Missed a hash? Catch up on all the trash here...
|Remember the 90s Trash
(almost 4 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
(almost 4 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
|You've Been Trashed
(almost 4 years ago)
What: YBF hash
Where: Hong Kong, Fanual hall
Hares: Blubber Fucker, Senior Cocksucker, Swedish Eagle
Um…let me try
Sketchy Ho, Goat Throat, Schindler’s Fist, Jolly Green Vigania, Spank Me May I have my Mother, Jello Wrecked ‘em, Stop that reich now, transplant/visitor from Spain, Little Thunder Clap, another guy from DC, a guy from Huston, Easy as 1,2,3, Easy to please, Shart of Darkness, Bum fucking vagabond, Krusty the motherfucking meat miser, bloody slip inside, beat by a girl, vagaterian, pop cum ear I’m infected, willy wonka and the back door factory, twat my mom, wikipedophilia, the butler hit it, luv a lamp, udder whore, 3 virgins, a handful of justs, necropheliac jack, maybe others.
At the bar, the hash pretty much took over 90% of the space. There were some muggles who were hiding in the corner, and one who jumped back when I walked out of the bathroom. Fear my kilt. A few hashers were warming up the wind pipes on the microphone, and others were moistening their throats with cold beer. The hares having left as I arrived, we moved out of the bar to one of the most out of the way circle locations that was never interrupted by cars, horses, or confused cabbies. Most of that sentence is a lie.
There were a set of very well laid marks – easy to follow and find, winding up past Fanuael hall to that weird restaurant with blue lights. However, this was a check back, to somewhere. There were two marks heading into Quincy market, and that’s about it. There was a song check in the middle of the green way, though how trail got there is beyond me. There were two YBFs scouted into the north end, and nothing else. There was a beer check at the end long wharf (past the Marriott), but I’m not convinced there were any marks leading towards it.
Beer check C:
There was cold beer, so it had that going for it, and a good amount of very confused muggles – mostly old couple tourists who were trying to figure out what those young American kidz were doing. Goat stripped to his underwear and ran around the beer check, which would not be note worthy except that he proceeded to jump in the water, and was followed by a virgin. Who and why, we will never know. Thinking that swimming hashers was a good sign to get going, we left.
Coming at us up the other side of long worf were two girls in running clothes asking if we were the hash, and saying that Blubber sent them. I’m pretty sure we scared them off because I never saw them again. I never saw most of pack again either, since there was one strangely visible mark next to a check pointing down towards the aquarium while pack ran off back across the greenway. Following the mark, there was another turning me at the end of the aquarium to a song check, that I probably should have waited longer for, but heard people ahead of me who cut off that little jaunt around the whales. Trail, or well, the harbor walk continued, there were not enough marks to really call it trail, until eventually we found a true trail, shocker, pointing us under the harbor hotel where there was not a song check. There was a mark pointing at a bit of an angle, which I somehow a missed, along with a check, and skipped to the road bridge, not the foot bridge, to cross the channel. Seeing a stray mark pointing under the bridge by the barking crab, I came upon a YBF from I think the wrong angle, and ran no-no trail back to a Beer Near an a true trail, pointing the way I just came. Assuming that the hares intended the BN to be a check, Jack, Falmon and I ran around the court house to find the hares waiting for use with beer and snarky remarks.
Beer check B:
Had a beautiful view, I’ll give the hares that. Apparently, though, blowing whistles to alert the pack to where the beer is is not the best idea near a court house. Eventually pack found the beer and we discussed how this was basically a poorly marked Cajun trail (only checks are on), instead of a horribly marked normal trail. The hares left, we followed.
Surprisingly, trail got better as it went on. There was a WN about 50 yards from the beer check, a true trail and a check across a parking lot. The YBF was shortish and predictable, as trail wound through the seaport back to the other bridge near south station. Check, trail crossed sides of the street, and the river, then a song check “Them, Them, fuck them” with harlot falses (one in each direction), though true trail, I believe was straight, and eventually left. I did scout out to Biddy Early’s (we weren’t there, FYI), but found true trail a block away and caught up to pack, and the hares, at a shot check in a parking garage. It turned into a walking shot check, since no one really wanted to stop.
I got a text alert on my phone just then, and the hares must have too, saying that the Major’s 2 hour ban on marking sidewalks in the city of Boston – the real reason for the lack easily visible marks – had been lifted. The hares, I’m guessing, felt bad about that, so they laid an entire trails worth of marks to the ON-IN, my favourite, Hub Pub.
Had air conditioning and beer, and no falses, which, really is all anyone can ask for. There were even some platters of appetizer-like-food-products! Seeing that people were milling about aimlessly, as hashers are known to do without direction or beer, the RAs assembled and tried to lead us in circle.
The circle would have been better if the ceiling was not within arms reach of half of pack, but the RAs did a great job in keeping us focused on what was important. Firstly, the hares. They sucked, and they knew it. Whatever. Secondly, FRBs/FBIs/DFLs, who either tried too hard, or didn’t try enough. Then we called in visitors, of whom there were more than a few. They also sucked, however one from Hoston song a version of Ironman that was awesome but no one remembered. At this point in circle, there were 3 people who had no idea what was going on, the virgins! We called them into circle, and after trying to devirginized them for about 5 minutes, I think we gave up, threw some beer on them and called them justs. Speaking of justs, there was a just on trail (see “a handful of justs” at the top), who is no longer a just as I write this. That’s right, A NAMING. Just Britiany was called into circle, and I told a story about what happened on the Revere beach. Not the crackwhore almost drowning, or the real whore in the Porsche, but this beautiful harriet who skipped out of circle and into the surf with a hasher who had a boner. Of the three heads in the surf, two were level for a few minutes, then one kind of pulled back and the other stood up. That might or might not be the worst description of a blowjob ever, but, I’m sticking with it. A few names were thrown out “Ebs and blows”, “blows with the tide”, “beach blanket blow job”, but none stuck. Then another story came how later that same night, she was making out with another hasher on the beach, and “Little Sperm-aid” was nominated, chanted, and, after having more beer poured on her than in her, Just Britney is no more, and will forever be known in the hash as Little Sperm-aid.
I think that’s it.
On – thank G the mayor lifted the chalk ban – on
PooF, this weekend, in vermount. It’s awesome. www.poofh3.com for details.
9/13: Seacost RDR/pub crawl.
9/20: Ball buster trust me
11/8: Space Unicorns Moons of Saturn
|Hot Mess 3: Whiskey Ball 8/13/14
(about 4 years ago)
There is glitter all over my apartment. I didn't make it in to work until 10:30 today. I am definitely a mess; calling myself a "hot" mess seems overly optimistic.
What: Hot Mess 3: The Whiskey Ball
When: Wednesday 8/13
Hares: Harlot Globe Fondler, An*l Disco, Pappy Van Tinkle
Bag car: +2 Coonass
Who else: 4 virgins, Krusty the Meat Miser, Blubber F*cker, Sketchy Ho, Can't Eat P*ssy, Mr. Bean, Bloody Slip Inside, Mangia My Vagina, Just Michael, Just Gail, Takes It in the Assberger, Bum F*cking Vagibond, Easy as 123, Gone GAYWOL, Blondie McF*cksalot, Orgasm Famine, Cum Ear, Udder Whore, Post Nasal Jizz, Twat My Mom, No Man on the Moon, Mudsl*t, Bend Over Mommy, Nymphobrainiac, CPA, Bring Out the Gimp, Drunk'N Drag'N, Spank Me May I Have Your Mother, Peeping Tom Pussy, Pubic Service Announcement, Luva Lamp, Stuff That Reich Now, Buttler, Bbags, Douche, Blowbot, 5-Inch Penalty, Wonka, Spunk
*cough**trailoftheyear**cough* - a certain very modest hare
Oh god, where do I even start.
Ok. Prelube was at the Alley bar, where the patrons were impressed by our fancy attire. Wiki made friends with some regulars who inquired whether his kilt was really a kilt. CPA made friends with a man who was quite enamored of her beautiful red dress. We drank beer (and fireball) and wrapped ourselves in trash bags. Once we were suitably lubed, we ventured out into the misty night.
Almost immediately, we ran into the "choose your own adventure" trail split. There were three options for each of the hares. I chose the Harlot trail, which got off to a great start when we saw a SN about 20 seconds after splitting away from the rest of the pack. However, try as we might, we could not actually locate the shots. There were about 20 hashers looking in the bushes in the middle of Boston.
At long last, we found the shots hiding behind a bench - hooray! - and opened the bag to find that it was nips of tequila (and not just any tequila - Sauza) - nooooo. ("Did anyone drink the tequila?" - Wiki) There was also ample glitter in the bag; at that point, we were relatively non-glittery, so we sprinkled ourselves, took the mostly-still-full bag of shots, and continued along.
We had been instructed to follow the color of chalk that pertained to our particular trail, which is how we ended up cruising through Faneuil Hall, scaring tourists (as per usual) and looking for our pink marks. "Running around Faneuil screaming about pink chalk was weird. Cause if it it was yellow fuck that noise" - Udder
Eventually, we rejoined our compatriots at the first beer check, where we were filled in on the other trails. The Disco trail was, shockingly, boozy - every check was a beer check. Pappy's trail was apparently not boozy but was scenic.
It started to rain again, so we took off from the beer check posthaste. Little did we know that we were embarking on a whiskey mile (defined, by Wiki anyway, as a mile with 4 shot checks). Fortunately, by that point it was raining hard enough to keep most of the muggles away from us as we drank mysterious booze from large bottles in the middle of downtown Boston.
By the time we arrived at the second beer check, we were wet (even moreso than usual) and drunk. Krusty opened the door of what he thought was bag car but was in fact a random muggle's car, startling the person in the driver's seat. The whole lipstick/copious eyeliner (not just on the lips and eyes) probably added to the confusion. "From behind me I just hear a bunch of yelling, "What the hell are you doing?!" "Augh! Sorry! Wrong car!" - Coonass
We drank some beer in the pouring rain, and at that point the slip n slide was brought out. There was, of course, glitter mixed in with the soapy water, which means that everyone was thoroughly covered in glitter by the end of the beer check - if not from the slip n slide, from getting hugs (and "special hugs") from other hashers present.
Now thoroughly toasted, we proceeded along the rest of trail. One of the most memorable moments for trail occurred at a tit check just outside a fire station - the firefighters who were hanging out inside the station were very amused by the flashing. Finally, we found ourselves at the on-in, Sissy K's, where we had the entire upstairs floor to ourselves for debauchery and general shenanigans.
I'll be honest - I remember very little of circle. Here are some snippets:
1) I have apparently lost all sense of what's socially appropriate, because I changed out of my wet shorts in the middle of the bar. AND I was so drunk that when I pulled down my shorts, my underwear came off with them. So to anyone I flashed... you're welcome.
2) We made the hares get on their knees when called into circle for trail, because why not? Disco, however, is too cool for school and decided to sit instead. When given shit for her choice, the following exchange took place: "My butt chooses to self identify as knees." "Disco, you're an asshole." "You mean kneehole."
3) Now down to 3 virgins, we successfully devirginized them. We asked some questions, I believe about barnyard animals.
4) The food was really tasty. There was pulled pork and quesadillas - maybe other food too, I honestly have no idea. And there was what seemed to be limitless beer - I don't think it ever stopped flowing.
5) After circle, we danced, and it was awesome. Most notably, it turns out that chanting "shirts off for the girls!" actually works - some muggle men were convinced to take their shirts off for us. I'll have to remember that trick. We stayed there for a while before finally trickling off to our respective homes (or the homes of others - I'm not here to judge). "I was dancing and literally looked around to notice that I was THE only one left upstairs" - Bloody Slip Inside
I was really hung over this morning. Like, first I laid in bed and was immobile for a while, then I took a second shower to wash off the stale beer smell (but not the glitter, because that shit's for life). There is a trail of glitter around my apartment, from which I deduced that I must have sat on the couch last night. I now understand why Senior Skip Day is a thing.
Awesome trail. Well done, hares.
- E4B is tonight, soon! Your week can get even boozier! So head up to Andover.
- NOVEMBER 8TH - some sparkly unicorn thing - it's this year's incarnation of the Pearl Necklace trail, and I'm already pumped, so get that shit on your calendars.
- There's other stuff coming up too. Check the calendar, you lazy fucks.
<3 <3 <3
shart of darkness
|7/30 - the Runners Who Drink trail
(about 4 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