Missed a hash? Catch up on all the trash here...
|7/30 - the Runners Who Drink trail
(over 3 years ago)
Dear Boston hash,
When writing hash trashes, I usually attend the hash and then wait until I had a few spare minutes at work to write the hash trash over the next few days. Clearly that hasn't been working so well, so instead I wrote most of this hash trash immediately post-hash while I still had a strong PBR buzz going. Sorry in advance.
SO. What was this hash? The "runners-who-drink" hash. (Like the Boy Who Lived? Because it's Harry Potter's birthday? Get it???)
Who hared it? GAYWOL and F*cksie McBlondsalot (excuse me, Blondsie McF*cksalot) (wait, is that still her name?).
Who was there? Good question. Ummm... Wikipedophilia, Easy as 123, Krusty the Meat Miser, Goat Throat, Fellowship of the Cock Ring, the person formerly known as Just Holly, Snap Off, Orgasm Famine, Delta Phile, Coonass, Post-Nasal Jizz, CPA, Buttler, a couple visitors, a bunch of virgins, and many others who I am forgetting. Erm...
Ok, sorry friends, I just took a break to send some mildly aggressive OK Cupid messages but now I'm back. Let's talk about trail.
It started at Cityside. The people there seemed only mildly surprised to be surrounded by hashers. In particular, I noticed some sideways glances tossed toward my Columbia University New Traditional hash shirt, which was weird. I'm not sure why enjoying CUNT would be frowned upon.
Anyway, the bag car was a Mazda Miata. I didn't understand why that was funny until I saw the Mazda Miata. However, in true Harry Potter-like fashion, we managed to fit all the bags in that tiny trunk (amazing what fits in the rear end, eh?) and trail was off.
As the (drunk) RA had mentioned, the hares had, between them, one trail of experience. That said, things went pretty well. We started off down Beacon Street before venturing into some of the Brookline neighborhoods. (You can tell I live in this area because I actually know where we were.) They took us halfway up the hill at Summit but, thankfully, not all the way. (though half the hill was enough, particularly given the song check at the top.)
The first beer check was in a random back yard. I should specify that it was random to us - apparently (ostensibly) Blondie and GAYWOL knew the residents of that house. They seemed somewhat bemused by the kilted, drunk, obscene runners in their backyard, but otherwise tolerated us and our orange food very well.
From there, we made our way back to Comm Ave (seriously, look at these locational details), where the hash proceeded to get very confused. For neither the first nor the last time. Snap Off, Orgasm Famine and I somehow found ourselves far ahead of pack. We made it first to the shot check and promptly got a head start on drinking Fireball.
After the shot check, pack proceeded to get very very confused. At Comm Ave & Harvard we lemminged hardcore - everyone crossed the street, wandered around aimlessly for a bit, and then crossed the street back again. After that false alarm, we crossed back to Brighton Ave before finally making our way back down to THE SIL.
Let's see. There was beer, and popcorn. Our RA, Krusty, continued to be very drunk. We had 5 virgins whom we promptly deflowered. Visitors sang us a song, and we sang them a song. We ate cookies courtesy of Orgasm Famine. We made fun of the Mazda Miata situation some more. Accusations were made, down-downs were performed. I legitimately don't remember what else happened, which means it wasn't important!
So, let's see. Announcements:
Trails! So many trails coming up! Next week I will reprise my role as blackout-drunk hare in Revere. GAP is in a few weeks! AGM is... sometime. Maybe. I don't know, check the calendar. Aaaand that's it.
your erstwhile scribe
(over 3 years ago)
What: 14th Anal Burlington H3 Invihash
Where: Brewster River Campground, Jeffersonville VT
Who (important people, RAs, hares, cooks, etc): Harlot Globe Fondler, Cock Bottle, Rainbow F*cking Bright, Ginger Binger, Rusco Pee Cum Stain, Hot Tube Crime Machine, Serial Lubist.
Who else: Check the Rego list.
The half minded fools began arriving at some point in time, and by the time YHS (your humble scribe) showed up, the camp was about half full, but still could take more. Registration, if that’s what you call it, was Rainbow yelling and throwing things at you with CB looking confused and Harlot demand people bring her more alcohol.
Sites chosen by experience or preference, and the tents went up and the beer was drunk. There was a gaggle of hashers (and some clothes) around WHOREROCK in the river, and Necro led a group of really stupid hashers on a boulder scramble up to something that he called a waterfall, but was really just a death-defying trek up the river to a bridge.
Rumors and smells of something resembling dinner – time for the meat stick – wafted up stream and we returned to see that the party had started in earnest. Shortly after dinner circle was called, and we did introductions and I think that was about it.
The important part of circle was that apparently Harlot had put out a broadcast call for dick picks a few months early, and had been receiving them on her phone, and had trolled craigslist for them. The pictures had been blown up and printed out on a cardboard back drop. This was a game. There would be prizes. The hariettes (or male hashers if they wanted to guess) were tasked with identifying which dicks were hashers and which dicks were from Craigslist. After a good amount of laughter and inspection, votes were collected. Results would be announced later.
From there the night descended into “First Night Shinanangins” in which the hashers, recently freed from their societal constraints, devolve into pure animalistic debauchery. There was drinking, there was dancing, and a general good time was had by almost all. One car full of hashers, though, hit a YBF not 5 miles from camp and were delayed 2 hours while they waited for their flat tire to be fixed. Eventually it was, though the Vermont locals, known for their liberal hospitality, repeatedly turned down offers for blow jobs in exchange for assistance. It wasn’t just the locals who displayed this stunning lack of judgment, even cars full of hashers sped past, declining the blow jobs and pleasant company.
People continued to arrive late into the night and the games continued. As Friday edged towards Saturday, a call for stripy cup went out. The response was so overwhelming that not one, not two, but three picnic tables had to be assembled in order to allow all the participants who wanted to to play. The games were epic, even though one team was reduced to nakedness after 3 rounds while the clothed, and warm – does it ever get warm in Vermont? – hashers mocked us from across the table. As frostbite began to take its toll on the naked team, members started to drop out but, fear not honored reader, there were plenty more hashers willing and ready to strip and take their place.
As normally happens following drinking and getting naked the assembled hashers were overcome with a Pavlovian urge to run, or at least pretend to, so UGH was called. The hares of the UGH, Harlot and Mangania my Vagania (whom someone told me has a Raptor-based name as well?), decided to lay trail in cans of PBR, this made following trail very hard, because the FRBs would pick up the cans and drink them, so the entire trail basically become a slow moving beer check. Why all trails are not like this, I do not know. Eventually, trail looped back through the campsites to the fire and we had circled, RA’d by Krusty since 2nd was too busy preparing for his morning bike ride, or something. I really don’t remember what happened at the UGH circle – everyone was naked, maybe UGH virgins and UGH analveries were called in? Sure, I’ll go with that. Eventually, and because it was freezing unless you were in the front rank of bodies of the fire, we swang low and circle ended. Since YHS did not want to fall victim to Friday Night Over-Rage, he retired after circle. Apparently the party went on until at least 3, though there were no new Pornstars.
As the sun rose over the camp, naked hashers stumbled around finding their clothes and their tents and curled up into semi-living balls of humanity until the coffee, and, more importantly, beer, began to flow freely again.
The breakfast was reheated egg-based food mixes (same stuff we had at NURD), with beer and there was allegedly a bottle of cava somewhere for mimosas. Hashers slowly filled their mouths with food before adjoining to WHOREROCK in the river. Due to its lack of shade most hashers left WHOREROCK, and ventured into the cold mountain stream, allowing many of the harrietts to see the effects of cold water on male genitalia happen live. While well versed in the expansion of said parts, none of them had ever seen the opposite.
As a reward for their bravery, or stupidity, Tickets (ie cuntface), handed out beer to everyone who was bottomless in the icy river. Eventually baggo found its way to WHOREROCK allowing those more body temperature conscious among us to drink as well. This lasted until the sun was at its zenith and rumors of a “trail” began to float out from party central. Hashers scattered, dressed for trail, and assembled for chalk talk.
Chalk talk featured re-introductions, and an over view of Burlington marks. There were no notable marks at on the trail other than “circle in a box” which was found, but never explained. Having seen the beer car (with the kegs and taps) drive away, the options for the “0.0 never leave camp trail” were extremely limited, so pack, begrudgingly followed the marks across WHOREROCK and until the woods.
Trail Part 1:
The first section of trail featured running, or mainly walking, through forest in a mainly up hill direction. The hares, being fucking Vermount hippies, did not want to pollute the environment so they tried to only use very small marks of flower in very strange places. They were also very fund of check backs. Very fund. However, eventually we crested a hill and, through a field, saw beer car parked on the other side of a fence. Shiggy to the left, shiggy to right, beer to the front; ours is not to wonder why, ours is but to hash and drink.
Was next to a very nice white picket fence that was very flimsy and make of plastic; there was switch back and PBR, water and non-orange food. Pack quickly filled up vessels then ran into the shade on the other side of the road to rest and drink. This was a quiet dirt road, back in the neither regions of Vermont that was more heavily trafficked than Beacon Street. Multiple games of drink cup were started, then stopped, then eventually given up on because the traffic conditions were not optimal. A few minutes after the hares had left, Friar came stumbling through the field to the beer. DFL.
Trail started back along the road we came in on, past a few great fields to run through (though trail didn’t go through them), and to the “circle in box” check. Harlot informed that this is a “photo-op” or “View Check.” Whatever. From there trail followed the – roadish thing into the woods and around a corner to a tit check. After being released by Famon, the first dozen or so FRBs went scouting off to the right, while I ran, reluctantly, downhill, knowing it would be a false. Luckily for me it wasn’t, but instead lead to a song check by a not-dirty-at-all-pond. Leaving the song check trail hit a turkey/eagle split, which I don’t think was much of a split. The only thing the eagles had was an extra check at the top of a tree-slide slope with two marks leading down then the rest bending off to join with the turkeys. However, the tree-slide slope was thoroughly scouted before the eagles turned back to rejoin the turkeys. Trail ran down a hill, then through some light mud and over a not-plugged-in electric fence, though Swedish said that it still hurts if it touched your balls. Thanks for scouting that out. Trail ran back up hill to the beer car which had moved maybe 500 yards down the same road. It might not have been the same road, but it was a dirt road and I don’t care.
Was just like BC #1, except that pack was beginning to get substantially more spread out, with the walkers and slow-runners catching up to us in trickles for about ten minutes after the FRBs had arrived. While I was standing around, enjoying my beer and conversation, Extraterrestical yelled at me that I hadn’t switched shirts with Cum Test Dummy yet. Never wanting to say not to seeing a harriet take off her shirt, I gladly obliged. She even was so nice as to channel her inner 7th grader and make it a midriff shirt with a little knot on the side. After a while I saw CEP and Gnome wander off down trail and decided to follow them.
Trail, as it was, also happened to go down the road for a ways. As we were running a car drove by and asked if we were hashers, Two Minute Ride replied yes, and was rewarded for his honestly with a beer. Running down the road and around the bend we approached a farm, whose cesspool Teabags did not fall into this time. Trail ran was beginning to feel a bit death marchy, when the FRBs came running back saying there was a check back. At this point pack had a choice; run left through the field towards the waterfall, or run right through the fields towards the woods. Knowing, in quotes, that trail would eventually go to the waterfall, we very thoroughly scouted the left side of the field, to no avail. Trail had gone to the right into the woods to a series of “equal opportunity checks” (ie tits followed by dicks, etc). However, it was on a looping trail that confused pack for a bit. I apparently zenned off about a mile loop by scouting trail down the power lines, finding a false and running no-no trail backwards to a check, then a BN.
I actually regretted that little bit of zenning since the hares were very surprised to see me come running up the way I did. Trail had gone through the woods to a true trail pointing into, and across, a water pond. I snuck some beer real quick and watched as pack swam across, except for some people who ran around, and ET who jumped in the water, then walked around, so maybe he did a pigeon trail? Who knows. There was beer, there was wetness, there were peanut-butter-filled pretzels. It was a good beer check.
Knowing that we would at some point, hopefully soon, end up at the waterfall, pack left the BC in search of cascading aquatic glory. Trail was simple and turned back through the very heavily scouted field, down an embankment and through a quasi-swamp full of deceptive logs. There were any number of logs, one of which claimed YHS, which to the casual observer looked okay to run on, but which shattered when trod upon. The yelps that arose from pack showed that I was not the only one to fall victim to the rotting logs. Trail eventually came back out on another dirt road/path that was a series of switchbacks down to the water fall. The FRBs on that section of trail, YHS, Famon and Stuby, were not the first ones there as about half a dozen or so hashers had correctly guessed where we were going to end up and had zenned there from some other point on trail, skipping the 3rd BC.
There was a mixed crowd when we arrived, but a few minutes later the muggle families had fled and we pretty much had the area to ourselves. Some hashers ventured to scramble up the rocks to more secluded water falls private pools. Others climbed the first series of rocks and engaged in acrobatic “baggo” in which they’d call for it and attempt to grab it mid air. Some succeeded, some didn’t. Others found seats under the water fall and let the water pound on them in a blissful message, though most just hung out on the rocks, or in the water and drinking a cooler full of beer and a gallon of wine. When the wine was gone, the hares left, but the pack stayed until the beer was gone, the fireball was gone and the rum was at least started.
The trail back to camp was along, or in the river. Nothing of note happened, expect that pack passed a couple of nudists strolling along the trail. The sight of which provoked the exact same response from everyone; “Oh, hey, who’s that naked hasher coming back down trail?” “Oh, he’s not a hasher.” “Oh, what’s that shiney thing on his cock?” “Oh, it’s a cock ring.” “Okay.” Akward smile and wave and continue on. Eventaully trail came back to camp with a tit check right at CEP’s tent (he clearly wins the ‘best tent location prize).
Pack filed in slowly and broke off to take care of post-trail business; sex, shower, beer, whatever you wanted to do until Harlot got her shit together.
Most people found chairs, or tables, or laps, or the ground around the fire, and even though there was a depressing lack of ice, circle started with the hares; Ginger Binger and Roscue P. Cum Stain, they went taint to taint and we sang to them that they should have used more flour and chalk. I’m sure they sang something to us, though, on writing this, I am realizing that we went the entire weekend without singing Yogi Bear! Next called into circle were the FRBs – Krusty and Oragasm, followed by a whole slew of DFLs. We tried to sing “are you lonesome tonight” but I’m quite sure that even though there were over 70 of us, Bleeps is the only one who actually knows the words to that song. Next, the kennel area with the plurality of attendees was called in – Boston!! The representatives of the Tacos, Ball Buster, Beavers, Moon and Boston were all called in and we informed the rest of the attendees about the dangers of picking up whores in the Fenns. The Tacos were then called back in since they were the most well represented of all the Boston hashes. Halve meine was called in and sang us a song about a rather disturbing 69 experince, then came the Happy CVNTS, who sang “Roll your leg over.” Next up were the internationals from Otawa who sang a great song about orgies that no one knew. Piggy then reminded them of that if they would only ditch the French, they could be the 51st state. Believe it or not, they do hash in NYC, and the NYC hashers were called into circle, and they sang a stirring rendition of some famous song about their city in 4 part harmony. Lastly, the host kennel was called in, and sang a song that was actually written by a Boston hasher – ET – for Mardigras two year ago, but, whatever, I’ll let that slide. They then sang an original song that no one knew the tune to, until it hit the refrain of “Um bop (changed to Umm Cock).” The Invishash virgins were then called in – no real virgins this time – followed, in succession by 2dn, 3rd, 4th, timers all the way up to the only dumb fuck who’s been to all 14 Invihashes – Stops to Pet the Pussy. Friar F*ck was close behind with 13, and One Drunk Walking and Sperm Burping Shorty both had been to 12. They need to get a life. Finally, the dick-board was brought out and the Honorable Mention and Grand Champion were announced. First, the Honorable Mention went the Udder Whore for her professional ability to identify both hash and non-hash cocks. She guessed right and identified that 5 hashers and 3 non-hashers on the board. This earned her sandals and a dick-shaped bar of soap. Then the Grand Prize was announced for correctly identifying the craigslist and hasher cocks AND correctly identifying ALL of the hasher cocks by owner; Fucked If I Know. She won the poster, two beer glasses and a free day pass to the nudist resort in Conventry. How did she win? Well, not to go with a cliché, but fucked if I know! In a post-circle interview with YHS, she said that it wasn’t by being able to directly identify them, but by correctly identifying the non-dick parts of the body, bed sheets and backgrounds, so, yeah, fucked if I know! We then stood up, put our vessels down, and swang low.
The vegetarians were fed first, and then there was an almost endless supply of pulled pork. In a surprisingly efficiently feeding line, people were handed plates of food as they waited and circled through to get side dishes and toppings. There were in fact left overs so for a while after everyone was fed the cooks were yelling out that there was still food. Most of the pack brought the chairs in around the fire and drink and stay warm and contemplate fire jumping. Surprisingly it was not Butler that hurled himself through the air, but THE 2nd cumming. No one else followed. Games were played, the main one being slippy strippy cup. YHS did not participate, but it seemed to be some combination of a naked slip and slide and strippy cup. I was too busy staying warm by the fire. As the night went on and the time of high honor approached, cuntface started calling out random timed count downs to his ugh – 10 minutes, 6.9 minutes, 2 minutes, whatever. Then he did chalk talk.
Pack was mortified by this development – chalk talk on an UGH? There had been rumors of a “real trail” of a “few miles” so we payed attention. There were going to be checks – but you needed to on 5 to be on, then super checks which were on 5 if on a road, but on 7 if on trees. There were falses, which would either go back to a check, or a super false which goes back 3 checks. There would be a 160 awesome check which could not be left until all of the 160 awesome was consumed. Of these, only one was true, thankfully, the 160 awesome. However the 160 awesome which was “drinkable” on Friday night had been left to stew on cuntface’s car all day and was pretty much undrinkable. However, we are hashers, so we drank it. Well except for stops who drank it, then very quickly undrank it. That might have been a record drink to boot time. It was almost instanaious. For those who are curious and want to torture their home kennels, 160 awesome is 151, 4 loco and 5 hour energy. From the shot check trail went false into both bathrooms, the back to chalk talk for ONIN. Saturday night’s UGH circle was held around a strip cup table – as to not disturb the classy hashers by the fire – and RA’d by THE 2nd cumming. The hares – CUNTFACES all – were called in, then general debauchery followed, though 2nd showed a surprising ability to control the circle. You’d think he’d been an RA for years! Eventually circle came down to CUNTFACES v. non-CUNTFACES in a flip-cup war to determine who would do the closing down-down with the last of the 160. The teams were tickets (cunt face), shart (cunt face) and disco (cunt face), vs stops, ginger and jack. Due to questionable ethics on the part of the cuntfaces (who said YHS had to be unbiased), the cuntfaces won and jack was awarded the down-down. In true hasher fashion, and over much protesting, he did his duty to the RA, the circle and to G and killed the 160. We swang low.
And so ends the tale of Invihash 2014. I lied, I made stuff up, and I have no idea what happened Sunday, except that I got back to Boston in time to nap, watch GERMANY WIN, then go back to sleep until roughly 6am Monday morning.
On – scribing is the best cure for a hangover – On
Since there were no actual announcements made, here are some rumors I might have heard:
AUGUST 15,16,17 – GAP WEEKEND (www.413h3.com)
Sometime in September: Boston Ball Busters Hard Core Trust Me/Camp out in Maine. Talk to a B3H4 (eagle, blubber, coonass) if you’re interested.
Sometime in October: PooF campout further north in Maine. Talk to a PooFer (there were about 2 dozen of them at Invihash)
Sometime in November: Boston Pink Tacos Saddie Hawkins. If you have a taco, find a burrito to bring!
Sometime in December: ANTIBUFFET
Sometime next winter (late feb, early march): MARDI-GRAS!
April 18th 2015 – VIVA LA REVOLUTION, BH3 M*rathon 2015.
May 2015: NURD
JULY 2015 – The 15th AN*L INVIHASH!
 This might be the first ever hash trash for an UGH?
 Note: If anyone knows where the whores in Boston actually are – Bluehill ave maybe – let us know!
|Cumbridge H3 Pre-dance party hash
(over 3 years ago)
What: Cumbridge H3 Dance party pre-lube trail
Where: Mircle of Science
When: 6HST, Friday June 27, 2014
Krusty the Meatmiser, Goat Throat
Can’t Eat Pussy, Wikipedophilia, Schindler’s Fist, THE 2ndCumming*, Friar Fuck, 5” Penatly, Just Girl Who Brought the Virgins, Easy as 1,23, Easy to Please, Bum Fucking Vagabond, 3 ring cervix, Mr. Bean, Virgin Girl, Virgin Guy, Virgin Guy Who Was Scared of Me, Plus 2 Coonass, Yellow dick gnome, Clit notes, Blonde McFucksalot, Just Pat, Other justs, Save a Tree Ride a Cowboy.
On my way to the prelube, as I was passing a muggle in running gear, I was asked if I was a hasher and if I knew where we were going, after answering in the affirmative to both questions, I dratted across Mass Ave and into the Mircale, finding just CEP quietly sipping a beer. After explaining some things to the justs – that they can drink at the bar – we started milling around and cheering as pack arrived and we slowly started to take over the bar. Right about the time that the establishment was getting annoyed with us the hares finally got gay, straight, ambiguous, or whatever happens at the Krusty Goat and left us to our own devices. After having another round at the start, bag car was called and we left. Bag car was appartently a 5 minute walk away, but eventually we circled and CEP explained to us the marks we would be seeing.
Starting in front of the prelube, trail turned down Mass ave towards Boston for a block or two until the first check, the justs and 5inch scouted right, but came back without anything and the rest of us ran straight, checking both sides of the street, before doubling back and finding marks right, leading us eventually to a song check by a housing project, then towards the One Kendal Square development to a CB 4, looping through a loading dock then out to some train tracks. There were no marks on the train tracks, though a fence which I hopped when doubling back to find trail, and which Kursty admitted to jumping when he lay the false. Trail ran towards Kendal proper and up some stairs to a BC on top of the Marriot.
BC Roof Deck:
Pack swelled here, with Vag, a Just, and 2ndshowing up. The walkers – who were in equal number to the hashers – had bet us there and we nicely handing out ice cold beers. Topics of discussion included, but were not limited too, the German invasion of the Caucuses, marathon theme ideas, and car pools to Poof. Eventually we noticed that the hares had been gone for a while (sex on trail? Most likely) and we decided to chance after them.
Down the stairs and through the google rainbow lobby trail led us across Main street, and behind the Kendal Square in, through a hole in the fence, then back to Main street to a check by the MIT dorms, I think. Trail ran into what I’m calling the MIT quad to a song check in front of the amphitheater. Pack reformed and sang the hasher-scale-song then ran up the stairs. Others of us, knowing that what goes up must come down, ran around amphitheater and found it coming out the other side. A few back alleys later, trail pretty much ran through every building in the MIT campus – or at least that’s how I remember. I was solo-FRBing at that point, so the smaht kids just ignored me. There was a song check by some flag pole that pack reformed at, and trail went back through another building before finally cross Mass Ave (after another song check). Through the main quad – I think – (the one near the dorms and cafeteria), trail hit upon a dick check followed by a Beer Mile Near. Pack all of a sudden got both nervous and excited at this unexpected development, but it was an FBM (false beer mile) and trail ran down the rail road tracks to On-In at Washington Park.
On-In (but not the end of trail)
The pack arrived before bag car and was informed that while we were physically at the OnIn, we were not finished with trail. This generally confused the pack, us being simple minded creatures, but we waited patiently until goat came running down the street followed by Coonass driving the goat-mobile. Once the beer had arrived we were told what was going to happen next.
I’m pretty sure I’m getting the acronym wrong, but, whatever, it probably stands for “Y’all Are Really Dumb.” Pack was broken up into 6 4-person teams (maybe) and told what to do.
1.) Drink a hand-held box of wine. As a team. The person drinking needs to be on their back and cannot touch or hold the box (ie they have to be fed).
2.) Drink a 22 0z can of beer while changing clothes.
3.) Slap shots.
Depending on whom you talked to, either team #1 or #2 won, but it doesn’t really matter, since we all either lost (or won) since we all completed it.
Finally started. The hares were called in, and told that they should have used more flour and chalk. FRBs and FBIs, and DFLs were called in, then we got to the 3 virgins. Cumbridge dementing is the abridged version, as we showed them how to do a down-down, then sang an interesting version of a madona song before welcoming them. If any other kennel wants to properly dement them, they can. We then called anyone who had run a real cumbridge (non beer mile) trail into drink, SATRAC, 2nd, Krusty, Goat, Frair, and Fisty drank for that one. We were running out of beer so “whatever they really call it” down-down was brought out and awarded to Krusty and Goat for trying to revive the non-BM version of the kennel.
We swang low, then stumbled to the Cambridge dance party to dance our faces off.
On – DANCE – ON
Wednesday: In-Da-Panties Day,
Where: Clarke's at Faneuil Hall, Merchants Row, Boston (nearest T is State St, or Haymarket)
When: 630 HST
Friday- July 4th – Beer in front of the Hyatt? Maybe? Does anyone want to do this?
July 10,11,12: Invihash
August 14-17: GAP
September 13th: !!!AGM!!!
November: PTH3 SADDIE HAWKINS
April 2015: MARATHON
|Friar F*cks 20th An*lversery Hash
(over 3 years ago)
What: Frair’s 20th An*lversery Hash
Where: Riverside T-Stop
Hare: Friar F*ck
Bag Car: Goat Throat
Wikipedophilia, Easy as 1,2,3, Bum fucking Vagabond, Just Joel, Just Mohammad, Just Someelse, Just Paul, The Fat One, Reverend Blow-hole, Extra Terrestical, Beat By A Girl, E=I’m a Douche, Pop Cum Ear I’m Infected, Bend Over Mommy, Luva Lamp, 5 inch Penatly
Chalk talk: Was simple. We were told the rules of a friar hash – if you see him lumbering along, snare him at your own risk, or just stop and wait a bit.
Trail Loop 1: Starting out of the parking lot, trail ascended the embankment up to a road, then hit a check and turned right past the Indego Hotel. With arrow-less marks (just lines), trail was marked ambiguously as either straight into Lower Falls, or down the on ramp to 128. After vigorously scouting the bridge over the highway, trail turned right again and ran down a semi-unused ramp to recreation road, through a parking lot then into some quasi-shiggy. Crossing a rather lovely little bridge, trail hit a check at the base of an embankment, and did not go straight up the hill to the rail road tracks. Instead, trail paralleled the hill on a gradual rise to a very random brigde under the tracks where the hash was rewarded with COLD beer, chips and orange food dip.
BC #1: Everyone was impressed by this random tunnel that no one knew existed and we all agreed was a sctechy as fuck, and we all loved it. Pack filtered in in bits, with all the fine and proper ladies – not wanting to break a sweat – taking a pleasant stroll along trail. After friar had been gone a while, we decided it was time to leave, and left.
Trail second loop:
Runnning downhill from the beer check (always a bad idea), pack turned and ran under a bridge then half way up a hill before realizing there were no marks. Trail had actually continued to run downhill through a DPW area, then across an actively falling apart bridge, that, luckily, held everyone up. Running past a waste plant – only the most pleasant of smells on this hash – trail scaled an embankment and crossed a set of active commuter rail tracks. By crossed I mean didn’t actually cross at all, but ran along them before turning back into the same parking lot and pleseant bridge that the first half of trail had run over. However, since the FRBs zenned directly across the tracks, found a check, then ran no-no (trail backwards) to the loop on the rail road, everyone was totally lost. Apparently one of the justs scouted down the original trail and either knew what he was doing, or got lucky. Either way, some people scouted the rail road tracks back and forth across 128, into a golf course, and up gas line to the Fidelity Investment parking lot, without finding any marks of sign of trail. Eventually, though, everyone made it to the shot check which was a the base of a swiftly flowing culvert behind the riverside train yard.
Shot check by the water: Was, cool, crisp, and tasted like warm apple pie.
Trail from the shot check: Was short and predictable. We ran up an embankment, across an abandoned rail bridge to the island in the middle of 128. OnIn was marked on the other side, but fuck all that noise, we moved it back to the point of the island because it’s a much more bad-ass location.
OnIn: Friar had provided us with English tea-sandwiches, which, with the exception of the onion-and-cheese, were not that bad. There was beer and water and conversation. After a while we started thinking about starting circle, when we realized that Easy and Vagabond were nowhere to be found. We definitely rememebered seeing them at the shot check, but no one had seen them since. We were slightly concerned – thinking that maybe they didn’t know that circle had moved since we didn’t do anything helpful like mark it. Goat went looking for them, and eventually returned with two well lubricated harriets. They had stayed at the shot check, finished the apple-pie vodka and then walked trail to the original circle. Not seeing any sign of pack, Goat found them leaning against his car, and retrieved them for us.
We called in Friar for laying a shitty trail, and when asked to sing a sung he sung an old Boston song set to the tune of “Charlie and the MBTA.” Surprisingly enough I was e-mailed the lyrics to this song by an old Boston hasher (Swampy) who I met at Pittsburg AGM last year. Friar had his own verse about poision ivy, which, by the way my legs are burning, I’m assuming I ran through last night, and we sung some others. The full lyrics are attached below. Twat then told a story about Friars virgin trail, as told by one of the hashers who was there.
“Recreation road was used as a gay cruising area, so when a random guy in jeans, boots, and a long sleeve shirt showed up and started walking in circles near us, we thought he was cruising, but, instead, it was “Virgin Austin” soon to be “Just Austin” then to be “Numb Nuts” and finally to be “Friar Fuck””
Backsliders – the fat one – were called in, and visitors – Revered Blow Hole – were also made to do down-downs. Blow Hole sang us a great song that NH3 had written about BH3, but I forgot it…
There were accusations – though not many – and it was getting dark.
On-After was at some dive in Wayland, though I wasn’t able to go. I’m assuming everyone ate food without onions, drank non-Budwiser, and generally had a bonding moment returning with better friends than they went with.
On – Here’s to 20 more years of Frair Fuck – On
Cumbridge H3: Real trail (dance party pre-lube), Friday starting a 6HST at Miricle of Science.
Boston H3: Drinking by Charles – July 4th all afternoon and until the Fireworks. Normal spot in front of the Hyatt. Beer. Maybe trail.
NH3: Swimmer Hash, July 13th – Look them up on FB
Burlington: Invihash July 11,12,13 – Sign up.
413 H3: GAP, August 15,16,17, Sing up.
|Trash from afar - NURD X
(over 3 years ago)
What: NURD trail
Where: Somewhere hot
Who: Read the rego list. If you are mentioned below just say that the scribe was drunk and made everything up.
The buses arrived (2 bus this year, and everyone can agree that the other bus sucked), at a random bar in downtown Saratoga and we all filed out and, after complaining about the sun, stumbled into the bar and were presented with 3 glorious beer choices; I forget what they were but I tried them all and they were all delicious. We milled about for a while, critiquing and comparing dresses and gowns. Vomit decided that dresses were for whores and as a classy lady, he would parade around in a pink thong, while Osama decided that underwear was for losers. A few groups of muggles stared as they passed the bar, and I’m pretty sure that the cooks as the restaurant across the parking lot stared at us the entire time. A few of the more experienced hashers went off in waves and returned with delicious culinary confections, but most of us stayed at the bar where the beer was flowing cold and free.
The hares (those assholes) decided that the only start they would need would be the time it took us to do introdcutions. This was an accurate assumption as chalk talk lasted long enough to go in and get another beer while waiting to be introduced. After we met everyone we took off running in search of beer.
Trail Red Gown:
About 3/4th of pack thought that the T/E split mark in chalk talk was an actual T/E split and ran straight up the driveway to nothing. The rest of us actually followed marks that went through a parking garage than into a pretty park to a song check. IEC was standing there wait for us, with a false already marked and his pack mark going off to the left. However, we introduced the muggles to the hashers, meet the hashers, before following IEC. Well, some of us did, others ran straight. Trail went through a fountain – that no one ran through, whatever, weak sauce, and up a hill to a tit check. Harriet after harriet passed us by until Barbie finally let us go (thanks Barbie!). We ran along a ridge before dipping down to a pool, around a pond and back up some stairs to an actual T/E split. The eagles ran towards a grave yard, which itself contained a song check. We sang a ditty to our good friend (in absentia) Nercophiliac Jack and then scouted out in both directions, the two trails eventually merged and we came out infront of a funeral home to a hug check. From there trail went right through some parking lots and it started looking like we were heading back towards town. As the hares had promised there were a good amount of checks, and trail was pretty well marked, but every check we found had already been scouted and marked by IEC (whom none of us had seen since the very first song check). We merged back in with the Turkeys and fund the beer not on the top of the parking garage but on the 3rd floor. There was beer, there was water, and there was shade.
Beer check Red Cocktail dress:
It was really hot and my gown was not cut for r*nning, so I mainly drank water (coors light) and rested. In a fascinating conversation with the Turkeys I found out that IEC had not only run and marked all of eagle trail, but he also then went back and ran Turkey so that he could get all the tit checks to himself. That man is a hashing genious. After we had been there a good long while, the hares left and told us that trail started down an alley back into town.
Trail red sun dress:
Decending from the beer check and running through a pretty little alley we emerged onto what I’ll call the main street in town and ran down in for a while. Some people waited for traffic lights; other people didn’t. It’s like wildabeasts crossing the Limpopo; the crockadiles can’t eat us all! Trail eventually turned up hill (surprise!) and meandered through a friendly neighborhood of kids, families, friendly dogs and apparently hashers laying in the middle of the road? Trail headed towards what I thought might be shiggy, but was really just the enterance to a college/prep school/whatever. It took me a while to figure out what I was running through, but the scenery was nice enough. Eventually at the far end of a parking lot, between two front end loaders and a construction trailer, beer car could be spotted, but there was no jubiliant yelling of the sweat nectar about the curse through our vanes since the bane of all hashers and underage undergrads had just rolled up in their hybrid SUVs – Skidmore college campus security.
Beer check causal red dress:
There was beer, but no water, so the hash started putting ice down each other’s clothes to cool them down, or to stimulate them, it’s hard to tell the difference. Eventually the campus rent-a-cops were called off to curtail some real underage drinking, and the beer check was able to commence in force.
Trail red safari dress:
The pack, seeing that the hares had been away for a while, and that prenenial FRBs Counterfit and IEC had started walking out in the direction the hares went, decided that meant it was time for pack away. In reality it meant that it was time for Counterfit and IEC to play swords, so we let them have it while we scouted trail. In a surprising turn for some light shiggy, trail wound through a forest and past a watertower, where Mudslut set us free from a tit check. A few hundred yards later, there was another one, but she and No Man ran off for a quickie while pack was made to wait for, well, I don’t know her name; she’s one of the awsume halve-miners who put this shit together. I think she RA’d circle Friday? Anyway, she has great tits, and let us go! Trail then wound back down a hill along the power lines to a check which was scouted false right by CEP, and while there was some very promising shiggy straight, trail actually bent back up the hill and through the parking lots towards the Skidmore dorms. There were muggles about, trying to figure out why a hundred people in red dresses were running past. When we told them we were running for beer some icey cold refreshment was offered to us, but we kept running. Up another hill and there was the hallowed mark of ON IN and true trail pointing across a set of sports fields were two buses waiting to take us back to the camp. Skinny dipping was promised so we sprinted the last leg and all piled on the first bus (first bus back is always the best bus back!).
Hymen hero is good at two things, peeing and rapping. He rapped about bath salts the entire bus ride home.
WHOREDOCK happened, and showers were cheered.
[Note: This is normally the part of trash that contains a write up on circle, but as circle was a 3 hour affair that didn’t start until sometime after we got back, the YHS (your humble scribe) will instead relate another tail…]
Sitting around the fire, after having a wonderful nap and delicious food, I overheard people talking about a “new challenge.” Being as one who needs a challenge (and I didn’t find any pet stores on trail), I perked up and paid attention. Apparently Bleeps and 2nd were talking about doing something called a Nautical mile, or something? Basically, it’s a beer mile, but swum around WHOREDOCK. I figure I’ll check it out. Once on the dock, it turns out it was 2nd, Bleeps and someone else who were doing it, while all numbered Poo Flingers were called to through mud at the swimmers. I had nothing better to do and was beginning to get dangerously sober, so I decided to remove my gown, keep my cape, and hopefully not eat a live fish. Once we were all assembled on WHOREDOCK, we just started drinking our first beer, then jumped in. The water wasn’t very cold (or the beer was working its magic already) and after a leisurely lap, a second beer was drunk. I must say that I felt great in water, but I got gaggy/whosey everytime I climbed up that later. When the beer ran dry, more beer was called for and, wouldn’t you know, they were in the process of changing out the coors light keg, so we were drinking some good dark beer. Luckily my beard has amazing abosurbing capacity, so beers 3 and 4 went down and when the laps were completed, I stumbled off of WHOREDOCK a winner, then crawled into a bunny suit where I would remain.
Notes: The other guy came in first, I (Wiki), second, Bleeps 3rd, and 2nd – the “swimmer” and originator of this event – last.
Apparently Udderwhore and Anal Disco (*clap*clap**clapclapclap*) were taking bets. Uderwhore - who I thought was my friend – bet against me, so she had to have 6 shots.
Happened. It was led by Piggy and last 3 hours. Hares drink, hosts drank, FRBs drank, 2nd and IEC challenged each other to who could sit on the ice longer, everyone who did the nautical mile drank, and when one furry bunny drank, all furry bunnies drank. Those onies are hard to get in and out of quickly. I don’t know how the furries do it. Eventually, with no end in sight 2nd and (someone else) just started singing swing low to force an end to circle. The ice had turned to mud anyway, and there was a super-sketchy (ie empty) dance floor, and more beer.
Anal Disco will strip if you chant her name for 5 minutes.
Happened, but never left the fire.
I’m sure other things happened, but my memory is as fuzzy as my bunny suit.
On – NURD – On
Burlington INVIHASH – Jully 10, 11, 12, Brewster camp ground, rego up soon?
GAP – August
Antibuffet – December
NURD – Next May