Boston
Hash House Harriers

a drinking club with a running problem

Hash Trash

Missed a hash? Catch up on all the trash here...

| Mardi Parking Garage Hash | World Cup Hash | The Shiggy Trail | April Moon Hash | Marathon Monday 2010 |

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

  • When one bald guy drinks, one bald guy drinks! –Yankee, explaining why he will soon be needing a liver transplant
  • I’m kind of a whore. –Rosetta Bone
  • Who *hasn’t* made out with Kosher in a bathroom? –Jack
  • When you’ve just been talking and you see the scribe furiously writing stuff down, that’s not a good sign. -Jack


World Cup Hash (over 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
ON-IN: Doyle’s
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.)

PACK
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.

TRAIL
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 (over 8 years ago)
Hares: +2 Coonass, Dazed and Confused
Bag Car: Just Hayley
Weather: Nice
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)
On-In: Roggie's

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)

ON-ON
April Moon Hash (over 8 years ago)
Hares: Bloody P*ssy (Brigham Tongue), Cocksmith (The Buttler Hit It)
Bag Car: Accidental An*l
RA: Tw*t My Mom
Wangers: Better Late Than Pregnant, C*m Locker, Fat Box (Willy Wonka and the Backdoor Factory)
Pre-lube: J.J. Mulligan's, Braintree
On-in: Casa de Brothers Just (Scott, Brad, and Kyle)
Weather: mid-60s to mid-50s as the night wore on; overcast but not raining although it did sprinkle at one point (in the graveyard, of course!)

Pack: Bolitas An*ales, Bring Out the Gimp, Peppermint P*ssy, Yankee Pay $5 More, Octop*ssy, Bondage Barbie, Spitz, Immaculate Er*ction, Just Scott, Just Brad, Just Kyle, The Crying Gay (I Eat Tea Bags), Tongue Me Please, e=I'm a Douche

Well, we got started very late. The hares were wicked disorganized if I do say so myself, sheesh. And then everyone wanted to visit and take pictures! But seeing as I'm one of the hares I can only describe what I heard from trail, and where it went.

Soooo … trail started out through the municipal parking lot and up some side streets to Thayer Academy where there was a song check outside the `edmaster's office. I can only hope they sang something appropriate to the Tigers. Then, trail ran across the athletic fields, past the track, and up by where the Thayer cross-country course runs, before craniuming over towards the lake. There was a check with a false that led up towards Braintree High School. Peppermint P*ssy was in the front of the pack up to this point, when she went the wrong way. Oops.

Next, trail cut down south for a block or so before going through a graveyard, and over a very tall fence. I am pleased to report that all hashers made it over the fence, despite some protestations (well, one could just as easily walk around if one were so inclined). Although trail ran along the beach and included a song check, for some reason everyone skipped out on this but managed to find trail when it left the municipal beach. From here, it was a pretty straight shot (with a view check, which, not surprisingly, no one understood) to the first beer check which was behind an abandoned building.

Now the next leg of trail was interesting, mainly because it was unsufficiently scouted. After running down the main roads a bit, trail went over a bridge, along a river (on what the hares swore was public property but some abutters had other ideas and hassled the pack a bit), through a bunch of brambles and sh*t. Now, Cocksmith swore that there was a way to get through this to a public park ahead. I had no idea that I would get cut up so much that would still have scratches on my legs a week later, but, well, at that point it was too late to turn back! Eventually we all emerged on the other side. The pack, when running through here, found a wooden ladder with three steps that they took with them and apparently used in all sorts of places (like crossing a stream, climbing a fence, etc.) to the point where they apparently wondered if it had been placed there on purpose to ensure completion of the rest of trail!

After emerging from the woods and going through a park, the trail crossed a major road, wound behind some buildings by another lake (there was a fabulous view from here, if anyone stopped to see it), across a looooong parking lot to a check by the railroad tracks. Apparently no one ran the false, because again, where Cocksmith is involved, trail is going to involve live railroad tracks. Well, no one was killed. At the top of the hill emerging from the tracks there was a HUGE break in the fence, under which one could easily climb. But instead, the pack apparently used the ladder to climb the gigantic fence.

Then, trail went through another cemetery where there was a CB3, which somehow managed to lose the pack for about 15 minutes. I mean, you came from one direction, there is a CB the other direction, it's not like it's a CB27 or anything like that … and you're in a graveyard where the marks are on ROADS and not grass. I mean, how hard can it be? Ha, well anyway eventually the pack found the trail, including the zombie check, claimed that they didn't know they were on trail but well at some point they found the beer check which was among extraordinarily large piles of composting leaves and other organic detritus (it was the Braintree Municipal Leaf Composting Site, to be official). I am proud to report that Peppermint P*ssy was FRB at both of the beer checks! She had a good nose for where trail was going today, apparently.

The hares got a bit of a late start due to leaving both cranium lamps in bag car when assisting bag car with the beer. Oops. Well, after the leaf composting site the trail went down a couple of residential streets down a hill into a park. There was a check by some tennis courts where dirt trails ran in two directions. Now at this point, yours truly got somewhat lost because there were more trails but I had scouted during the day and could no longer see them. So, I decided to cut and run, but then wound up arguing with my co-hare and the end result is that the pack was literally about 200 feet from us at a couple points from here on out, but apparently didn't realize it. This is why I generally prefer to scout trail in its entirety, preferably twice, before haring but that just didn't work out logistically this time, unfortunately.

So, from here on out we laid check after check, t*t check after t*t check, and basically took the main roads up past the shopping center to the Braintree T, where we *again* managed to get lost by turning the wrong way out of the station (the exit Cocksmith had scouted was not the one I was familiar with). I am really not sure how we didn't get caught. One of the Brothers Just saw us, I can no longer remember which one, but he wasn't on trail so we told him to get his butt back on trail. I don't count that and besides, by the time he hopped the wall we could have laid a t*t check to stop him in his tracks, ha! Eventually we figured out the right way to go and laid trail to the end.

Circle was in the backyard, and, yes, the parents of the Brothers Just were watching from the driveway. Hopefully the kids will be let out again to play after this …

The hares led the pack in a stirring rendition of "Follow the Hares" even if Cocksmith did have to try and make trouble by suggesting that his wife won't be coming back from South Africa. Well, we'll see ...

Comments on trail (note that I don't really understand all of these, Gimp was taking notes and he even claimed he wasn't very good at it, so I say, don't quit your day job. Or, let Douche be scribe (hope you get a job soon, Douche!)):
  • Tw*t new song fail
  • Cocksmith Italian fail
  • Moon hash is the hangover hash from the Seacoast An*lversary hash
  • 12 months without a Bloody P*ssy
  • Too short
  • Not enough graveyards
  • Not enough blood
  • Good shiggy
  • Great shiggy
  • I didn't break a sweat
  • The description didn't mention needing a tetanus shot
  • I got lost for 2 hours
  • Not enough d*ck checks
  • Not enough uses for the ladder
An approximation of what happened in circle:
  • FBI/FRB – Peppermint P*ssy and Tw*t My Mom; DFL – Yankee Pay $5 More
  • The Brothers Just were apparently Mexicans, and were made to put the ladder over their craniums (the RA said head so we paused to comment), and drink beer while turning around in a circle.
  • So then we tried to name Just Brad. Through this process we heard a number of inappropriate stories that I refuse to commit to paper, other than to report that apparently he once had a girl run out of the room when he showed her his c*ck. Now, as embarrassing sexual situations go, that one is a winner! Oh, and to report that we did *not* name him Nasty Meat Whistle because he liked the name. And his parents report that "he's the good one." So remember that, ladies!
  • Backsliders – Tongue Me Please, Immaculate Erection, Just Scott, Just Kyle, Just Brad, C*m Locker (wait, what? She hared the m*rathon hash! Well, whatever), Octop*ssy
  • Bloody P*ssy drank for losing a hubcap (s*x toy I guess) on trail, as well as a pair of panties that were not lost on trail but were in a pair of Under Armor shorts that I thought were Gimp's. Oddly, he took my panties and did not take the shorts (the shorts are still in my car). But he did return the panties. And, for the record, they were clean – the darn things must have come out of the laundry together. Or, at least, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.
  • Sweat test failure – C*m Locker, Fat Box, and The Crying Gay who apparently doesn't sweat. And Bondage Barbie and Spitz, who walked. Not sure why Immaculate didn't drink because he walked too, but maybe he does sweat.
  • Tongue Me Please drank for being the only one who did NOT have blood on trail. I am really not at all sure how she managed that, to be quite honest.
  • Moonburn – Bondage Barbie, Yankee Pay $5 More, e=I'm a Douche, The Crying Gay, Accidental An*l, C*m Locker, Bolitas An*les, Peppermint P*ssy, Bloody P*ssy, and Bring Out the Gimp for being bald. In other words, it was pretty well a social. Moonburn, pffft.
  • Speaking of bald, Gimp and Yankee did an honor down down for Glitorus (Hare Club) who is, as always, at the moon hash in spirit
  • Technology on trail – Tongue Me Please, and one of the Brothers Just, so all the Brothers Just drank
  • Bondage Barbie accused Yankee Pay $5 More of joining the walkers (hahaha, probably it was that second leg that did him in). So, again, Gimp joined him because he is bald.
  • Then someone accused Peppermint P*ssy who apparently was a walker at some point along the trail, of being spotted in a car asking for directions. Or, possibly, Peppermint accused one of the walkers of being seen in a car. Eh. Whatever, someone drank …
  • Then we sang a song for Wang. Don't remember why.
  • Next, Douche drank because he had sustained some sort of repetitive motion injury on his right arm. Can't imagine how that could have happened. Well, actually we could, which is why we made him drink.
  • For some reason, people wearing moon hash sweatshirts, hares, bald guys, and all Braintree residents drank. Just Brad did not finish his down-down but somehow escaped a redo.
  • At around this point the parents got bored and stopped observing our shenanigans, so the Brothers Just drank again, and were joined by the hares because someone accused Cocksmith of something (ok in case you haven't noticed by now, I have written these last 5 bullets just now and I can't remember quite what happened. Moral of the story is, write the hash trash before you have to make sh*t up!)
Last but not least, and this I do remember, I did an honor down-down mainly because I am now a proud resident of Cape Town, Western Cape, South Africa (as Google keeps insisting I enter it) but ostensibly the reasons were that my last few trails had some serious hills and serious shaggy, and apparently yellow fever although that doesn't make a lot of sense as Massachusetts is not in the yellow fever belt. Nor is South Africa, in case anyone is now scared of coming to visit me …
Announcements … GAP is sold out, NURD is still open. Well, considering it's on today this news is a bit late!

The next moon hash is May 22nd at Tea Bags' something. It looks like rash. It's probably house.

Following circle, we tried to order pizza only to discover that literally every place in the area was closed. Apparently Braintree shuts down of a Sunday night, around 8:30pm. As I write this now it sounds a bit ludicrous but it was annoying at the time. Anyway, Applebee's was open and willing to accept us so we all caravanned down there where more hilarity ensued. We christened Bolitas Anales "Rough McNasty" as a moon hash name but as it didn't happen in circle I'm not sure it counts. I will leave that to the powers-that-be to decide. Apparently BA is moving to Kentucky (which we all agreed is more exotic than Africa) for school, after spending the summer in California. BA, we will miss you!

Heard before and after the hash:
  • "It's not big enough." – Peppermint P*ssy
  • "If I can have s*x with a condom on, you can dance with a ladder on!" – Spitz
  • "How far into her was he?" – Yankee Pay $5 More
  • "I don't have a pen*s! I'm a lady!" – Spitz
  • "I lost $.60!" – Spitz (wow that looks weird, and I've only been in SA for less than one week!)
  • "The hard part is breathing. I was breathing beer fumes." – Douche
  • "I'm also not pregnant." – Gimp
  • "You all will enjoy me by the end of this meal." – Douche (yes, he really said this, and yes, it was as terrifying then as it seems now)
  • "How much have you had to drink before you got here?" – waitress to Octop*ssy
  • "Oh you want my number?" – Douche (this was accompanied by quite the wink, although I can't for the life of me remember who he was winking at but I think it was Bolitas Anales)
  • "Bolitas is the only man at this table I'd be gay with." – Douche (yes, he really said this, and yes, it was as terrifying then as it seems now)
  • "I don't even know my roommates and I will force you on them." – Douche (yes, he really said this, and yes, it was as terrifying then as it seems now)
  • "That's not a fry that's a puddle of goo." – Accidental An*l
And, a conversation that still cracks me up now:
  • Waitress: "Do you need a box for that?"
  • Bolitas Anales: "No, I'm going to eat the hell out of it."
  • Waitress: "Beat the hell out of it?"

Marathon Monday 2010 (over 8 years ago)
Apologies in advance for the sketchy nature of this write-up. I'm not even sure why I'm doing it other than that I promised I would.

Pack at Beer Check: (as far as I can remember it ... I know I am missing a ton and I probably have people in here who didn't c*m!) Peppermint P*ssy, High An*s, C*m is Kosher, Grease My Monkey's Nuts, Puff'n'Stuff, The Buttler Hit It, Brigham Tongue, Sp*nk Me May I Have My Mother, Mexican H*mping Queen, Be All That You Can Blow, Stick It to the Bros, Screaming Japanese Girl, Bleeps Sweeps and Creeps, N*pples Erectus, Bend Over Mommy, Goat Throat, Uncle John, Donkey Ho Te, Friar F*ck, Maid of Honor, GAP, Bondage Barbie, Stops to Pet the P*ssy, Sugar Plum Fairy, P*ss Stop, Lube Me In, Yellow D*ck Gnome, +2 Coonass, Goes Down on Buoys, Taj My Hole, Accidental An*l, Pbvzzzzz, C*ms to the Rescue, C*m Locker, C*ms Alone, Willy Wonka and the Backdoor Factory

"Hare": Brigham Tongue

RA: GAP

Pack at Circle: (there were more in & out and at Crossroads but I can't even come close to remembering everyone. Fortunately, my memories of circle were aided by the Facebook pictures of one of the virgins. Unfortunately, these pictures are on Facebook): Peppermint P*ssy, The Buttler Hit It, Brigham Tongue, Sp*nk Me May I Have My Mother, Bleeps Sweeps and Creeps, N*pples Erectus, Goat Throat, GAP, Bondage Barbie, Stops to Pet the P*ssy, Sugar Plum Fairy, DEEP Black Hole, `Edmaster, P*ss Stop, Save a Tree Ride a Cowboy, Goes Down on Buoys, Taj My Hole, Accidental An*l, Immaculate Er*ction, e=I'm a Douche, Willy Wonka and the Backdoor Factory, Stick It to the Bros, Spitz

Giving out beer at the m*rathon … what can I say, it's harder than you might think! Lube Me In had arrived there quite early to get a good parking spot on Comm. Ave, which he used to power a flat-screen TV off of his car battery. Nice setup, and it allowed us to watch the coverage of the r*ce, the better to see when the elites would be coming by.

The only reason I am bothering to write trash about this at all is that this group of strange people handed out papers in sealed envelopes. The contents of this are pretty hilarious and there is no way I can do it justice except to quote certain segments. At one point I was loudly summoned from the grill where I was cooking some wieners because, apparently, it was very important that I write this up in hash trash. Please note that I am not correcting for grammar:

  • "It just happens to be that the white race has set up the many so called religions. They are the ones who portray all the people in the Bible as white. The scriptures do not teach this. They are the ones behind the atheists. They are the ones behind Santa Claus, Christmas and the Easter bunny and the trinity." Yes, they were giving this to white people. If I am behind the Easter bunny then I can say I'm proud of it!
  • "All the religions of the world are set up by the devil. God only set up one true religion … This message is not for the purpose of gathering members, but to defend the word of God. Because you people have been misusing the word of God for a long time." Um, if *all* the religions of the world are set up by the devil, does this make the one religion otherwordly?
  • "The Boston M*rathon is a good example of mankind's stupidity. People want to glorify themselves. They run so that they can be seen. What have they accomplished? The bad spirits in them want to keep the people so occupied with silly things like the M*rathon. They run 26 miles and put tremendous stress on their body." – Yes, I am sure THAT is why people run the m*rathon.
  • "Those who sit around and watch the people run are just as silly because they are wasting their time encouraging the runners to behave in such silliness." – Wonder what handing out beer to runners would be considered?
  • "This m*rathon is just an example of people wasting their time. You are all lost in sin and going to hell." – No comment
  • "We are telling you this so that you have no excuse that you were not warned. What a shameful bunch of human beings." – Reverse psychology at work??

For more information or perhaps amusement check out www.hear-the-truth.com.

So anyway I had marked "trail" from Crossroads to Sp*nk Me's, because we had so much leftover beer and the bar was crowded, but we wanted to make sure everyone could find the place.

At some point in the evening, I was inside, something happened to trigger a circle. Someone called "And the hares!" and someone yelled out that I was the hare. Well, whatever, I laid the closest thing to a trail for the day and I didn't mind an excuse to drink …. For some reason Goat drank with me. Can't remember why.
Comments on trail:

  • Not long enough
  • Too many marks
  • Not enough t*t checks
  • Not enough d*ck checks
  • Not enough locals at Corner Pub asking me what I was doing (GAP wouldn't let me make my own comment at circle but he can't stop me here!)
  • What trail?

Hmmm, what else happened in circle?

People who had giveaway socks drank. People who wore m*rathon shirts drank and I drank because I thought that Bros, who had abandoned circle to go hit on someone was wearing a very similar color but it turned out not to be the same.

Visitors drank. I drank because I'm moving. Someone accused SATRAC of having new shoes. She swore they were not new. GAP smelled one and proclaimed it stank. When asked for a second opinion I agreed. It wasn't the worst-smelling shoe ever but most certainly did not smell new. When SATRAC complained that I said her shoe was stinky I asked if she wanted to drink out of it or not!

Oh, and we had virgins! Just Melody apparently made them all c*m, and Peppermint P*ssy attempted to dement them but for the most part they were not cooperative:

  • Virgin 1 just laughed at everything. Then she brought out her phone and started texting in circle!
  • Virgin 2 refused to give his real name or really do much of anything except refuse to cooperate. Peppermint kicked him back and refused to dement him.
  • Virgin 3 … don't remember much
  • Virgin 4 was asked what her favorite circus animal was. I think she said bear. But she refused to make the sound of a bear having an orgasm, so Goat Throat who had been a bear for m*rathon did so for her.

Then we all drank a bunch more. And GAP had an 8:30 bus he was trying to catch. Despite asking the time every 15 minutes since about 6pm, and claiming he wanted to get on the bus early, at about 8:25 I saw him sitting on the floor with his laptop plugged in and yelled at him that he needed to go. Not sure if he caught his bus or not; I sure hope he did!

Well that's all I can remember. And there goes 10 minutes of your life you're not getting back!

- Brigham Tongue