Missed a hash? Catch up on all the trash here...
|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
|Remember the 90s Trash
(over 3 years ago)
What: Some random 90s trail?
Where: Hong Kong, Fanual Hall
Bloody Slip Inside
Queer and Foaming in my Anus
Blubber Fucker, Krusty the Meatmiser, Bend Over Mommy, Easy as 123, Anal Disco, Post Nazzal Jizz, Goat Throat, Goes Down on Bouys, Pat My Fly, Dribbles, Spunk in the Trunk, Sketchy Ho, Wikipedophilia, Twat My Mom, Willy Wonka and the Backdoor Factory, Jello Wrecked ‘Em, Spank Me May I Have My Mother, He’s Gone Gaywol, Placentos the Freshmaker, Sex The Final Frontier, Necorphiliac Jack, A vistor from NYC, Some guy who’s moving back to Spain, The Butler Hit It, Blowbot, Vagatarian, 5inch Plenatly, 3 Ring Cervix, Other’s I’m Forgetting, Justs, NO VIRIGINS
Bag car was conveniently parked nowhere near the start, so pack trudged a few blocks to some random car in front of An Tain, dropped are shit off and circled up. The RAs – Blubber and Krusty – spent most of the time drawing marks and learning our names. They might have gone over marks, but, lets be honest, it didn’t really mater. Our only starting instructions from the hares were “The First mark is on state street.”
There was a YBF pointing towards the city on state street, and that’s about it. No one saw any other marks until some uber scouting yielded a group hug on at the mouth of Hancock street. From there, trail ran straight to the base of the bridge to Charlestown, turned right with an S/S check (marks on either side of the street apparently), to the 2nd beer check from Hot Mess, minus beer, glitter and the slip inside. This is the trail that the majority of pack followed, there was, however, a very poorly marked trail that went a completely different route. From state street, it somehow got to a true trail pointing through the Long Wharf Marriot, eventually leading to a tit check at the end of the next wharf, where I left Placentos to wait for tits. With one mark leading around the building and back to whatever street that is, there was another check in front of the next wharf. This has to be one of my favourite checks ever; there was nothing leading back down the wharf, but three falses (all two and nothings) rounding different blocks to a point where you could stand in the middle of the street and see arrows pointing at you from all directions. True trail was marked a block over and cut through the north end to another check on Hancock street; falses right and straight and trail leading down Hancock to the afore mentioned Group Hug, where I found that Goat Throat had become a super seceret hare since he lay pack marks every 10 feet from the Hug to the beer. I finally got to the beer check as pack away was called.
In case you are wondering, I exhibited very poor judgment on trail. Example number 2 is that since the rest of pack zenned off 2/3rds of the first leg, I figured I’d get the back by zenning off 2/3rds of the second leg by blowing through a CB, crossing into Charlestown, running over the bridge to North Point, not seeing anyone, then running back across the locks, and eventually catching up with pack at a hare snare at the Musem of Science, maybe 100 yards past where I had turned around. After giving the hares time, we continued trail to see the BC#2 at end of the Charles River Park, or whatever, you know, where the lingerie hash BC was. There was beer.
Beer was drunk – there was enough for everyone this time - and the hares deviously left buggles for orange food. Apparently they ran out of beer at the first BC? Good thing I wasn’t there…They left, and we followed.
As trail went on, the marks got better, so it was very easy to follow trail around and through the Cambridge Side Galleria. Emerging back on the channel to a song check we serenaded the confused customers about all the jobs we tried, and failed, to hold down in Chicago. Coming out of the mall was a “Chose your own adventure check.” Krusty, 5 inch and I followed Queer and Foaming, while the majority of pack, I believe, followed Blonde. The QF trail looped through Lechmere and East Cambridge before coming back in behind Kenndal to another hare snare/joint check. Yup. QF left a joint on trail. Rage. Apparently there was a shot check in the playground on Blonde’s trail. We were pretty much On-In from there; one check to turn pack into the Kendal Square restaurant area, which I, of course, guessed the wrong direction and came looping back around the block when everyone was unloading bag car, but, whatever, we had all made it to the ONIN at Flat Top Johnnies.
The hares were called into circle and Foaming assumed a very strange face down ass up position, while the other hares just knelt around him. His wife was told to take notes. They said nothing in defense of their trail – there was really nothing to say – and we informed them that they should have used more flour or chalk, or not run out of chalk. Just, always bring more chalk than you think you’ll need. They then sang us S&M man which went on until we started to scare the wait staff. During the end of S&M one of the beer bitches spilled beer all over the RAs, intentionally, so the BBs were called in. In a moment of brilliance, we sang them about a farmer we all know and love. There was a whale on his farm, and everyone was sprayed with beer. The RAs, judging the pack as properly drunk, decided to do announcments early. We’ll see how well I remember them when I write them later. From there it was accusation time. We accused those leaving us (the guy from spain) or coming back to us (Black Cock Down). We accused racist attire and no hash attire. We accused the tacos hares of drawing a dick check in front of Krusty’s office. We accused Krusty of not flashing his coworkers. We accused Orgasim Famine of being a sweat test failure, and disco of having a kitty. We accused the hares for being snared, and former GMs for being former GMs. We accused everyone who was late for trail because they watched the Red Sox lose, and we accused the circle of disintegrating.
We swang low.
There were burger for all and fries for most.
Habadasher: Patches are ordered, and there’s a limited run of t-shirts cuming, talk to twat.
Saturday (9/13): Seacoast Red Dress (Pub Crawl) -> Dover, NH. Check out the event on FB?
Saturday (9/20): Ball Buster Trust Me in Maine – Do you trust Blubber? Why? Are you a fucking idiot? Talk to him, or go towww.b3h4.com, there might be a link there?
Saturday (10/11): Boston AGM – Some dumb fucks want to keep this shit show going next year; drink with them!
Friday (10/10-Monday 10/13) Poof Middle of Nowhere Hash – Camp in bum-fuck no-where maine. www.poofh3.com
Saturday (10/18-19) – Happy Valley 300th Run/15th AGM - http://happyvalleyh3.org/300th-run-hashtravaganza/
NOVEMEMBER 8TH – SPACE UNICORN H3 presents MOONS OF SATURN HASH,
November 14th – Saddie? Rumored? Maybe?
December 12-14th – Antibuffet XI, rego up soon?
April 18th – BH3 M*rathon Hash- Vivia La Revolution!
Why are you still reading? Get a drink already!
|Water War Hash
(over 3 years ago)
What: Water War Hash
Who: Shart of Darkness, Easy as 123, Rhino Virus
Where: Hong Kong, Harvard Square, Cambridge MA
Pack: Seriously? Um, first off there were at least a dozen virgins, and probably an equal number of justs, named hashers include, but are not limited to; Yankee Pay $5 More, Twat My Mom, Certified Poop Accuntant, Can’t Eat Pussy, Doucheland, Drunkin’ Dragon, Necrophiliac Jack, The Butler Hit It, The 2nd Cumming, Plus 2 Coonass, Placentos the Freshmaker, Yellow Dick Gnome, Stop that Reich Now, Post Nasal Jizz, Wikipedophilia, Anal Disco, Mudslut, No Man On The Moon, Spunk in the Trunk, Blubber Fucker, Krusty the Meatmiser, Goat Throat, Schindler’s Fist, Easy to Please, Pappy Van Tinkle, Vagatarian, Pop Cum Ear I’m Infected, more wankers I don’t care to remember.
Start: After filling up the in dish sink behind the bar, we made our way to bag car and a gin-and-tonic-filled circle. It took longer to do introductions and explain what we were doing to the virgins then it did to get wet. Seriously; the water fights started as soon as we left the bar.
Trail Super Soaker:
A little bit of scouting and a good amount of guessing led pack to believe that trail would cranium down towards the river, which it did, but not before we were attacked by the FRBs who had hid in bushes near some Harvard land mark. Trail continued straight to the Harvard foot bridge with a Turkey/Eagle – though really turkey/duck, since eagles don’t swim. Eagle had one mark going down to the river, which Butler, that famed lover of fish, leapt right in without pause. The rest of pack took the dry route, except for Goat and Krusty who decided to actually be Eagles and jump off the bridge half-way across and swim the rest. Blubber stayed behind to life-guard because we trust him? Apparently no one drowned, and trail continued to the JFK bridge before doubling back through HBS. There was a profound stench as we ran through those hallowed halls, so we sang to them about wiener breathe – a condition all the douches know too well. Trail continued to meander through LA before we found bag car making a three point turn in the middle of an alley. Assuming this was the BC, we swarmed her and offered to help unload the beer, but she said that she was lost and that the beer was a block away. Disapointed, dejected and dying of thrist we let her go and found the hares on a rise behind some library annex.
Beer Check #1:
Unable to come up with a creative title for the beer check, the scribe punished himself by drinking a few glasses of champagne. Pack, on the other hand, gathered around the beer, and the fish-filled-jello shots to relax and tell stories of awe, wonder and aquatic adventure. That was a lot of champagne; and ice cream! So, back to trail…um, it got increasingly dark at the first beer check and Cum Ear was, I think, in charge of delivering both water guns to the hash and chalk to the hares, but since she hadn’t been located, a cry went out for the hash to give their pack chalk to the hares so they could lead us on towards more adventures. They left; we then set about eating all the fish-filled jello shots. Once a sizeable amount of them had been consumed, we decided to chase after the hares.
Trail part squirt:
By this point it had started to rain lightly, but it was really quiet hard to tell the spitting rain from the constant spray of water from all the guns on trail. I’m not about to make jizzing jokes here, because trail was basically one massive “I just sprayed you with my hot load” joke. On a serious note, trail did not go down Hooker street, and neither did the pack, well, I did, but whatever. Trail resumed through the quiet streets of LA with nothing exciting until we got to a song check in front of a church. The hash is nothing without traditions, so we immediately broke into “Free Beer for all the Hashers” and were met, on the first refrain by a massive display of lighting the forked across the entire sky. Quickly switching to “Dear Jesus please don’t smite us!!!” we ran on, eventually coming to a BBVC across soldiers field road. Butler, was not very careful, and darted out under a green light directly at a car, which he missed by only a few feet. Pack politely waited for the light to change before crossing and running into the park, our beer-dar going off like crazy. We saw in the bushes around us a few hashers laying in wait then water ballons started being thrown at us from all directions. We had found the hares, the beer, the ballons, and the ONIN
Well, calling it an ONIN now was a bit of a misnomer, it was really a water-ballon fight as we made our way to bag car. Hashers would come in, grab a few ballons, toss them at their friends then run onto get their stuff. Once about half of us were standing with our bags under the trees, we saw that half of pack was still engaged in a fierce water-ballon fight, this time with glitter! As the RAs tried to coral us into a circle, we ran off to restock our kilts/pockets/bras with ballons for the duration. Eventually everyone had returned to circle and the RAs started in with “And the hares.” Each verse was repeated a few times, because water ballon fights were still going on, but eventually people settled down and circle started in enerest. A few more things happened, and the hares sang El-camino, while under assault from water ballons. Blubber was going around spraying people in the face who were talking during circle. FRBs, FBIs and DFLs were called in – Oragsm Falmon, Placentos the Freshmaker and Spunk in the Trunk. Next backsliders – Placentos – were called back in. Finally it was time for the virgins, but since there were almost a dozen of them, we did a mass de-virginization ceremony lead by Anal Disco. They told us their favourite animal and sex position, then demonstrated said combination. Basically there were a dozen people either air-humping or being air-humped. It was, actually, pretty tame. We didn’t accept them, and when we tried to throw beer on them, they were already covered in water. Cum Ear showed up with whiskey in her gun, and we moved onto accusations. Everyone who swam in the Charles was called in, then everyone else. Everyone who brought a water gun, or provided water guns were called in, and for some reason Smaht Kidz were called in, though I can’t remember why. Everyone who was going to see a dick this weekend was called in too. More water ballons. More rage. I’m sure I’m forgetting some stuff.
Pots down, cranium covers off, and we swang low.
On – better trail than last week – On
September 13th: Seacoast RDR/Pub crawl, Dover NH. It’s a octoberfest pub crawl with on-after at Meta-pad. Yes, it’s that awesome.
September 20th: Ball buster trust me in Main with Blubber. He alledges that he’ll send out an e-mail, but we’d have to trust him for that.
October 11th: AGM – Dress up as your favourite SNL character
October 10-12: PooF middle-of-no-where-Hash, www.poofh3.com
November 8th: SPACE UNICORNS MOONS OF SATURN HASH
November 9th: Fatboy from previous day
November 13th/14th – I think is Sadie Hawkins.
November 20-23rd – Yankee Invasion of Voodoo Monkey
Decemeber 12-14th: Antibuffet
April 19th , 2015 Marathon
July 2015 – Invihash