Missed a hash? Catch up on all the trash here...
|Pearl Necklace 2018
(17 days ago)
What: Lunar H3: Shoot star trial; Pearl Necklace 2018
Organizers: Luva Lamp, Quarter Mile Queer, Honorable Vaginal Discharge
Hares: Clit Notes, No Man on the Moon, Mud Slut, Queer and Foaming, Swedish Eagle, Glutenless, The Butler Hit It, Luva Lamp, Udder Whore, Bottom Wrangler, whatever Power Bottom H3 named Dry Hose, Quarter Mile, HVD
Bag cars: Blowjob Rimleader, the Greatest Ho on Earth, 5 ring cervix
Pack: Um, everyone else?
After failing to catch a bus, I decided to order an uber and was able to get to the prelube brunch bar in time to join Team Pink Table for donuts, on a stick, and other breakfast items. I only learned that they served beer as my food was brought, but ordered and blowed through a beermosa before leaving the bar and heading to the park to join pack.
Given how far out of the city the start was, I was generally impressed with packs ability to get to Newton center on time, perhaps it had something to do with the weather, which was amazing. As we arrived QMQ yelled at us to “get a tshirt, a cozy, a sticker and a patch” - more on the tshirts later. With the general milling around out of the way, Clit Notes ran off to lay the first leg of trail and I drew a rough approximation of chalk talk, with the properly specificed number of beer checks. We did introductions and where we could find you on the moon, and then went to chase Clit Notes through Newton.
Trail left the parking lot and it took us an embarassing amount of time to scout the first few checks given how much trial we had ahead of us - and we were all sober! Eventually we solved trail around a fire station and past some pretty houses. Up and down a hill maybe? If you’re expecting a turn-by-turn recount, well, it was an 18 mile trail and I have to stop writing this at some point. Trial lead us to a park, with a marked false into a playground, and pack was lost for a bit before we solved the check out of the park and back into the suburbs, before turning back into a park of some sort. The transition from pavement to dirt was too hard for butler who tumbled for no apparent reason - perhaps the rocks just jumped up and tripped him. Trial continued through the park for a while before eventually getting to BN and BC1.
Most people had around 1.5 miles at this point, and attacked their beers with purpose. Pearl Necklace first timers were a bit confused about how the white shirts and pens worked, but it was explained that in order to earn your pearl necklace, you had to have a signature on your shirt for each beer, No Man took off to lay trail.
We ran past a construction site, found a check back then ran around Newtonville for a Hash Sitapeed and a jaunt past Wrangler’s highschool. We ran through some parking lots, then over the pike. There was a check at an intersection which had us a bit confused, and Dry Hose went scouting down to the left. As he was turning to call that he was looking for marks, he ran right into a bus stop sign. Like ran into the sign, and opened a pretty nasty cut on his forehead; nasty and deep and bleedy enough that we had to call someone to take him to the hospital. Not like a Lift or an Uber, but an ambulance. While that was happening trail had continued and we reached second BC, around 2.8 miles in.
In the game of switching bag cars we were now treated to beer and food and drink from Rimmy’s car. It was around this beer check where the arts and crafts tendancies came out and people started getting rather competitive on their shirt modifications. Two beers in a feeling groovy, Mud Slut took off to lay the next leg of trail.
Continued through the park on red flour, then ran an loop around Bottom Wrangler’s middle school. A set of harriets went to avail themselves of the portabodies we ran the little loop and quickly rejoined us on trial which continued through the woods - a common theme on this pearl which had more dirt than pavement - and along what appeared to be a rail trail. There was a crossing over some river and then we reached BC3.
The first long beer check. There were popsicles, beers, food and sandwhiches. This is when people figured out that if you split beers with people you could combine names on your shirt, and the game of “what amalgamations can we come up with began.” After everyone was feeling full, happy and a little bit drunk Foamy and the foamling left to lay trail.
Ran across a bridge (I think?) and around a car dealership. There was a joint check (zig zag h3) and a shot check (which I am so thankful wasn’t fire pepper cheetos vodka), and then trail came back out and ran down a road. Leg 4 was also the first leg of the “Stollers” - those few and dedicated souls who were strolling on the running trail - they would eventually spread their rage like a virus to infect all of us by the end, but for now they were sweep, sweep, sweeping the still majority of folks who were running. There was death march down a road to a beer check in the field.
The ideas of BC3 - name amalgamations - spurred a competition, artistic pack name drawings. There were now two active ways of participating in the sign-shirt-for-beer. People were starting to flag and we were over 6 miles, but still only at 4 beers. Glutenless was next so he took off across the field, Actual walkers were separated from the strollers and the funners at this time.
Ran around a farm (I think) and past the walkers enjoying baggo. It came very close to overlapping the last trail before winding through Waltham, though staying away from a hinted secret Treehouse check. There was no secret Treehouse check, but a shopping cart was found on trail and brought with pack. Trail went up and down a bridge (over a set of stairs which were closed), to a confusing mark before a BN by the commuter rail, eventually we found the BC, and Sweagle took off over the train tracks.
Was a fun beer check. We were drunk, we weren’t tired, and you know, happy fun times. A lady pulled up wondering what was happening, and QMQ sauntered over to her - his gate was hilarious, I wish I knew a better world, but, either way, she seemed understanding and left us alone. Since it was a Swegle Leg, we knew he didn’t need too much time.
Crossed the train tracks (though you could have gone around ont bridge). The pack was able to get themselves, the stroller with the baby in it and the shopping cart over before a train came and nearly killed everyone. From there the trail proceeded as expected; even 4 legs into the PN Swegle was still running out multiple falses for each check, before eventually bringing us to a set of abandoned rail tracks. Trail was marked down tracks to a very unstable bridge with a few holes in the ties making for a challenging crossing. Trail went down the embankment and through a construction site towards Bentley. We sang “hashers, meet the hashers” for some undergrads working on their tans, I mean studing. Then ran around the sports complex and turned right to run down to the girl scout complex? I’m not sure, but that’s what butler called it.
People were beginning to get drunk, and Dry Hose returned to us from the hospital. Who can take a head wound and keep running trail? A hasher, that’s who! NDY tried to pee behind a couple of different trees before deciding on the middle of the field. Butler took off to hare the next leg - promised as the “shiggy” leg, and road sodas were grabbed to lub us up for the shiggy to come.
Was shiggy. Like, really shiggy. It ran up some powerlines and past a bee-ery (a place which farms bees) into woods. Trail was well marked with flour on trees, and the runners were able to keep a good pace. The strollers, being slightly burdened which their rage lagged slightly behind. By the time we got to the first fence crossing, the groups had seperated to audible range. By the time we got to the second fence crossing, the strollers were on their own as the additional rage level made some of the more techinical parts of trail - climbing over trees or fences slightly more difficult. Also some bad zenning, but I’m not here to cast blame. Eventually we were able to solve trail and join back up with pack - but there were about 10-15 minutes a head and butler was sent back to rescue us.
Beer check 6:
People were edging in on 9 miles and getting more and more drunk. The half-name half-beer competition was in full effect, we were treated to “Do me on the moon” or “orgasm slut” There were also gold fish. I didn’t tell anyone because they’re amazing and I ate a third of the bag. Luva lamp went off to hare his leg and eventually we followed.
Understanding that he (and we) were all getting drunk and the miles were adding up, the hare took us on what was essentially a straight shot down Trapello rd, but with one block off loops on each side, to the next beer check.
Beer check 7:
This is the stuff hashers are made of. Check 7 through 10 on the perl necklace; you’re deep in, you know you’re deep in and there isn’t much to do expect down your beers and pound your miles. Udder took off to hare her leg, with Peepers “not haring, just keeping the hares company” We were over 10 miles and udder promised us a straight, simple trial
I’m totally missing an entire check. Udder haredthe leg after the second lunch check, but the second lunch check was at check 8, and we’re at check 7. I’m honestly confused because I have no memory of the missing leg.
[editing note: It was swegles leg]
Beer check 8: Was where the walkers (Power Bottom H3) were drunk. Very drunk. I thought running pack was drunk then I saw them. There was beer, and sandwhiches and aggressive napping. Do Me gave herself a sobriety test, and I think passed because she then climbed a tree. The HVD climbed a tree. By climbed a tree I mean like jumped up to the first split in trunk and posed. Then butler put down his cookie bag and climbed the tree. Like the whole tree, to the top most branches. Not wanting to be out flown, Swedish Eagle soared to the top on the other branch and we were all sure they were going to die. Luckily they didn’t and udder and her help went off to set trial.
Ran out through the park then through Belmount center. I bailed on trial and went to the dunkin donuts for a pitstop. I rejoined the strollers (now the majority of pack) and we ran into a parking lot by some kids playing soccer.
Beer Check 9:
Yeah, we were drunk. The drive to get sign offs was still going, and we were developing the 1000 yard stare of all pearl necklaces. That look that says I can barely stand, but I’m not sure if it’s because of the distance (over 13 at this point), or the beer. As we were flagging CPA yelled that she won the hash! The first to 13! A few minutes later Rainbow echoed her joy as she completed as well. Wrangler took off to hare trial.
Went up hill, pretty much exclusively. We were cheered on by some people having a porch party and who thought we were crazy for running. Little did they know how drunk we were. Or,as PoPo said “How surprised would they be to learn that we are way more drunk than they are!” There was a questionable hash sitapeed - we yelled Sitapeed at it then did some really, really bad scouting. We eventually found trial and followed it to the next check, where we did more really, really, really bad scouting. It’s possible that we were very drunk. We eventually saw the stroller walking down a street a few blocks away and join them and ran to the next BC - in the woods...somewhere?
BC 10: It was long, we were tired. There were pretzels. There was beer. What else do you expect from a description of the 10th beer check on a perl necklace?
Leg 11: Was hared by the fresh-from-the-er Dry hose, and the trusty hare companion peppers. It ran through the woods, then back into town, to the WHOREDORE check. Remember when Hodor was a happy go-lucky guy who just carried people around? A whoredore check requires pack to buddy up and go whoredore style until the next check. Fellowship and Peepshow were the only ones to complete the challenge. Trial continued through a field of youth soccer to bag car behind the softball field.
BC 11: Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m swapping beer checks in my memory. I’m describing the beer check which started Wranglers trial. The BC9 was really this one, I think BC10 was correct, so this will be the BC9 write up.
Basically, we were drunk and the post sandwhich naps took over. Mud slut passed out starfished on the groundnext to bag car, and Do Me shared the curb as a pillow with her. I had relieved myself in the Dunkins, but most of pack took advantage of the portapoties at the bc. It was getting harder and harder to find light beers - those early trial bud heavies were a challenge no one really wanted to face 11 beers in. Gummy bears and cookies were also handed out.
QMQ and HVD took off to lay the penultimate leg and at this point there were maybe half a dozen runners left.
Was through watertown center, past a couple of scarey intersections then up a long sloping road taking us towards Arsenal.
Was in a parking lot behind an abandoned store front. There were beers, food, and the spread of 1000 yard stare. I completed and CPA witnessed me. More and more people were completing and we were all over 16 miles at this point. Luva lamp took off to hare the final leg.
Was down the road, then left a block, then down the Charles River bike path. It’s funny that I said he took off. He strolled, at a very ragey pace. However, inexplicably, there people still attempting to yog or, gasp, even run, so over less than a mile, the hare was snared 4 times. Also Do Me was almost killed by geese, but eventually we made it to the ONIN.
A couple ice tubs of beer were brought and cold beer was provided. We circle up rather quickly as the light was dying and we were promised hash beer and warm food at the on-after. The hares - all 13 of them - were called and listened to comments, then we sang and them and they sang at us. We then called in the visitors - burlington, boners and colombo, and sang at them, then they sang at us. Dry hose was called in by Power Bottom H3 and renamed (I think?) Yeild, Motherfucker! We then accused Just Nicole of being a just. She knelt, was named, and rose “Massage a Trios.” Famous hashers were named at Pearls before, so she has shoes to fill. All PN virgins were called in, then two and three timers, the anyone who had been to 5 or more, sadly noone has been to every pearl necklace. We then called the organizers in and announced that, in addition to patches, stickers, tshirts, and beers for a day, the hash had raise over $1000 for the Make a Wish foundation, good job hashers! A couple of statie cruisers drove by and turned their spotlights on us so we sang low and headed to Millers Ale House for food, beer and revalry.
ON - you gotta earl your perls - ON
|A Very Anime Zombie Jesus April Fools Passover Hash
(about 2 months ago)
What: A Very Anime Zombie Jesus April Fools Passover Hash
Who: Rim Job Ring Leader: The Greatest Ho On Earth, Love Canal, and Quarter Mile Queer
Bag Car: Dog Dick Afternoon
Pack: Sex: The Final Frontier, Swedish Eagle, Pop C*m Ear (and she vanished...?), Fellowship of the Cock Ring, Po Po Peep Show, Just Steph, Just Stefan and his Virgin Sue, Just Nicole, Just Katie, Orgasm Falmon, Just Brook, The Buttler Hit It, Yellow Dick Gnome, No Man on the Moon, Just Clarie Who Became Whore's Box, For F*ck's Sake Finish Already, (visitor) Love Canal, Bring Out Your Gimp, 5 Inch Penalty.
Scribe: Sex: The Final Frontier
Prelube was Boston Eagle, a bar that was gay friendly, but not sign friendly, being indicated only by a large eagle on its front. I protested as a Jew on Passover, I refused to read Egyptian pictograms to find my bearings (though I would have wandered for 40 years in the South End desert had Quarter Mile Queer not shouted to me as I passed it).
Chalk talk was lead competently, as the problem RA was off haring, and Gnome induced us to introduce ourselves and what sins of ours Jesus died for. One virgin was among us, a boy named Sue.
Trail was sparsely laid, as hares were mighty Jewish on chalk, though we found our ways across the Mass Pike and down Stuart street. Pack was unfathomably Lemming-ish throughout the trail and wandered in whatever direction 3 people started going, regardless of whether any marks were spotted.
Gimp and I found an actual trail with marks, though Gimp missed an arrow pointing creatively in a construction zone because somehow a situation arose in which I was not loud enough. I enjoyed my little jaunt through the construction zone while pack lemming-ed the far side of the street with nary a mark on them. The end of my foray was met with a Tit Check, followed by a True Trail. Now, given that the True Trail was in clear sight from the TC, I questioned whether trail was unsolved and whether I was truly bound by said TC. I decided to be sporting and yelled to pack across the street that I had found a True Trail, but that I was waiting on "a check". Pack came and my good sportsmanship was rewarded with not one but two pairs of just lovely apparati.
From there, a BN was spotted. Seeing utterly no marks, we spotted a few creatively dressed people and proceeded to enjoy BC1 in the windiest possible corner of Elliot Norton Park.
Hares were gay, fucked up and sheepishly returned, then left again. Leaving BC1, we took a straight trajectory toward the Common, where a S-S split brought us along the denizens of the city basking in a lovely spring day.
At Arlington Street Church, a confusing mark was left that both showed True Trail, A Song Check, and an On arrow. A meeting of the minds ruled that this was meant as a Song Check with an arrow basically patronizing us to notice the church as a source of Song inspiration. Between the number of nice muggles outside on Easter and the church being the most toothless conceivable form of church (UU), we vetoed Jesus Can't Go Hashing in favor of Hashers, Meet the Hashers and proceeded down Newbury Street.
We found ourselves in Public Alley 436 drinking what must have been the Piss of Christ. Following a check and heavy lemmings, I foolishly headed down Newbury in the direction of our origin and lost all of pack. Despondent, lonely, and lost, I tried Public Alley 439 and emerged in the middle of pack, which had stayed on Newbury in the opposite direction I had scouted. Groundhog Day ensued and we hit one Shot Check per Public Alley for the next 2 Alleys, finally yielding the sweet payoff of Manischewitz.
We emerged from the Alley ways in front of the convention center, where an awful lot of people were dressed for the day's Trail. A brief romp through Kings and Dalton St, and we arrived at the Fens and Beer Check 2.
Sweagle was in a highly form fitting (some might say his form was dress fitting) dress and elected to climb up a large monument with statues and pose with them. A muggle looked on as his jaw acquired the mass of a small locomotive.
Hares were mercilessly teased over the long list of places named "Machine" that trail could end at. Hares gaid and instead took us round about to Buttsex Forrest, one of the kennel's favorite places to be broken up by the police.
Having castigated Hares for this location as well, and having made open declarations of being prepared for what we needed to do WHEN (not if) the constabulary would arrive, a short (and cold) circle was begun, to be completed at Machine. Notably, our mordant prophesies of Police doom proved to act as amulet and pack was left undisturbed for the duration of its stay.
Hares were told to use more flour and chalk and Gnome called in Just Claire for a naming. Many hashers had many revealing stories, but winning out was a story involving a casual romp at a wedding in a horse barn with a young man who couldn't spell his four-lettered name. We christened her Whore's Box and moved our frigid asses to Machine, where a more proper circle continued upstairs of a funeral wake. We swung low and the Hash Got a Piece.
(5 months ago)
What: AntiTrash ?XV?
Where: Party Condo, Waterpark, other locations.
Who: A lot of people, most important Spunk in the Trunk and Sketchy Ho
Hares: Trial dependant
It is generally difficult to know from what point to start trashing on away weekends, but the natural inclination is whenever the narrator, that is Wiki, arrived on scene. Thought since a good amount of people arrived early on Friday to ski, there is some need to relate that story.
As I was driving and my passengers were legally drinking out of metal containers, they started reading out some interesting sounding updates such as “STAY AWAY” from the party condo and “We’re at the bar” and “Please sit tight, they are sending some blow-torches to the party condo” Eventually, the blow torches torched, the plumbers plumbed and the electrions zapped everything into order and the party condo opened just on the hash standard time of five. At this point your humble narrator (future reference YHS), was still driving through mid Vermount in pursuit of beer and depressingly average sandwhiches.
Once the condo was opened, the ragers started in and unpacking. There were bowls of chili passed around and we all assembled to see the first viewing of Purple Rain of the weekend. The chant of “tits out for the hash” was changed, in reflection of improvements and evolution of cultural language to “consensual tits!” (though were they really consensual? I’m really quite confused about what goes on in Purple Rain).
The rage on Friday night was, on the whole, gentle, and so some of us rallied to make a first entry into the water park. We were kinda worried that our conversation the bus was a little “drunk and nerdy” for most people (do you die when you are transported) until we realized that the man sitting next to us was quietly nursing a beer. There was some confusion re: lockers with a friendly Canadian, and we made our way to the water slides. I’m not sure who’s more annoyed; the kids at the adults taking up space in line, or the adults and the kids not knowing how to line. Either way, we paired off and team mud-philia won both heats (don’t listen to fake news about starting before “go”), and we decided that we were all too old and not quiet drunk enough to do la chute and made our way to the hot tub. While there were no kids throughing snow in, there was a group of younger adults enjoying, quiet openly, PBRs. We thought that free beer in a warm condo sounded better than expensive beer in a cold night, and rejoined the ragicants at the PC.
We entreated the hosts for permission to play drinking games but were told a strange version of no, that was “yes, if you want to find a way to play a drinking game that can guarantee that nothing will be spilt” clarification was requested and the response was reiterated: Drinking games aren’t illegal, making a mess is. I was drunk enough to hear a “no” when a see one and continued to pour free beer down my throat while calling out time until midnight.
Wanting to lay groundwork for future endeavors, I attempted to enlist the support of a not-at-all-sober O’Bone’R to lay the UGH with me, but while her words said “Yes” her body (in that it was having trouble standing up) said no, though she did help me scout and lay the beer check. Looking back it have been either Mudslut or Clits and Chips who helped? My memory of the exactness of those events is rather questionable. I cannot speak for what transpired on trial, but shortly after midnight my co-hare and I discarded our clothes and ran around outside to the downstairs condo for the beer check. A few minutes later pack showed up and the residents joined us for a pleasant beer or two while dicussing how the “glow in the dark” marks weren’t “glowing in the dark” and so “no one could find trial.” O’Bone’R claimed this as justification for her not haring with me, though it’s possible she had already passed out. When the “bag of beer” had been drunk we ran back upstairs to the party condo for circle, which Drunk Spunk wonderfully RA’d. I don’t remember many details of circle, though I do remember being yelled at for singing too long song, but, TBH, that’s par for the course.
Sometime later, maybe 2ish, it was GImp, Spunk and I standing around the party condo yelling “AGE” so I went to bed.
Quick note: My real time memory did not include me walking home so I was rather worried I had passed out in the party condo.
A lot of people (judging by the dishes) woke up early and went skiing. I was on breakfast clean up duty so I had a rejoining breakfast with sobriety and stayed away from spiking coffee - thanks Gimp for the Bailey - or the mulled wine from Vagabond, since I wasn’t sure if I’d ski or not. Around 11 I realized that I’d be paying $80 to rent skis for 2 hours, so, with a heavy heart I bid sobriety goodbye.
NoMan showed up with a game she bought off a hasher that might have been funny 4 years ago? It seemed like all the cards were inside jokes from some campout weekend of yore. We did our best to play two rounds, but eventually switched to THUMPER. THUMPER, despite it’s name, did not get us drunk enough, so we switched to 3 man, which accomplished the job rather well.
Gimp and Sweagle returned from scouting and took a nap.
Around 2:30 (maybe 3), they woke up and enough of pack had reassembled at the party condo for trial, which will be the next section of this trash.
ANTI-BUFFET ?XV? TRIAL (and circle)
The hares left and we followed them out to chalk talk, lead by a vary casual Fuwnagi sucking on a cigarette. There would be beer, maybe shots, maybe false and trial would be marked in blue-flour (only slightly more visible than it’s native white) in the freshly fallen snow.
After introductions pack all ran down the driveway and onto the ski-in/ski-out trial before realizing that we hadn’t seen any marks. We doubled back and found trial going down the hill between the condos and into the woods. Running was difficult - mainly due to ankle fears - but a good number us did our best “over the river and through the woods” trot. Eventually we came upon earthworks of some variety and scrambled up to find a check on top. We checked left, then right - knowing that the hares wouldn’t make us slide down that rather steep slope into the forest below. We were idiots, of course that’s where trial went. More woods-running lead us across a field and to a S/S check. The FRBs followed the only set of footprints and the rest of pack followed them. It was guessed that one could run down the stream to the road. Pack hoped the rail-guard on the road and found a few checks on the road before we turned back up into the shiggy and up a hill. Right as pack was moaning that we’d be running up the hill for too long we heard the blessed call of “Beer Neer.”
Beer Check Warm Beer:
Were we promised cold beer and warm air or warm air and cold beer? In the end, it didn’t really matter as there was both air and beer, though only one was drunk. After we had been standing around for a while (though not getting overly cold, the RAs managed to keep the temperature out of the single digits), and almost all the beers had been drunk, the hares scampered off. At a point about 100 yards away they mooned us, to which we cheered, then they ran on.
Trail wound around an empty run-off pool, then across and up a road. There was a check which lead across a field back to the party condo.
After having been running up hill for almost 369 yards, we were greated by very boozey hot chocolate, or more beer. The hares, well, one of them, were instant that despite the fact that we were at the party condo, this wasn’t the end of trial and that there was a whole other leg to get through. We were dubious.
The hares did indeed lay another leg of trial, though YHS didn’t go on it. YHS went to the party condo and watched Purple Rain until the rest of pack showed up and we circled.
Was lead by Fungwangi. The hares were called in to start circle off then there was some confusion about what was happening next; Anti-Buffet Virgins or real Virgins? There were real versions there? Yes, indeed, Cock Bottle seemed to be of the opinion that his Virgin had been demented, but no one could attest to that so she was called into circle. She was asked a series of questions and generally did a rather poor job of answering them, but we’re kinda desperate, so we’ll take her anyway. Then everyone who had been to 1 or more Anti-buffets was called in and then dismissed. Two and three timers were called in and dismissed, but there was a pretty good core group and people didn’t fall away until 7, 8, or 9. Since Piggy wasn’t there, there are no more any “Perfect Attedenance” at Anti-Buffet; Ass For Gass, Funqangi, Sketchy and Spunk were all in the mid-teens, and they really should get a life. The various other kennels were called in, and eventually we got onto accusations, which, to be perfectly honest, I don’t quiet remember as my memory checks out sometime during circle then returns at the hottub - anyway, we swang low and then lined up for food, which I believe was sausage meat in rolls and steamed veggies?
There was one announcement of note, that AntiBuffet would be returning next year if anyone wanted to organize it. Spunk calls it her “December Vacation” and Sketchy glares at her when she uses the term “vacation” to describe what happens.
After food was eaten, and as the dishes were being done there were multiple calls out to make runs to the water park. There the hash steamed away their inebriation and we sat, stood, and soaked in the hottub until we were sober enough to want to return to the party condo.
Pants off Dance off was called for 10, but it was more of a “Pants on dance-maybe?” sit around the table playing more 3 man. Three Man is a dangerous game to play once a day, twice a day is, well, aggressive. My memory, after a brief and bright return, kinda cuts off again around there.
UGH #2. Happened. I don’t think we went outside, we might not have even gotten naked.
Passing out: Also happened.
On - Sundays are for Pod and Opera - On
|A Very Wiki (And Blondie) Trail
(6 months ago)
A Very Wiki (And Blondie) Trail
Who: Sex: Final Final Frontier, The Buttler Hit It, Dribbles, Pat My Fly, Orgasm Falmon, Just Claire, Cougar Whisper, Luva Lamp, 5 Inch Penalty, CPA, Shart of Darkness, Dr. Bitch, Quarter Mile Queer, visitorplant: Lawrence of Her/My Labia, Virgin Julian/Pedro, Cock Lobster
Hares: Wikipedophilia and Blondie McFucksAlot
Bag Car: Marbelous Asshole
Having been apprenticed to Wiki for my virgin lay, I have privy to information that makes a method to Wiki’s hashness. Wiki then told me, years ago:
Marks should be easy to find; true trail should be hard to find.
With that in mind, this was the Wiki-est trail to ever Wiki, sans Wiki Lost-ing.
Leg 1: Wiki Thinks We Read Street Signs.
Trail began at “Lulus Alston”, which is Lulu’s Allston in Wikese. Queer gave a Chalk Talk with no beginning and no end and we proceeded, with pack entirely following the false that Blondie laid south down Linden before proceeding across the Bridge of Angsty Allston Poets. A romp through Lower Allston met with a Tit Check that Cougar Whisperer ignored and solved trail anyway through Hooker St. We were sequestered by another Tit Check at the other end of Hooker before a T-E split that lead to a old Allston favorite Beer Check on the side of Cambridge St, at the perpetual Harvard construction that we’d worry about losing if Harvard ever finished.
Leg 2: The Charles River Falses
Pack entirely followed Blondie’s false into Riverside Press Park. I missed the YBF there, but Whisperer found it. We made it through C*mbridge and seemed to be on our way to Harvard, until a CB10 (which proved to be a CB12 because Hares can’t count) lead us back to the DeWolfe St bridge that Falmon solved. At Gordon Rd, a lovely prewarmed Brandywine hot toddy found us agreeable, where Wiki then informed us with the archetypal Wiki Mischievous Grin (WMG) that next leg would be laid in sticks.
Leg 3: What’s Brown and Sticky?
Stick trail proved soluble enough since the sticks were floured, and we pounced around the Smith Playground, finding the hares waiting for us adjacent to Allston Aeronaut with delicious minted hot chocolate in a warmed DD coffee box, matching the most popular shirt of the run.
Leg 4: Really a 4th leg?
5 Inch and I vied for the Everett St bridge on a Turkey-Eagle split. The 6th CB of the trail led us down Braintree St into the Penniman St play area where we found Beer Check 2.
Leg 5: Cheetos
Wiki repeatedly and gleefully (WMG) informed us that the remainder of trail would be laid in off-brand Cheetos and various members of pack griped that trail was so long we would begin EATING the trail. I informed Wiki that we were at Ballbuster length. Wiki retorted that True Trail was 250 yards (or something equally ridiculous) but that Pack’s following falses – which they could not fail to do – was what made it longer.
Hares gaid and most of pack went straight to Silhouette, where prognosticators and fornicators alike had foretold trail would end.
Queer started into a rendition of The Hares of her Dickiediedo, which proved to be a premature ejaculation. Hares were told they should have used more flour and chalk, half the pack was accused of wearing identical DDPBR shirts, I accused Cougar Whisperer of skipping the Tit Check, and I was countercused of the equally culpable crime of not skipping it (or something). The transplant required a second c*ming to find a song we did not know and we found that the virgin would indeed enjoy porn with his parents. Following up to a discourse made on trail, Just Claire was called in for a naming, possibly to Squeakly Clean Vagina or Vagina Dentatta, but her naming proved to be merely an ultimatum to the Just to get dirtier on trail, lest she wind up with one of these terrible names.
On - cheetos - On
|Beaches be cray
(6 months ago)
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.
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.