Beaches be cray

The Beaches Be Cray Hash with Blitz n’ Chitz or Chitz ‘n’ Blitz or Kibbles ‘n Bits(?) and Angry Crotch.

Who: Just Lena, Newly Just So-and-so (Preston?), Anal Apologist, Yellow Dick Gnome, Buttler, Luva Lamp, Bottom Wrangler, Just Dave(?), Sex: The Final Frontier, random muggle Beer Check Host.

Bar Car: Friar Fuck

Trail started at The Harp & Bard in Dorchester, where pack learned that c*cktails were actually FREE. We had a few and sang Free C*cktails for All the Hashers, while we waited for Hares to have a delayed gaying. An absence of virgins, we went through the chalk talk motions for the 2 2-timers before heading out to find trail.

Leg 1: “F*ck this, f*ck this…oooh look, free beer!”

In the knowledge that Buttler would be joining late, we diligently laid pack marks. I checked west along Stab ‘n Kill Ave, finding 2 and out, tried again and was lured around 2 corners to ON-ON, which proved to be the 2 from the earlier false. At long last a trail was located to the east. Several more checks were found, a hash sitapeed was apparently missed by Gnome and I whilst looking for the meager marks. Now, realizing that we would dealing with rationed chalk, I redoubled efforts and began running twice my usual distance from checks, finding nothing. I encountered Gnome and we offered to run each others’ falses as double checks. Finally, we ran back and pack had found trail.

By this point in time, I may have, in passing, muttered under my breath about the hares doing a chicken lay. And by “muttered under my breath”, I mean “shouting”, and by “in passing”, I mean repeatedly. I remarked on how f*cked Buttler would be, even with our pack marks.

A song check near the Stabin’ Kill T station met with “Jesus Can’t Go Hashing” for stragglers, but proved to be overkill. We ran past the T station, though unbeknownst to us, Buttler had appeared 15 minutes prior and was already half way to the Beer Check from there (thank you Strava). Tired, shagged, and fagged of looking for marks, we found our way to a song check where we told the lovely residents of McConnell Park about the night workers of Canal Street. We proceeded past some adorable Muggle lap dogs who feverishly pursued any running mammal that came past them, so it became necessary to stop and pet them. I caught pack at a pineapple-laced Malibu Shot Check on Malibu Beach.

We ran the wrong way on Stabin’ Kill Ave, where a muggle enquired of the nature of our activities. I quickly blurted that we were looking for beer. The muggle then had us wait, and emerged from his house with a cooler full of Bud Light for an impromptu Beer Check! We thanked the muggle profusely and invited him to join the shenanigans, but we seemed entirely more eager to give information about our cause than he seemed interested to know. We may have started bitching to the muggle about how sh*tty the hares were.

Happy for the generosity of a stranger, we emerged in good spirits and with free stuffed animals and headed to Stabin’ Kill Park, where electronic ravens told us the (real) Beer Check was. I located the hares, Buttler, and bag car, awaiting us happily. Hares informed me that I had missed the sunset. I informed them that they had missed laying marks. Following this, several rounds of similar abuse were rained upon the hares by others in pack until hares agreed they would sh*t flour like doughboys.

Leg2: Wondrous marks!

Emerging from the Beer Check, we found an abundantly clearly floured up trail. I was worried we’d goaded the hares into an utterly sarcastic trail, though my fears were assuaged upon finding a check. I ran the falses and we found ourselves along Pattens Cove, heading north on (van) Morrissey Boulevard where once again trail suddenly vanished. We backed up to last mark and noted that trail was alive and well, and lead to a second delicious Shot Check!

A straight shot down Morrissey (though Strava says Buttler tried to get hit by a car along the way) lead to a check at JFK T station, which was solved and turned to a Turkey/Eagle split. I then followed an abundantly clearly marked trail in a mad dash around 4 corners of a mad intersection between Columbia and Dot Ave before finding On-IN at Dot Tavern.

On-In

We told the hares they really should have used more flour and chalk. I was called in for my racism and the near virgin was called in to be re-demented because when you don’t have a virgin and pizza isn’t ready, you make do with what you have. Accusations flew, I don’t remember what for or what stuck, but pizza came and all agreed that the shi*ty hares had been good sports about being shi*tty hares and that all our pain and suffering was worth it if it stopped Buttler from laying every other trail.

Northboro 7th An*l Red Dress Run

What: Northboro Red Dress Run (2017)

Where: Morse Tavern, Natick, MA

Who: There’s a rego list somewhere, maybe? If you were there, you were there, if you weren’t there, you should have been there.

Start:

After drinking entierly too much with co-workers, I woke and and convienced myself that a Red Dress in Natick would be easier than a ball buster in the city, so I got out my best red-dress and made my way to a random bar in Natick. By the time I arrived shortly after noon, a good contingent of hashers had been there since they opened at 11 and were well lubed for trale. There was more pre-lubing and waiting for people who said they’d come to arrive. It has to be stated that there were many surburban families, going to get a quick bite before, or after, fall childhood sporting events, based on their costomes, who looked at us with bewilderment, awe, and, I must say, a bit of jealousy - I’m dragging my kids around and these guys are getting day drunk in non-gender normative clothing! Eventually, after a solid 2 hours of prelubing, we walked around to the back of the bar for chalk talk.

Chalk Talk: We went over the marks we’d see, and some we wouldn’t. Nothing of note happened. We took a group picture in front of the bar.

Trial A:

Trale was a dead lay, marked from the bar and so we started running down the street before crossing in a herd; the local drivers really weren’t sure what to make of us. Trial crossed over a commuter rail station, and we all just missed the train, before heading into idlic and innocent suburbs who had no idea the chaos that was about to decend on them. We had been running up a hill for a while, and my “check-back” radar was screaming “danger!” when I saw the FRBs coming running back towards us counting down numbers. I quickly looked around, found the nearest intersection and started scouing, eventually finding a “Waterwheel” check at which pack has to wait for everyone to catch up. After that there was a bit of bad scouting/marks being hidden on proken paving stones as trial ran behind a few auto-body shops and the backs of condos before crossing through a little league game and back into the ‘burbs. Trial countined around a corner to an oddly placed check in front of a house having an ill-timed child’s birthday party, as we ran through, or past the party into the woods behind the house. We stayed on pretty well-mained trails around a lake for a while, until eventually turning back to head out of the woods, but that was a check back. The hare by now was “getting bored and wanted to drink more” so he was actively encouraging us which ways to scout so that we very quickly happened upon a bag of trash and water.

Beer check 1:

It was a bag a trash. I’m not kidding; Natty Ice, was the only provided beer. There were people doing “Unicorn” challenges, so they gamefully downed that vile libation, while others of us drank water and silently judged them, as we ourselves were being judged. There was some confusion as a group of hashers had showed up at the start roughly when we arrived at the beer check and were having some problems solving trial. Perhaps they weren’t drunk enough? Triail was easy enough for us. Eventually, after all the water (and whatever that other stuff was) had been consumed we were told to back track to the last check, then find trial from there.

Traili Phase 3:

There was some original debate as to whether or not we’d cross active train tracks, but apparently the hares didn’t want us to die, (thanks, I think?) so trial cut through a medow then headed back into the woods. The town of Natick does a good job keeping their nature trails well maintained, and the hares respected this by hiding the marks a yard or so off the trails in the woods; very respectful citizens, those hares were. Traili eventually lead us out of the woods, and we ran past a couple of shocked teens on bikes before coming a bridge of the train tracks with a song check. Thinking that it best we provide a PSA about the dangers of fucking engineers, we launched into the Engineer song as pack caught up. From there we did some more bad scouting, including running the wrong way because a passing muggle in a truck told us to. The hare, still drunk and annoyed that we weren’t, yelled at us for costing him beer-drinking time because we listened to a muggle. Traill was actually a block over, before turning and running through Natick common, which was littered with normal families playing the park. To preempt any questions about who we were, we ran to the bandstand and sang and ringing rendition of “hashers, meet the hashers.” Sadly, this PSA didn’t sedate anyone’s curiousity, as they watched in bewilderment as we ran away. Trial took a few more turns before running into someones back yard. Luckily that someone was a hare, and had beer for us.

Beer check with shots:

The group of aforementioned hashers who had missed the start by an hour were told to go to the second beer check directly, and they did so with their own (very good) burbon, which they were kind enough to share with us. There was also more natty ice, so i kept drinking water. Apparently there were heady toppers inside, but we were told we couldn’t go inside...so...what’s up with that? The first unicorn had completed his quest, and had inspired others to join him, so a few people started playing catchup (never a good idea) at the beer check. By the time all the beer and shots were drunk, we were all very drunk, and kinda thinking maybe we should head towards on in? The hares refused us that request and told us there was more trial to follow, and more beer to find. With the promise of non-Natty Ice beer we reluctantly left the beer check and tried to find trial.

Trial #1:

To say trial was marked would be a disservice to anyone who ever marked trial. There were small circles of blue chalk which apparently were supposed to be arrows, but were very easily confused with construction marks, or just the normal colour of the pavement. Eventually, laborously, we found enough marks to give us the idea “maybe we should run to the park with the big hill in it” which we did. The drunk hare told us to go up the hill, because that’s where the beer was. This was information enough for us, and up we climbed. There was beer there, and it wasn’t Natty Ice!

Beer Check #3/View Check:

There were beautiful sceneries of New England in the fall and people we agressively either catching up or getting more drunk. Your Humble Scribe even had a beer! We stayed until all the beers were drunk, and then tried to find trial.

Trial RDR:

In true RDR fassion, trial had devoled into a roaming shit show. There were no marks leading down from the beer check. The hare had hidden the marks (again blue dots) on the backside of trees, so those marks which we did find were leading us back up the hill. The drunk hare pointed and said “Run that way! My marks resume once we get to the road!” I’ve never been more thankful to see JTF marks. Trial was pavement pounding for a quick minute, before crossing a baseball field and diving back into the woods again, through a challenge course behind a hospital. A tit check and a song check later, we were running down the hill and approaching the OnIn from the back side.

CIRCLE:

Was behind the bar. No it wasn’t. Someone in a bar-side condo yelled at us that it was her babies nap time so we moved into a field behind a retirement home. Too Short To Tuck led us in a rousing rendition of “And the Hares” then vistors - there were a lot of them - were called in. The visitors from Phenoix sang an amazing song which I forget. The virgins were called in and demented by, I think, Bend Over Mommy? They were confused (weren’t we all) but we’ll take them anyway. Blood on trial and hash crashes were called next, then general accusations. We quickly ran out of beer, and were told that there was more free beer at the bar, so we swang low and went back into mingle with suburbia.

On - RDR - On

-Wikipedophilia

The charity (over $700) for this RDR were the Samaritans, (http://www.samaritansusa.org/), who work to prevent suicide. The hash was in memory of Reverend Blow Hole.