E4BH3 #17

Suckers in attendance:

Canis Lickus (Happy Valley)
Passion of the Dumbass (VA)
Bring Out the Gimp
Spunk in the Trunk (hare)
DUI Done Right
Salty Mudflaps
Swedish Eagle & Just Wally
E=I'm a Douche
Stick it to the Bros
Friar Fuck
Titney Spewston
Bent Over Sap Sucker (on after)
I'm sure others.......

Trail began in the Adult Fitness Trail, but there were no adults to be 
seen. Trail instantly went through a swampy area with delightfully 
smelling swamp cabbage & muck, we love our shiggy!. Upon reaching Rt129 
after a mile death march, the FRBs were treated to a YBF, went back to 
the last check, went a different way, and were treated to a CB5 and then 
found trail again that was all of 50 yards away parallel to the YBF trail.

Trail continued on as the pack caught up to each other through the dense 
underbrush, with repeated cursings from those who foolishly forgot to 
wear shiggy socks. Minor confusion set in, but we eventually found 
trail once more. Gimp was amazed to hear what he never thought he'd 
hear, which was Swedish Eagle behind him asking him to please slow 
down. Turns out Just Wally was unleashed & chasing Gimp and being near 
Rt 3, had to be leashed. Beer check was awesome, with people not 
realizing that bug spray was available, as it was "hidden" next to the 
water where no one would ever have thought to look. Passion offered to 
check Gimp's balls for ticks, quickly adding a "no homo" to the offer. 
Gimp was confused, surprised, and maybe even a little excited, but 
respectfully declined and suggested he join the Pink Taco email list.

Trail continued onwards with the FRBs taking the eagle trail, even 
knowing there was no additional reward to be had. Us turkeys enjoyed a 
nice shiggy-free trail run to the second beer check where Gimp got stung 
in the back by a bee causing minor alcohol abuse. We had a quick visit 
from some local teens sporting mullets & big hair reminiscent of Alice 
Cooper. Just Wally entertained the pack by pissing on every tree in 
sight, but somehow forgot to piss on Bros, so there was no black on 
black crime this day.

Circle was quick as we had to get on to the on after before the kitchen 
closed, but we first butchered several good songs while drinking several 
bad beers. The on after was as entertaining as ever....with the pack 
looking oddly at each other as the waitress asked us for our nerd names, 
confusion ensued. Way too much food was ordered over a 90's montage of 
music selected by our Dumbass visitor. Our waitress revealed that she 
was a rugby player, which required us to sing her and the bar at least 
one song.

Boston Marathon Hash 2013

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Don’t Change anything!

What: Eager For Beaver H3 Marathon Prelube
Where: A park in Malden
When: Tuesday April 9th, 2013
Hare: Bring out the Gimp
Injured Hare/RA: Can’t Eat Pussy

Pack: Bent over Sap Sucker, Titney Spewston, THE 2nd Cumming, Doucheswqatch, DUI Done Right, Salty Mud Flaps, Willy Wonka and the Back Door Factory, Brokeback Baby, Horses Ass, Bust Her Hymen, Yorun Weed,
Vagania Destroyer, a Just From Germany, Harlot Globe Fondler, Cuntjungle, Goat Throat, Magina My Vagaina, Pappy Van Tinkle, Plus 2 Coonass, Sticks it to the Bros, Jello Wrecked ‘em, Mud Slut, Yellow Dick Gnome, Wikipedophilia, others I am forgetting.

Start: The pack slowly trickled in, most drove, to the far
end of the Orange line to a park with a basketball court and an out house;
neither of which are important here. CEP collected hash cash (and took attendance!)
as everyone arrived and there were tasty beverages in a cooler for people with
descreet vessels. There’s only so much you can do in a park, so shortly after
the hare left, we did too.

Trail, Phase A:

Out of the park, up a hill and into a forest park/nature
place. Whatever. After scrambling up a hill we came across a very confused
looking trainer like man who said “Oh, I was warned about you” – whatever that
means. Turn took a turn down the path past a group of women lifting weights. We
tried to entice them with promises of running and 12 ounce curls, but they
weren’t interested. Further down the path were a group of women who appeared to
be practicing with katanas. Weird. We did not offer them beer. Trail ran out of
that park and into another, where the FRBs were halted by a tit check. Freed by
Jello, we ran onto Bros indicating another tit check that was really a Check
Back, but trail from there went up a hill to a reservoir. Gimp was waving at us
from the other shore. Not wanting to posion Malden’s water with a packs worth
of STDs, we followed trail along the (long) distance around the lake to the
beer. Second tried to short cut by running the other way but; “You can’t get
there from here!” so he had to turn around. 

Beer Check #1: Uneventful. We watched planes take off and it
got dark. We drank all the pre-hidden beer and left. We instructed to “run to
the end of the giant dick and turn left.” I have no idea what that meant.

Trail, Chapter 2:

There was no giant penis, just marks heading off into the
woods. Titney yelled “Turkey Eagle” and ran off by her self. No idea what
happened there. I (foolishly) decided to take the Eagle, which was a long run
back around the lake, and was feeling good until we were stopped by a tit
check. Mud Slut freed us, and after running 2 falses, trail went straight,
cuming to the top of a rise for a Group Hug check. Apparently other people in
back thought it was a beer check (it would have been a good spot) but instead
we just started some civilians out for romance and alcohol. Trail run down the
hill, eventually running past a Frank Lyodd Wright wanna be house on the way to
the most amazing mark any hasher can see “BN” followed by “ON IN” 

ON-IN:

Well, first we had to carry all the beer up a non-small hill.
It was cold and windy, and CEP promised to keep circle short. He called in all
Visitors, (not noted here) and all first time Eager for Beavers (also not
noted) then opened the circle up to accusations. Nothing important happened
until the German Contingent was called in, collectively, for new shoes. Somehow
the Germans Contingent turned into Plus 2 and Yuron drinking out of each other’s
shoes (not sure why) and I had to drink out of mine for not knowing a song. CEP
asked what he could change to get everyone never to return and Mangina yelled
out “Don’t change anything!”

we sang religion (which is “Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh
DRINK!”) and filtered back to cars/subway/on after. I didn’t go to the on
after, but here’s my guess:

People got drunk, really drunk. Shinangins ensued and
amazing decisions were made.

Stay Tuned for Moon Trash!!

On – Hashing all Week – On

Wikipedophilia

ANNOUCMENTS: PUB CRAWL TONIGHT! MAIN EVENT TOMORROW! Check
the website/calendar for details!

Speaking of the Caldener, we have open haring dates in May,
June, July, August, September and October, so e-mail hareraiser@bostonhash.com (or
butler or i) and we’ll put you in!

We Don’t Want to Snare You

Hash Trash for Boston Trail On Sunday April 7th, 2013
Hare: Friar Fuck*
Bag Car: Brokeback Baby, Vagatarian, 
Pack**:

A transplant for San Degio whose name I forget, Bent Over, Sap Sucker, Necropheliack Jack, Condom Search and Rescue, Just Margarie***, Virgin Alex, Wikipedophila, THE 2nd Cuming, Goat Throat, Willy Wanka and the Back Door Factory, Blow bot, Plecenta the Fresh Maker, Twat My Mom, Swedish Eagle, The Butler Hit It, maybe others.

Pre lube: Eliot T-Stop on the Green line.
It was a beautiful day, and there were high hopes that a pack of fairly substantial would show up to terrorize the 1%. However, it was only 1% of the Hash that showed up. I arrived at the start, and didn’t see anyone. Suddenly, a man walked out of the wait-for-the-T-inside-bubble and handed me a flask of some vile and disgusting liquid. It turned out to be Necrophilack Jack, who, apparently, along with dozens of other half-minds had gotten very drunk the night before and probably wouldn’t be at trail. Did they forget our charter? “To cure weekend hangovers”?!?! BOSS got out of his car and we were shortly joined by the aforementioned transplant, plus another transplant and a very agreeable looking virgin. Pack filtered in slowly, getting out the trains as they came through and we were beginning to wonder if the hare would ever show up since none of us brought our own libations. That probably a bad idea because when the hare did show up, all he had was some God-awful beer that made the High Life look like the Best Beer Ever Made. 

The Hare stumbled off, and so, unfortunately, did one of the visitors and the agreeable virgin. Pack was introduced to 3D chalk, did 3D chalk talk, then, after giving the hare a start worthy of his long and distinguished hashing career, left the T Stop.

Trail, Phase 1:

After running around a few checks looking for “marks” or “falses” we decided that the hare wasn’t laying any so on one was basically on-on. We got nice a lost by a fire station before we figured this out, then ran through
a shopping district, past some abandoned rail road tracks and a good amount of graffiti. One slogan bears repeating “Make Underage Drinking Legal!!” This confused us since if it isn’t illegal, it wouldn’t be underage. We ran on past a giant mansion guarded not by lions, bears, elephants, or other noble beasts worthy of such a dwelling but two gaint tropical fish. It was most peculiar.  The pack was confused by a BN marking into a
park, but no beer, and no further trail.

The beer was hidden, with the hare, in a valley filled with thorns.

Beer check: We drank beer and talked about Disney.

Trail, Act II:

After running back out threw said valley of throns, for no good reason, we found trail following the river and out to some road. After briefly lemming across the street, we turned to follow trail across the bridge when we saw, in the distance, our venerable hare. We stopped. We waited. While we were waiting, Swedish Eagle appeared. He had followed trail, but didn’t find any beer. Poor hasher. He’d been scouting the Marathon Monday Ball Buster Trail, so we didn’t feel bad for him. Why do Ball Busters when you can get all the beer with drastically less running? Eventually, we got bored and ran after the hare.

We saw him again, stumbling along the river bank. We stopped again. No one caught up to us this time, but we started running again and crossed back through the shopping plaza we had tranversed a few beers ealier. Trail forked down along a river again, and again, we were lied to about the proximity of the beer to the Beer Near mark. Eventually we found it. Goat decided to fall down a step embankment to get the beer instead of running along the level path. Whatever. He’s a goat. As the beer check was ending a car pulled up across the river and someone started yelling at us. Apparently, Google Maps didn’t realize that she wasn’t driving an amphibious vehical. 

Trail, Part C:

After crossing an abandoned rail bridge, trail wound along 128 to Echo Bridge where we stopped, again, because we saw the hare. We also saw some very confused looking Chinese tourists who seemed to take pictures of us as if we were part of the natural landscape. Odd. I hope they remember to keep them on hashscpace. On the other side of the bridge there was true trail and  BN. This time the beer was near, as the On In was Friar’s house.

Circle:

2nd RAed and called the hair into the circle. We told the hare that we had been f*cked again, and he sang some song I don’t remember. We brought in Virgin Alex, who was good a math, but didn’t know the square root of 69. His favourite barn-yard animal is a snake (apparently there are snake farms in France) and says yell “Mon Deux” when the com. Strange, but he’s French. We then heard someone running up the stairs and it was Little Sister Fister, alive, on trail, and beerless. We sang to him, and gave him his longer desired beer. We then called Friar back in for not having anywhere near enough tags for his long hashing career and learned that he was not always Friar Fuck! His original name was “Floppy Dick” or something because he brought a 3.5” floppy with him on his first trail. That name was quickly replaced by  this…

The Boston Hash, in the mid 90s, went up toe Acadia National Park for a weekend of high class debauchery. This debauchery included some long bike ride on a dirt road. The young hasher then known as “Floppy” didn’t know that bike seats are not built for padding, and therefore did not have proper padding in the seated area. After a day of riding, then walking in pain, then riding, with the hash long out of sight, he eventually found the end and an elated pack since they wouldn’t have to go look for him. Asked what took him so long, he explained as named “Numb Nuts” since his nuts were, at that point, Numb.

We drank to Numb nuts.

Blow Bot then alerted the pack that someone was at the door. A police man? Maybe? Who knows. Eventually calls went out that it wasn’t the police, it was Goes Down on Bouys. The pack was therefore quiet startled when Yanke Pay $5 More walked up the stairs! We called him in for also being DFL, and Blow Bot for confusing Bouys and Yankee.

Other things happened. There was cold pasta.

That’s it.

Anouncments:
None.

GO TO MARATHON THIS WEEK! TRAIL TONIGHT! TRAIL TOMORROW! TRAIL THRUSDAY! PUB CRAWL (AND TRAIL) FRIDAY! MAIN EVENT SATURDAY!!!! HANG OVER SUNDAY! BEERK CHECK AT MILE 20 MONDAY!!!
 
Also, we need hares for May. Look at the calendar, chose a date then e-mail Butler or I.
OnOn, -Wikipedophila.
(Yes, I am officaly the scribe)
*Really, you thought I’d annotate this?
** Spell check is for wossies.