Missed a hash? Catch up on all the trash here...
|Angry Birds Hash
(about 7 years ago)
Thanks to Twat and Clit Notes for setting this trail, and Willy for getting all our sh*t to the end!
-T*ts (1/2 RA, Scribe, and Hash Cash for this trail)
|Hot Tub Redneck Hash
(over 7 years ago)
The Pack: around 40-45 - I dunno... the 2nd cumming has attendance, ask him.
Just Kyle was named accidental golden shower. Family business was rejected.
|Mardi Parking Garage Hash
(over 7 years ago)
Hares: Goat Throat and Fire in the Hole
RA/Bag Car: Bend Over Mommy
Scribe: Jolly GREEN Vagina
Sweat Test Failure: Just Meg
Weather: Overcast and cool
Pack: HR Puffnstuff, High Anus, Sh*tty Meats, Grease My Monkey’s Nuts, Virgin Collins, Virgin Michelle, Just Kat, Just Kyle, Virgin Sean, Inconvenient Poop, Virgin Mike #1, Virgin Mike #2, Just Nicole, Just Matt, Time of the Munch, Rosetta Bone, Necrophiliac Jack, Yankee Pay Five Dollar More, Dribbles, Wikipedophelia, Spank Me May I Have My Mother, Friar F*ck, Stop the Flood Plug the Dyke, Boston Strangler, Peppermint P*ssy, Vagina Dentata, Just Brad
Last Sunday’s trail began at Cornerstone Pub at Broadway. I don’t recall ever going there before, and it seemed like a fairly unremarkable kind of place. Except for the GMILF convention going on in the banquet room. I’m not really sure what the occasion was, but hey ... GMILFs. Rawr.
The trail was ostensibly a Mardi Gras theme, although there was little evidence of this. Fire and Goat were both wearing some sort of white face paint, but on the other hand it could have been sunscreen because this is the time of year that UV levels start getting dangerous if you're a ginger. Friar showed up in some sort of blue leotard that made me thankful I’m colorblind; however, this is also fairly typical Friar attire more or less year round. Stop the Flood was wearing a green bikini over her r*nning clothes. When pressed to explain how this related to anything remotely Mardi Gras-like, she explained, “It’s the warmest day of the week, so why not?” So ... yeah.
Trail started out by going over that weird overpass over 93, and then immediately took us into what I have since realized was the real theme for the afternoon’s hash: parking lots. Lots and lots of parking lots, in all their infinite varieties. Wide open parking lots. Wide open parking lots covered with snow banks. Wide open parking lots covered with snow banks and surrounded by chain link fences. Wide open parking lots in hollowed out brick buildings patrolled by cranky janitors and surrounded by snow banks. And, of course, parking garages.
After our first song check in a parking lot in a hollowed out brick building patrolled by a cranky janitor, we climbed over a snow bank and blundered into a playground full of Tit Check. Let me explain: there were some sort of hopscotch-looking circles painted on a walkway that went halfway around the area. Each one had been thoughtfully tagged with a nipple, so that even that chick with the three hooters from Total Recall would have had to spend like a full minute flashing in order to pass all of them legit. Or I suppose she could have just run through and left the guys in the cold, like our harriettes did.
Then we ran through another parking lot. Then we ran under a parking garage. Then we ran half way around the BU Medical Center Parking Garage. Then we ran up into the BU Medical Center Parking Garage, where we had a beer check. Afterwards, we ran around the other half of the BU Medical Center Parking Garage and then sang “My Girl is a Vegetable” in front of the Emergency Room.
Trail then took us through a blissfully short stretch of non-parking lots before pulling up to a T/E split ... in the middle of a parking lot. Since almost everyone was Zenning around the edge of the parking lot, and the Eagle was clearly, “Climb this half-acre of grungy snow bank and then rejoin trail,” everyone opted for the Turkey.
Peppermint, however, realized that the hares had left a bottle of some quality whiskey (by which I mean it maybe cost upwards of six bucks a quart) on the snow bank. In an amazing display of hardcore alcoholism, she climbed a chain link fence, retrieved the whiskey, and returned to the pack with it, whereupon Sh*tty Meats and Grease My Monkey’s Nuts drank about half.
Beer check #2 was at Roxbury Community College. In a parking lot. However, it was a parking lot right next to a Roxbury Community College building, so that we could look through the windows and check out the students’ projects for their Shop Class while we drank. We were also directly across the street from the Boston Police Department, which made the pack a bit nervous, so that when some random guy drove up and parked next to the bag car, everyone panicked, chugged, and bolted.
The final leg of the trail was fairly short, mostly consisting of a circle jerk around the ugliest architecture that Northeastern University has to offer. As ugly architecture goes, Northeastern has some pretty impressive sh*t. Trail ended at Punter’s Pub.
Highlights of the circle included Goat going topless and then performing an impromptu (and unasked for) Dick Check, although it took him an uncomfortably long time to locate his junk. When Virgin Mike #2 was asked his favorite sexual position, he responded, “Pile driver,” which I had thought was more of a professional wrestling move than a sexual position, although apparently I was mistaken. He was then asked to demonstrate this position with Virgin Mike #1, which Virgin Mike #2 attempted with both great enthusiasm and a certain degree of confusion as to which parts plug into where. For his part, Virgin Mike #1 seemed very eager to bottom, leading Just Matt to remark, “No doubt about who’s the man in this one.”
Wikipedophilia was brought in for a down-down for having “gay-ass” shoes, which were slip-on leather penny-loafers or some kind of crap. There was a token protest, but when you’re wearing slip-on leather penny-loafers to a hash, you’re pretty much guaranteed to be drinking out of those motherf*ckers because they are clearly f*cking gay-ass. Circle ended with Swing Low, towers of beer, and some vaguely pizza-flavored grease.
Overheard on trail
|World Cup Hash
(about 8 years ago)
HARES: Twat My Mom and Night of the Giving Head and Goes Down on Buoys as the shitty Sweeper.
BAG CAR: I Eat Tea Bags
PRE-LUBE: JJ Foley’s Fireside Tavern: Across from Forest Hill Station
BEER CHECK: 1. In Franklin Park somewhere 2. In old Bear Cages Franklin Park
SCRIBE: Sugar Plum Fairy
JUSTS: Dan, Hayley (Snatchlight), Melody, her friend, Mike, Ray, Kath, Alicia and Ben
VISITORS: Mincer (Sheffield H3), Tight Sphincter (Munich H3), Silent But Deadly (Guam)
VIRGINS: Jeremy (Sponsored by Mincer)
LATE CUMMERS: Bend Over Mommy, Octopussy, Beat By A Girl, Pygmy Poker (from Guam by way of New Bedford.)
High Anus, Dribbles, The 2nd Cumming, Bondage Barbie, Catheter the Great, Sucker’s Bet, Dirty Latte Sanchez, Twat Tart, Taj My Hole, Immaculate Erection, Necrophiliac Jack, Grease My Monkey’s Nuts, Spoonful of Semen, A La Cunte, I Licked Butts, Bring out the Gimp, Goat Throat, Cum is Kosher (driving her car right through the Chalk Talk) with Schindler’s Fist, Cum Locker and Accidentally Anal.
On a dark and drizzly night, hashers gathered together at JJ Foley’s Fireside Tavern wearing their favorite soccer playing nations colors for a wet and lovely run around JP. Chalk Talk was interrupted by Cum is Kosher in a “ look at me I’m Lady Gaga” moment driving her car directly through circle after which the Cajun trail made it’s way down the street east toward the overpass. Trail then went right up the hill into the Forest Hills Cemetery where Night of the Giving Head got his name a year ago at the Zombie hash. Possibly because he remembered what happened last time he went through there, NOTHGH and Twat decided to make it a short trip through the cemetery and out the main gate. Bringing up the rear I noticed that the Zombie Police were on hand to make sure we made it safely out of the cemetery. It’s great that we have a sweeper to make sure everyone is able to find trail, but who finds trail when the sweeper gets lost, WITH A FUCKING MAP! Goes Down On Buoys was trying his best to help us stragglers find the first beer check, and kept going different which would have been okay except that HE HAD A FUCKING MAP! So, fanning out in different directions, finding bits of trail here and there and bellowing RUs and listening for On-Ons, we finally found the first beer check on a rock outcropping in somewhere in Franklin Park. Deciding to trust to providence and not Buoys anymore, we followed trail out of the first beer check and after a swing around a football stadium we found ourselves in the old over grown and abandoned Franklin Park Zoo bear cages. Although they looked like a set out of the television series LOST, they were actually used in the filming of “Mystic River,” according to a local film historian or some alcoholic hasher. We left the beer check en route to the On-In where some people decided that they would get there faster if they followed Buoys and guess what? He got lost AGAIN. Poor Buoys. Basically trail left the cages went down a hill to Washington St where we turned left and entered the back room at Doyles.
CIRCLE AND ON-IN
The 2nd Cumming and Necrophiliac Jack did RA by committee and one of the best comments on trail was “What a waste of the date of 69.” For which the hares were given a well-deserved down down. People drank for various offenses, like visiting and not ever hashing before or not hashing lately and then Just Hayley came up for her naming. Unfortunately, Hayley had made the unfortunate mistake of dating Twat My Mom and Just Dan who proceeded to lay her whole sexual history open to the hash. She was almost named Jug Burns for getting her nips rubbed bloody on a rug next to the hot tub while she was being……..you know. But it was her use of a flash light as a sexual aid that bestowed upon her the name, “Snatchlight,” and so she shall be known hereafter. Later On Just Dan was laughing it up afterward but Dan didn’t seem to
forget that being a “Just” means he will be named soon and payback is gonna be a bitch..
HEARD AT THE HASH
“All right Princess. Let’s go,” Twat My Mom to Night of the Giving Head as they left to set trail.
P.S. Nobody knows if Buoys made it home though he did have a map.
|The Shiggy Trail
(about 8 years ago)
Hares: +2 Coonass, Dazed and Confused
Bag Car: Just Hayley
Wankers: Bend Over Mommy, Accidental An*l
Start: Brown bag start at the Newton Center T stop
Beer Check: 416-492 Hammond Park Pkwy (parking lot of Congregation Mishkan Tefila)
Pack: The Buttler Hit It, Yankee Pay $5 More, Necrophiliac Jack, Friar F*ck, 5" Penalty, Tw*t My Mom, Tw*t Tart, Mexican Humping Queen, On Your Back, Screaming Japanese Girl, Grease My Monkey's Nuts, Peppermint P*ssy, Nice T*ts, The 2nd C*mming, Bisexual Bondage B*tch, Dribbles, Goes Down on Buoys, Bondage Barbie, Yellow D*ck Gnome, An*l Beads, Stretch P*ssy, Legally Bound & Gagged, Taint My Problem, E = I'm a D*uche, C*ms Early, Goat Throat, C*mlocker, Just Erin, Just Dan, Just Melody, Just Ryan, Just Paul, Just Dan, Virgin Ray, Virgin Jess
(This is my first hash trash, so if I spelled your name wrong, or left you off, well too bad)
So the pack started gathering train-by-train and the locals stared on in bewilderment as we congregated in our circus socks with our brown bags—or was it because Buttler paced around shirtless, I don't know. But what I do remember is Coonass leading the chalk talk as he had a few special marks to introduce, including the use of a triangle as the flour version of BVC and a turkey, eagle, and chicken split. And a CJ for circle jerk.
The hares left and the pack waited for what we thought was the required 10 minutes. However, no less than five minutes after the pack was away, Necrophiliac Jack managed to snare the hares. To help us pass the time as we waited the five minutes, Goat Throat led the pack in a singing of Every Day is Wednesday in the middle of an intersection. We wrapped up our song and resumed trail, continuing along more side streets (wasn't this supposed to be the shiggy trail?) to Beacon St. where we finally ducked into Hammond Park.
We zig-zagged around the park and the pack ended up splitting between those willing to dash through the poison ivy and low brush and those who wanted to tread carefully. Trail led up to a fence that separated the park from the green line tracks and from here we had a one-foot wide dirt ledge to walk along, or we could trudge through the swamp. Impatient with squeezing between trees and the fence, I chose the latter. We eventually emerged from this shiggy (finally!) area and came upon Hammond Park Pkwy, and the beer check.
The beer check was notable for Just Ryan taking off his shirt, causing Necrophiliac Jack to refund his beer. What a waste. Hares were already away before any of us got to the check so when it came time to pick trail back up, nobody had a clue where to go. Someone finally saw a mark across the street and we plunged into the other side of Hammond Park, traversing the woods. We came upon what I thought looked to be a botanical garden of sorts and I immediately realized that the circular shape of the garden paths made this the location of the circle jerk. Sure enough a minute later I heard two people shouting on-on and I made the decision to follow the on-ons coming from the back of the garden, outside the region of the paths. Success. We continued on the trail and found a fence that we thought was closed shut. Buttler proceeded to climb the fence while Grease My Monkey's Nuts wandered around looking for an edge to circumvent. Should've waited though as C*mlocker found a latch and opened the gate right up.
Out of the shiggy, we followed a false trail, where Necrophiliac Jack spotted the manhole that he came into--err out of on the "follow the sewer tunnel" trail last year. We returned to the last check the find the rest of the pack emerging from the circle jerk and through the fence and we continued up another street. This started a deathmarch along Beacon Street, long enough that I was convinced we'd encounter a check back. But my intuition was wrong this time as trail led to the edge of the Chestnut Hill Reservoir.
Here was the site of the turkey, eagle, chicken split with turkey taking the long way around the reservoir, chicken taking the short way, and eagle going through the reservoir. A number of us thought about taking the plunge, but didn't until Yankee Pay $5 More offered to carry phones, trail notes, pants, etc. At this point Goat Throat, Buttler, C*ms Early, and myself handed Yankee our valuables and jumped into the very warm water. I bailed pretty quickly as my sneakers were weighing me down too much and Butter and C*ms Early also got out of the water shortly after, but Goat Throat made it to the other side where we met back up with Yankee and walked the rest of the way to Cleveland Circle. It was here that Goat commented that he "should probably put his pants back on." From Cleveland Circle, Buttler craniumed off to 2nd C*mming's apartment while Goat and Yankee crossed the street to Mary Ann's. All were wrong though as trail headed up to Roggie's for the on-in.
I missed the start of circle, so the only comment on trail I took down was my own: that it was a nice trail, so nice that I was able to cleanse myself of the shiggy from Saturday's moon trail (if you haven't heard, it was a seven-mile trail through nothing but woods, swamps, and a junkyard with five beer checks). Next was the dementing of the two virgins. Nice T*ts made Virgin Jess come, and we learned that her favorite sexual position is the reverse cowgirl. Stretch P*ssy made Virgin Ray come and he couldn't remember what his first blow job tasted like, but his favorite barnyard animal is the rooster. Apparently because he loves the c*ck. At this point, 5" Penalty told someone (a virgin maybe?) that the hash is "a judgement-free zone. F*ggot!"
Our DFL at this point was An*l Beads, who showed up 30 minutes after everyone else. He claimed that as he ran through the botanical garden, he was intercepted by "two sweet little old bitties with a dog." They asked him if he was part of "that running group" and then told him that he was not allowed to be in there. They told him that they had called the BC police and the real cops. AB just brushed them off and proceeded along trail, but no less than a few minutes after coming through the gate did a police cruiser drive up very slowly next to him. The cops asked him if he was part of that Hash House Harriers group and said that some women had called complaining of kids drinking and doing drugs in the park. AB told the cops that he had not been doing drugs, which was apparently enough for them (note, he did not deny that he had been drinking). Hopelessly lost at this point, he asked the cops how to get back to a main road, but that was no help, so he called the hotline, got the location, mapped it on his phone, and saw he was two miles away. What a pisser.
The FRB and FBIs were Goes Down on Buoys and Just Ryan, but the circle had trouble figuring out which one was which, so they were both declared FBIs and C*mlocker was declared FRB.... Shortly after this, someone shouted shots fired, which somehow resulted in Coonass and 2nd C*mming performing a reverse cowgirl on the floor. Necrophiliac Jack was accused of refunding, which he tried blaming on Just Ryan for running shirtless, but that's hashmanlike behavior. He also was accused of finding his manhole on trail, so he did a triple down-down.
Coonass and Dazed and Confused were accused of being snared. Legally Bound and Gagged, Bisexual Bondage B*tch, Tw*t Tart, Screaming Japanese Girl, Taint My Problem and Nice T*ts were accused of backsliding. Then at least a dozen hashers were accused of wearing marathon shirts and/or socks. Just Paul drank for trying to name himself Tricky Dicky during chalk talk (we'll take care of your name, alright?). Then all the Justs drank for being Justs.
Next we tried naming Just Ryan. We learned that he's from Maine, he's a climber, he likes to put his fingers in cracks, and he assaulted a civilian on his first hash by smacking her *ss. We also learned that he's a LARPer. Suggestions included Dust, Small Balls, Tent Pole Too Short, Shivel Shot Score!, Tent Rage, Kitty Tent, Puppy Tent, Stuff Sack, and D*uchebag. Nothing stuck so he was thrown out.
Buttler accused the hares of leaving chalk behind on trail, but the chalk was actually 2nd C*mming's, so Buttler drank for the false accusation. On Your Back was introduced as a transplant from China. she was asked to tell a joke, which was something about Moses in a desert talking to God. Nice T*ts tried naming Just Dan, which upset Just Hayley because she was the one who brought him into the hash and thought she should be named before him (sorry, not necessarily how it works). But we didn't try to name him as the pizza was out and circle had gone on long enough. Hash religion was sung, pizza was consumed, and the drinking continued.
-Tw*t My Mom
P.S. The World Cup Hash/69 Hash is next Wednesday. Don't know what to wear? Maybe these pictures will provide some inspiration. Or scroll down to the bottom of this page. I guess now we know the real reason Yankee's heading out there next week.... (mildly SFW)