Missed a hash? Catch up on all the trash here...
|Freedom From Trail Hash
(almost 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
|Sadie Hawkins Hash
(about 4 years ago)
Scribes Note: I don't have a taco, so I'm not sure if there is a taco-specific scribe who sends out taco-friendly versions to the taco runs list.
Also, f*ck rules, this is the hash.
What: Sadie Hawkins Hash
Who: Mangia My Vaginia, Harlot Globe Foundler, Certified Poop Accuntant.
Where: Hong Kong, Hardvard Square
Really? You expect me to remember, here goes (and most of these are lies)
No Man on the Moon, Oink Oink Ohhh, Bloody Slip Inside, Easy As 1,2,3, Just Pat (not from Rhode Island), THE 2nd Cumming, Maple Queef, Hot Tub Crime Machine, Udder Whore, Anal Disco, Cuntjungle, I-know-his-name-isn’t-
Was at HK, but I was off doing super-secret-planning so +2 and I showed up as Bag Car was being called. Even though I wasn’t there; here’s what happened. Scripion. Bowl. Races. There were a few heats, and 2nd came away was the champion, with Goes Down On Bouys Unable to finish and Bloody Slip Inside and Easy and 1,2,3 tied for 2nd. Everyone was very drunk and eventually we left to learn about trail, or something.
Happened. Were there virgins. Maybe? Will they come back? Probably. No tit checks.
Trail Left Tit:
Apparently circle was at the end of a false so most of pack went somewhere, and I scouted a-cranium finding true trail through Harvard square and eventually pack caught up with me at a song check inside the courtyard of a very nice looking hotel. We thought that the guests, and restaurant goers, who had gathered at the windows to stare at a crowd of cow-people, could use a reminder of how the calendar worked, so we sang a nice little diddy about the days of the week and the various activities engaged thereon. As we were getting go the only PG-13 day – the day of rest – Nichelodean was called so we just left and followed trail to a joke (or junk) check. I told a horrible joke, and scouted off in the wrong direction. Trail actually turned right from the check and ran along memorial drive for a way before turning into Longfellow park for a beer near.
There was beer. It was drunk. The hares stood around for a while laughing at how we thought they might have actually ran trail – apparently they hadn’t. Nothing of note happened, well, except that the cops did not come. That line will make more sense once you read the hash trash for the Macklemore trail. Not wanting us to be too drunk, if there is such a thing, the hares eventually left the same way they came.
Trail Right Tit:
Left Longfellow park and ran straight down Memorial drive. There was a brief detour off behind an apartment complex before turning left and crossing back over memorial drive to run along the river to the Charles boat house. Did I just describe an entire leg of trail in one sentence? Yup, because it was that short, and I thought ladies liked it long.
Circle/Hoe Down/Whatever happened next:
Pack slowly filtered into the Boat House and were greeted by hay-pales set up for Western photos, and a ring of tables already set up for our favourite cup-based game. No tape needed. There was also a lot of beer, multiple kegs, and a fountain of some deadly exlicer, not to mention a few cases of Shirmnov, a handle of fire ball, and a goodly about of whiskey. So basically, I am shocked that I can remember anything that happened. Here goes.
There was a significant pause between when pack arrived and circle started – I believe we drank through the first keg. Evently Iggy called us to order and we sang drink a little bit, f*ck a little bit, etc, etc. The hares were very unapologetic about their trail and drank for it. Next we called in virgins? I honestly don’t remember them, or their names, but I remember commenting that being de-viriginzed with a pabst-smir must be a memoriable event. Next all meat tacos who had never down a pabst-smir were called in. It is very hard to drink a down-down on your back; most of mine ended up on my shoulders. Not sure how. Circle continued and Butler was called in – by proxy on Gimp’s cell phone. I’m assuming we sang “My hare is a vegaitable” because, well, it’s both semi-poor-taste and semi-true. What else happened in circle? It ended?
There was a lot of food; pretty good BBQ from my recollection, however, this being a hash, there were no serving utensles so everyone tried very hard not go Viking and just use their hands. It was after food that the shots came out and the magic exlicer fountain started flowing and things get really fuzzy. Once the food was cleared away strippy cup happened but there were way too maybe people on each team – in hindsight we should have run a different game of strippy cup on each table.
AroundI saw someone with a broom and decided it was time to GTFO, so I did.
On – are all taco trails this fun? – On
A special thanks for No Man On The Moon for pinning me! She rules!
There are only 6 spots left for Antibuffet, sign up:
Moon trailby Necropheliac Jack and Just Tasty, start is near Back Bay?
PooF, somewhere in Billrica details at:
Trailby Sweedish Eagle and Bloody Slip Inside (virgin lay)
Start: Pearl St. Station, Malden.
Our Facebook page is now semi-active:
|The "Oh God We Are So Hungover" Hash
(about 4 years ago)
the "oh god we're so hung over" trail (10/27)
Bag Car: Mudslut
Who else: Piggy, Krusty, Easy, Fisty, Gimpy, Blowbot..y...?, Bloody/Slippy, Easy, Twatty, Goaty, Gimpy, Señor-y, Coonassy, CEP-y, Swede-y, Clitty, Spunky, Dribbly, Moony, yours truly, and visitors Velvet Pelvis, Cum Test Dummy, Just... Tom?, and Virgin Reporter
If you're ever wondering whether playing strippy cup with hard alcohol is a good idea, the answer is "probably not, but do it anyway." After Saturday night, your faithful scribe wanted nothing more than to lie in a darkened room and be spoon-fed pho all day. Since volunteers for that role were not forthcoming, I ended up at the hash anyway.
As requested, hashers had dressed as other hashers. Honorable mentions go to Spunk as Gimp - she even made a necklace; Gimp as Goat, wearing freshly-cut jorts and one of Goat's own belts; and Easy as 123 as Cum Ear, with a big disgusting glob of lotion in her ear (and, later, a soft and lightly perfumed inner ear). OH, and how could I forget - Sweagle dressed in red white and blue (making him American Eagle for the day) and his faithful four-legged companion as Bros.
Yankee left, came back again shortly, and then left for real. We had chalk talk. Virgin Reporter was present, although we scared her off before trail; we sang her a relatively PG song. 15 minutes of fame, here we come? And with that, we were off.
We toured the scenic streets of Malden. I ran gently so as not to jostle my head too much. There were no checkbacks, falses or tit checks, all of which was A-OK with me. After running mostly in a straight line, we made it to the first beer check. I had a beer to take the edge off my headache; it didn't work.
The good news is that I wasn't the only one struggling. Leaving the beer check, pack decided silently and en masse to walk for a while. Yankee had apparently felt similarly lazy, since we were able to "scout" just by looking down the trail. As Gimp commented, "We are now going the precise speed that our hare is going."
There was, of course, a whiskey check, with an unusually low number of partakers. Shout-out to Bloody Slip Inside for singlehandedly picking up our slack. There was an incident in which Goat Throat, while trying to do god only knows what with an empty 40oz bottle he found nearby, instead broke it all over the bike path. Hashers, being nothing if not responsible citizens, proceeded to clean up the pieces... with their bare hands. Despite being unsuccessful at finishing the bottle of whiskey, we proceeded.
We ran some more, skirting our way around piles of dog poop and a used needle(!). At long last, we found ourselves at the definitely-not-reused on-in under a highway overpass and froze our asses off in circle. People were called in for stuff. Goat had some kind of incident that involved beer coming out of his nose - perhaps his body trying to tell him something? - for which he, of course, was made to drink extra. Bloody Slip Inside wandered into circle and stood there for a while until we noticed and made him drink. Good times and shitty pizza were had by all. And that's all she wrote!
* Rego for Anti-Buffett! 10 spaces left as of yesterday.
* Pink Taco Sadie Hawkins is next Friday - if you're a dude, find a harriette and feed her drinks until she pins you (note: this is the only situation in which I advocate getting a harriette drunk for the purpose of taking advantage of her)
* E4BH3 is having an away weekend this coming weekend! See calendar for detrails
(about 4 years ago)
Hello hashers - I am Shart of Darkness, and I'm subbing in as scribe this week, which means 95% better spelling and a 100% less reliable narrator. You're welcome!
What: Hash-stronomy Trail
Where: Miricle (sic) of Science, Cambridge
Who: Wikipedophilia, Spank Me
Bag car: Buttler
Pack: Dunno, I'm perpetually too drunk to remember names
Prelube was at Miracle of Science, where we proceeded with our usual MO of congregating in a huge group right in front of the door, getting in the way of the waitstaff, and generally being a nuisance. Spank Me showed up in fantastic nerd garb, including a pocket protector, glasses, and a cowlick. Eventually we stumbled out, had chalk talk next to a Tootsie Roll factory (??), and went on our merry way.
In addition to not knowing anyone's names, I'm useless with navigating Boston, so this write-up will be very light on the details. However, I can say with confidence that we stumbled around MIT and the surrounding areas looking like idiots as per usual. Highlights included climbing over a locked gate and running through a field. The first beer check was at that low grassy area next to one of the bridges on the Cambridge side - yeah, you know the one. We sipped on some warm PBR and chilled with a flock of geese. Eventually, thirst temporarily sated, we left.
At that point, we crossed the bridge for the second leg of our nerdy tour and began stumbling around BU looking like drunken idiots. We ran through the GSU, thus proving to BU students that old people can be drunk and annoying too. There was a delicious Tang-y shot check behind one of the BU buildings. From there, trail directed us to The Dugout - where we found a CB1. Cursing the hares, we continued. We ran through the Kenmore T stop, where there may have been a few civilian casualties - safety third! Eventually, we found our way to the On-In...
Circle: The On-In was under a highway bridge near Storrow, most directly accessible by crossing the on-ramp, which of course the pack approached with extreme caution and good judgement. Everyone arrived except Buttler, who at last showed up with a car full of beer and pizza, at which point something resembling a circle was formed.
Accusations were made. Jello Wrecked 'Em was called in for being both FRB and FBI. Wiki was made fun of for his creative spelling (which should happen more often, in my humble opinion). There were DC and PorME visitors and a transplant from Chile.
Virgin Kristen was called in to be harassed (sponsored by Doucheland). She was surprisingly good at hash math. Her favorite animal is a squirrel, but for some reason she was unsure what noise squirrels make when they orgasm and was unwilling to guess - we'll keep working on that one. She skis and would describe herself as "groomed," and she's not Jewish. She was not acceptable but we'll let her stay.
Bald hashers drank a lot. Kilted hashers drank a lot. Former GMs drank. 5 Inch Penalty was called in for his r*cist attire. Other stuff happened but I was too busy drinking to take note. Finally, after several rousing renditions of 'swing low,' including a Bob Marley version, circle adjourned.
Montreal hash this weekend: Twat has (had?) one spot available in his car, so get at him
Invalid Pearl Necklace Hash!! Hared by Yankee (and me, but really by Yankee)
Undead beer mile RSVP, you lazy bums:
Pearl Necklace rego, you lazy bums:
Pearl Necklace fatboy: because your weekend will need a little more beer
New Hampshire hash: in case you're too cool for Pearl Necklace
Shart of Darkness
|Electric Dance Hash
(about 4 years ago)
What: Electric Dance Hash
Where: The Field, Central Square, Cambridge
Who: Accidental Anal, C*m Locker
Bag Car: I licked Butts
Just Tim, Just Pat (not from Rhode Island), Just Lauran, Just Luara*, Visitor from DC, Plus 2 Conass, Hoover McSuck n Fuck, Beat By A Girl, Spank Me May I Have Your Mother, Save A Tree Ride A Cowboy, Twat My Mom, Willy Wonka and the Backdoor Factory, Five In Penatly, Takes it In the Rectory, Nice Tits, Horse’s Ass, I Eat Teabags, Can’t Eat Pussy, Chris Brown Eye, Goat Throat, Krusty the Meat Miser, Bend Over Mommy, Cuntjungle, Harlot Globe, Goes down on Fondler, Pay My Fly, Dirbbles, Certified Poop Accuntant, Vagatairan, Cherry Poppin’ Paddy, Sketchy Ho, The Butler Hit It, Bring Out The Gimp, THE 2nd Cumming, No Man On The Moon, Wikipedophilia, A Virgin, Schindler’s Fist, Clit Notes, Others I forgot.
There was a small group at the bar by the time I arrived, and Yankee bought a beer and a shot for the lovely harriets that followed me. I guess my tits aren’t nice enough for him. There were a lot of backsliders, so most of the time at the pre-lube was spent catching with up with old hashers and drinking. Teabags and Twat once played THUMPER there for hours until a girl they took home threw up out of the window of Twat’s car. That’s either the truth or a lie. Before the locals – who had hidden away in seculeded tables or the other side of the bar playing pool – could get too upset that we were drinking all their beer, they hares decided that they should get gay, and bag was called after an appropriate time of 6.9 minutes.
Twat tried very hard to lead us in circle, but no one paid attention. It’s a wonder we knew what we were doing. The virgin helped us demonstrate was a Hash-a-peed check is, and we almost left before Twat could explain what “BC” and “BN” mean!
Trail immediately turned away from the river and into the neither regions of Imman Square/Area IV, or whatever those endless curvy streets of triple deckers are called. With a depressing lack of tit checks, trail ran past a woman working on her ipad who complained when we were blowing whistles and yelling ONON. Unfortunately for her, we had just found a song check. We sang to her about how we all had trouble keeping down jobs in Chicago. Pack then go very lost, scouting right and left, but not straight, until eventually 5 inch and Retcory didn’t come back, and we followed them to another check at a very confusing-only-in-Boston-5-
Beer Check Baz:
Too call what we were drinking beer is too kind; the hares decided that we were only worthy of Natty Ice. However, the beer check did feature fountains and a very well located portapody. After everyone stood around pretending to drink their beers and having way too many serious conversations, the hares danced their way out and we forgot about them. Eventaully we got tiered of shitty beer and ran on towards the promise of better beer on trail.
Starting through a baseball field, then meandering through parts of town unknown, trail eventually came out to a song check in some realatively popular looking square. Union maybe? There was a song check and after pack assembled, we started to sing, about how much we all love our girl friends. Since there were children preasant, Five Inch in a very unhashmanlike manor sensored (by making generic loud noises) whenever we sang out the particular parts of our girl friends that we loved. Surprisingly, the crowd cheered us. Pack kind of got lost after that since no one ran straight, but eventually we did and we ended up near Sullivan, I think? Then we ran under a highway and over another one before finding the Hashapeed check under a rail bridge. The hash understood how to sit on peoples laps, and the various sexes seemed to sort themselves out, however the idea of a circle was beyond us. CEP was able to shepard us into the correct position and we all sat down and sang. It seemed to work, and it was fun. Apparently I was trying to be considerate and not put my full weight on CPA, though instead I was told that my butt was at “boob height” the entire time. I guess I missed out on that chance? Trail from there continued past a grow-op being busted ( L they should move to Colorado or Washington…) and a check that turned us down an industrial road. It was getting dark and no one remembered cranium lamps but we kept on going and found an amazing mark. It said beer near. We whooped. We hollered. We gave thanks and waited for our friends. The beer was not near. It was down the end of the road, over some rail road tracks and around and in back of an electrical supply company.
I would be horribly amiss if I failed to mention that circle was held in front of stacks of empty wire reals. I would be lying if I said that no hashers climbed on them. I would be telling the truth if I said that I did not. There was beer, though, cold beer, in coolers at the bottom and the beer was nicely provided to those to just had to get a little bit higher. There was a good amount of drinking between when pack arrived (it was a large pack, so it took a while) and when circle was started. Consiquently, circle memories might be a bit fuzzy. First off we called in the hairs and demanded they sing or show us their tits. I really hope they showed their tits, though they probably sung some dumb song instead. We told them that they should have used more flour and/or chalk. They left. Next visitors were called in, and we had friends from Seattle, DC roadwhores and Bejing! They also sang us a song. Next we got down to the meat and potatos and called in our virgin, who was brought by the visitor from DC. Our lovely hare Cum Locker gladly reprised her role and, with the help of Clit Notes, welcomed the groomed and polietete (she’d help her Uncle Jack off a horse) to the hash. We called in FRBs (the virgin and some random fast guy), and DFLs (who were still showing up – Cums Off and Nimphobrainiac) and made them drink too. Then Coonass paused circle to ask if we want to continue with acusations or get in a naming. We chose naming and Just Laura was called in and got on her knees. She then proceeded to tell us that one time while she was enjoying the missionary position in Guana, she went out for a run. As she was running she felt something. Something powerful. Something warm. Something slightly relieving as she shat her pants. She crouched quickly in a bush to clean up then kept running. On her way back into town a local girl came up next to her and asked “What is that?” point to the shit stain on her pants. Also, she’s never had a bad sexual experience, but that doesn’t matter. Guaneriahha was considered, but thrown out. Just Laura will now be known as “Shart of Darkness” from now until the ending of the world. We moved onto accusations, and there were a lot of them. The best ones had to do with our epic backsliders – the hares along with Sticks it to the Bros and others. Bald guys drank. Kilted hashers drank a lot. Then the zombie arm came out. Harlot and Cuntjunggle were called in for moving to Vermount and drank/poured beer on themselves (Harlot) or threw it at us (Cuntjuggle). Goat Throat and Krusty were called in for moving in together and in some weird almost dry humping position poured beer into eachothers mouths. More things might have happened. There was pizza. With meat.
On – 24 hour party people – On
9/18: ASTRONAUGHT TRAIL at Mircle of Since, Mass Ave, Cambridge
9/19: Moon AGM Part 2
9/20: Boston Invasion of Montreal (talk to brokeback/twart)
9/25: Shart of Darkness and Yankees Pearl Necklace Pre-lube
9/27: UNDEAD ZOMBIE BEER MILE
9/28: PEARL NECKLACE, REGO:
9/29: Pearl Necklace Fatboy
10/2: Catholic School Girl Hash (Twat My Mom in Quincy)
10/9: HARES NEEDED
: Country Trail (Blubber Fucker)
: Fatboy by new GMs
DECEMBER 7th: Hashmas Party
April 19th: MARATHON MAIN EVENT