-achievers, Dirty Latte and Wooden Eye also drank for jumping in the harbor but not swimming across, Buoys for putting on deodorant before the Hash, and medical professionals for being associated with the party trolley nurses. All in all, a fantastic evening.

GAP, you will be sorely missed. Best of luck to you buddy. May the Hash go in peace,

Fire