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|11/3 Eagles in Eastie trail
(over 3 years ago)
What: Eagles in Eastie trail
Hare: Swedish Eagle and, sort of, Just Todd
Bag Car: Mudslut
Pack: Bloody Slip Inside, Krusty the Meat Miser, Senor C*cksucker, Sex the Final Frontier, CEP, Shart of Darkness, PSA, CPA, Goes Down on Buoys, Wikipedophilia, Orgasm Famine, +2 Coonass, Friar F*ck, Blowbot, 5-Inch Penalty, E = I'm a Douche, Spunk in the Trunk, Luv-A-Lamp, Clit Notes, Virgin Rosie, probably others I forgot
Because the RAs were busy getting drunk on Sunday morning, the weather early in the day was absolutely disgusting (with, as you miiiiight have heard mentioned by others -- you know, once or twice or maybe A MILLION TIMES -- the first snow of the year). However, the RAs finally got their sh*t together and gave some celestial blowjobs. By the time we assembled at a middle-of-nowhere billiards bar (where we were literally the only patrons), the weather was decidedly Not So Bad.
A large contingent of the attendees were already drunk from brunch, and the rest of us were doing our best to catch up. We pondered just doing an Ugh around the bar and calling it a day, but given that the hare had already left (and not running his trail seemed like a rather sh*tty birthday gift), we eventually roused ourselves and made our way out into the cold.
Chalk talk, or, Krusty was drunk as promised
We had an edifying chalk talk wherein Krusty told us everything *except* that almost the entire trail would be laid in red flour (you had one job!). As we also quickly found out, that flour was almost impossible to distinguish from dead leaves. I'm still not sure whether I was ever actually on trail or if I was just following dead leaves the whole time.
Leg #1, or, Were there actually any marks out there??
There was some confusion right out of the gate (see: aforementioned difficulty in spotting flour). We eventually figured out that we were supposed to cross through the Orient Heights station and we weaved down a few side streets and ran past Suffolk Downs. Eventually we found ourselves stymied near another T station. (Have I mentioned that the marks were hard to see?) Eventually we found a mark in that other T station, crossed through it, and after a short jaunt found ourselves at the first beer check, which was at a marsh. My watch told me I had run about 1.5 miles -- hard to believe it was a Sweagle trail.
We huddled up behind some shrubbery and drank our PBR, which was actually cold. Some guy with a couple dogs (including one blind dog -- remember that for later, because it's relevant) stopped by and had a beer with us. We did a penguin huddle to stay warm, which led to someone mentioning orgies, which led to a rousing rendition of "At the Gang Bang."
Leg #2, or, Good thing it was perfect beach weather
Eventually, we headed out to run the rest of trail. We almost immediately got extremely lost -- trail went through a field at a school, or at least I think it did, because I never actually saw a mark on said field. However, we located a song check on the other side of the field, so we were more or less on the right track. That's basically how the rest of trail went; about half the time, we weren't seeing any marks and were just making educated guesses.
Trail continued through wherever-the-hell-we-were until it emerged onto Revere Beach, where there was a very windy and lonely tit check that held up much of the pack. Again, I saw maybe one mark on the entire beach, but someone smarter than I eventually found trail. We ran past Bill Ash's and at that point were pretty sure that trail ended at BK's, so we beelined that way only to find, to our surprise, no marks in front of the door. However, our confusion was premature (as hashers so often are) and the on-in was marked at the back door. Total distance according to my Garmin was 3.69 miles (no further comment necessary).
On-in, or, Spunk was FBI?!
The pizza had already arrived and the Pats game was started,so we commenced circle posthaste. We made some comments on trail, my favorite of which was: "I saw fewer marks than that one guy's dog!" (Remember the blind dog?? Get it?????)
FBI was Spunk in the Trunk (!!), whose keen knowledge of Revere dives led her right to the appropriate location. FRB was none other than Krusty. DFL was -- I forget -- let's assume it was Friar.
Wiki returned a pair of my shoes I had forgotten in his car, with some nips tucked inside (pretty sure I didn't leave those there). I refused to drink them out of my shoes and was promptly given one of Krusty's shoes. At least the vodka killed all the germs, right?
Virgin Rosie became a virgin no more, other things happened but I don't really remember them, everyone was distracted by the Pats game, the locals in the bar were amused (or maybe just annoyed) and took pictures of us.
Finally, we swung low, descended upon the pizza, and ate ourselves into a cheese- and beer-induced stupor while watching men in tights run into each other. America, f*ck yeah!
11/8 - Space Unicron - it's finally here!
11/22 - PT2H3 Sadie Hawkins - gents, if you haven't been pinned yet, start thinking about how to get on a harriette's good side (hint: alcohol helps)
12/6 - 4th An*al B4H3 turducken trail
- We need hares for 12/28! You'll need a break from your family anyway. Email me to sign up.
- We are starting an Adopt a Newbie program for new hashers who are interested in haring but needed to be corrupted -- er, guided -- by a more experienced hasher (wink wink). If you are interested (as either a newbie or the experienced counterpart), shoot me an email and let me know. We are currently looking for fresh meat to hare with Douche on 11/23 and with CEP on 12/14; if those dates don't suit your fancy, pick any open date on the calendar.
That's all she wrote, folks.
|3 Trails 1 Trash
(over 3 years ago)
What: Eager 4 Beaver #Something
Where: Under some powerlines, between “modern” houses in Burlington, I think?
Hare: DUI Done Right
Pack: Bring Out the Gimp, Can’t Eat Pussy, Wikipedophilia, The Butler Hit It, Douchesquatch, Spunk in the Trunk, Two Justs From Salem.
Late Cumer: Salty Mudflaps
Was marked at the edge of the parking area under the power lines and followed a rough trail straight up the slope to a check where the trails forked. Trail continued straight, past another fork, then turned right to run under the power lines, to a check back 10. The “runners” – CEP, Butler and YHS – turned and counted back to find walking pack milling about by the fork; their hashy senses telling them to scout around before the check back was counted out. Low and behold, the check back was to the unmarked fork, and trail cut into the woods off to the left of the power lines to a check, then turned back right and zig-zagged back under the power lines and down to some highway. Oh, wait, no, trail never went that far down the hill; it had turned at the crest and continued into the woods. Again, it was the “gentle joggers” who stayed on trail, while the FRBs did some hill sprints. Bush-wacking through some shiggy eventually brought us to a semi-clearing with some boulders and DUI sitting by some “beer.”
DUI can’t read. He says that the only reason he bought Natty Ice was because he thought it had 6.9% ABV, but closer reading of the can yielded that it was actually just 5.9% ABV. Learn to read, deward! After some public shamming, we kicked him out and mumbled about the quality of beer. We decided that it wasn’t alcohol abuse to pour out Natty Ice, so, with some donations to local flora and fauna (which ever one of those words means plants, since there were no “animals”), we chased after our hare.
Trail Phase Purple:
Crossing the ridge from the beer check, trail continued through the woods to a check at the top of a hill. There were some marks heading down hill from there, but pack wisely thought that going down hill was foolish since it only lead to the road, and this is Beaver. However, after extensive scouting yielded no marks in any other direction besides downhill and to the road, we ran down the hill to the road, where we indeed found marks. Trail ran up hill through a quiet part of suburbia which seemed completely indifferent to our passing. A few turns later, trail came back to the cars where I saw DUI sitting on a rock drinking a beer. Slowing down, thinking it was the BC/Point B, I was sadly informed that the beer was about a half a mile away. He pointed and said “go that way” and “that way” I went. Trail snaked along the power lines, diving into the woods then back before crossing the lines at the bottom of a long ridge, over a wood bridge, with the “beer” hidden in the water beneath. As I was crossing the last switch back, I saw back at the cars making their way down the hill and yelled back “Beer Near” to encourage them. CEP and Spunk and the female just kept running on trail, while Douche, Gimp and the male just made a B-Line to the beer and found a swamp in their way. Swamp or not; nothing can stop the Douchesquatch and he barreled on to the beer.
Again, “beer” in the loosest sense of the word since it was still Natty Ice. Since the BC was on a bridge, we quickly descended into Robin Hood Men in Tights/LotR quotes and tried really hard not to think about what we were drinking. About half-way through our beers, DUI said that the ONIN beer was the High Life, and that we could follow him back to the cars since he didn’t feel like running any more.
Trail Second Act:
We followed DUI to the cars, and walked into Salty sitting, with crutches, on the side of trail, hitting on lesbians.
In a bit of an RA by committee, we called the hare into circle and I only messed up one verse. He had nothing to say in his defense, so then we called in FRB (Wiki), FBI (female just) and DFL (salty), and sang them the song where everyone yells BUS. I tried to sing Wild West Show, but f*cked it up royally “crocked tattoed lady.” CEP some version of “bum-titty” and the entire “Big Rhode Island Read” there were announcements – the next beaver trail is at the end of 95 where it runs into 128, and will be hared by me…sometime?
ON-AFTER -> Maragritas. We all decided that we needed “real food” before moon.
What: MOON AGM
Where: Lower Depths
WHO: Wine Riot*, An*l Disco
4 Score and 20 Cocks Ago, Cocksmith, Pop Cum Ear I’m Infected, Friar Fuck, Oragsm Falmon, Blowbot, CEP, DUI Done Right, THE 2nd Cumming, Beat By A Girl, Amilia Airfart*, Goat Throat, Easy A 123, PSA, Cuddle Puddle, Bend Over Mommy, Save a Tree Ride A Cowboy, Goes down on Bouys, Bloody Slip Inside, Laurance My Labia, 5 Inch Penalty, Extra Terristical, Fatbox, Others?
Oh yeah, there was an optional Beaver On-After-After Pre-Pre-Lube at the Discodome where we sampled/tested all the shot checks and generally engaged in Debachurrey until the uber arrived, also Butler handed out cookies and candies. As we were waiting we were treated to Disco reading us txts from her beautiful co-hare such as:
Thrown out of wine riot.
Crying on a stoop.
Throwing up in an alley.
Sending Peepers home.
En route to start.
By the time we got to the pre-lube, it had been taken over about 2/3rds hashers in their masquerade finery. We sipped on fancy beers and everyone was treated to a very drunk, but very very happy Udder. Once we’d all consumed a fancy beer or 3, and the hares had stumbled off we decided it was time to get this shit show started, so we all just walked to Bloody’s car.
Nothing special; the hares are drunk, don’t expect a long trail.
Trail Waxing Cresent:
Starting from the Alley behind the UBurger in Kendal, trail ran down Commonwealth towards Mass Ave, where we were almost immediately treated to a shot check (blue drink) then to a check and down an alley to Newbury street, or whatever. Crossing Newbury street “That man’s dressed like a woman!” mentioned one muggle on seeing Goat run past (note; it was actually a surprisingly masculine outfit for Mr. Throat, but, whatever), to a tit check in front of the Fire station, however none of Boston’s finest were around to see the finest that Boston’s harriets had to offer. Trail (true) crossed the street, past Kings and the back way into the reflecting pool. Since the pack had spread out a bit, we sang a nice song about all the things we’d do to support our girl in the hospital. The suit-wearing muggles were amused and we ran on, crossing back over Mass Ave down Huntington, past a very deciptive BEAR NEAR, and eventually into the Finns to a Beer/Gay hook up check.
Beer Check In the Fens:
Udder had given up standing, and had a pow-wow with Famon for much of the beer check. Butler had handed out some cookies at Discodome that made me very very engertic so I paced around in circles the entire check, while everyone else joined udder and sat around drinking their beers. There was no rush. Eventually, Disco pulled a bottle of Fireball out of the bag car and announced a 2nd shot check (there was one on the first leg of trail, though I forget were…) to keep us sediatied while she and udder stumbled along trail some more.
After the fireball had been drunk….
Trail Waxing Gibous?:
It should be noted that, with the exception of the walkers, most of pack ran the first leg of trail. When I set off running for the second leg, there were maybe a dozen people with me. Trail ran out of the fins, past the MFA and through Northeastern, to another shot check in the middle of the quad – a dark and stormy if memory serves – that CEP and I sipped, then since we couldn’t see the rest of pack, returned it and kept running. Trail turned back into the fens, and there was a BN on a bridge with trail pointing to Udder, who was attempting to seduce a tree.
Well, except that Disco had left Udder to her tree while she went to look for Bloody and beer. It was okay, since the walkers seemed to be attracting runners like some ragey-black-out-hole. The rest of pack sauntered across the bridge right as the beer arrived. Refreshments served, everyone sat down and relaxed while Famine replaced Udder in the tree and seemed to hold court, or something, as she was serenaded, I think, by BBAGs? Pack, having lost all sense of time or motivation to do anything besides sit around and drink, started opening their second beers long after the hares had ninja’d off again. Still energized by the cookies, I took off after them.
Trail To the Moon:
At this point running pack was Famon, Mommy, Laurence My Labia, CEP, 5 Inch and Butler. Trail was basically a straight shot through some light housing projects towards a park in Mission Hill. It took us all of about 5 minutes to run, and we found the hares and bag car at the top of the hill.
We had time to help unload all the bags and beer from the car, which was about 2 blocks away, and bring them all back to the ONIN with still no sign of pack. We were standing around, drinking and generally having a good time when we started to see cranium lamps walking up the hill. Apparently, after the runners had left the BC, everyone else walked, because it’s moon and f*ck running, or rules.
About half way through “Drink A Little Bit” the private parties quieted and we were able to properly serenade our hares for the shitty trail they laid. There were no virgins, or moon virgins (maybe there were, but they weren’t called into circle). Who was? FRBs and DFLs probably? Outgoing Moon GMs? When one ex-GM drinks, all ex-GMs drink. Everyone who wore a mask was called in, and then everyone who didn’t; there was plenty of beer, and not enough accusations, so we called Udder Whore into the circle and accused her of being Moon GM without a Moon Name; from this day forward, under the full moon, Udder Whore will be known as “Wine Riot.” We tried to rename Emilia Airfart to something, but I forget. Famine was supposed to be named, but no one could remember what or why, and eventually we moved onto shotgun down-downs; anyone who had never done a shotgun at moon was called in, plus Gaywol, who apparently had never done a shotgun at all. In an utter breach of decrum, circle just kind of dissolved and we went to the ON-AFTER (some karaoke bar) without doing religion. I’ll never know what happened the day I met a whore in the park.
Happened; Butler lost his bag, no one knows White Rabbit, and Blubber showed up, then quickly left with two girls.
Tasty Burger in Harvard; much to my surprise they continued serving us beer and burgers.
What: Boston Trail #197x
Where: Drinking Fountain, JP
Hares: Twat My Mom, Willy Wonka and the Backdoor Factory
Plus 2 Coonass, Yellow Dick Gnome, Goat Throat, Easy as 123, Bum Fucking Vagabond, Just Liam*, Just Twins, Two Minute Ride, Ass-stache, Just Tim, Bloody Slip Inside, Just Brian, Stuff That Reich Now, Blonde McFucksAlot, Orgasm Famine, The Butler Hit It, Friar, Dribbles.
Due to the T being lame, most of pack was extremely delayed in getting to the start, though some people were there about 2 hours early. Trail didn’t start until well after 3.
Trail Part 1:
After chalk talk – nothing special other than “T” checks (we were instructed to look around for “treats”) – trail was marked as a death march down whatever road that is back to Forest Hills station, to a CB3 and a left turn under a bridge and into shiggy. That would the last serious pavement pounding we did all trail. Zig-zaging through shiggy into Franklin Park, we sang, again, about our deep love and compassion for our girl infront of some random hospital, then followed trail around some sporting fields and down a hill towards a pond, where we found Twat and Wonka sitting on a bench.
I also believed them when they said the beer was on an island, but decided to just look up the hill and saw the beer behind a rock. Real beer this time; PBR. Also, there were Halloween candies. Sipping our delicious beverages we took in the foliage and watched the denizens of Franklin park walk past, noting that our hares had left, we cleaned up our mess and followed after them.
Trail part 2:
After scrambling up a hill and coming out a group hug, we played some low-level frogger as we ran across the road which cuts through the park, then up another hill to the abandoned bear changes, through them, across the golf course, then through some shiggy. Then down a hill, across another field, across another road, then through more shiggy. There was more shiggy on this Boston trail than on Beaver! WTF! Ascending a final hill, we saw the hares sitting on a fence on the other side, so after scrambling down a rather steep rock face, we found that we were at the ONIN but had to wait for beer and bags, and then we had to climb back to the top of the hill for circle.
Was about 10 paces from the edge because I didn’t want to carry the beer any further, and, surprisingly, the hash agreeded and we circled. We are still “breaking in” Bloody to RAing, so he was assisted by Goat Throat. We called the hares into circle, and sang a toast to them, then reminded them that they had laid a shitty trail. After flashing us (both sets), they sang to us that despite all the shiggy, that they were drinking in a hashers paradise. Same shirts – hashers run on PBR – were called in, as were kilted hashers. We are a stupid, though well dressed, bunch. FRB and FBI were called in, though I forget who they were. Hash idiots – those who did all three trails this weekend, Butler and I, were called in and told to get a life. Visitors – Two minutes and his justs – were called in, and Blonde was accused of new shoes. She volunteered to let science decide, and when the RA let go of her shoe, it dropped; therefore it was new. She drank some, but mostly poured it on her cranium. Next Just Liam was called in and accused of being a Just. He assumed the position. He said was from Utah, but did not have any magic underwear, though he did confirm the “fith base exception” was, indeed, a thing. The pack didn’t need to hear any more; from this day forth, Just Liam will be known throughout the world as “Poophole Loophole.” Important business over, we swang low.
Was a burrito place that served pizza? Whatever, we shoved warm greasy food in our vissage-holes.
Doyles Amber Ale, while watching Sporting Events.
On – I came 3 times! – On
November 2nd: Swedish Eagle?
November 9th: Fatboy trail.
November 15th: PooF Thanksgiving potluck in Holden, MA. www.poofh3.com
November 16th: HARES NEEDED
November 22nd: Sadia Hawkins – the pins have been given out (??), so gentlemanboys talk up your favourite harriets and get pinned to the Best Event This Side of Mississippi that weekend.
I wasn’t actually paying attention during announcements; holiday party in December, Burlington Mardi Gras in March, Marathon in April, NURD in May, something in June, Invihash in July, GAP in August, InterAm in September, blah, blah, blah.
|Puffy Memorial Hash
(over 3 years ago)
What: Puffy Memorial Hash
Where: Grease My Monkey’s Nuts house, Worcester MA
Hare: Grease My Monkey’s Nuts, Wiki’s hangover
Hare Club For Queers, Ass for Gas, Wikipedophilia, The Butler Hit It, Frair Fuck, Hoover McSuck and Fuck, Twat My Mom, Nice Tits, Jimmy Crack Whore, I Eat Cum, Reverend Blowhole
People started to trickle in at some point in time before the scribe, since when I got there, everyone else was already there and apparently I had been expected to help lay (dead) trail that morning (note, I did tell Grease I was going to do this). I blame the Krusty Goat. It’s the truth. I was provided a Bloody Mary and we all stood around on the deck in the spitting rain and sipped our Bloodys and beer until we decided that we probably should go find trail before all the marks had been washed away. All we knew were that there would be marks, falses – though no marked false, all one-n-done or two-and-outs, and that on three was on on. There would be beer, somewhere, maybe. The first mark was, of course, up a hill.
Trail ran up hill from Grease’s house vaguely towards Tantnuk. Please excuse all references to neighborhoods or areas of Worcester, but otherwise this whole trail can be sumerized as “we ran up a hill; there was a beer check” three times. So that’s the TR:DL version nicely embedded in the first paragraph. Back to trail, it ran up a hill with Ass for Gas and I Eat Cum doing most of the scouting, cresting the hill and coming back down we turned left towards Chandler street. Crossing Chandler and down a hill, we came to a double song check (Puffy loved singing) in front of his old house. Since pack had spread out a bit, we decided to wait for everyone to catch up (except for Hoover, who had disappeared), and sang all the verses we could remember to Friggin the the Riggin and Follow the Hares. As we were standing in the rain, between songs, a car full of “old” people pulled up and asked what we were going standing around in kilts. We said that we were runners and that we were singing in front of one of our other friend’s house. The old lady then said “That’s fascinating; I used to live there for 40 years!” From there we on outed again in a vaguely up-hill direction, with the sounds of football games drowning out on-on calls and confusing whistle blows. Eventually we noticed that near most checks were strange piles of garbage arranged in vague arrow shapes. I Eat Cum had disappeared from the song check, apparently, and had gone off scouting and marking trail all the way to the beer check which was on top of Newton Hill.
Beer check #1:
We were standing around enjoying Worcester’s finest beer (that’s a lie, it was PBR), when Grease got a call from his wife saying that a hasher – Ryan – had just showed up to the house and wondered where everyone was. It took us a while to figure out who “Ryan” was – it was Twat – and eventually we auto-hashed to the beer check at which point we left and ran down the hill.
Well, by “we” I mean everyone but Hare Club, because he caught a root and went cranium-over-heels down the hill. I guess that’s a more efficient way of running down hill? Maybe? Anyway, we all ran down the hill from the BC and from there trail ran through Elm Park, around the Price Chooper and into WPI, a campus completely devoid of people on 3pm on a rainy Saturday afternoon. We stopped in the middle of the quad and introduced ourselves as “Hasher, Meet the Hashers” before running under a giant tree and down some stairs, then out from behind the art museum and into Institute Park. From the entrance to the park, there was a very visible line of flour-marked trees leading to the left – towards Park St(ish), but I could see the FRBs running back from the other direction. There was no check, so I’m not sure what they were doing. Anyway, running along the end of the pond we passed some college kids doing their best Puffy impressions (trail heading), though I think we spooked them since the shuffled away when Butler peeled off to join them. Rage can be scary. The rage wasn’t needed, since standing under a gazebo at the far end of the park were Grease, Twat, and beer.
Second Beer Check:
Was uneventful. We tried to convince some runners to join us – promising them beer and tits – but they all ran away. Weird. Apparently some sh*t went down with back country skiing in Utah, or something. Ass for Gas was bemoaning its demise, but he doesn’t like Walls of the Cave, so his taste is questionable. At the end of the second BC, Grease said that the there was a 3rd BC and that we had to cross over park and Salisbury in front the antiquarian society to find trail.
IEC and Tits crossed park first, then Salisbury, “North” of that other little road that comes in right before the intersection, and up which trail went. Trail zig-zaged pretty quickly up Bancroft hill, and when I saw the bag car turn up the road to the top of hill, I remembered a path through the woods that would short cut there – teenager memories – and called out “Zenning through shiggy” and charged up the hill to find Grease and Twat standing under the tower to get out of the rain. I was rewarded with a beer and waited for pack.
We waited a while, eventually Butler and Revered showed up on the far side of hill and came to the beer. No one else appeared, but we each and a beer and some wax and waited. Grease told us how to get to the OnIn from there:
“Straight, right, right, left down the hill, right, straight, bear middle, straight, then right and right.” That’s exactly what he said.
Those directions were, um, lacking. The marks were also seriously fading, once we got onto Pleasant street, I yelled back to Butler and Reverend that I was Zenning the rest the way. Grease and twat passed us, so we couldn’t be completely on the wrong trail. The zenned trail was straight down pleasant, through the rotarty, up the hill at the split (where there’s the dinner with weird chef statue outside, east side bbq, and that clay-painting place), then left onto some “parkway” and left again (all up hill) back to the start. We over ran marks twice, but never saw more than one or two.
Was right back where we started. Everyone had already arrived, so somehow the group that ran trail were actually all DFL. We stood around drinking trying to figure out who was going to RA the circle, though that quickly descended into reminiscents about how Puffy was pretty much the best RA anyone had ever seen. However, eventually Hare Club volunteered and the Hare(s) were called into account for their shitty trail. We sang to him, and he sang to us, then I was called in for not-co-haring, and I sang too. FRB/DFL/FBI were called in, as were autowankers and people who skipped beer checks, then hash crashes and alcohol abuse were called in, the rasicts were called in and I'm sure there were more accusations which I forget.. We drank a toast to Puffy – Not Dead, Lost on Trail – and then swang low. There were delicious wings, but I left before the food was served.
On – To All Those Forever Lost on Trail with G – On
|Hash Trash - Poppin' Assemblies Cherry Trail
(over 3 years ago)
What: Popin’ Assemblies Cherry Trail
Who: Twat My Mom, Can’t Eat Pussy
Bag Car: Bleeps, Sweeps and Creeps
Yankee Pay $5 More, Pop Cum Ear I’m Ineffective, Virgin Mike?, Just Mike?, Orgasm Falmon, Clit Notes, 5 Inch Pentalty, 3 Ring Cervice, Goat Throat, Krusty the Meatmiser, E=I’mADouche, The Butler Hit It, Spunk In the Trunk, Snapoff, Easy as 123, Black Cock Down, Willy Wonka and the Backdoor Factory, Bend Over Mommy, A Walker I Didn’t Recongize (he goes to anti-buffet).
Had Tequilla. While other people might have complained about the lack of PBR, I will not speak ill of any bar that was a 3-page tequillia menu, with a section called “Orgasmic Tequillas.” I had one, of the tequilas. Pack began to filter in mainly talking about what a strange experience it was to be inside of a clean T station. Eventually, after waiting and waiting for pack to grow, the hares left. We had more tequila, and impressed a bar tender with our tales of debauchery, then left.
Unfortunately, since there was a virgin, we had to have it. Luckily the hares brought flour, because it was raining and the marks in circle were barely visible. We told the virgin what to look for, he believed us, and we were on trail looking for beer.
Trail Part 1:
Trail looped around and out of the Assembly square mall area, hitting a check back and turning to a song check under a bridge. Douche ran off in some random direction and came back with a wonderful vintage Baggo that had been left undiscovered on a previous moon trail. The wine wasn’t vinegar. We took our time at the song check, passing the red alcohol around while telling tales about how hard it is to hold down a job in Chicago. Eventually we were on-out. Trail crossed 28 and we ran up the back side of Winter hill, then down, before getting to a shot check in a playground under a bridge. There were 4 different colors of Gatorade, and the alcohol was deluded enough so that you didn’t know what you were drinking. A few minutes later, though, you felt it. Once standing around in the rain no longer seemed appealing to us, and the lust for beer was getting stronger, we followed trail out and ran back through a park to a large road. My sense of direction was completely turned around then, or it is now, either way, we turned right and paralleled the train tracks for a while before eventually getting to a check and crossing over them and up a hill to a school. In an act of supreme stupidity, Falmon and I scouted every direction but up the hill in front of the school, where trail actually went. Catching up with pack at the top of a hill, there was a check with an arrow pointing into a wall; we didn’t run through the wall, but we did run around it and back down the hill and over the tracks we had just crossed. Blackie, whom we were blindly following, admitted that he hadn’t seen anything since the arrow into the wall. So we ran back up the hill. Then down the other side, across a street and up another hill; I think the group hug check was back before the school, but I’m putting it here. There was a group hug check near an abandoned factory, and trail leading down an alley to a true trail pointing past a taco truck and into the warehouse, along with the holy letters; BN/BC.
Beer Check At A Brewery: Not gonna lie here, I was royally pissed off at the hares for absolutely no reason, then I was handed a “beer of my choice” and they were my best friends again. It’s amazing what beer can do! We hung out and enjoyed out beers, then sang to the muggles and the owners some songs of our people; “Meet the Hashers” and “Off we go” if my memory serves me correct. Eventually the hares left, the beer money left, the walkers left and we grudgingly left too.
Trail Part 2:
Ran in the rain past triple deckers, and crossed an inordinate of non-normal intersections. Seriously Boston (metro area), there was the guy named DeCart. He liked straight lines intersecting straight lines. He liked them sooooo much he created a system to find where you were based off intersecting straight lines, I just wanted to make sure everyone knew that. We eventually found our way to Union square and a song check in front of a hipster music venue – seriously I’ve never seen a musician there who wasn’t either bearded or wearing a vest. Trail started heading back towards the orange line and we got to a fly-over intersection that I always get confused with the one Bulter was hit near. Coming out on the other side Krusty was standing at a shot check. He described it as “he found the hares” but the hares deny it was a snare-check. It doesn’t matter; we stayed and drink the rest of the Gatorade, though they were a little stronger this time. Not wanting to go back into the rain, we waited as long as possible before leaving the overpass and following trail across the road and into the “Inner Beltway Interchange Industrial Park” or “The Park Where Shart Got Named” - readers choice as to what to call it. However, long before we got to Sharts naming pen, we passed a man smoking crack in a car, right next to a park with the words ONIN drawn in flour under a gazebo.
Was under a gazebo. Before anything else happened, we unloaded bags and pizzas from the car. Well, not really pizza; we unloaded bags and luke-warm thin loafs of bread with red sauce and cold, greasey cheese, not wanting the food to spoil during circle, we ate that first. While we were eating the pizza, a bag of Jalapeno (pronounced phonetically) Cheesey Puffs were based around. Pack agreed that this was the best thing to ever happen to Cheesy Poofs, and perhaps by correlation, the world. The hares were called in around cases of Upstate New York’s Worst Beer – Genny and it’s cousin, Genny Light. Krusty sang them a song in his soft and melodious alto about said beer, and they sang us about how they are so proud that they’ve grown up to be alcoholics. In a move to try break more traditions than Blubber, Krusty immediately opened the floor to announcements, which you can read below. He then called in the FRB – Five Inch? – and the FBI – Famine – and I stood in for DFL since Douche had not been seen since he found the wine way back before the first shot check. We then called in the virgin, who apparently is/was a reporter and wants to use us for a story? Whatever. Actually, did anyone card him? Are undergrads allowed in the hash? We made him get on his knees, which he did, while we asked him a simple math question, which he got wrong, then we attempted, and failed, to ask him 3 or 4 other questions, but spoiled the punch lines. Five inch asked if he’d rather watch porn with or of his parents, and he chose with. Family bonding time. We instructed him on how to do a down-down, and what words to use and not to use, but he then immediately repeated the other-word-for-cranium! He’s not worthy, and we don’t accept him, but we took him anyway. Blackie was called in, again, for transplanting, and goat and krusty were called in for being ambiguously gay, er, wearing the same hapi-coat in circle. Douche than arrived, and it took us two tries to sing the right DFL song. Snap off was accused of moving to Gana, and we called the hares back in for something. It was getting cold and the gazebo was doing a horrible job at block the now sideway rain, so it was time to swing low.
ON – Real Hashers Hash in The Rain – On
Saturday 10/4, 1HST (hares gay at 2): Puffy Memorial Hash, 59 South Lenox St, Worcester, MA. There will be Bloody’s at the prelube, people can start showing up after noon. Contact me (wiki) to RSVP.
Sunday, 10/5: Eager For Beaver trail: Hare: Senor Cocksucker
Where: Gallows Hill Park, Witch Hill Road, Salem, MA
When: Oct 5th 1pm HST
Bring: Shiggy Socks, hall pass, $1, surgical masks, whistles
Sunday 10/5: Rumors are that Anti-Buffet Rego goes live sometime in the evening…
Wednesday 10/8: Return To Dirty Dot Trail, Hared by Yankee, Starting at Dot Ave Tavern.
Saturday 10/11: AGM, Bell In Hand, 2pm? Dress up as your favourite SNL character!
Saturday 10/18: Ball Buster, somewhere, hared by Butler
Saturday 10/18: Happy Valley 300th Trail…details on their website
Saturday 10/25: Moon AGM – Masquerade Ball
Saturday 10/25: PooF World Peace Through Beer – “West Central Northern Vermount” hared by Harlot & Co
Saturday 11/8: SPACE UNICORN H3 Presents: Moons of Saturn Hash. There are –TWO- regos open at the time of this writing.
Sunday 11/9: An Easy Wiki Fatboy.
Some other time in November: Saddie Hawkins! Guys, work on your pick up lines to get pinned by a harriet!
December 12-14: Antibuffet, Jay Peak VT, see above for rego info.
April 19th: Marathon Main event -> Disney Princess
...stop reading and drink!!!
(over 3 years ago)
What: Pirate Hash
Who: Peeping Tom Pussy, Udder Whore
Where: The Sail Loft
I actually wrote down who came!\
[This is what is in my phone, so most of these are short-hand…and…it looks like I spelled some names wrong, but I am going to keep the original spellings for comedic effect]
Douche, Bum Fucking Vag, Guy From Spain, Clit Notes, Famine, Too much hard, Black cok, Coonass, Butts, Krusty, CPA, Bouys, Bbag, Blond Guy, Sex tff, Just m, Nhph, white flash, blubber, pat my fly, cep, Postnasslal hizzuh, spank me, just mo, jack, goat, sugar, 2nd, jello, jolly, mud slut, blow bot, air force girl…and that’s where my list stopped.
There were others, and a few virgins. This is why taking attendance on a broken iphone isn’t always the best idea.
Was located half-way between bar car and the bar, however bag car was located half-way between the bar and the 2nd beer check, but we’ll get back to that. Krusty asked us to introduce ourselves, where we are from, and what a pirate sounds like when they cum, which elicited some interesting responses, the ones I remember are “shiver me timbers” “swamp me blanks” and something about hopping around on one leg and leaving in the morning. Spunk is a quiet pirate. The marks were going to be “P” not arrows because trail was going to overlap with last week, and the pirate hares thought that a.) they would lay marks and b.) that the hares last week laid enough marks that we might get confused.
That’s confusing. Let’s get onto trail.
Trail Boarding party:
Starting from circle we ran back to the start where the first check was. There was a true trail pointing around the wharf, which I foolishly ignored and ran straight, eventually finding a random mark pointing towards the Long Wharf Marriot. Jack and I ran through the Marriot and found a “Seal/Duck” (Eagle/Turkey) split. I took the Seal/Eagle and ran around the aquarium and saw neither seals nor marks. Apparently I ran right past a shot check, and came back out and run up and down the green way for a while. I ran into Jolly and White Flash, also lost, then lost them and ran into Phanual Hall. I was running around yelling “RU?” when some muggles pointed and said “Um, they are over there” pointing me back to Christopher Columbus park. I found the BC as the hares were leaving. Two weeks in a row! From now on, no one let me zen!
Unfortunately, I can’t report on the beer check, since I wasn’t there. I will however, take the time to compliment the hares on an amazing first leg; now that I know what it was, it was assume. I probably would have had a great time if I, you know, followed marks.
Trail Before the mast:
However, I’m an idiot and I zenned off again from the BC towards the Garden, and eventually found Blubber running out a false near the entrance to the Callahan tunnel. I paralleled him for a block, then briefly found back at a check in the north end and took off down a two and out with 5 inch. Following my hasher sense, I ran up the biggest hill I could find, but there was neither pack, beer, nor hares at the top. Looking down the otherside of the hill, I saw CEP at a check running towards the Hot Mess/Slip and slide BC, and I followed him, and actually got to the BC on time!
At the BC I learned that I was actually 0 for 2 on shot checks, which would explain why everyone was so much more drunk than I was. What happened…nothing of note; beer was had when it arrived, and we stood around drinking for a long time. With our beers pretty much empty, we looked around and saw the hares still there, they were chased off and we waited a bit before chasing them. As we were about to leave, they came running back! We all then had a second beer (there was plenty) and eventually they left again, though they had picked up Goat as a super-secret co-hare. Again we tried to leave, but were told to wait.
Trail went over the Charlestown bridge and no body zenned to the dog park, instead we ran in a nice loop around Bunker hill before going to said dog park. There were jokes and a check back on trail. Other than that, it was unremarkable. Best marked section of trail, though, perhaps due to the secret co-hare?
I’m just going to start with this; average beers consumed by pack as this point was 2 or 3, plus 2 shot checks. What do you except happened? We formed a vague circle-like object around the beer and the RAs and the hares were called in. Bloody was also called in because he’s still paying off his debt from last week’s trail. We informed them that they should have used more flour or chalk, and they sang to us about their time on the high seas upon the good ship Venus. Circle was very quickly devolving, and we called in epic backsliders – White Flash – who hadn’t hashed with Boston since “98 or 99.” Anyone who ever hashed with White Flash was called in, Pat and Dribbles, and anyone who was old enough to have hashed, Bouys and Spank Me, were also called in. Where oh where were they for the last decade? Next came the virgins. One, a male, was wearing a red shirt. No one could hear him, so he took his shirt off. We still couldn’t hear him, but at least he wasn’t wearing a shirt. The other virgin, a wyld stallion, did not take off her shirt, but would watch porn with her parents. We dosed them in beer, and they are now justs. The red-shirt virgin wasn’t the only one disrobing, as Blubber and Krusty were now down to their skivvies, or, in Krusty’s case, neon-orange-tighties. Brunch Hard. GTFO. Next, in a break of tradition, but an admission that the RAs could no longer control themselves, or the circle, announcements were called, and I might list them later. CPA and Butts had an announcement: SHOTS FIRED!!! And a mass of lightly-clothed hashers tackled and threw themselves on Krusty. Some thought that it was standard secret service procedure to dry hump the person you are protecting, but mostly beer and dust flew everywhere. Since Krusty’s undergarments were covered in beer and dust, he removed them. After that we got onto accusations; anyone who missed the shot checks drank, anyone flying internationally in the next month drank, former GMs drank, bald guys drank, I’m just making shit up now, but everyone else drank too. CPA and Butler stripped, yelled “UGH” and disappeared, so everyone started sheepishly undressing, because that’s normal. They returned a few minutes later, but we decided that we should probably eat some food before we got arrested, and Disco provided us with more pizza than God. We ate, drank, almost ran out of beer, then eventually UGHed. This hash trash ends with the beginning of the UGH because while I will gleefully recount UGHs in the backwoods of Vermont, around expensive ski-condos or girl scout camps in Albany, I do have some respect for “the law” and feel as though a recounting of such an event might be a tad over the line. Not that all of circle wasn’t beyond the pale, but, whatever, I’m hung over and rambling.
On – beer and rum are better together – On
Boston AGM – October 11th, probably the Bell In Hand, dress up as your favourite SNL character.
October 25th: Boston Moon AGM, Masquerade Ball
November 8th – Space Unicorn H3 presents The Moons of Saturn Hash, rego now!
Some other time in Novemeber: Saddie Hawkins
December 12-14: Antibuffet
Some other time in December: Taco trust me?
Sometime in the winter: Moon away
April 18th: Marathon Main Event!
Sometime in May: NURD
Sometime in July: Invihash
Sometime in August: GAP