Missed a hash? Catch up on all the trash here...
|Trail trash - M*rathon Viking Taco Trail
(about 4 years ago)
What: Taco Vikings
Where: Sunset Cantena, Comm Ave, Boston [See I can get it right!]
Who: Iggnorance is Piss, No Man on the Moon
Sack Car: Peirce My Sourass.
Jesus, you expect me to remember this? Ok, here goes: Statory Swallows, Virigin Mike, tickets*, Certified Poop Accuntant, Four Way Blow, Hair Crotchery, Bum Fucking Vagabond, Jello Wrecked ‘Em, Spank Me May I have My Mother, Peeping Tom Pussy, Drippy Spicket (I think that’s his name), Can’t Douche Pussy Land, Just Krystin, Pop Cum Ear I’m Infected, Extraterrestical, Swedish Eagle, Polar Hortex, Mangia My Vagiana, Pappy Van Tickle, Udder Whore, Luv a Lamp, Spunk In the Trunk, Encylopedia of Child Buggery, Broke Back Baby, Condom Search And Rescue, Frair Fuck. Maybe others.
After arriving at the correct start location I was going to the men’s room to change and over heard a server in the kitchen saying “I just passed a man in the bathroom putting on a kilt.” Wondering who I would find, I was pleased to see that CEP was in there already but he was putting on a skirt! (I only learned of this at the On After, but, don’t worry, he’ll drink for it!). Quickly shedding my “professional/real people clothes” I went back to my people and ordered a beer. Tickets told me an amazing joke about the democratic leanings of gang bangs, and social mingling happened for a while until eventually the hares were gay and sack car was called.
Was anarchy. Serious anarchy. I’d feel bad for the virgin, but after what he endured at circle, I’ll give him a pass on not knowing what the marks meant (and he was FRB!). Oh, we were told the hares had hidden Viking helmets on trail; anyone wearing one at the onin would get a prize.
Trail some lady part:
About half of pack ran uphill from the start, and the other half downhill; surprisingly trail went downhill. It turned a few blocks later and then came to a check at the base of another hill. Zenning like I knew where I was going, I took off uphill on a very promising 2 (and out), then turned left and ran past pack standing at what I thought was a song check on the other side of a field. Yelling out that I was zenning, and ignoring their responses, I continued on and found trail leading to a (HN) mark, and found a helmet in a tree which was way too small for my cranium. It was then I was informed that the song check I had skipped was actually a shot check. Whatever; I pulled a nip out of my kilt, downed it, and kept on going. Following trail through a school and across some major road, there was eventually another left hand turn followed by a song check and another (HN) which Spank Me found. Trail continued on a ridge of sorts to the base of a very long, very steep hill. There was a check, but, honestly, I don’t think anyone even scouted; we all just went up hill. Some of us even ran the entire way up! At the top of the absurdly long hill was a beautiful view on an open trunk with cold beer!
Beer check lady things:
It was a beautiful view of something. I had no idea what I was looking at, but I did know that I was slowly being warmed by my PBR. Pack arrived in waves; the FRB runners, the FRB walkers, the running pack, the walking pack and finally the walkers. When we had all congregated we mostly talked of travels to warmer places because it was a bit chilly and windy up there overlooking whatever it was we were overlooking. Orange food was based around, beer was drunk and the hares left. Then the bag car left and we got cold and decided to leave as well.
Trail: Why do their restrooms have murals of nature scenes and couches?
To anyone with the barest sense of knowledge of geometry, the next part of trail was obvious; downhill. However, being hashers, pack was skeptical of every downhill check we came across because we seriously can’t be just running downhill the whole time , can we? Yes, yes we can. Well, except for that one really steep downhill that was a YBF. Luckily the virgin scouted that one out for us. Thanks virgin! Trail turned left at that check and ran along a road until it crossed another road. Eventually, we saw a true trail pointing into a parking lot with the bag car in it.
Lets be honest; us burritos don’t run taco trails for the trail, we run them to experience the lady circle. It is a strange and different kind of multi-faceted (oligarchical, I think is the best word) cluster fuck, run by one of my favourite RAs* (well, I’m kinda scared of her now) Ignorance is Piss. Circle started pretty normally with Drink a little bit, fuck a little bit, then the hares sang for us and we for them. It was a romantic, beautiful affair. The night was continuing merrily along as FRBs, DFLs, and FBIs (Virgin Mike, Friar and Jello, respectfully) were called in and mocked for their speed. Everyone’s favourite tradition – the administration of Pabsmhers were given to all Burrito-carrying taco virgins – tickets, Spank Me, Virgin Mike and Drippy. They played along and got pabshmear all over their vasages and their hair. Then. Shit. Got. Weird. Virgin Mike (sponsored by the long lost and now found Statory Swallows) was called in for being a virgin and Magnia and CPA came out proudly announcing the start of a new taco tradition. With the completely unsuspecting virgin on his knees, and under a spot light provided by DUI Done Right, CPA and Magania produced something that looked like two spoons attached (backwards) to a pair of kitchen tongs. I did not know this, but apparently ladies get that shit shoved into them. Wow, and I thought “Cough twice and turn to the left” was weird. Anyway, they took the spatula/scapula/whatever and pried the virgins mouth open with it to administer the down down through. Not knowing any better, he did the first – “holy shit was is this thing” – down down like a boss. He might have been the first virgin who was actually worthy! I really don’t remember if there were any more accusations? Anal got a pussy? I thought that wasn’t happening until next year? Whatever. THERE WAS A NAMING.Standing in the circle was a burrito of such infamy that his name and reputation are known everywhere on this side of the Mississippi, and most likely beyond. He is a man of great talent, high abilities, and impeccable class; he is, the perfect modern gentleman; tickets. The tacos threw this over deserving man on the ground and made him assume the position as they pried his mouth open for a taco-down. He went down as tickets, and arose as CUNTFACE! There was religion, announcements, then we invaded Harry’s.
As I said, we invaded Harry’s. The bar was full with muggles when we arrived, and none left a half hour later when it was only us and the lesbian rugby team. Rage.
On – Seven months until Saddie – On
Encyclopedia of Child Buggery
Ball Buster trail tonight - Fizz Ed's, Pleasant St., Malden, MA (Malden T Stop Orange Line)
Beer Mile/Pub crawl tomorrow: Esplinade at 7pm sharp!
MAIN EVENT SATURDAY – Registration opens at BHP at noon.
Fat Beaver Sunday – Tommy Doyles in Kendal (Brunch at 11, Trail at 12:30)
Beer Check at Mile 20 Monday
First Wednesday trail is April 30th, hared by Shart of Darkness and Easy as 1,2,3
NURD – In may
Boston RDR – In June (maybe)
Burlington Invihash – In July
GAP – In August
Pearl Necklace – In Septmeber
AGM – In October
SADDIE HAWKINS – In November (I hope!)
Anti-Buffet – In December
|Trail trash - M*rathon Moon Prelube (or why we had to call AAA)
(about 4 years ago)
What: BH3 M*rathon Moon Pre-Lube
Where: Parking Lot/Bar at the Best Western near Alwife
Who: The Butler Hit It, Just Tasty
Bag car: Bring out the Gimp
Anal Disco, Just Pat, Oh Brother Where Art OW, No Man On The Moon, Salty Mud Flaps, DUI Done Right, Spunk In the Trunk, Emillia Air Fart, Condom Search and Rescue, Laurance My Labia, Can’t Eat Pussy, Blowbot, Chris Brown Eye, Easy as 1,2,3, Jingle Jisms, Cum Ear.
Arriving in a bit of a misty rain, Air Fart and I found CEP and Blowbot standing in a not very sketchy (by hash standards) parking lot. After gawaffing for a while, a minivan taxi pulled up and we thought this was either Anal or Udder, so I gallantly went up to open the door for the lady inside. After opening the door and not recognizing the lady, I closed it and went back to gafawing with my friends (hashers, whatever). A little while later, Oh Brother Where Art OW got out of the cab, suitcase in tow, and said that the she had to argue with the cabby to let her out with this strange, kilted, men in the middle of a parking lot. Just Tasty arrived and told us that the prelube was not in a random parking lot, but was actually at the bar inside, so we scampered in out of the rain.
Once inside we ordered some tasty beer and waited for the other hare and bag car to show up. Then we ordered more beer and wait some more. Then more beer and more waiting. Eventually, Butler and Gimp showed up and the hares got gay with pack away happening around 7:30.
It was pouring, so much so that by the time circle had ended, the marks which we were to be looking for, but couldn’t find, had been totally washed away. This wasn’t a good omen.
From the start trail ran through/over/whatever the round a bout/rotatory/traffic circle/whatever where Alwifebrook parkway and someother park way met. We then began our 3 hour jog around fresh pond. Don’t worry, I won’t end this story here because there is more to tell. Once on the path we had the devil of a time finding the marks which had all been washed away by the torrents of rain and lashing winds. Pack would find a mark, then scatter looking for more, then regroup and scatter again. After a relatively short while we found a beehive, which I hope was not in use, and a bottle of honey whiskey on top of it. We passed that around, but also passed around a bottle of Colt-45 that DUI brought. I don’t drink anywhere near enough Colt-45. None of pack knew the song “if all of the raindrops were lemon drops and gum drops” and Anal tried to start a song about allegators, but that failed and we went on in search of more trail.
Calling it trail would be a diservce to all of the trail blazers of yore who worked tirelessly to cut and blaze trails through rain forests or steep mountains. We followed a seemingly random distribution of flour, and eventually ran into the hare saying “the marks have washed away; the beer check is over here.”
Beer check Demos:
Air fart and I tried to remember which m*rathon moon trail had used this dock as a beer check before; maybe Teabags and Balls Deep from ’12? Maybe it wasn’t even a moon trial? It was raining and the beer-like-liquid (I’m not going to call Natty Ice beer) was quiet warm, but, surprisingly, not bad. We drank it. No Man did promise that if pack comes across a tire swing on trail, she’ll take off her top and jump on it singing “I came in like a wrecking ball!!!” The hares then teased us by saying that because the rain was washing away all the marks they could end trail in about 50 yards or, then they ran off. We, being hashers, assumed that they were going to end trail in 50 yards.
Foolishly believing the hares, we took off into some shiggy and across a gulf course. The rain had let up a bit and trail was strangely well marked, across an empty course – golfers are not known for the metal of their mantels – and eventually to a song check. Pack regrouped then CEP yelled that he “knew where we were going” so we followed him down a 2 and out, before cutting back through the rough to another golf cart trail that eventually took us out to a basketball court area in the pouring rain. The calls of OnOn ahead of me had stopped and I saw a form standing amongst the trees so I assumed that we were at the BC. Nope, just a hare snare, and after waiting no where near the appropriate amount of time, I ran off to find more beer. Run and deftly leaping through the woods I was brought to my knees by a very poorly timed jump over a pricker bush that snagged me in a most unpleasant area and, after pausing to catch my wits, I got back up and chased after the hare. Snaring him again, he asked me if I wanted to help get beer, I didn’t, and so he led a walking pace through the woods, and eventually we ended up at a completely flooded out beer check – whore island! The walkers scrambled down a very steep and muddy bank while the pack tried to get to the beer while stepping in the least amount of murky standing water.
Beer Check Titian:
We did not know this was a beer check until the hares left. By we I mean I, and by I, I mean it was my guess based off the evil lie the hares told at the first beer check. Either way, there was more warm Natty Ice to drink, and so more was drunk. The flooded tracks around the BC were very sketchy and everyone was comparing them to Promethesus, though to me it looked more like the pool out side of Moria. Speak Beer and Drink. Not wanting to disturb the CGI monster lurking in its depths, I scrambled up a very steep and very loose and very muddy slope to get away.
Following the tracks we emerged back basically at the start, and ducked through an alley to the sports complex where we have also OnIned before. This time the rain was really coming down and the wind had picked up so we were grateful to hare for finding an amazing semi-sheltered dugout to have circle in. As pack arrived, the hares went to get beer and orange food from bag car.
While techinically the OnIn, the lack of beer or orange food made it more of an “On group of hashers standing in a dugout.” After what seemed like a very long time the party which went to get beer and the orange food returned, without beer, or orange food. Instead, they informed us, Gimp had locked his keys in the car and was waiting for triple A to come and help him. After a good amount of grumbling, and an extreme failure of democracy in favour of mob rule, we returned to the hotel bar and walked up and ordered drinks on the visitors credit card as if nothing had happened. The bar tender, not quiet sure what to make of us, handed out a few beers while the hostess of the hotel came out and handed all of us fresh, warm towels to warm ourselves while we waited. More beer was bought by more credit-driven hashers, and Anal eventually bought everyone a shot of Fireball, 14, I believe was the total number of shots. We kicked the bottle, and had to supliment the order with Jack Daniels. Did we ever keep the bottle? We should have! With an angelic fanfare gimp entered and we all ran out in the rain to get our bags and beer and orange food. A few orders of fries had been but in, so after downing those (and changing into blessed dry clothes) we quickly scuttled outside under the hotel awning for an abrieviated circle, led by a rather drunk Disco, but at that point in the night, I had stopped trying to remember.
On – Hashing under a howling sky as the norse winds blew – On
Laurence My Liabia
Taco trail tonight – 6:30HST, $5 Hash Cash, Sunset Cantena on Brighton Ave, take the B line
B3H4 tomorrow – 6:30HST, $1 Hash Cash, Fizz Ed's, Pleasant St., Malden, MA (Malden T Stop Orange Line),
The Longboats Arrive Friday – Pub Crawl starts a 5pm at 84 Beacon St, Boston, MA 02108
Glittery Viking Beer Mile – 7PM SHARP – The Dock on the Esplinade (trail marked from Charles MGH)
Spears and Magic Helmets – A Viking raid on Boston: Saturday April 19th, 12:30 at Beacon Hill Pub (Also off the Charles/MGH stop on the Red line)
Sunday – Fat Beaver starting at Tommy Doyles in Kendal (Also on the red line). Brunch at 11, Trail at 12:30.
Monday – Beer check at mile 20.
Sometime in May: NURD
Sometime in June: Boston RDR (maybe)
Sometime in July: Burlington Invihash
Sometime in August: GAP
Sometime in September: Pearl Necklace
Sometime in October: Boston AGM
Sometime in November: Something
Sometime in December: Antibuffet
|An Easy Wiki Black Tie Affair
(about 4 years ago)
What: An Easy Wiki Black Tie Trail
Hares: Easy as 123 and Wikipedophelia
Bag car: Señor C*cksuckerWho: Buttler, Bend Over Mommy, 5 Inch Penalty, Friar F*ck, +2 Coonass, Gnome, Bum Fucking Vagibond, Krusty the Meat Miser, Delta Phile, Luv-a-lamp, Buoys (sorta?), Just Patrick x2, Just Carissa*, Just Ian, and anyone I forgot
This weekend, I decided to take a break from my busy Sunday schedule of napping, nursing hangovers and looking at Instagram pictures of golden retrievers and, instead, I made it out to a truly excellent Easy Wiki affair.
It was a nasty, drizzly day, but that didn't stop the hashers present from breaking out their Sunday best. Bend Over Mommy, Just Patrick, Just Carissa and Luv-a-Lamp were runway-ready in various flowing gowns. The people of Newton welcomed us as one of their own as we traipsed past some kind of seminary? boys camp? religious thing?, stumbled down a hill, and attracted curious/admiring glances from passersby.
Trail was aggressive from the very first shot check, which was a Black Russian check. A lot of it. Surprisingly, we finished the entire shot check before moving on (though the bottle had to make a LOT of trips around the circle). Even more surprisingly, no one refunded as we moved on to the next part of trail, which actually took place on a trail. There were plenty of uphill falses (I know because I ran all of them), a babbling brook that just so happened to cover the entire trail, and even an equal opportunity check (which is the name I just made up for boob checks immediately followed by dick checks).
Immediately after going over the river and through the woods, we found the first beer check. Oh, sorry, did I say beer check? I meant beer-and-champagne check. No, scratch that - I meant GOOD-beer-and-champagne check. We popped some bubbly, mixed it with our good beer (is that a Shamwow? I attended trail and I'm *still* not entirely sure what a Shamwow is), and drank from red cups with our pinkies out.
In typical Sharty fashion, I had availed myself freely of the Black Russians, champagne, and beer of a much higher quality (and therefore alcohol percentage) than I am used to. That's my way of saying that the next part of trail was something of a blur. We ran through some more woods, magically made it over to the BC Reservoir, ran around that and had another beer check... Things happened, and eventually we stumbled into the On-In.
The On-In was completely empty except for us at first, until an older couple came in and proceeded to tell us that they were just about to head back to the Cape (not sure why relevant?) and that we were giving them a headache. So we, surprisingly considerately, whispered the rest of circle.
Anyway, it was decided that Just Carissa needed to be named. She probably told some stories. (Sorry, I'm the worst scribe ever). It also was pointed out that, at one point, she imbibed from a traffic cone. Since she was wearing a beautiful Snow White -esque gown, we eventually settled on several options including Blow White or Blow Cone. I can't quite remember which option won, to be honest, and neither were the other circle attendees that I later asked. So pick the one you like better and start calling her that, and maybe it'll stick.
Anyway, I've about exhausted my meager memories, so I apologize if there's anything or anyone that I forgot. Til next time, wankers!
On-next time I will either take better notes or get less drunk-on,
|Green Dress Run 2014
(about 4 years ago)
What: Seacoast/Boston 69 An*l Green Dress Run
Who: Frair Fuck, E=I’m a Douch
Where: BKs, Revere Beach, Revere
THE 2nd Cumming, Spank me may I have my mother, Just Holly**, Just Erik*, Pappy Van Tinkle, Manga My Vagania, Clit Notes, Senior Cocksucker, Virgin Patrick, The Butler Hit It, Certified Poop Accuntnat, Flamming Hetero – The sweat Montana Cherry, Jello Wrecked ‘Em, Just Beat It, Bum Fucking Vagabond, Wikiepdophilia, Easy as 1,2,3, Krusty The Meet Miser, Cum Titty, Udder Whore, Broke back baby, Condom Search and Rescue, Pop Cum Ear I’m infected, Easy To Please, Swedish Eagle, Just Ian, Bend Over Mommy, Nicely Nicely Johnson, Maybe Others.
The start was at the very classey BK’s bar next to the revere beach T station on everyone’s favourite Blue Line. Upon my arrival there was already a small group of pretty drunk hashers – they had apparently decided to “brunch” there to moderate success, and a very friendly bar tender. I walked up to the bar and ordered the best beer they had – rolling rock – for $3. I bored it out into my hash mug and walked away. A few minutes later I returned and handed her my mug, which she filled without question and still only charging $3. Time went on and more hashers – in their finest green dresses – started to show up. I had another $3 hash-mug-of-cheer as the pack grew and generally began to take over the bar. The locals retreated to the bar itself and the far corner. Eventually, once pretty much everyone had showed up we started asking where the hares were, since it’s nice to have hares on trail. Douche didn’t show up until well after 3, and the pack wasn’t away until closer to 3:30*** I collected hash cash – because you half-minds trust me – and bag car was called.
Circle was on the beach, and we introduced ourselves, our visitors and our virigin to the marks we would not be seeing. They included arrows that were not used, dick checks, which were used, tit checks, which we not used, and count backs that might have been us.ed After deciding that we’d stood around for long enough, we left in search of beer.
Trail crossed over Revere beach boulevard, or whatever, past BKs and down some side streets, pretty much going to straight at every check until coming out to a main(ish) road. Showing no fear of death, and fully confident that Massachusetts drivers would be attentive and not wanting to hit people in Green Dresses, I darted out into traffic in search of trail. Along with feeling the wind on my back as a pick-up truck whizzed by, I did find trail on the other side of the road, then promptly lost in and ran around a 4 (ish) way interestection looking for either pack or trail and eventually followed whistles in the distances. Running along the side of a road for a while, we eventually turned right towards the marshes, and, seeing a check at the enterance, run right in. Note that there weren’t any marks leading us into the marshes, we just decided to go that way. Most of pack displayed a surprising amount of intelligence and actual hashing ability, turned up the road and followed trail not through the marsh. After deciding the error of our ways, we left the shiggy behind and followed pack through some quiet and unmarked streets to a song check where they were polietely waiting for us. Trail continued on into the shiggy to another song check, which we pretty much ignored since we could see the hares standing by the beer in the distance; a few hundred yards down a mainly fooled access road and we were treated with the sweat refreshing taste of Bug Light.
Beer Check [Not Guiness]
There was beer, no orange (or green) food, and a lot of wind. The pack discussed mainly things of verying levels of import. Some people who waxed poetic about how to find a roller skating rink this side of Worcester. Other people talked about the lack of quality of beer. Right about when we thought we’d been there long enough, the hares told everyone to take some beers because the next beer check was BYOB. This met with predicatble responses, but turned out, amazingly enough, to be a not completely bad idea. We were able to watch the hares walk across a field until they disappeared out of sight into the bush. Since we were standing around holding beer, we decided we might as well follow them.
We followed the hares, who had only recently disappeared from sight, across the rail road tracks and through the marsh. Some of the pack tried to stay dry, and others didn’t; eventually we plowed through reeds above my cranium and came out onto an actual 4-lane divided highway with a true trail and BVC pointing across it. Since we were pretty much all traveling together, a few very nice cars stopped, honked and let us cross. We could see to shapes lumbering across another field a few hundred yards away and raced after them until we decided that we didn’t really want to snare Friar, and we found a song check. Since the song check was located around a break in the meadow/field/marsh, whatever, that provided some cover from the wind, we decided that we might as well drink the beers we were holding while waiting for the hares to continue. A few minutes, and a few beer laters – only the best, coors light, we walked out into the marsh to be confronted by a steadily flowing stream about 4 or 5 feet wide. Taking a few steps back to make sure I could clear it, I ran, lept, flew, and fell in. Luckily my momentum carried me forward and on to dry ground. I looked around and found that everyone else was crossing over a bridge. Trail then ducked into another, deeper, gully which we scrambled through, and, completely ignoring the true-trail emblazed in flour on the far bank took off running down the road on the other side. Reaching the end of the block a realizing that we were following road salt, we turned around, found the true trail through more reeds and eventually came upon and access road that dumped us out into a baseball field where the hares were standing by the back stop.
Standing around in a not-sketchy-at-all-circle in front of the back stop, we drank what beer we had left and waited for the hares to leave. There was much discussion of which way they went, and who was laying what marks. There were a for sympathetic comments directed towards that father and son out playing catch in the outfield, but we generally ignored them and I’m pretty sure they explicitly ignored us.
Trail On Camarea
Since there wasn’t much in the way to keep us anchored to the beer check – most of the pack had drunk theirs at the first impromptu check, and we since had to take the empties with us anyway, we just started off at a leasurely pace – walking – along the very scenic revre beach back to what we assumed was the on in. Luckly, some of the FRBs actually followed trail and found that it turned and went into the Wonderland park garage to a shot check on the roof deck. Except it was windy, so the shot check was inside. Except that the hares forgot the shots, so it was a “stand around inside check” until Douche got back with brown liquid alcohol – it was not worthy of the name “whiskey” – even though it’s label claimed that it was “Americas finest!” Whatever. It was vile. In an effort to avoid dection by the fuzz, some people tried to move the shot check (ie drinking) part outside onto the roof, but that idea was quickly Crimead – when the majority of the pack declared that they wanted to drink inside and the law-abiding members just shrugged their shoulders at this unprecedented breach of interhashinoal law. That joke was funny in my cranium. Sorry.
If there were marks between the parking garage and BKs, I didn’t see them. I saw one group hug and hugged 2nd (who then took off like he was running a marathon!), then sauntered into the OnIn.
In true Friar fassion it was an A to A trail, and I’m pretty sure every body knew this.
After a very brief laspse, mainly because we didn’t have the bar to ourselves, beer was provided and Krusty and Easy whipped us into a hasher-frenzy and jumped us all up on stage. We sang first to the hares for their truly shitty trail, then called in the FRB (2nd), FBI (Jello) and DFL (Virgin Patrick). We sang and made them, including the very confused virgin, do down-downs. We then called the virgin back into circle, and he 69’d CPA. I’m sure other things too, but, really, that was the highlight, or lowlights, depending, of the dementing. Once the virgin was thoroughly confused we threw beer on him and accepted him, reluctantly into our midsts. Next up for punishment were the visitors; Flamming Hetro from Portland Humping Hash and Nicely, Nicely Johnson from Okinowa. They sang us a song of their people, and we sang them about the dangers of walking down canal street in Boston. Backsliders and Seacoasters were called in – it was Cum Titties 169th Hash – and I’m assuming we sang to them too. The locals were getting increasingly annoyed with us – except for the guy at the bar who’d complement my dress everytime I went to order more beer – so we hastened to accusations, and I drank for forgetting clit note’s name. I was drunk. Opps. Annoucnements (see below) and then we dropped our vessels, bowed our craniums and swang low.
Friar and douche made a whole bunch of cabage, potatos, carrots and corned beef which we gorged ourselves on.
HOLY SHIT I FORGOT THE FUCKING NAMING!!!!
After the vistors were called in Just Erik was accused of being a just, and so he assumed the position to be named. It came forth that he had been the President of his LARPing club in college, fantized about having sex with elves, and various other nerdy accomplisments. LARP me, LARP me, longtime was suggested, as were a few others, but, from hence forth, Just Erik will be known as “Fellowship of the Cockring.” May G have mercy on his liver! Also, we brought his –wife- (Just someone else) into be named, and after suggested “Whore of Mordor” and a few others, she was thrown back to marinate in the fires of shame and humiliation that is the Boston Hash until such time as we name her.
There was food, and we shovled it into our carnimum holes.
That’s it? Maybe? Yes? No? Who care. Make up your own story from here.
On – HAPPY EVACUATION DAY – On
***Editorial: Hares need to be away -at-2:45-on-Sundays-and-6:45-on-Wednesdays-. This is serious (ish). Hares leaving an hour after they are supposed to cannot continue***
Friday, March 22nd: DEADLINE TO GET PERSONAL HAB FOR MARATHON. If you sing up after the 22nd who know what you’ll get, but it won’t be a personalize mug!
Sunday, March 23rd: FRAIR FUCK TURNS 50! He’s haring another trail! Start is somewhere near Kenmore. See the calander/Failbook/smoke signals
Saturday March 29th: Wikipedophilia is haring a PooF Trail in/near Douglas state forest. Details might be on the Poof website
Sunday, March 30th: An Easy Wiki Black Tie Affiar – Black tie hash starting in Newton. This is the first trail with $15 hash cash!
!!!SIGN UP FOR MARATHON!!!
NURD is happening in May.
Boston RDR in June
Invishash is in July
GAP (might) be in August
Pearl Necklace in september
AG in Ocotober
Saddie Hawkins in November
Anti-Buffet in December
|Freedom From Trail Hash
(over 4 years ago)
What: Freedom trail
Who: No Man On The Moon, Mud Slut
Bag Car: Schindler’s Fist
Where: Tavern at the End of the World
Plus 2 Coonass, Velvet Pelvis, Visitors from Mexico*, A Virgin, An Amaazing Male Just*, A Female Just, A transplant from New York, Double Fisted Fence Fucker, Twat My Mom, Yellow Dick Gnome, Harlot Globe Fondler, Ignorance Is Piss, Peirce My Sourass, Goat Throat, The Butler Hit It, Another Female Just, Half of Can’t Douch Pussy Land, but I forget which, Sweedish Eagle, Senior Cocksucker, Friar Fuck, Little Black Cock in my Pocket, probably a few others?
Before chalk talk got underway the RA came back saying that we would need id’s on trail. From that point on, trail was basically “running in the general direction of Hong Kong.” Coonass did a passable job of chalk talk, and I only say that because no one got lost following marks on trail. Well, more on that later. Introductions and chalk talk over, we set out looking for marks.
[Trail Phase 1]
We didn’t find any. We found irregularly spaced brownish splotches of snow, and minisucle arrows that were, more often than not, wrong. Trail cross under or over of through the highway/train tracks/whatever and into Charlestown to a check in front of a gas station. This was a very brilliantly laid check, since there was an open hill directly a-cranium of it, or a two and out across a high way. After scouting every possible direction for a good ten minutes – including your humble scribe scouting the other side of some four lane highway and almost getting hit by a cop car (he had he’s lights on, I just didn’t see him) – we decided to scout behind the abandoned building and found ourselves a nice circle jerk that ended up on the stairs to the Bunker Hill momument. There was a hash-sitapeed for the tourists. If the beer were British soldiers, we would have been able to shoot them at that point, but the willey little hares decided to run us back down Bunker hill to a CB 6 (it should have been 5) which turned down a side street ending in a stairway to the beer.
[Stairway to beer check]
The hares, and some zenning bastards, were waiting and laughing at us as we charged up the stairs to the, we’ll call it sub-roomtempature beer. There was plenty of orange food and beers were drunk and stories were told and eventually the hares decided to be gay again and left us standing around wondering in which amazing direction the trail could go.
Trail immedietly hit a song check in front of a church, and we got out the refrain of “Free Beer for All the Hashers” before deciding that we wanted to run on in search of said free exliour of good ideas. Trail continued straight, then turned down a hill to a false, though trail come down the next street to a song check by another church, at which pack was sarindated by the velvety vocal stylings of your humble scribe with “As I was walking ‘round saint pauls…” Trail then hit a second tit check and ran under the bridge at the end of Charlestown. At this point, I stopped following trail because of my previously stated preminition about where trail was going. Trail went over the road bridge, but I ran through the locks and scouted out around the Garden and the greenway looking for trail to make the cross toward Fanual Hall, but never found anything. Hearing the whistles of the pack getting further and further away, and remembering that there was in a hill in the North End that can be accended by stairs, I ran off in that direction, eventually finding myself on the other side of a locked cemetery gate from the beer check. Fences and locked gates cannot stop hashers, so I made up my own eagle trail and eventually found my way to the beer. Upon my arrival I was greeted with a beer from Mud Slut and the male just saying I was his hero!! I’m someone’s hero! As soon as pack heard this, they quickly whisked him away to a retraining camp. It was getting cold and the hares left again.
[The hareless trail]
It was now just a matter of time until we got to the HK, and Gnome, Goat and I tried to follow trail until it stopped just after a song check, but we kept going to the Holy Hong Kong. We found the walkers just arriving, and Twat sitting at the bar, but no sign of the hares, or bag car. We were definitely ending at the Kong, but, hares? Pack? Beer? These things were no where in sight. We were contemplating mounting a search party for the hares, and the pack, when everyone – hares and pack – came running it at the same time. Apparently the reason why the marks stopped after the song check is that we had almost snared the hares, but the pint-sized beer-leaders had ducked into a crowd to evade detection by the front runners, but could not hide from the rest of pack. Pack and hares having successfully reached the OnIn, beer was provided and we stood around waiting to get warm.
Starting off with calling in the hares, we asked them if they had anything to say in their defense, and they didn’t, so we sang to them that they should have used more flour, or chalk. In hindsight, that was a bit mean because while they diffinetly could have used more flour or chalk, there are significant doubts as to whether or not they could have actually carried any more. Visitors – with the exception of the Mexican who disappeared – were called in, and this turned out to be just Harlot, and she sung as a song of her people about sex in the pack of pick-up-cars. Moving on quickly Velvet’s virgin was called in, and was demented by Gnome and Disco. We asked him what his first blow job tasted like and he insisted that he did in fact taste it, but he wasn’t gay? He then preformed a reverse cowgirl on a sleeping Velvet and we’d seen enough. Goat, I think, got in on the action too, or he was just dry humping Velvet for the fun of it. I was called into circle for about 5 different offenses, but luckily on had to drink once. Transplants were called in, and people in happy coats, and the hares a few more times. Same socks, I think was an accusation? Pizza arrived, and we swang low.
On – Running in 25F is better than 25C – On
This weekend: New Haven Hashmat – Friday/Saturday/Sunday trails, give aways and running from the Hazmat teams.
TONIGHT: Something, but I don’t have a taco so I didn’t pay attention.
Thrusday 2/13: Marathon MM meeting at the Burren in Davis; 7pm to talk about amazing shit!
Friday, 2/14: Moon trail at The Cove.
Sunday 2/16: Hares might still be needed?
March 1st: Mardi-Gras in Burlington
March 15th: Green dress in Happy Valley