Boston
Hash House Harriers

a drinking club with a running problem

Hash Trash

Missed a hash? Catch up on all the trash here...

Zig Zag Hash #(something) Trash | Sweagle's Swedish Winter Mayhem | BH3 - 43rd Founders Day Trail Trail | New Year, New You Trail | #BestTrail #WorstTrail #LastTrail #TrashTrail |

Zig Zag Hash #(something) Trash (about 1 month ago)
Zig Zag Hash Trash -
March Zig Zag - Willy Wonka rules
Hare: E = I'm a Douche
Beer bike: Clits and chips and chips and clits
Pack: Me, The Buttler Hit it, Mr Bean, Just brad, Just Ian, Just Cydney. This was the first time I ever actually ran a zig zag trail, as I have hared all the others.
Prelube: Pack congregated at Sligo Pub, a little hole in the wall that some of you may have experienced. We drank beers and wondered who else was cumming tonight, and it turned out to just be us. Douche left at 9:30 to do a thing and pack eventually wandered off after him to do their thing.
First leg: It turns out a pack of 6 moves a lot slower than what we are used to seeing at Zig Zag, and we slowly worked our way through Somerville, solving checks. Just Brad took a digger on the ice (for which I would later drink), a random hasher who didn't know Boston had a hash identified himself but refused to join us, Chits and Clips pedaled indefatigably and we all just perservered until we got to the beer check.
First BC: As we basked in the glow of our reasonably cold Natty Ice in some park by some railroad tracks in Somerville, Just Cydney (or should I say Violet Beauregard) gave in to the temptation of being warm and going to sleep. "It's willy wonka rules," I joked, not knowing the precience of those very words.
Second Leg: About 5 minutes in, Mr. Bean (Augustus Gloop) fell into the proverbial chocolate river and went off to see a man about a horse or see a horse about a girl or something like that. How do you like them apples?
Up the hills, down the hills we ran, as Douche watched us sipping ciders. We were even slower and midnight came fast. Our valiant beer biker realised that she had to leave or risk being stranded in Magoun Square, so she got on a bus. I've decided she is the Veruca Salt of the story because of her selfish desire to go home at a reasonable hour. I hopped on the beer bike and pedaled away as she hunted for the 89 bus stop, her silhouette receding in the distance until she was but a speck on the horizon.
Second BC: In a park somewhere. Buttler, Douche, Just Brad, Just Ian and me.
Third Leg: We proceded to the on-in, Buttler's house... Almost all of us. Just Brad (Mike Teevee) bailed about 2 blocks away. It was 1am, and apparently some people like sleeping more than drinking. There's no accounting for taste.
On-in: What I expected to be a really short circle ended up being pretty fun. We sang songs, complained to the hare about his shitty trail, and did honor downdowns for the fallen soldiers. I did the math about how many hours I would get to sleep before my kids woke me up and headed back to my car.
Announcements: Trail the next day somewhere, Boston Marathon 4/13, Zig Zag marathon 4/6
If you're still reading, I am looking for a hare for 4/6. If you are interested please message me.

Sweagle's Swedish Winter Mayhem (about 2 months ago)
Sweagle presents Sweagle's Swedish Winter Mayhem
Hare: Swedish Eagle
Bag car: Shart of Darkness
Bag car car: Massage a Trois
Pack: TinderDick, Angry Crotch, Mudslut, Choke and Stroke (Chicago), Bring Out Your Gimp, Blondie McFucksalot, Yellow Dick Gnome, Fellowship of the Cock Ring, Cuntcussion, Clit Notes, Sex: The Final Frontier, Crooner Screwer and Fuck of the Irish (couple proximally from RI), Just Sarah, 5 Inch Penalty, Luva Lamp, Just Matt, Marbleous Asshole
Prelube
We started at Vagina Pizzeria in Wellington. I dismounted from my incredibly smelly Orange Line steed and was about to complain to myself about how I never find any damned thing in these generic artificial attempts at neighborhoods built over recovered industrial space when I spotted a Shart, tracking her to native drinking environment. Pack arrived, hare finally left after 3 and yet we waited. Bag Car was here, but Bag Car CAR, belonging to Massage a Trois, was not here. It seems she had been occupied giving herself chemical burns with an Apple watch, thus losing track of time.
Leg1: Through many parking lots and the school district that I work in, we followed a Sweagle trail - laid sparsely but findable for the fastest 69% of pack, while losing the other 31%. A Song Check after a middle school caused us to pause and take note of our fallen comrades, whom Fellowship then returned to locate.
Once we cross the Mystic River, I recognized where we were, though I was arrested by a Tit Check. A record 7 Harriettes came, but all passed me by (story of my life) and 5 Inch and I stopped to consider the probability that 7 Harriettes - with 14 mammaries between them - would all eschew the check*. Muddy's house was Beer Check 1 and we were greeted by hot chocolate, Mallort, and choices to roofie ourselves. The trailing 31% of pack managed to consolidate and eventually found their way to us.
Leg 2: We proceeded around the Tufts Alum Field, and Sweagle found every single stair in Tufts and took us up them. At the top of one set, Fellowship waited in mirth, making us all certain that a Check Back awaited us, but it proved pure trolldom. After about 4.20 miles exactly:
Gimp: I wonder what the chances are this ends at Buttler's.
Just Matt: High.
We found our way to Buttler's, held lengthy accusations in which we all took turns** stalling until pizza and wings came. We accused Bag Car Car of being her usual hot mess, the visitors performed a skit(?) for us, we all drank a social for losing TinderDick again, Shits 'N Ladders arrived just in time to be a Sweat Test Failure, Cuntcussion announced some kind of Big April Event, involving Fireball and Smirnoff Ice. We swung low and got a piece.
* Pint of lager, I realized our calculations were moot, as such probabilities are not independent
** Just kidding, accusations were a truly indefatigable Blondie marathon.
ON - REGO FOR MARATH - ON
Upc*ming dates:
Wednesday: MisMan meeting
Saturday: Zigzag H3 (Douche)
Sunday: Daylight Ragings Time (Hoes and Cougar Whisperer), bag car needed
Following Saturday: March Ballbuster (Sweagle)
April 13: Marathon Main Event

BH3 - 43rd Founders Day Trail Trail (2 months ago)
The 40-somethingth Founders' Day Trail
Hares: Dead WIki, Live WIki and Clit Notes
Bag car: Dribbles
Pack: Sex: The Final Frontier, Pat My Fly, Just Matt, Knuckles Deep, Clit Notes, Just Lindsay, Master Gator, Hare Club, Pop Cum Ear I'm Infected, Just Sarah, Massage A Trois, Cherry Popping Paddy, Quarter Mile Queer, The Buttler Hit It, Waxx Off (STF), Virgin Nick

Prologue: Doing nothing but checking my social media obsessively, I resolved to head to the newly reopened Beacon Hill Pub early and read. I arrived to find Knuckles already there with a self-starting virgin who learned of the hash when he stumbled across a Red Dress Run in South Carolina. We marveled at how much BHP had undergone in the 6.9 ish weeks it was shut down: there was now a door to the toilet so it was possible to shit without the need to avoid eye contact (or to make it vigorously?).

Leg 1: Wiki is the Machine who Goes "BING"

We were promised a short trail with a new* On-In. Trail was dead-laid and we wondered out, finding very little marks. We found a trail going through a building tunnel, but it lead to a CB6 and we were back to where we started. Somehow approx. 69% of pack found trail, leaving me, Quarter Mile, Just Matt, and Hare Club(?) wandering desperately. Just Matt elected to follow the old adage, "Trail Always Goes Uphill". Still nothing. We shouted our desperation, lost until finally we heard a nonchalant "On-On" from what could only be the voice of Buttler!

We followed Buttler to pack and happily reunited (0:22). We followed pack down hill to Cambridge St, where not even a check was to be found. We ran back and found nothing until Wiki stood directly next to the mark we were supposed to see and directed our attention. The utterly invisible mark was well camouflaged by road salt of the exact same color and the fact that all of pack, excepting Just Lindsday neglected cranium lamps on a winter trail that started at 6:30pm. We proceeded in this manner, utilizing Wiki sonar to locate the marks that may as well have been laid in disappearing ink, until arriving at a CB.

I ran out ahead down Cambridge St, finding a check at Staniford. Giving up after several scouts, I began to take note of which direction Wiki was willing to walk with pack and redirected my energies accordingly. With the hindsight of Strava, this is where we lost Buttler (0:38). As he was scouting west, we ran down Staniford, guided by Wiki and when Buttler turned around we were gone. Buttler valiantly strode pack and forth about 5 times, without the benefit of Wiki sonar, before finally solving trail.

By this time, we had proceeded through the West End apartment complexes, toward Storrow. I half-assedly scouted that way before turning around and seeing Wiki unmoved to the direction of the other scouts. Trail went past the science museum. Without stopping to find marks, I went straight to one of our favorite beer checks, though it had moved to be under a bridge to ensure maximum windiness.

Leg 2: So Cold.

Clit Notes volunteered to join Wiki to live lay and they were off about 6.9 minutes later than we wanted, given the cold. We found utterly no trail in 368 degrees, but Just Lindsay found a mark on the sea wall, leading us through the toast warm Cambridgeside Galleria and on out to a Song Check, which I relocated to into the warm toasty mall, where muggles completely ignored our entreaty to Meet the Hashers.

More near-invisible marks lead us through Kendall, a Hash Sitapeed, and out onto some river road. As we took the Longfellow back to Boston, QMQ and I mused that the "new*" On-In was likely BHP. We were arrested by a Song Check, and a CB2, before heading down into the lovely new landscaped area. At this point, we gave up and zenned to BHP, Just Matt displaying an enormous feat of rac*sm in sprinting ahead last minute to win the hash and the associated medals.

Circle began and Wiki sang Hasher Charlie on the MBTA with the one verse anyone knew. I attempted to improvise my own verse about Wiki and sh*tty, but got stuck and Wiki-ed myself when I found myself unable to rhyme "marks" in time.

Since we were waiting for pizza, we stuck on accusations for a while, lasting longer than any hasher would in bed. We accused Wiki several times of the trail. Waxx Off was a Sweat Test Failure. We demented the Virgin, who declared himself to be back woods. We decided we didn't find him acceptable but would take him anyway. We swung low, attempted to finish our beers, and walked to HK for 1S1DH3 (2:22). The evening finally ended a little after 2 that morning as I stumbled out of Coon Ass' place trying to catch a Lyft home that turned out not to exist.

On - 43 more years - On

New Year, New You Trail (3 months 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 (3 months 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). 

LEG 1

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~.

LEG 2

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~.

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!

xoxo,
Shart