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|Robbie Burns Hash 2010
(almost 8 years ago)
Hares: Ski Bobbitt and Cum Fly With Me
Bag Car: Ski Bobbit
Pre-Lube: The Cask n Flagon near Fenway Park (Beat By A Girl and Dude Where’s My Virginity with Cletus the Fetus On-board left after pre-lube)
Whiskey Check: Swam Garden Walkway next to Amory Park Brookline
Beer Check: The shores of Ye Olde Loch Muddy
On-In: Punters Pub
Scribe: Sugar Plum Fairy
Pack: High Anus, Necro Jack, Brigham Tongue, The Buttler Hit It, Nipples Erectus, Taj My Hole, Fucksaw, Pat My Fly, Spitz, Vagitarian, Shawskank, Dribbles, Stick It To the Bros, Immaculate Erection, The 2nd Cumming, Bondage Barbie, Brzzzz, Double Flush, Cums Alone, Catheter the Great, Dirty Latte Sanchez, Floppy Dick, Hoover McFuck n Suck, Jamaican Me Cum, Vagitarian, Cum Locker, Viagra Doubt Fire and Lube Me In with Just Riley, Sperm Breath,
Justs: Mike, Evan, Stan
Visitors: Jimmy Crack Whore, Pig Fucker, Counterfeit Dick, Pussy Factory and Anti-Cock
Transplants: Just Carol (Madison), Horses Ass, Blows My Mind, (sorry didn’t
write it down) Plus 2 Coon Ass and Swamp Gravy (Atlanta)
Returning: Rocky Mountain Whore
Late Cummers: An Inconvenient Poop
Lame Non-Cummers: Bend Over Mommy. I would call her a late cummer but she arrived so late I’m not sure she came at all oh and, Velvet Pelvis
Ski Bobbitt treated everyone to a celebration of Scotland’s most favorite person next to Jackie Stewart and William Wallace. As we gathered at for the 69th stumbling of the Anal Robbie Burns Hash. The first thing I noticed about the upcoming shitshow was that it was no where near Charlestown or Malden.
After circling on top of a parking garage next to the Cask behind the Green Monster, trail led us around Fenway Park down Lansdowne Street and around Fenway Park toward Brookline Ave and the Riverway. It was at this point that Pig Fucker, Velvet Pelvis and I veered toward the Fenway neighborhood. PF mistakenly thought he saw pack go that way and we followed him a few blocks before we decided that following Pig fuckers only leads to one thing, feeling like you have been fucked by a pig.
PF and VP decided to go back to following marks and I ran toward the Muddy which I intended to follow until I hit trail which I thought I would soon see. I was actually right, and began to see orange blotches and thought I was wicked smaht. As soon as I lost sight of the orange blotches I spied the walkers cumming toward me.
They told me they were going to the Beer Check which was a long the shores of the roaring Muddy and that to get to the Whiskey check would take forever so I waited for the rest of the pack with them. Real trail went toward Brookline via Beacon Street and ended at the Whiskey Check off the wooden walkway next Amory Park. I wasn’t there but I’m pretty sure whiskey was drank producing many a sour puss. Following the Whiskey Check I was informed that trail went through Brookline and the Longwood Medical area and around Emmanuel College back across the Muddy to where Oat Cakes, Shortbread and Belhaven Scotch Ale were waiting.
At some point an entire pizza floated down river which we assumed was Hare Clubs idea of speedy delivery. We stayed there until Necro Jack bitched about being cold which was not surprising when you wear shorts and a light shirt in winter time. Trail then snaked its way through the Fens the warmer environs of Punters Pub on Huntington Ave.
After making ourselves at home our sexiest RA Shawskank got our circle going so we could chastise the hares for their shitty trail. Over the inane babbling I heard, “Not enough Turkeys.” I also heard Bondage Barbie say not enough dick checks to which I offered my own private check in the corner. I figured with Tea Bags being laid up and me being the giving person I am, I would fulfill her request. Sadly she declined.
Cum Fly with Me sang a great song that I could barely hear but I think it had something to do with a Scotsman finding out his girlfriend is a man bye looking under his kilt. There were quite a few visitors and transplants my favorite being Just Carol who gave us an early look at the full moon before the Full Moon hash on Tuesday 1/26.
Our one Virgin Leslie was demented and apparently she moos like a cow when she is REALLY excited. 2nd Cumming was also demented….Nobody knows why. Accusations were made down-downs quaffed and we were all reminded to register for Marathon 2010. Swing Low was sung; we ate pizza (no not the floating kind), drank beer and made the world safe for democracy.
HEARD AT THE HASH:
(almost 8 years ago)
Hares: Maid of Honor, An*l Beads
Bag Car: C*mlocker
RA: Necrophiliac Jack
Pack: Brigham Tongue, Vagetarian, Better Late Than Pregnant, Tampon Jelly, High An*s, Bring Out the Gimp, Octop*ssy, Mooseknuckles, N*pples Erectus, Necrophiliac Jack, The Buttler Hit It, Catheter the Great, Nice T*ts, Bleeps, Sweeps, and Creeps, Bend Over Mommy, Goat Throat, e=I'm a Douche, One Girl Two Cups, My Chemical Homance, Schindler's Fist, Pbvzzzzzz, F*cks All, Just Rebecca, Just Susan, Dirty Latte Sanchez, Tw*t My Mom, Jamaican Me Cum
Latecummer: Just Melvin (showed up at or around the first beer check and took his usual place as FRB)
Wangers: Beat By A Girl, Dude Where's My Virginity, Krusty the Meat Miser, P*bic Service Announcement, Spunk In The Trunk
Pre-lube: Charlie's Kitchen, Harvard Square, Cambridge
On-after: The Pub, Ball Square, Somerville
Weather: Clear, sunny, and cold (20s)
Amazingly the entire pack wasn't wasted at the start thanks to the slaughter masquerading as a Patriots game and not enough parfaits. Gagh, well there's always next year.
Given that this was a furry hash, some people came well prepared. Mooseknuckles had moose ears (nice!). The hares, of course, were hares (haha), Tw*t My Mom was a bloody version of the Cookie Monster, e=I'm a Douche was a gorilla, and Bring Out the Gimp wore a yellow chicken outfit brought by Maid of Honor because Necrophiliac Jack refused to wear it. Guess he must have been concerned about his appearance that day because he had gotten a haircut and complained that none of the people who mentioned it actually said he looked good. Octop*ssy asked Douche if he had a head, which was hilarious on many levels.
Goat Throat was visiting and apparently confused red cellophane with fur, as he was wearing a copy of his attire for the Seacoast Red Dress run, namely he wrapped himself in red cellophane and called it a day. I really hope there are pictures of this on Hashspace because it was probably the most weather-inappropriate attire I have ever seen. Also on our way to bag car a civilian told Goat that his shoes didn't go with his dress – although I am hard pressed to think of shoes that would go with that dress.
I am also compelled to note that BBAG showed up with a standing lamp for Catheter the Great, who announced she was not taking it on trail. But it was a nice lamp.
Bag car was parked on JFK but since no one knew exactly where on JFK we walked the long way around the block in the freezing cold weather. In the process of getting to bag car we found a check so after an extremely abbreviated chalk talk we headed immediately to the check. About half the pack apparently found the right trail but either didn't tell the rest of us or, more likely, we couldn't hear them due to the lovely sounds of Harvard Square. The rest of us tried to find trail, heading towards Harvard Square proper. We didn't find trail but some Japanese tourists took our picture.
Eventually we did find trail but were quite confused to find a mark pointing the wrong way. This was one thing leading up to the check we found but entirely another once we were on-on and heading in the proper direction. Heh. Anyway trail led down a few blocks and back up across Mount Auburn and up to the Harvard campus. Just inside the gates there was a song check where we sang a few verses of "Yogi."
Inevitably, trail led up the stairs, past the libraries and through what is apparently called the Sever Quadrangle. Less inevitably, trail did not go up the art museum ramp but instead just went around the corner on Cambridge Street. After running past the library yard pack somehow got lost even though the marks were fine. Eventually we found where we were going, saw a BN, and from there it was a quick run into the first beer check which was outside An*l Beads' place.
At this beer check the hares reported that they had already had their photos taken with an Indian family and a cop. Wonder what the cop thought about two hares running around on a night other than Halloween. Buttler had managed to find a very large frozen cucumber on trail, and Necrophiliac Jack was heard saying "I just got shanked by chalk, and not in a good way." As opposed to getting shanked [by chalk] in a good way I suppose.
After quickly drinking our beers (hey it was cold), we headed out – crazy me I hit a F, but the rest of the pack went the right way. Due to this I was near the back of the pack when entering Lincoln Park and encountered some guy laughing maniacally at us from 100 feet away. At first I thought this was another hasher but I guess it was just some random guy but he was literally cackling at us – loudly – he sounded evil. Not even kidding.
Running away from the scary-*ss guy we continued up and around through the streets of Somerville. When crossing, I think Highland Ave., I heard one of the funnier comments on trail: "The chicken went that way and hasn't come back yet." Well, it was funny at the time. Right around this time Buttler found a Christmas wreath on trail which he wore the rest of the time. Kind of furry, I suppose.
The promised urban shiggy was in the form of going through a fence and along live train tracks before veering off the tracks and running past an abandoned and half-collapsed International Paper Company factory where we had our second beer check. The hares clearly had the most fun today because they ran into some crazy lady who was going off about how much she loved rabbits. To snuggle, or to eat … or both, perhaps! The hares ran away before being subjected to any of this.
After the beer check trail was pretty well a straight shot to The Pub. Oh, silly me, no, the on-in wasn't inside on a freezing cold day instead it was in the parking lot across the street by the train tracks. In the hares' defense I suppose that with the NFL playoffs on it was probably hard to find a bar that would allow our shenanigans.
It was far too cold for me to take any sort of notes so apologies for the sparseness of the recounting of circle. The hares sang us "My Girl's a Vegetable" and pretty much right when that was done the pack got really cold.
I do remember that there was a social for everyone not in costume (which was at least half the pack).
Buttler accused Bloody P*ssy (who dat?) of losing her dildo on trail and produced what was at this point a broken frozen cucumber. Lovely …
We tried to name Just Melvin (who really does need a name) but were far too cold to think of anything creative. Which is good because I was too cold to write any suggested names down. He was tossed back and the pack went through quite probably the fastest version of "Swing Low" in recorded history, much to the apparent disgust of the RA, who was probably too cold himself much to care that he lost control.
I had to leave just after circle so I'm not sure what debauchery went on at The Pub at the on-after.
I am now going to get on my soapbox and implore winter hares: Unless your trail is long (like over 5 miles), consider having only one beer check. Beer checks are cold, we lose our warmup, and there's less money to spend drinking at the on-after where it's warm. Just my $.02.
- Brigham Tongue
(almost 8 years ago)
Hares: Necrophiliac Jack, 5 Inch Penalty, Shawsk*nk
Pack: Bend Over Mommy, Dribbles, Just Sam, Brigham Tongue, Octop*ssy, Just Melvin, The Buttler Hit It, e=I'm a Douche, C*umlocker, Virgin Desiree
Wangers: Vagetarian, Jamaican Me C*m, Stick It To the Bros, Bondage Barbie, Twat My Mom, I Eat Tea Bags
Pre-lube & On-In: Sligo in Davis Square
Weather: Clear and cold (20s)
A pickup hash, in case you are not aware, is where the first hare runs until he or she gets caught, then the snare becomes the hare. The unfortunate part of this is that the FRBs become the hare, thus leading to perhaps a longer hangover hash than people were anticipating. Oh, also this was a Cajun trail.
So Jack walks into Sligo looking like death warmed over, or at least someone who had a really, really, REALLY good time at the Twelve Bars of Hashmas. Unfortunately for him, because he was hoping no one would show up, a bunch of crazy hashers did indeed make the trek.
Eventually Jack realized that the sooner he got started the sooner we'd be done and went off to go lay trail. Eventually the rest of us decided it might be about time to go follow him, so after a quick chalk talk (we *did* have a virgin after all) and were off. We ran through Davis Square but probably for the first time ever, did not run through the T station but instead headed up Holland Street before cutting west and running through the neighborhoods. At one point along the bike path we hit a check and one direction had a whole bunch of snow plows out so we sincerely hoped trail did not go there as the marks would be gone. Luckily, it did not.
Trail wound up to, and through, St. Paul's Cemetery by route 16. On the far side of this, on Broadway, 5 Inch Penalty finally caught Jack who had stopped to walk. And a good thing, too, at the rate we were going we probably never would have caught him!
5 Inch led us down Broadway back into Somerville. So we figured at this point, this being a hangover hash and all, that trail would lead back down Holland in a relatively straight manner back to Sligo. Boy were we wrong! I'm not exactly sure where we went but we wound up running north through the hills over to, and through, the Tufts campus. At this point C*mlocker had a particularly bad hash crash but, like Wes Welker (too soon?), she made it up and was able to walk. Unlike Wes Welker, she was able to run so it was all good.
Shawsk*nk snared 5 Inch on College Ave very near Sligo, so her part of trail lasted all of about 5 minutes but was notable because we doubled the distance we ran by not paying attention when trail turned, and trail led us through a parking lot and courtyard with a door that I at first couldn't open. Happily I figured it out because the fence didn't look sturdy enough to climb.
For some reason the pack was less than enthusiastic in our singing. I think we were all shellshocked that the trail was more than about a mile! Virgin Desiree either did not remember or did not want to share her first sexual experience. I'm not really sure which of those options I prefer. Anyway as a result her sponsor Octop*ssy had to share (and demonstrate) her favorite sexual position which happens to be reverse cowgirl. Excellent choice Octop*ssy.
- Brigham Tongue
|Blue Moon Hash #2
(almost 8 years ago)
Hares: Cocksmith, The Crying Gay
Bag Car & Navigator: Just Amanda, Vagetarian
Pre-lube: Red Hat Cafe near Government Center
Weather: Clear and cold (20s)
RA: SUPER Teflon Dong
Pack: Glitorus, General *ss Pounder, Cum is Kosher, Mr Papagiorgio, Invisidick, Saskapoon, Bloody P*ssy, Peppermint P*ssy, Hoover McSuck'n'F*ck, P*bic Service Announcement, Octop*ssy, Father Shishkaboob, Just Mike, Crucifux, e=I'm a Douche, Nipples Erectus, Time of the Munch, Tampon Jelly, Bondage Barbie, What Can Brown Do To You?, Schindler's Fist, Tw*t My Mom
Wangers –OR– People That I Don't Recall Seeing On Trail Or At Circle But Who Did Show Up Either Before The Hash, After The Hash, Or Both: Wang Chunks, An*l Beads, Dirty Latte Sanchez, Catheter the Great, Dude Where's My Virginity, Beat By A Girl, Krusty the Meat Miser, Shawsk*nk, Redtail Swallows, Stretch P*ssy
So it turns out that this may not have been a real blue moon. I am no longer in any way sure what a blue (blew?) moon actually is so I'm just going to shut up and talk about trail. Blue moon or not it was the last Boston-area hash of the year!
A very large group of hashers congregated at the Red Hat Café much to the bemusement of the locals (oh, wait, that isn't news. Moving on …). The Red Hat did have red jello shots, upon hearing which SUPER Teflon Dong immediately ordered 5. Not all for himself. Really.
After extricating the runners from the drinkers, the pack left the lovely Red Hat Café and spontaneous RA visiting from goodness-knows-where-anymore SUPER Teflon Dong led an energetic rendition of "Michael Jackson Likes Little Boys." Saskapoon was already drunk at this point. Remember this fact.
Pack found trail pretty quickly, through a parking lot, behind the State House … and through the winding streets of Beacon Hill. Somewhere along the way we managed to lose trail for no good reason except that it looked like trail would go around a 20-foot fence. Oh and those false trails didn't help but we pretty quickly learned that all the flour trails were falses and started ignoring them. At least until they stopped all being falses. Trail wound back over Cambridge Street and past a bunch of cops and the Whole Foods before taking us on a guided tour of a bunch of hospitals. Right about when I lost my bearings there was a turkey-eagle split. The eagle leg led up some stairs and down into the parking lot for Mass Eye & Ear, location of the first beer check.
Bag Car wasn't at the beer check because she had gone to find a parking spot. Unfortunately all the way around, she was delayed getting back due to parking in a garage and losing the ticket in the dashboard of the car … and while Just Amanda and Vagetarian's hands may fit some other places just fine, they didn't fit down the dashboard of the car.
Somewhere on trail Tampon Jelly had found a frilly pink …. I don't know – dishcloth? He said it must be a harriette's negligee. Well it did have satin on the outside. Perhaps in his dreams harriettes wear square pieces of cloth about 1 square foot in size for clothing but not on a cold December night!
Also at this beer check, Saskapoon announced "I wish I were a smokin' hot chick!" In his defense, he was drunk at the time. Remember this fact.
Pack took off because we were cold and had been there for at least 15 minutes. Trail led down Storrow and did *not* go over the pedestrian bridge but instead wound through more of the West End. At one point there was a turkey-eagle split and the FRBs announced that the eagle trail was a YBF. Tricky hares!
After dangerously proceeding through Leverett Circle (a few hashers jumped out in front of cars, a particularly bad idea at that intersection!) we found a park with the second beer check. Rather, we found the hares claiming that this was the location of the second beer check. But bag car wasn't there. Apparently the pack isn't supposed to leave until bag car leaves or something. Whatever. We were cold. And were cold again waiting for beer – but the beer arrived and all was well. At this beer check GAP shared a couple tricks of the trade including how to make beer float.
Eventually we realized the hares were away and since we were cold again, took off.
Trail wound through the park then towards North Station. When in doubt, trail goes through … as it did in this case. Trail was marked with yellow sticky notes; emerging on the other side the pack pretty quickly figured out that trail did not go over a two-story concrete wall but instead led around the wall, over the dam by the state police and to the no-name park under the Zakim Bridge.
Pretty sure our RA was drunk by the time circle started so there was much craziness, singing of songs, and handing out of tags to people who attended both blue moon hashes.
Finally all attendees of both blue moon hashes partook of the bottle of Blue Moon Grand Cru that was provided for the occasion. Nice of them to make a special edition drink in honor of our hash!
At some point along here Saskapoon wanted to say something about the hash drunk, whose birthday it was that day. Saskapoon was drunk and apparently forgot that the Boston Moon Hash is *not* the Boston Hash, whereupon Saskapoon was nominated as hash drunk of the Boston Moon Hash. The pack roared in approval, and we now have an official hash drunk!
Finally, realizing it was cold and we were due at The Cellar for on-after, circle ended and we were out.
- Bloody P*ssy
|Blue Moon Hash #1
(almost 8 years ago)
Hares: Bloody P*ssy, Bondage Barbie
Bag Car: Hoover McSuck `n' F*ck
Pre-lube: Victory Pub in East Boston
Weather: Clear and mid-40s (some light rain started up as circle was ending)
Pack: Octop*ssy, I Eat Tea Bags -> The Crying Gay, The 2nd C*mming, High An*s, Invisidick, Just Amanda (Houston transplant), Just Amanda (Stuttgart transplant), Cocksmith, Bring Out the Gimp, N*pples Erectus, Hash Mattress, Inspector Gadget, Chunnel (I heard she got renamed but she was Chunnel that day), D*ck Jockey, Just Melvin, Far From F*cking, F*cks All, Just Ben, Mooseknuckles, Peppermint P*ssy, Father Shishkabob, Just Mike
Not the brightest idea in the world to have the hare write hash trash but I guess that's what you get and, after all, never let the truth get in the way of a good story. Sooooooo …
From Victory Pub, trail headed down to a not-at-all-dangerous-to-be-finding-trail-around rotary, and from there a couple of blocks to the base of a hill and then UP three flights of stairs to the Madonna Queen National Shrine, perfect location for a t*t check, followed by a d*ck check 1 block later before trail headed DOWN the same hill the pack had just run up. Suckers.
From there trail went around a curve over, and through the Suffolk Downs T stop. On the way, one hasher (to remain nameless) just HAD to write their hash initials in wet pavement. Leaving our mark in East Boston … the first beer check was just after the T station in Belle Island Marsh Reservation. The beer check location was particularly notable due to the planes landing at Logan flying about 200 feet above. Invisidick was the first runner to the beer check, mainly because he managed to get lost on trail and zenned his way to the beer check. While we're on the subject of Invisidick, he managed to show up for a moon hash with advertised shiggy without a cranium lamp, OR a cranium cover. Oddly enough, he took up Bring Out the Gimp's offer to borrow a spare cranium cover, but not fleshlight. Wish I'd remembered that when I was filling out nominations for the Hash Darwin award.
After the beer check, trail wound through the reservation with a false trail over a bridge ending by some crazy-looking structure … maybe a lookout tower or something, before heading back to the main road, through a ball field, through some tennis courts, up a hill, back down a hill, and then straight through the marsh. Luckily it was not high tide but nonetheless I managed to take a wrong step and sink in up to my knee (luckily I could get out, stranded hare would make for a fun snare for everyone involved but me!), and one of the other hashers managed to have a marsh crash as well. This segment of trail was accompanied by much whining about potentially toxic sludge and the potential presence of rotting mob bodies.
Trail continued down an access road, near the beach and paused for a song check at the bottom of a hill by a highly decorated house. After climbing up the hill, trail wound around to give the pack a lovely view of Boston before heading back down the hill. At this point Cocksmith decided to cut across the lawn which was not received well by the property owner who promptly shouted "No no no no no no no Get Off My Property!"
After this, the pack followed trail through puddles, a stand of sumacs, a bunch of construction equipment, and over a fence before continuing through the projects and then through some very, VERY dark streets in Winthrop. I mean, what up Winthrop can't you afford ANY street lamps except on major roads? Sheesh … anyway the pack eventually emerged for beer check #2 which was at the other side of Belle Island Marsh in some scrub grass. At this beer check, the beer was supplemented by some blue Gatorade with blueberry vodka.
Due to sh*tty planning by the hares, we nearly ran out of chalk and had to borrow some from the pack but I was somewhat redeemed by storing said chalk in my bra. Not sure where Bondage Barbie put hers.
Following a sufficient pause, the hares departed leading the pack past a bunch of boats, behind a carwash and Dunkin' Donuts, past Belle Island Lobster & Seafood, and over to the ritzy neighborhood facing Logan Airport (no, that's not a contradiction in terms. There is water in between the two). At this point there was a turkey-eagle split, with the turkeys running on the road and the eagles descending to crawl along the rocks by the water. Trail reconvened by the Orient Heights Yacht Club, site of another d*ck check (apparently missed by the pack, sadly ….), and then ran along Constitution Beach in true Chariots of Fire fashion, ending between the hockey rink and the ocean. Somehow the pack got lost for about 5 minutes at a check about halfway along the beach, but eventually made it to the end.
Songs sung on trail included End of the Month, My Girl's a Vegetable, and I Used To Work in Chicago (when not being interrupted by planes flying overhead).
Here is a map of the trail, with some of the high (and low…) points noted
Notes on circle are a bit spotty but here is what I remember:
Hares' song: Free Beer for All the Hashers
DFLs: The moon GMs, Cocksmith and I Eat Tea Bags ambled in after circle started. Not entirely sure what was keeping them together on trail so long. Planning the next moon hash, perhaps? Yeah, that must be it….
Comments on trail: Not enough planes, checks too small, not enough marks with a smiley face and "BB" next to them, not enough d*ck checks, not enough t*t checks, no one ran on the Eagle trail, too much Air Lingus and not enough c*nnilingus
Winner of best spandex: Hash Mattress. Winner of worst spandex: I Eat Tea Bags.
Since I Eat Tea Bags was a moon GM without a moon name, the decision was made to name him. I didn't follow all the ins and outs, but The Crying Gay beat out I Prefer It in the Rear. I Eat Tea Bags will henceforth be known at the moon hash as The Crying Gay.
Due to sh*tty planning by the hares, there were only about 45 beers (including 12 Blue Moons, let it be known!) 30 blue jello shots, and the remaining Gatorade/vodka for circle, so Hoover volunteered to go out and get more beer. Before he returned with an additional 60 PBRs, the pack had been reduced to drinking blue Gatorade mixed with vodka for down-down drinks. Which would have been fine except that the ratio of Gatorade to vodka was about 69:1.
Following circle, the hash attempted to fit all the trash into the solar-powered trash compactor. It didn't work. A hardy contingent headed back to the pre-lube for the on-after but most hashers headed home. I later heard something about a "hash crash of the year" involving Hoover, a bunch of other hashers, and the 2nd Cumming's bag, but I was too busy downing free drinks at Victory Pub. I must say the locals at this particular bar were very bemused by the hash, to the point of insisting that Chunnel not leave on her own when she was clearly leaving with a decent-sized group. Good to know chivalry is still alive and well in East Boston.
- Bloody P*ssy (with help from Cocksmith and Bring Out the Gimp)