Missed a hash? Catch up on all the trash here...
|Pallete Cleanser Trash
(2 months ago)
What: Palete Cleanser Hasher
Where: Pub 99, Charlestown
Who: Dry Hose and Chunderelli
Pack: There weren’t any visitors and not too many justs so lets see if I can remember all them; Brown vs Board of Fornication, Pop Cum Ear Im Enfected, The Butler Hit It, +2 Coonass, Justine Beiber, Just Katie?, Twat My Mom, Sketchy Ho, Udder Whore, Whore’s Box, Shits and Ladders, Five Inch Penalty, 3 Ring Cervix, Phish sticks, Just Who Was At the Gas Station, Just Andy?, Just Ruth, Virgin someone, yeah, I failed.
Was held with a borrowed cranium lamp from one of the justs.
Trail Surprisingly Few Hills:
When chalk talk ended with “The first mark is somewhere, go find trail” things were off to an ominous start. We scouted in all directions around the parking lot but found no marks. Not wanting to get frustrated, I decided to just run the block around the parking lot because the marks had to come out somewhere…right? Right? Right. They did, on the otherside of some road (G knows how they got there), and then we ran up a hill to a contentious song check; contentious in there people wanted to sing different songs, but eventually everyone was caught up and we just went to go find trail. I did some bad zenning. I should clarifiy, I did a lot of bad zenning and didn’t see pack until we briefly passed at the back side of the Bunker Hill Monument. I was not on trail. So, things happened and shots that were not M&M shots happened. We found trail to a tit check then trail went down hill and crossed a bussey road under a big bridge during which I stared a driver into submission; never step on these baby blues! We crossed into the “waterfront development area” whatever it’s called and ran past a good dozen or so dogs out for walks until eventually we found a BN an BC overlooking the harbor.
BC No Snow:
People remembered this beer check from the past. People remembered it being cold. People remember Krusty posing in underwear. Peoples memories were not helpful. Brown provided some delicious apples and pack was treated to those rarest and most refined alcoholic delights; warm PBR. Eventually, after giving Dry Hose some really bad best man speech prep, the hares were gay and we debated how to improve our PBRs; our solution was to drink them.
Trail Essentially a circle jerk, but also bad zenning:
From the beer check I very aggressively checked the wrong way, then was very confused when two flashing cranium lamps were coming quickly at me – but not responding to calls of RU? – until I realized they were on bikes and pack was running away from me. I caught them at a song check, from which trail continued around a very confused security guard. We then all followed phish sticks through “Boston shiggy’ (wet grass) and back out to the main road. Someone called on back towards the “big bridge road” in the previous section so that didn’t make any sense, so I kept running back towards the dog park, but not seeing any marks. I saw pack out of the corner of my eye so I kept going, but still didn’t see any marks. Udder ran up to me and asked if I was on – I hadn’t seen a mark in ages, but I was going to go scout under the bridge and I found a true trail pointing through more Boston Shiggy (wet grass) to a song check, where I regathered a very spread out pack – and walkers – with “as I came home on Monday night…” From there trail went across the locks – past the musical things and turned under the bridge. Shits, Butler and other front runners rain past the shot check and only returned when they ran out of marks. Trail went left from the shot check through the Garden, then around a tasty burger to another song check leading into the west end. There was a check back down a parking ramp and trail continued across storrow to another shot check at the base of the Lechemere Viaduct. Trail continued alongside the viaduct and turn in towards North Point Park. We started discussing the ineventiability of the dog park, though some more stuburn amoung us insisted that it would be behind the north point condos. The check at the base of the footbridge removed all doubts – we were OnOn to the dog park, until unexpectididly we saw a BN on the middle of the bridge (were the tit and dick checks normally are), and ONIN marked at the base (though no sign of hares or beer…) The beers, bags, food and hares showed up (they were humping supplies in from bag car and we had a quick pre-circle feed.
I missed some of the comments for reasons and TL:DRd them to “You should’ve used more flour and chalk” the hares sang us something – I want to say El Camino, but I actually know it wasn’t that. FRB – 5 Inch and FBI – UDDER WHORE were called in, Udder Whore who said in the prelube “I used to think a < 30 5k was a good goal, but now I’m running 8:30 5ks as part of my tris, I’d love to run one to find out my real pace” – anyway, they were called in and we made them drink, then the DFLs – Luva Lamp and Just John (who were just standing in circle) were made to drink too. We quickly called Brown in since she was the only visitor, then we called in the virgin, and Udder demented her. A few things of note; when asked what her favourite barnyard animal sounded like when it came she responded “a group of them, like they’re running a train?” we were shocked, filed that away for later and said “no, just one.” She then poured beer all over herself. She’s not worthy, but we’ll take her. Circle was then opened up to accusations; all the same shirts (red shirts) drank because they were about to die. Racist attire was also called in, as were sweat test failures – Topless Barbie. Topless Barbie was called in again, but didn’t have any beer, to which Luva Lamp replied “I don’t have any either” so they both were accused of not having beer and made to ass to ass, bend over and hold hands between their legs while we sang them a short song. We sang them “Nacy Brown” Topless survived but Luva collapsed and laid curled up in circle for the next few accusations, which I forgot. There were a few attempts to end circle, but we had plenty of beer so we kept going. Eventually it was Dry Hose and Butler yelling at each other. Oh yeah, some “local residences who live under the bridge” yelled at us for “singing under the bridge” and we gave them beers. They had returned and were yelling at us to move along so we swang low. See announcements below.
On – under bridges – On
Friday 9/28: Ginger Take Over Moon Trail, 6:45HST, $5, Paddys Launch 260 Walden St, Cambridge (Closest T stop: Porter)
Wednesday 10/3: Dot Ave Tavern Trail, $15, Dot Ave Tavern, 840 Dorcehster Ave, Boston (Closes T stop: JFK/UMass)
Saturday 10/13: BOSTON AGM – Details to come.
Sunday 10/14: AGM FATBOY – Details to come.
November 11/3: SADIE HAWKINS 70s DANCE CLUB !!! Find a Taco and get a pin!
November 11/9-12: IT’S ALWAYS HASHY IN PHILLADELPHIA -> Have you heard of travel hashing? Want to rage in some sketchy hotel in a distant city, or maybe rage in an even sketchier hash pad? There’s a night club down there giving us a free room for the night depending on how many people sign up. There’ll be prizes for the best repped kennel! Rego here:
|The Blow My Shofaa Hash Trash
(3 months ago)
What: The Blow My Shofaa Hash
Who: Sex, The Final Frontier, Just Steph
Escort Required, Pole Sitter, Udder Whore, Sketchy Ho, Dribbles, The Butler Hit It, Just Dumb, Other Justs, Cunt Jungle, Virgin Internet, Goat Throat, Orgamsn Falmon, No Man On the Moon, Twat My Mom, Bottom Wrangler, Wikipedophilia, Spunk in the Trunk, Shits and Ladders, Five Inch Penalty, 3 Ring Cervix, Other People I Forgot.
When I arrived at the bar Twat and No Man were talking about Mother Hash and the Danish couple were drinking. They informed me of a conversation that had with the bartender. It went something along the lines of “Do you have Malort?” The bartender looked shocked and said “How do you know about that?” Escort said “I’m a hasher, I know things.” The bartender then informed him that a friend of the bartenders had gone to Chicago and returned with this utterly vile drink called Malort, of which he has a bottle behind the bar. He will drink shots with customers but he can’t sell or pour them, or tell people that he has them. So, I leave it to you, noble readers of this trash, to do with the knowledge what you will. There is Malort at a bar in Boston, but you have to ask the bartender, and he has to judge your worthy – or I guess no worthy enough – to give you a shot.
Enough of that, here’s what happened on trail:
Was held in the gas station parking lot acorss from the bar. Packed was asked to demonstrate what they think a Shofaa sounds like. Bottom Wrangler says it sounds like someone yelling Tequllia so he always drank Tequllia as a kid? I might have made that up. Anyway, eventually once we introduced ourselves and explained the marks to the virgins and visitors (chalk talk was drawn in white chalk, the marks were in … grey?) we set off.
Trail “Listen to your eldars”-
A few hashers who were arriving late (or rather normally, the hares left shockingly at 6:45 on the .d.o.t.) saw the hares running past Porter, and so knew which direction to scout and to blow through the first YBF. Trail apparently ran behind a few buildings then came back to Mass Ave where there was a check in front of Lesley. The hares and physicists, so I’ll assume that their math skills are better than mine but they seem to have a very liberal idea of what 369 degress is. Trail was solved through the parking lot behind what used to be TiTs and back to the road which the check was drawn on - I have no idea how the two connected. It eventually led to a check back into the “Aggizia” neighborhood of Cambridge, and to what is now my new favourite song check. After starting out Jesus can’t go hashing with why Moses can’t go hashing, we proceeded to sing to the glory of all our favourite Tora/Old Testiment heros and why none of them could go hashing until people realized that we could do this for years and went to go find trail. Trail continued towards the sketchy Shaws on Beacon St, with a predictable check back. Standing at a mark pointing towards what would eventually become a check back, I saw Twat running to the bridge under the rail road tracks and my hashey senses went off and I followed him. Much to my surprise we found not only trail, but also a surprisingly drinkable shot check! We waited for pack to regroup before emerging from the tunnel in front of the fire station and checking up the wrong hill. Twat again checked up the right hill, saving some of us from a check back – truly he is the hero we need, not the hero we deserve, or however that line goes. I never watched the Batman movies. Trail flitered with running up hill but she’s a tease and we should’ve kept on going down. With half of pack running merrily along not seeing marks someone in the back third noticed a WN and a true trail pointing to a random apartment building, with a mark saying to go up the stairs to the roof…so up we went!
Wine Check Roof:
I’m not calling it a “Roof Deck” because I’m pretty sure we weren’t supposed to be up there; there were no structural elements or rail guards, but there was wine. At this point in the night I was still following my “no drinking on work nights” rule so I abstained from the wine. I was later informated that it tasted like being punched in the face by grapes. We were all appreciative of the home-made wine donated by the hare, but suggest the perhaps she shouldn’t quit her day job; Chatueax La Tour this was not. I learned that either Prince sung a song about have sex in a whorse box, or he had sex with whorse box, or all horses boxes are really just full of people banging. It was unclear. Talk to Whorse Box. Eventually we noticed that the hares were gone so we shuffled down the stairs and tried to find trail.
Trail Um, what marks?
From the wine check we scouted up hill and down hill, to the left around the block and to the right around the block. We crosses Somerville ave and scouted towards Aeronaught and came we back. We were able to regal the virgins, justs, and new hashers of the time five years ago when we on-ined at the abonded lot which we had been running around three times in a row and each time the cops were called. The last time the cops were like “No, seriously, stop coming here, this is the third week in a row we’ve have to speak to you!” And we did stop going there for almost five years. More on that later #foreshadowing. Eventually not finding any marks some people noticed that the marks to the wine check (which were in high-vis grey chalk) had been crossed out and replaced with arrows in higher-vis blue chalk pointing the other way. All this led to much yelling and complaining in pack, right at the time when a bedraggled young mother came out to pled with us to be quite because she was trying to put her baby to bed. At that exact same moment trail was called up hill in the direction we came which caused one hasher to remark, in a very calm and relaxed tone “OH, FOR FUCKS SAKE!” then take off. Trail was called up hill to a song check where we resumed our retelling of the Old Testiment from the point of why Jesus can’t go hashing. Pack quickly tired of this and would rather run up hill, which we did, to another song check in front of a church. Not wanting to annoy the newcomers, we sang about Father Burgminhams many exploits, before deciding we were all going to hell. Luckily the beer check was a block away.
Beer check – Nah, I’m good, oh, wait you have Gameldansk, lets pound that! And the Malort too!
The beer check, like most of the trail, was made from the dregs of last weeks hash. In fact, the beer check was exactly where last weeks beer check was supposed to be if one of the hares hadn’t gotten lost #trashshade. I was happily munching on smart food and sipping water when I saw a group of young, enthusiastic hashers gathered around a slowly getting drunk off his own supply Escort who was passing around bottle after bottle of Gameldansk. I love Gameldansk, mainly for the memories, so I joined the circle, and you kinda need something to chase it so my sober night suffered the revenege of the Danes for Copenheginization…#deephistorycuts #wikionwiki. We conducted a lot of back-2-back shots of Gameldansk and Malort and forgot to notice that either the hares had left, or the our esteemed Ass Cowboy hand wrangled himself up the virgin and a group of justs who had been hopeless lost and arrived at the beer check just as I was calling pack away, so we all drank some more until everyone was drunk enough to think following trail was a good idea.
Trail Essentially a lot of zenning-
Marks, being exclusively laid in grey and purple chalk was increasingly hard to find. We zenned through or around a retirement home then ran up highland street for a while to as hash sitapeed. We scouted downhill, then up hill, but found nothing until we found marks in a very creative reading of 360 back across highland street going down hill. No fool I, I refused to give up the highground for a few blocks until I saw pack running away from me down School street, so I chased after them, eventually catching up at a song check in which I lead the Engineer Song while Cunt Jungle gave her just a blowjob in a playground. Trail was again eventually solved downhill to a beer near heading into the abandoned construction lot of multi-evictions and mentioned previously in this trash. In a rare case of “not wanting to get in trouble” the hash listened to the security guard who told us we couldn’t go in so instead we ran across the street to behind the ice rink where there was a beer check last week.
Since we were constantly worried that the hockey players would get mad at this group of retrobates singing and drinking next to their ice piles we started with a whisper circle, thought we slowly realized that they cared about as much about our revelry as they did about the Oilers training camp. We called the hares into circle and told them they should’ve used more flour and chalk. I tried to control circle by threatening private parties with Gameldansk, but that kinda backfired as people were requesting the shots! Oh well, we moved onto FRB (5 inch?) and FBI (Whores Box) and DFL (Spunk) – who in a very weird way maintained eye contact and answered all my questions about if she was lonesome during trail. After than Uder Whore demented the very delightful virgin who was asked a lot of amazing questions most of which I forget because of an increasing amount of Gameldansk and Malort cursing through my veins. The virgin was and we’re desperate (and she found out about the hash by read these!!) so we’ll take her. We then called in the Chaos Muppets of evening Escort and Flagpole and we all drank more Gameldansk. We then called in the transplant (Just Dumb – his actual name) who has recently moved from Begjin; he sliently stalked us at the bar last week but decided not to come to trail (bad idea) but decided to come this week instead (good idea). He says he’ll keep cuming back! There were then a lot of accusations – I remember anyone where “sketchy” clothes, racist attire, and others, but my steady diet of Gameldansk was starting to catch up with me and Falmon was giving me “finish this now eyes” so we called in birthdays – it’s Escorts! – and then swang low and ate surprisingly good pizza.
On – Gameldansk – On
BH3 AGM – Saturday October 13th, 2pm. Details to come. If you want to volunteer for misman talk to Falmon or Marbles.
|Snow White Snow Black Trash
(3 months ago)
Snow White and Snow Black and the Seven shots trash
(yes I'm trash, I know)
please excuse punctuation and capitalization errors and run on sentences as I'm on my phone.
[Note, the editor has attempted to correct these]
Hares: Wikipedophelia, Bloody Slip Inside
Bagcar: Easy as 123
CEP, Topless Barbie, No man on the moon, Cuntcussion, Oboner, Quarter mile Queer, Salty Mudflaps, Knuckles Deep, The Buttler hit it, WhoresBox, Lumber Jack off, Sex the Final Frontier, Orgasm Famine, Cum Ear, Bottom Wrangler, Luva Lamp, Dry Hose, CuntJungle, Chunderelli, +2 Coonass, Testicular Mechanics, a just who hashed somewhere else with her sister and just moved here, a virgin or two. Another just or two, one if them presumably named Pete. Two visitors, one from Japan. Definitely other people I forgot.
In the days before this hash, there was talk from Wiki of "shooting the moon". A feeling of apprehension hung over the Boston Hash as we pondered what this might mean.
After a quick walk/jaunt from my apartment, I arrived at prelube earlyish to find Cuntcussion, OBoner, Qmq Knuckles, and Salty at the bar. I was served a cheap beer quickly and settled down in a comfy booth facing the other hashers. This was already shaping up to be the #trailoftheyear. Some tunes wafted out of the bar's speakers, O'Boner looked around with a distraught but knowing look on her face and identified the music as Phish. We determined that Wiki (or possibly Buttler) had selected the song on Touchtunes while not even at the bar yet (yes you can totally do that). This was shaping up to be the #worsttrailoftheyear. Wiki showed up and no one said hi to him because we were mad about the Phish. Others showed up. I decided to "go for 3" (beers before trail). This will come into play later when my memory of trail is not great and I make shit up.
The hares left sort of on-timeish, or they didn't, I don't remember. It might have been 7? Pack sauntered out to the parking lot by Porter where we all stood around for a few minutes getting beeped at by some angry motorists, then stood on top of a grate for a few more minutes before Quarter Mile told us he couldn't do chalk talk on top of a grate ("What do you mean? This is a grate place for chalk talk!”). Easy's calls of "guys there's a perfectly good alley right here!" were ignored by all in favor of QMQ and Boner's calls of "back to the bar!", which were associated with no clear plan. We walked back by the bar and after some more uncertainty shcanery proceeded to circle up in a small parking space a block or so down. we introduced ourselves while adding "-ee" at the end of our names for some reason. Something about dwarves or some shit. Quarter mile went over the marks badly and shouted some words which were meant to provide clarity on finding trail to the virgins/justs/visitors, but only served to confuse them more.
We (surprisingly) found 3 marks and were on-on immediately out of chalk talk. It was late when we left chalk talk, I remember seeing 7:26. we headed north-northeast at a 43 degree heading until we didn't. I forgot to bring a light and it was dark out. We hit a shotcheck/checkback, or two, while making our way over to the aptly named Highland ave area in Somerville. We gave up the high ground a few times after gaining it (this would be a theme on this night), but there were shot checks most of those times, so it was kind of ok. The shots ranged from decent to bad to worse, there was a lemon drop one, a margarita, a blue one ("this is the worst one!" - a hasher..."I disagree, it is the best one!" - a different hasher), there were some haterades, and tequila was featured heavily. We finally made our way down a long hill (central street?) to Somerville Ave, where we suspected another shot check, but instead snared a hare. (Yes, even after the late start and delayed chalk talk, we snared a hare #worstharesoftheyear). We went back up the hill to congregate pack and sing a long song and get beeped at by some cars and shouted at by some balcony sitters, and to allow the hares some time to get their shit together. Wiki came by from up the hill (the direction we'd just come from) and shuffled past us. Yes we snared the other hare at the bottom of the hill but Wiki was somehow behind us up the hill? apparently there had been a miscommunication and Bloody went somewhere other than the beer check that he was supposed to go to. Anywho after waiting a few more minutes we r*n down the hill and found the beer check by the skating rink on Somerville ave.
After this things get a little hazy. we ran up and down the hill on both sides of highland a bunch more in a generally Eastward direction. again finding shotcheck-checkbacks galore. We ran by my apartment where I briefly considered quitting the #worsttrailoftheyear in favor of my bed, but alas my shit was in bagcar so I continued on. At some point we came down a little from highland, I hadn't seen a mark in a while and came to an intersection. Muggles said "they went that way" indicating not uphill, not downhill, but side hill. I didn't believe them. But then we found a true trail mark and grudgingly accepted that we were in fact on. A little later, we found the tower thingy, thinking it was on in (as it was getting pretty late), but it wasn't, it was a beer check.
Beer Check 2: we drank some beer up in the tower and met some mughles and explained to them what hashing was, as is tradition at the tower thingy. Cuntjungle informed pack that she was drunk. We were all shocked and aghast at her gross irresponsibility.
We on outed from the tower thingy, and qatar mile had to go back to the bagcar because he had the keys for some reason (sidenote: he seems to have a habit of doing this). Me and some other hashers stupidly ran past the staircase that went down the hill, but were corrected and re-routed by some nice muggles who pointed us in the direction the rest of pack had gone. We finally had a portion of trail that was good because it lacked serious hillz, but bad because it featured Moxie (Moxie +151, and Moxie + Malort, I am told). There was a turkey eagle split or two. we finally reached on-in by the train tracks and gazebo thing in eastish Somerville/Cambridge? Eagles and hares reported 7+ miles, and turkeys not much less.
At the onion we sang some songs, accused the hares of their crimes, asked questions to our visitors and had them sing a song (maybe), asked our virgin some questions (almost definitely) and did hash religion and then ate some pizza after, that got there really late (I think).
epilogue: I got semi lost running home and promptly deleted my activity on Strava out of embarrassment (at the gettinglost part) once it synced, as is tradition.
Shits and Ladders
(3 months ago)
Hares: Wikipedophilia and The Buttler Hit It (sorta - more on that in a minute)
Bag car: Goat ThroatPack: including but not limited to PoPo, Fellowship, Falmon, Mudslut, No Man, Shits, Tinder Dick, Sweagle, Gnome, Clit Notes, Testicular Mechanics, Dry Hose, Sketchy, Cuntcussion, Luvalamp, Not Dead Yet, Sex the Final Frontier, Dribbles, Pat My Fly, Virgin Drew, Cuntcussion's roommate (a just), a different Just, and several visitors (from SF, Vienna, and Edinborough, I think)
Buttler is, uh, not known for his punctuality, which is saying something among a group so chronically late that we specify everything in HST. Typically, if you're attending a Buttler trail, you can expect that pack won't leave the prelube for a solid hour+ after the advertised start time.
Prior to yesterday's trail, Wiki said that he would be gay at 6:45 regardless of whether Buttler was there or not, and he held true to that threat... sorta. He left Phoenix Landing at around 7 sans Buttler, saying that Buttler would catch up to him. This turned out to be true in a way...
Pack left the bar and headed to a parking lot for chalk talk; there was a man passed out in the middle of the parking lot, but we're not the type to let that stop us. #goodidea The RA asked us to introduce ourselves and name a recent #goodidea we'd had; most people named some variant of "attending this trail."
We were informed by the RA that -- since there have been two recent trails that started in exactly the same area, and there were old marks galore all over Central (start location: #goodidea) -- the first 2/3rds of trail would be laid in chalk. We were also informed that there would be a turkey/eagle/duck split. Just as we wrapped up informing the virgin about the marks, a security guard rolled up with lights flashing; I'm still not clear on whether he was there for us or to kick the homeless dude out of the parking lot, but we got out of there anyway.
Leg 1: If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck... it's probably not a water crossing (yet)
Since we had a pretty good inkling that this trail would eventually be crossing the Charles, we were mostly inclined to scout towards the south at every check. The wily hare thus made sure that true trail headed south as little as possible. Also, since he was still solo haring at this point, he laid two checkbacks in the first, like, 10 minutes of the trail. Scouting this trail was definitely a #goodidea.
Speaking of #goodideas - we realized at like the second check of trail that the virgin was not with us. (Luvalamp: "We lost the virgin!" Pack: "No, YOU lost YOUR virgin") It turned out later that he had tried to follow Sweagle from a check, and Sweagle decided to zen.... Lesson: Don't follow the sub-17-minute-5k r*cist if you don't know where you're going.
We found the first shot check in a little park; we were relieved to find that it was haterade, since Wiki had told us beforehand that he'd intended to make a malort-and-moxie check (#goodidea) but that the grocery store was out of Moxie. We groused a little about how Wiki carries shot checks in his flour bag, ensuring that you get some nice caked-on chunky flour in every sip, but obviously we drank it anyway. #goodidea
After leaving the shot check, I was scouting south when who did I see walking up the sidewalk but The Buttler Hit It, one of our esteemed hares, who said he was relieved to find pack so that we could lead him to trail. Coharing with Wiki: definitely a #goodidea.
We eventually managed to find our way to the first beer check, which was at Hoyt Field. Getting there involved running past a very bemused rec softball team, some of whom gave us high-fives.
Leg 2: In which trail went swimmingly
Finally, the foreplay was over, and we got to our water crossing. After talking at some length about the visitor who got giardia from swimming in the Charles that one time, a group of six or so people had the #goodidea of following Duck trail. The much smarter portion of pack continued over the footbridge, where they found a Baggo for their swim-viewing pleasure.
Now that the swimmers were sufficiently stinky, we ran through HBS, where some kind of black-tie flapper-themed event was going on; I'm sure the people walking around in tuxes and fancy dresses really appreciated us.
Drink checks were starting to come fast and furious at this point; we headed immediately to that park in the back of the Allston library for the second beer check.
Leg 3: What the duck
Not gonna lie, I was feeling the baggo at this point (or maybe it was the giardia setting in). Trail, mercifully, went almost directly to on in. I'm pretty sure there was another shot check with haterade at some point, and it might've been on this leg, but I do not really know. Trail ended at that "park" in Allston that is somehow perpetually a construction zone. (I like this on-in because there's lots of heavy machinery hanging around, behind which a harriette can relieve herself in relative privacy..)
RA led us in a delightfully drunk circle. The hares sang some dumb Rhode Island song, because of-fucking-course. We heard new-to-many-of-us songs from our lovely visitors, popped the virgin's cherry, and accused our friends of various things. Then we ate pizza and left. I opened a stranger's trunk because I thought it was bag car and tried to put some leftover beverages in it, and the stranger walked up and was like "uh... can I help you?" #goodidea (Bag car was across the street.) Good times! We went to Shays for an ill-advised on-after.
Hugs, kisses, and hangovers,
The goodest idea of all: Being part of our highly-regarded Mismanagement! #goodidea If you are interested in being on Misman next year (or want to hear more about the available positions), contact Orgasm Famine at email@example.com.
Also a #goodidea: Going to September Ballbuster! 9/15. Check the calendar or Facebook for deets.
|Tour De Franzia Trash
(4 months ago)
What: Tour de Franzia trash
Who: Green Fairy, Half Tit your way
Pack: Anal Disco, Laurance My Labia, Wine Riot, Quater Mile Queer, Cuddle Puddle (both parts), Trash Panda (as evidence off ... cuddling), Shits and Ladders, A Just We Named, Hamburger Humper, Luva Lamp, OBoner, Others.
Start: Both Red and Orange Lines conspired to make me late for a hash which started a block from my house, but as I rushed in breathlessly just after 7, the hares were still ordering food because “we needed a base for the night” though the ancient wisdom of “don’t build your house on the sandy land” might need to be rebranded to “dont build your rage on pub food, don’t build it watered with beer” given the results which will be presented in this document. The pack, confused as to what a hash was, had gotten a table and were all trying to eat healthy to start the night - see above. It didn’t work, see below. Either way, once everyone had finished eating we meandered our way to bag car and chalk talk behind the Lesely Administions building. The were standard marks, a check back, and “challenges” on trial. Teams were then assigned - Ex GMs, Team Red, and others - and bags of wine were handed out. The Ex GMs got Rose because we’re dumb, and Team Red got Red Fred. I’m pretty sure I’m already mixing up my memories.
Trial - Harvard:
Trial (which was dead laid) almost immiedately became half of pack walking with the hares and the bago and the other half gamefully running trial. The first part of trial was a pleasant jog around Harvard Law as though the hare - who had dead laid - intentionally laid it so that her co-GM wouldn’t stumble on marks on his way to work. We ran through a bit of the Lesely Campus, then past the Harvard science and math building, then to the volleyball court where Krusty foundled that bull during the fatboy two years ago...a trail also dead laid by the same hare, but that’s not the point. The point was that we had arrived at our first challenge.
Challenge DRINK WINE FAST:
The challange was to hold Fred (the bag of wine) in the air over your team members faces, and they had to drink it in a continuous stream for 30 seconds. The team which drank the most/spilled the least won. Unforutnately there was no imperical way of measuring this because we are hashers. It should be noted that there was a volley ball game going on, and the other picnic table was occupied by people drinking from gallon wine jugs. They thought we were entertaining riff raff as we debaucherously chugged our wine. Team Ex-GMs won, though your humble narrator might be biased.
Trial - Praying for Hills.
From the challnege, all of pack scouted back towards Harvard and Cambridge proper, while YHS strolled towards Somerville, and was rewarded with finding trial. The runners - Shits and Ugly Fuckingly - caught up and we jugged through the back of Harvard Divinity, past the science society (I think) park, and to the sketchy shaws. We then waited a solid ten minutes for the walkers to arrive and free us from the tit check. Trail then rather predictably ran up Lowell Street to the park at the top of the hill.
Challenge DON’T HURT FRED
The second challenge of the night was standing a parking spot width appart, toss your bag back and forth - taking a step back each time. The team that got the furthest appart without hurting FRED won. Team Ex-GMs won. Team Red Fred I think just gave up and ran off drinking their wine and Team HVD’s Rage Dragon (sans HVD) broke their Fred really bad. Team Ex-GMs, in all fairness, also gave their Fred a booboo, but they were able to give him a bandaid which helped a bit.
Trail Run to the bike path:
We ran down Lowell Street to the bike bath, then drank Red Fred until the rest of pack arrived. The moon was rising over the train tracks and it was pretty.
Challenge Drink From Such Great Heights-
Standing on the top of the handicap ramp down to the bike path, one member of each team had to pour wine into the mouths of everyone else on the team. The team with the least wine splatter won. This is when trial devolved into a roving wine party and your humble narrators recollection gets fuzzy. We sat on the bike path for a while and made strange faces at all the bikers who went past.
Trial Where Are the Marks? Lets Just Go Find a Park?
Trial from the third challenge was laid in greying purple flour on cement sidewalks at night. Trial was easy to find and we did not just zen to the park by Powder House Square. There was a check back to Just Appartment. Other than that, I don’t think anyone was running. I saw Quarter Mile run past me once, but I think that was because he was lost or something,or maybe going to meat the harriets who showed up the the wine challenge I will describe in the next section.
Challenge Kilts are Great:
This was a challenge in 4 parts. I believe it was derived, at some point, from a beer mile, but that’s like saying I’m the King of England because I speak English. That anology failed, but the event didn’t. Basically you waddled with a bag of wine between your legs, then handed the bag off to another team member, and repeat four times. Team Ex-GMs won, then took our Fred to sit by a tree while *things happened* *waves hand* Specifically, the harriets QMQ found played catchup. There was also a challenge involving consentual glitter, which I consentually wanted no part of.
Trail Which Way To Butlers?
We walked down broadway Butlers house. I belive that QMQ ran some portion because a story was told around the campfire - there was no campfire, but allow me to paint the picture - of a young, luscios, QMQ passed on Butlers stoop when a friendly looking lady walks up to him and says “Hello.” QMQ, being ever so kind a drunk mumbles something that he’s okay, he knows where he is and he’s waiting for his running club to catch up. The woman replied “Um, I’m Rainbow.” It was Rainbow Fucking Brite! Nothing else of consequence happened on that part of trial.
Oh, you thought we circled? Nope! There was another challange!
FIP-CUP-WITH-WINE-HAPPENED. Because that exactly what we needed; to get more drunk. Anyway, team EX-GMs won because we’re amazing.
Lets see how much of this I remember. The hares were called in. I don’t think I fucked up that song. FRBs and FBIs probably, but I don’t actually remember that. Moon burn was called in because 98% of pack forgot cranium covers, but the stupididly of moon burn does explain the choices which were made that night. Moon virgins were called in and Gnome demented them. Ugly fell into a bike. The various teams were called in - Team Ex-GMs for winning and Team HVD rage dragons for killing their Fred. Sweat test failures weren’t, but I need a sentence here so I can type this next sentence. Ugly Fucking fell into the wall again, and was taken up stairs. I tried to “Old McDonald” someone, but sang “Father Abraham” instead, so i was “Old McDonalded” We then accused Just Steph of being a just. I almost fell into the wall. I have no idea what happened, or what her name was, but her What’s App Icon is now log with cum on it, so take from what you will. We sang a song about meeting a whore in a park, the problems we had getting it in, then the fun we had with her corpse.
I believe people then refunded:
In the bathroom
On the patio
In the yard
In the bushes.
On - WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE - On
-Laurance My Laibia