Missed a hash? Catch up on all the trash here...
|New Year, New You Trail
(11 days ago)
New Year, New You Trail - Jan 6, 2019
Hares: Shart of Darkness (alone)
Bag car: Massage a Trois
Pack: Tinderdick, Virgin Cara, Virgin Jack, Shits 'N Ladders, Sex: The Final Frontier, Knuckles Deep, Cock Lobster, Quarter Mile Queer, Clit Notes, Bottom Wrangler, Honorable Vaginal Discharge, Easy as 123, Just Matt, Deflatedate, Orgasm Falmon, Wax Off, Yellow DIck Gnome, Dribble, Just Sarah, Swedish Eagle, Cuntcussion, Dry Hoes, No Man, Just Lindsey.
Thinking I was FRB, I was walking to the Sill for prelube, when I came upon Tinderdick ahead of me. We arrived at the bar, finding a half dozen hashers already premature at 2:30. We milled around musing that SIlouette was one of few dives the Hash had touched that hadn't closed yet. Quarter Mile brought the 2 virgins for the sacrifice as promised. Cuntcussion complained that she had to shower that morning to get wine out of her hair.* Bag Car arrived as late as pack was early and Quarter Mile barely got a Chalk Talk out between troll hecklings.
I headed totally the wrong way and pack solved trail through the CVS parking lot and past Penniman playground (Light Side/Dark Side BC2) and over the Mass Pike via Everett St Bridge.
On the other side, Shits quickly spotted On-On, only to turn out False. We joined the rest of pack through the student slums of Lower Allston before arriving at the Collins Square Shot Check, also stolen from the Light Side/Dark Side trail 3 weeks earlier. I ran down Franklin St, figuring that the hare was just going to steal our route to Harvard Stadium so that the November Project people could do some more stairs. Such disappointment when marks abruptly ended, though lead around a fun little loop of a housing nook featuring mammaries. BC1 was the most Allston hasher place in existence - between a podcast production studio and a towtruck lot. PBR was featured, but so was Rebel IPA. Surely, this trail was too fancy for the likes of us .
Leg 2: New Year - New Police
As pack headed out, we happened upon Soldiers Field Road, a perfectly safe minor road for a pack of running drunkards to stumble across. Appropriately, we stayed on our side looking for marks. We fumbled around before someone yelled On-On from the other side and off we went to the river, coming across a (barely) undercover police car staking us out. We ran back to bagcar for BC2 for more assortments of nice beer and cider. Still too fancy,
Leg3: Never Trust a Shart After Mile 3.
Shart assured us that between the 3.5 miles we had and ON-IN, we would be sure to hit ballbuster length. A False led a few people into the little circle island thing, which, when revealed to be False, left the poor victims to fail to find a way out, having to backtrack.
A stupid-stupider split left your trust scribe conflicted, but he elected to be stupid and follow trail across the Eliot St bridge into Cambridge. After running through a hospital parking lot, we mused if trail would end at Paddy's, though a knowledgeable few claimed that Shart somehow lived around here.
After a few more scoutings, we found that Shart had become suddenly wealthy, opulent and retired-age old in the time since we had last seen her and she lead us into a domicile, sure to be home to a Supporting-level member of NPR, far too fancy for the likes of any hasher, asking us to remove shoes before being lead into the resplendent basement nicer than any of our parents', replete with a bathroom, exercise equipment, a sauna, and white carpet we were sure to not leave any visible stains on. It turned out to be Shart's housesitting charge.
Virgins were demented by Gnome, who forgetting that Jack was Jack, asked him if he had an uncle Jack and what he would do to help his Uncle Jack. We didn't find them acceptable but took them anyway. Accusations flew, including showering because of wine in the hair. Upcoming events such as Marathon were announced. We swung low and assured the Virgins-Cum-Justs that we would always have good beer on trail and we also always end in the cozy warmth of private Cambridge chateaus of some Harvard professor. At some point in time, remaining hashers did crow pose and I don't remember why. Sporadically, Shart's boyfriend came to check on us, never staying more than the minimum 10 seconds to confirm that we were alive.
ON - MARATHON REGO SOON, C*M to HASHMAS PARTY THIS FRIDAY - ON
|#BestTrail #WorstTrail #LastTrail #TrashTrail
(12 days ago)
Now that I've had a full week to reflect on the last/worst/best trail of 2018, here's a hash trash!
What: #besttrail #worsttrail #lasttrail
Hares: Wiki and Marbles
Bag car: Blondie
Pack: Bottom Wrangler, Testicular Mechanics, Master Gator, Tinder Dick, Waxxx Off, Mr. Bean, Just Sarah, Just Lindsey
On my way to the prelube (Lower Depths), the hare texted me to let me know that he and bag car were running late, and to please start collecting hash cash. This turned out to be an easy ask, since when I arrived at the Depths at 2:25, I was literally the only person there. I collected my own hash cash and waited for other people to show up.
Eventually, others began trickling in. Finally, when we had given up all hope, the hares and bag car showed up. (They all blamed each other for being late, so idk, pick one of them at random and assume it's their fault).
We halfheartedly attempted a chalk talk, but it was chilly in the shade and everyone knew more or less what was going on anyway, so we quickly said "fuck it" and headed out.
The first leg of trail, which Wiki definitely real-life scouted and did *not* google scout, took us through various construction sites in the Fenway area. It was notable for being a rare trail that actually goes in 369 degrees, as there was one point where we had to climb a ladder to continue on trail. Wiki later expressed that he had thought about tricking us by pushing the ladder over (so that it would be lying on the ground when we got there instead of leaning against the wall), which I guess he thought we would struggle to figure out...? Though we *are* half-minds so I guess I can't blame him.
Eventually, we ended up at the first beer check, which was in Muddy River Park. As we've come to be accustomed to on Wiki and/or Buttler trails, there was Trillium interspersed in the beer cooler, as well as some other ~lesser beers~.
The second leg of trail started immediately with a turkey/eagle split. Eagle continued across a bridge, while Turkey was a CB 11 or some large, scary number like that. Not wanting to retrace our steps quite that far, literally everyone except Testicular Mechanics decided to take the Eagle. If you have hashed with TM, you might be surprised to see his name in this context -- it turned out later that he thought it was a Tough/Easy split (and thus thought he was taking Tough), but also, this was his first time being alone on trail and he rather enjoyed it. So there you have it -- Testicular Mechanics would rather run trail alone than with any of us.
We Eagles wound our way through Northeastern/the Symphony area; marks were fairly hard to see and rather spread out, so it was slow going, until we got totally stymied at an intersection. From there, we descended into pandemonium... everyone was scouting every direction, and no one knew where anyone else was, and the pack kept diminishing as people independently found trail but the rest of us didn't know which way they had gone.
Mr. Bean and I finally figured out where everyone else had gone (coldly leaving Master Gator behind us, since he was nowhere in sight) and followed trail to the shot check, where we found that the hares were about to come back to look for us. We enjoyed some boozy hot chocolate before heading out to find out way to the ~super secret on in~.
Perhaps sensing that he had toyed with our hearts enough, the hare led us directly to Machine, which apparently is not closed after all??? We were basically the only ones in there and there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the prices the bartender was charging us for pitchers (but in the good way - one was on the house, one was $3, etc.).
Marbles and Blondie, who are apparently much more popular than the rest of us, left before circle to go to another social obligation, so we selected several proxies for them (Master Gator and Tinder Dick, because they were "lookalikes" apparently -- in our defense, we had been drinking) and proceeded with circle. It's been like a whole week, so I have no clue what we accused people of, but there were some of those. Rainbow and Mangia both showed up. We got pizza from Dominos, which we made short work of; following circle, we hung out and critiqued each other's dating app profiles. Aaaaand that was pretty much it!
(about 1 month ago)
What: The Leftovers Hash
Hares: Shits n Ladders and Testicular Mechanics
Bag Car: Twat My Mom
Pack: Fellowship of the Cock Ring, Luva Lamp, Yellow Dick Gnome, Lumberjackoff, a Just, two visitors AND THAT WAS IT
I got to Summer Shack after the very prompt hares had already left, so I immediately called 6.9 minutes to get this shit show on the road. I didn't recognize half the pack, which seemed worrisome. Two r*cist hares and a pack that's nearly half visitors/justs? WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG??
What went wrong aka I swear I scouted that way already:
After the finest chalk talk I've ever given, we started looking for trail, which immediately went through Alewife station. We wandered through some parks and around the ugly high-rise apartments, along Alewife Brook Parkway to a count back that took us down to a parking lot and then towards a maze of old industrial buildings and abandoned parking lots. We came across a hash sitapede that I decided to ignore. From there, there were about as many marks as there were hashers in pack, which is to say not many. We ran in circles for a while until Luva decided to zen towards where there was a possible beer check location. Low and behold, the hares were there, freezing their asses off. It's the least they could suffer for what they put us through.
Some park next to a small pond. We drank beer. It was nice. Hares laid a giant check right in front of us as they left. Why?? We can see which way they went!
Marks, glorious marks!
Turns out, our tricksy hares had pre-laid trail going a different way then they left. So clever, but not more clever than our visitor, who immediately figured out their game and led us in the correct direction. The hares took our admonishment to "be more generous with marks" to heart, but we still managed to miss a check and started trespassing in some dude's back yard, trying to find a way through his fence. He kindly did not call the cops on us, and we found the actual trail, eventually ending up at a shot check with some vaguely cucumber-flavored hatorade. We drank it down and continued on our way right back to the parking lots we had been lost in on the first leg of trail. I got separated from pack, but Fellowship rescued me. Turns out I didn't miss much, because they were doing laps around a Burger King. Trail led to Fresh Pond and a second hatorade check, this one an uninviting shade of yellow-brown. We drank that one too, and ran on until we found beer check 2.
Park. Beer. Darkness.
It's a hare snare if I say it's a hare snare:
Trail went on to Danehy Park, aka the park built on top of an old land fill. I kept finding trail and feeling pretty good about myself when I came across the hares. Turns out, they ran out of flour tantalizingly close to where we'd be back on pavement, but were kind enough to wait for pack so they could direct us which way to go. I still count that as a hare snare. I waited for pack to catch up with me, which took FOREVER because apparently everyone decided now was the time for a leisurely stroll in the park. Why? THERE'S BEER AT THE END, PEOPLE!
We ended at everyone's favorite shitty west Cambridge dive bar, Paddy's Lunch. There were accusations, including visitors, transplants, hare snares, and some other stuff. We found out why everyone was a Leftover, which mostly came down to being too cheap to go skiing or go to Chicago. Shits decided to sing a verse song every time I called on him for a note, which apparently he does to torment me. After circle was over, the visitor convinced some of us to hang out after circle since her dad was watching some sporting event and wouldn't pick her up until it was done. We continued drinking more than was strictly necessary for a Sunday night.
1/11: Holiday party. There's a theme or something
1/12 (probably): January taco. All tacos and burritos with a bag-car token are welcome to attend. Brunch run starting and ending at Casa de Gnome
1/19: Ballbuster Lasagna-off trail
1/27: Robbie Burns trail (scotch, haggis, regrets)
|Light Side/Dark Side Hash
(about 1 month ago)
What: Light Side/Dark Side Hash
Hares: Sex: The Final Frontier and Tinder Dick (virgin lay)
Bag car: Clits n Chips n Clits n Chips
Pack: Shits n Ladders, Fellowship of the Cock Ring, Knuckles Deep, Falmon, Po-po Peepshow, Quarter Mile Queer, Bottom Wrangler, Just Mihaela, Waxxx Off
Pack arrived at the start epitomizing the theme of the trail. I was feeling tired from my l*ng r*n earlier that morning, and most everyone else was feeling hung over from Hong Kongukah and other assorted festivities. We were a sad and bedraggled crew.
Leg 1: The light side, I guess
Perhaps sensing our distress, the hares laid a very short first leg of trail, though we still managed to fuck it up (by doubting Famine's zenning skills). We went down some side streets, across a literal sheet of ice, and up a hill, finding ourselves at the first beer check at the top of Summit Hill (an important ceremonial location for the r*cist group that calls itself "November Project," I am told).
Leg 2: It's dark from here on out
After that first beer check, it was No More Mr. Nice Hares. Trail went down one side of Summit to CB22, with a couple shot checks laid along the way - we amassed some haterade and some jello slices. We somehow managed to miscount and get ourselves confused again, but eventually figured out that trail went down the other side of Summit, where we found another two or three shot checks, each with a couple bottles of shots plus some nips. I am not exaggerating when I say we had more full-size shots than the number of people on pack. We did not drink them all, instead agreeing to save some for the hares when and if we ever got to the end.
We crossed Comm Ave (right past the apartment where I lived when I started hashing! awwww, memories), straggled on over further into Allston (holding our breath for news of an on-in at the Sil - but alas, it was not to be), and got to beer check #2, which was at some little playground in Allston.
Leg 3: The very dark (and cold) side
It was getting dark and very cold. Memorable moments of this leg of trail included:
- getting in a verbal altercation with some dude in a car (he was totally the asshole, btw)
- running through Harvard Stadium, another location with religious significance to the peoples of the November Project group
- whining a lot about the cold
...was somewhere just outside Harvard Stadium, where Harvard security drove by us about a million times but apparently decided anyone stupid enough to be out in the dark and the cold was probably too stupid to do any harm to the property.
We had been warned that circle would be outdoors but, in true hashmanlike fashion, were still inadequately prepared. We did some lackluster accusations -- including making the hares drink some of their shots, of which we still had like six. However, we quickly gave up and disbanded circle before the pizza arrived in a poorly conceived effort to find an indoor place with beer. Naturally, we apparently hadn't checked where bag car was before doing so, and she pulled up with pizza just as we left. We stuffed our faces with some pizza, ducked into a Starbucks to warm up, and then the stupidest among us headed toward the Hong Kong for the final night of """"gentle rage.""""
12/13 (maybe) - PT2H3, hared by Disco
12/14-16 - Antibuffett/Anthrax!
12/16 - Leftovers hash
(about 2 months ago)
What: The Basic Trail
Who: WIkipediaphilia, Udder Whore, and Virgin (Just?) JJ.
Bag car: No Man
Pack: Sex: The Final Frontier. Orgasm Falmon, Sketchy Ho, 5 Inch Penalty, Dribbles, Sketchy Ho, Pop Cum Ear I'm Infected, The Buttler Hit It, Goat Throat (Kind of but not), Yellow Dick Gnome, Shits 'N Ladders, Shart of Darkness, Po Po Peepshow, Whore's Box, Testicular Mechanics, Oboener, Luva Lamp, Sketchy Ho.
Leg #1: Noticing that we had no unnamed hashers on trail, Gnome elected to forego chalk talk and we simply looked for trail. After spiralling around Harvard Square, we did stumble our way to Song Check directly in front of a Harvard security guard. I waited around for pack and the guard asked me if *we* had put the sign of an S with a circle on it in this colored flour as a means to show that something started there.
"Um... no. We definitely did not ....[under breath] start here."
Gnome lead in a rousing verse of "Them them f*ck them", as appropriate.
A few of us went into a lot behind an apartment complex for a Sitapeed before veto-ing and figuring most of pack had skipped it, knowing the lot's only exit and hashing smarter not harder. We found Wiki and his four-legged far more intelligent and less likely to fuck up a song co-hare holding a delicious pumpkin spiced basic latte for us, before begging for more time because apparently his Clydesdale of a dog isn't very fast.
We c*m upon BC1 in Sacramento Field.
Leg #2: We leaped away and through a playground and followed trail to Corcoran Field for BC2. There was a lovely display in which Wiki pranced through the field with Virgin Cohare. Wiki warned us: (1) trail would be approx. 6.9 more miles and (2) there was a shot check to be had, so as to deter us from zenning to Paddy's Lunch.
As pack craniumed out, some, figuring the hare for a liar, ignore the SC prognostication and zenned straight. The sturdy and valiant true among us ran trail only to be punished for our efforts with a CBX, with legibility falling into such question as to make this an underdetermined algebraic system. After much thoughtful discussion, pack decided it was definitely either CB2, CB3, CB5, or CBb and trying all such variations until trail was solved. (Hare later revealed CB6 was intended.) We located the aforepromised shot that Sav-Mor liquors would call "pumpkin shit" before proceeding to Paddy's.
Circle: Hares were called in for being shitty hares. The virgin hare received much passive aggressive abuse from the hash in choice of song lyrics. Backsliders, overachievers, and hares were called in, and hares were called in again. We swung low and had pizza that we all agreed was as good as the trail was bad.