What: Seacoast/Boston 69 An*l Green Dress Run
Who: Frair Fuck, E=I’m a Douch
Where: BKs, Revere Beach, Revere
Who:
THE 2nd Cumming, Spank me may I have my mother, Just Holly**, Just Erik*, Pappy Van Tinkle, Manga My Vagania, Clit Notes, Senior Cocksucker, Virgin Patrick, The Butler Hit It, Certified Poop Accuntnat, Flamming Hetero – The sweat Montana Cherry, Jello Wrecked ‘Em, Just Beat It, Bum Fucking Vagabond, Wikiepdophilia, Easy as 1,2,3, Krusty The Meet Miser, Cum Titty, Udder Whore, Broke back baby, Condom Search and Rescue, Pop Cum Ear I’m infected, Easy To Please, Swedish Eagle, Just Ian, Bend Over Mommy, Nicely Nicely Johnson, Maybe Others.
Start:
The start was at the very classey BK’s bar next to the revere beach T station on everyone’s favourite Blue Line. Upon my arrival there was already a small group of pretty drunk hashers – they had apparently decided to “brunch” there to moderate success, and a very friendly bar tender. I walked up to the bar and ordered the best beer they had – rolling rock – for $3. I bored it out into my hash mug and walked away. A few minutes later I returned and handed her my mug, which she filled without question and still only charging $3. Time went on and more hashers – in their finest green dresses – started to show up. I had another $3 hash-mug-of-cheer as the pack grew and generally began to take over the bar. The locals retreated to the bar itself and the far corner. Eventually, once pretty much everyone had showed up we started asking where the hares were, since it’s nice to have hares on trail. Douche didn’t show up until well after 3, and the pack wasn’t away until closer to 3:30*** I collected hash cash – because you half-minds trust me – and bag car was called.
Circle:
Circle was on the beach, and we introduced ourselves, our visitors and our virigin to the marks we would not be seeing. They included arrows that were not used, dick checks, which were used, tit checks, which we not used, and count backs that might have been us.ed After deciding that we’d stood around for long enough, we left in search of beer.
Trail Green:
Trail crossed over Revere beach boulevard, or whatever, past BKs and down some side streets, pretty much going to straight at every check until coming out to a main(ish) road. Showing no fear of death, and fully confident that Massachusetts drivers would be attentive and not wanting to hit people in Green Dresses, I darted out into traffic in search of trail. Along with feeling the wind on my back as a pick-up truck whizzed by, I did find trail on the other side of the road, then promptly lost in and ran around a 4 (ish) way interestection looking for either pack or trail and eventually followed whistles in the distances. Running along the side of a road for a while, we eventually turned right towards the marshes, and, seeing a check at the enterance, run right in. Note that there weren’t any marks leading us into the marshes, we just decided to go that way. Most of pack displayed a surprising amount of intelligence and actual hashing ability, turned up the road and followed trail not through the marsh. After deciding the error of our ways, we left the shiggy behind and followed pack through some quiet and unmarked streets to a song check where they were polietely waiting for us. Trail continued on into the shiggy to another song check, which we pretty much ignored since we could see the hares standing by the beer in the distance; a few hundred yards down a mainly fooled access road and we were treated with the sweat refreshing taste of Bug Light.
Beer Check [Not Guiness]
There was beer, no orange (or green) food, and a lot of wind. The pack discussed mainly things of verying levels of import. Some people who waxed poetic about how to find a roller skating rink this side of Worcester. Other people talked about the lack of quality of beer. Right about when we thought we’d been there long enough, the hares told everyone to take some beers because the next beer check was BYOB. This met with predicatble responses, but turned out, amazingly enough, to be a not completely bad idea. We were able to watch the hares walk across a field until they disappeared out of sight into the bush. Since we were standing around holding beer, we decided we might as well follow them.
Trail BYOB:
We followed the hares, who had only recently disappeared from sight, across the rail road tracks and through the marsh. Some of the pack tried to stay dry, and others didn’t; eventually we plowed through reeds above my cranium and came out onto an actual 4-lane divided highway with a true trail and BVC pointing across it. Since we were pretty much all traveling together, a few very nice cars stopped, honked and let us cross. We could see to shapes lumbering across another field a few hundred yards away and raced after them until we decided that we didn’t really want to snare Friar, and we found a song check. Since the song check was located around a break in the meadow/field/marsh, whatever, that provided some cover from the wind, we decided that we might as well drink the beers we were holding while waiting for the hares to continue. A few minutes, and a few beer laters – only the best, coors light, we walked out into the marsh to be confronted by a steadily flowing stream about 4 or 5 feet wide. Taking a few steps back to make sure I could clear it, I ran, lept, flew, and fell in. Luckily my momentum carried me forward and on to dry ground. I looked around and found that everyone else was crossing over a bridge. Trail then ducked into another, deeper, gully which we scrambled through, and, completely ignoring the true-trail emblazed in flour on the far bank took off running down the road on the other side. Reaching the end of the block a realizing that we were following road salt, we turned around, found the true trail through more reeds and eventually came upon and access road that dumped us out into a baseball field where the hares were standing by the back stop.
BOYBC:
Standing around in a not-sketchy-at-all-circle in front of the back stop, we drank what beer we had left and waited for the hares to leave. There was much discussion of which way they went, and who was laying what marks. There were a for sympathetic comments directed towards that father and son out playing catch in the outfield, but we generally ignored them and I’m pretty sure they explicitly ignored us.
Trail On Camarea
Since there wasn’t much in the way to keep us anchored to the beer check – most of the pack had drunk theirs at the first impromptu check, and we since had to take the empties with us anyway, we just started off at a leasurely pace – walking – along the very scenic revre beach back to what we assumed was the on in. Luckly, some of the FRBs actually followed trail and found that it turned and went into the Wonderland park garage to a shot check on the roof deck. Except it was windy, so the shot check was inside. Except that the hares forgot the shots, so it was a “stand around inside check” until Douche got back with brown liquid alcohol – it was not worthy of the name “whiskey” – even though it’s label claimed that it was “Americas finest!” Whatever. It was vile. In an effort to avoid dection by the fuzz, some people tried to move the shot check (ie drinking) part outside onto the roof, but that idea was quickly Crimead – when the majority of the pack declared that they wanted to drink inside and the law-abiding members just shrugged their shoulders at this unprecedented breach of interhashinoal law. That joke was funny in my cranium. Sorry.
Trail Home:
If there were marks between the parking garage and BKs, I didn’t see them. I saw one group hug and hugged 2nd (who then took off like he was running a marathon!), then sauntered into the OnIn.
ONIN:
In true Friar fassion it was an A to A trail, and I’m pretty sure every body knew this.
CIRCLE
After a very brief laspse, mainly because we didn’t have the bar to ourselves, beer was provided and Krusty and Easy whipped us into a hasher-frenzy and jumped us all up on stage. We sang first to the hares for their truly shitty trail, then called in the FRB (2nd), FBI (Jello) and DFL (Virgin Patrick). We sang and made them, including the very confused virgin, do down-downs. We then called the virgin back into circle, and he 69’d CPA. I’m sure other things too, but, really, that was the highlight, or lowlights, depending, of the dementing. Once the virgin was thoroughly confused we threw beer on him and accepted him, reluctantly into our midsts. Next up for punishment were the visitors; Flamming Hetro from Portland Humping Hash and Nicely, Nicely Johnson from Okinowa. They sang us a song of their people, and we sang them about the dangers of walking down canal street in Boston. Backsliders and Seacoasters were called in – it was Cum Titties 169th Hash – and I’m assuming we sang to them too. The locals were getting increasingly annoyed with us – except for the guy at the bar who’d complement my dress everytime I went to order more beer – so we hastened to accusations, and I drank for forgetting clit note’s name. I was drunk. Opps. Annoucnements (see below) and then we dropped our vessels, bowed our craniums and swang low.
FOOD:
Friar and douche made a whole bunch of cabage, potatos, carrots and corned beef which we gorged ourselves on.
HOLY SHIT I FORGOT THE FUCKING NAMING!!!!
After the vistors were called in Just Erik was accused of being a just, and so he assumed the position to be named. It came forth that he had been the President of his LARPing club in college, fantized about having sex with elves, and various other nerdy accomplisments. LARP me, LARP me, longtime was suggested, as were a few others, but, from hence forth, Just Erik will be known as “Fellowship of the Cockring.” May G have mercy on his liver! Also, we brought his –wife- (Just someone else) into be named, and after suggested “Whore of Mordor” and a few others, she was thrown back to marinate in the fires of shame and humiliation that is the Boston Hash until such time as we name her.
There was food, and we shovled it into our carnimum holes.
That’s it? Maybe? Yes? No? Who care. Make up your own story from here.
On – HAPPY EVACUATION DAY – On
-Wikipedophila
Announcements:
***Editorial: Hares need to be away -at-2:45-on-Sundays-and-6:45-on-Wednesdays-. This is serious (ish). Hares leaving an hour after they are supposed to cannot continue***
Friday, March 22nd: DEADLINE TO GET PERSONAL HAB FOR MARATHON. If you sing up after the 22nd who know what you’ll get, but it won’t be a personalize mug!
Sunday, March 23rd: FRAIR FUCK TURNS 50! He’s haring another trail! Start is somewhere near Kenmore. See the calander/Failbook/smoke signals
Saturday March 29th: Wikipedophilia is haring a PooF Trail in/near Douglas state forest. Details might be on the Poof website
Sunday, March 30th: An Easy Wiki Black Tie Affiar – Black tie hash starting in Newton. This is the first trail with $15 hash cash!
!!!SIGN UP FOR MARATHON!!!
NURD is happening in May.
Boston RDR in June
Invishash is in July
GAP (might) be in August
Pearl Necklace in september
AG in Ocotober
Saddie Hawkins in November
Anti-Buffet in December
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