Missed a hash? Catch up on all the trash here...
|The Mad Hatter Hash
(almost 8 years ago)
Hares: Nice Tits and Just Jess (Chunnel)
Bag Car: Nipples Erectus
RA: 2nd Cumming and Necrophiliac Jack
Dementors: Beat By a Girl and Jamaican me C#m
Scribe: The Maid of Honor
Where: Pre Lube at the Powder House Pub
Pack: (or as I like to call them: those F#ckers who wouldn't stop coming through the door making me write so much instead of drinking) An@l Beads, High Anus, Cock Monkey, Sh!tonya (Coolest H@sher from the north), Phbbbbzzt?, Hoover McSuck 'n F#ck, Suckit Wrench, Jimmy Crack Whore, Sugar Plum Fairy, Watergate, F#cks like a Rabbit, Piss Stop, Just Matt, Cocktologist, F#cksaw, Just Ted (Mooseknuckles), Cum Fly with me, Wicked Witch of the Wet (German visitor!), Tampon Jelly, Catheter the Great, Dude Where's my Virginity, Just Emmie, 5” penalty, Spank me may I have my mother, Sextra Credit, Octop#ssy, Bend Over Mommy, Goat Throat, Beat By A Girl, Hare Club, Just Mike, Spunk in the Trunk, Just Sager (A La C#nte), Bring out the Gimp, Grease My Monkey's Nuts, Far from F#ckin, Fire in the Hole, Granny Sex?, Just Jason, Mr Bean.
Virgins: Virgin Andy, Under-aged Virgin Lea, Virgin Alden (dad of Virgin lea and Just Jason), Virgin Cat, Virgin Emma, Virgin Evan, Virgin Paula, Virgin Sarah (or as I think of her: “HOLY SH!T YOU MEAN SHE HAS A TWIN!?!?!? and to be referred to as by her future name of: Fire in the other hole!)
Late C#mmers: Wang Chunks, Willy Wonka and the Back Door Factory, Jamaican me C#m, Bringham Tounge, The Buttler Hit It, Shawskank, Queer leader, Stretch P#ssy, Floppy D!ck
God I hope that is everyone. Took me long enough to write that all down. If I missed you, than you are probably not that cool for not introducing yourself to me. Now back to your social phobias and no heckling the Scribe! If this is not the case than you proved unmemorable. My suggestion would be to submit your name, number, and willingness to wear a furry costume while running on the side of a full be3r to the scribe. I digress!
The Pack started our day out at the Powder House Pub. (for all you future Hares this is a pretty god On-In. Very cheap be3r and pizza located next door. The owner has screwed us over with space a few times... but at $6 a pitcher we can be forgiving)
A mad mad assortment of hats was indeed on display. AB had a flasher hat, 2C had a bunny cap which later fellated him, and MOH demonstrated a proper respect for safe hashing by wearing a safety helmet. Virgin Alden had a goofy hat, which seems all the more appropriate as he brought us his under-aged virgin daughter. While we are very accepting of virgin sacrifices in the H@sh, we do insist that they can be legally inebriated before we do so. Soon... So Soon! (All creepiness brought to you courtesy of the mind-bending, Pedo Stache I'm sporting for next week's Stache H@sh at Our House East, 2:30 HST 11/29)
Interesting side note. I am writing this trash out on a new laptop. Apparently there is training period to get the spell checker in line with some of my terminology. For instance, “fellated” it refuses to accept or even give a comparable replacement for. And flagellated is fun but not what I was thinking just now. Save it for Stocks and Bondage round 2.
AB: “Your stache is so awesome! I wish I had one to warn the kids about my proclativities. So jealous MOH!”
2C was labelled as “size M”
The Hares set out and the pack went outside for circle. The astounding number of virgins and visitors got the pack all hot and bothered. Perfect start for trail. We soused out trail. We really enjoyed finding a stop light which faced directly off of the train bridge at the beginning. No car has seen those lights in many years. Way to be MA DOT.
The trail wound it's way away from the comfort and normalcy of the Red Line. We wound our way deeper and deeper into East Somerville out of Camberville. Along the way the hares treated the pack to many a tit-check to which the fine ladies of the pack were happy to comply. Spreading joy and cheer to the pack and on-lookers.
We burst forth from the bowels of Slummerville (this is what you get for picking a scribe from Davis) and crossed the Wellington bridge towards President's landing and Wellington Station. We found our first BN and all cheered. Several miles later of arduous hunting we actually found the BC behind a parking garage for Wellington Station (I have been informed by the esteemed Harriet that the distance between BN and BC was “relatively short.”) (We were “relatively thirsty” at this point and will hear no further arguments as to the distance travelled for be3r).
A fine assortment of the finest fare awaited us in the bushes (PBR and high life count). MOH declared he needed to hump a leg for warmth. Goat helped him out. FML. Though it was warming. Still warding off the chill (and looking for cheap excuses to rub all up on...) we revived the Pearl Necklace's penguin huddle and several of the pack crowded in together while jumping around and making penguin squawkings. Sh!tonya is the bomb or this. Somewhere in here the pack spotted Rent-A-Cops looking down on us from their garage. Was it fear? Disapproval? Awe? We may never know. The Police also did a drive by but didn't even bother to stop and make us drink faster. Made for an excellent excuse to drink faster anyways.
Fire in the Hole caught up to us with “HOLY SH!T YOU MEAN SHE HAS A TWIN!?!?!?” (AKA Virgin Sarah) Amidst the conversation ensuing from this the name: “Fire in the other Hole” was tossed about. What an excellent name. If only there was some way a permanent record of this brilliant idea could be maintained...
(Full disclosure: the scribe is recovering from serious things for both hot red heads and twins. This was quite the moment.)
The Pack set out and quickly were directed up the stairs of the parking garage. Only to be cut off by the rent-a-cops. The garage is apparently “A no trespassing area, which is only for people with cars in the garage.” Thanks for that info... Also “The Medford police are on the way.” Bugger! The pack back-tracked down the steps and went after trail. BOM and MOH went back for the walkers to let them know that this was a poor time to relax with the beverages. All turned out ok.
Several wrong ways later we got back on track in the neighborhoods of Medford. Also there were even more tit checks and not a single hasher was stranded. I'd suggest that more d!ck checks need to be laid down to repay the harriets, but something tells me they might not appreciate the gesture. Trail met a turkey/eagle where none of the pack felt able to follow the turkey trail. Instead all found a path over a wall and fence junction, complete with BBQing neighbor to complain about us damaging his fence. I guarantee the aesthetics of the giant hole in the fence belonging to the decrepit railroad are were in no way changed by the pack's passing. (Ow Ow! To Phbbbzzt....'s running kilt going up and over this wall!)
Followed the abandoned tracks for a bit and burst back onto the roads near a commercial Bakery churning out chocolate chip cookies. The smell was.... Well if someone ever makes that into a perfume/cologne I promise it will get you tail.
Followed some roads through commercial districts and blasted past a check mark. Just Sager was clever enough to turn and check the sketchtastic parking lot next to the check. Wise man. We turned around after our trail died and found BC #2. Can't remember if anything worthwhile happened at this BC, but this will amuse you: Something like this (SFW)
The Hares and pack away one more time. Short bit of trail later and we found the On-In at Honey Fitz.
If you would like to see a map of where we went than here you go to this Google Map. The anonymous source of this really cool map would like to inform everyone that if someone tries and call them out for tech on trail they will be forever remembered for the time they tried to pleasure Bob Dole.
Nice Trail Hares!
By which I mean: S H I T T Y TRAIL
Comments on trail
Virgins! 6 Virgins enter... Hey where the cr@p did our other virgins go? The Virgin family realized at some point that perhaps this was not the right place for an under-aged daughter... may be right!
Visitors! (holy bajesus there were a lot of you too!)
Sh!tonya (Burlington), Wicked Witch of the Wet (Germany), Jimmy Crack Whore (Happy Valley), Suckit Wrench (Happy Valley?), C#nt Monkey (lazy scriberville), Watergate (I give-upia), and F#cks like a Rabbit.
The scribe notebok was stolen at this point and there is a very important message written for the scribe to pass on to the kennel. If any of you can decypher the code of three pictures of cocks, one set of boobs, “cocksucker”, “penis”, and another cock picture than please inform the pack of the meaning.
The H@sh went in peace.
And then played limbo. Willy Wonka used this opportunity to show the dangers of uncontrolled forward momentum. Luckily she had a carefully placed wall to impede her dangerous trajectory.
And that's about it.
-The Maid of Honor
Special thanks to P!ss Stop for the groovy new Scribe email and the postings to the H@sh trash Blog. http://bostonhash.blogspot.com/
|The Return of GAP
(about 8 years ago)
HARES: General Ass Pounder, Goat Throat
BAG CAR: Cums Alone
WEATHER: sunny, warm, a great day for a hash
A: Mt. Vernon Pub, Somerville near Sullivan Sq.
B: The Hong Kong in Quincy Market, Boston
Turkey Beer Check: on the water taxi across Boston Harbor
FRB Shot Check: at the wrong park Paul Revere Park near the wrong Marriott in Charlestown (was supposed to be in Boston. Christopher Columbus Park and Rose Garden, a bag car oops)
Visitor: Pig F*cker from Half Mein (he had to leave before the circle started)
Late Cummers: Wang Chunks, An Inconvenient Poop, Welcum Wagon
Bend Over Mommy, Brigham Tongue, Bzzzzzzzzzz (or something like that), The Buttler Hit It, Catheter the Great, Cocktologist, Dirty Latte Sanchez, Dribbles, Dude Where's My Virginity, Fire in the Hole, 5" Penalty, Floppy Dick, F*cksall, Gay Pride, High An*s, Immaculate Erection, Jamaican Me Cum, Just Ben, Just Jennie, Just Melvin, Just Mike, Just Ted, Krusty the Meatmeister, Necrophiliac Jack, NAMBLA (left before circle or got lost somewhere), Nipples Erectus, Pat My Fly,Peppermint Pussy, Petting Officer Stuffing *ss, Queerleader, Sextracredit, Shawshank, Spunk in the Trunk, Stick it to the Bros, Taj My Hole, The Second Cumming, Time of the Munch, Willie Wonker & the Back Door Factory, You Want to Blow
The Start, the trail:
Hashers gathered at the Mt. Vernon Pub, vastly outnumbering the somewhat nonplussed regulars. Eventually, the hares took off to set live trail. The pack finished their beers and circled outside. Trail took off through the wilds of E Somerville and Charlestown. Eventually trail led the pack to a turkey-eagle split. The turkeys went to the Charlestown Navy Yard, where they boarded the commuter ferry across Boston Harbor. As Bag Car driver I had to drop off the beer for the turkeys with Goat Throat and then get to the Eagle vodka check. GAP said he'd be at the park near the Marriott, and I saw him run past the Marriot in Charlestown, and had a blonde moment, and assumed the check was at the wrong park. Shortly thereafter the eagles arrived at Paul Revere Park and they had their vodka check there. We thought we were probably in the wrong place, but the eagles, bless em, figured it didn't matter too much where they had their check. They then crossed through the locks at the end of the Charles River for a scenic meandering through the North End and other environs of downtown Boston. Several got lost, somehow following traces of earlier hash runs, but some did make it to the park, where they rejoined the turkeys for the remainder of the trail. Rumor has it trail may have gone over Beacon Hill prior to arrival at the hash favorite venue, the Hong Kong.
Those who arrived at the on-in early, pre-lubed with scorpion bowls, or good beer. And they waited for the pack to arrive. There were civilians at the Hong Kong, but most left in haste once the pack arrived.
The Second Cumming was RA (I think, I was in the back row). Comments on the run included: Not enough boat rides, not enough swimming, best trail I've run in a long time (a late cummer), not enough cops, no tit check, too many old marks, too many pack marks, more stairs, way too many marks for a GAP trail, no marks but I got here anyway, not enough old people ready to die, not enough impromptu beer checks. GAP was welcomed back to Boston (only visiting, he's doing well in med school in Baltimore) and given his well-deserved down down.
We finally did hash religion, and adjourned to eat home made tacos provided by GAP and Peppermint Pussy. And it was good in Hashland.
--Cums Alone, Scribe & Bag Car Driver
|Beaver Moon Hash
(about 8 years ago)
Hares: Invisidick, Just Ellen, I Licked Butts
RA: Glitoris (Hare Club)
Pre-lube: Newtowne Grille in Porter Square
Weather: Clear and not too cold (until circle, that is)
Hey, I know that some of y'all have moon names that I don't know. So if you do, send me an email and I'll make sure to use it going forward. I forgot half the pack but this is what I remember: Hare Club, Goat Throat, Bend Over Mommy, Saskapoon, Bloody P*ssy, Peppermint P*ssy, Wang Chunks (he may have been a latecummer; I'm not sure. Don't recall seeing him run, but then I am not sure I have ever seen Wang run!), Cocksmith, Willy Wonka and the Backdoor Factory, Maid of Honor, Shawskank, BBAG, Fire in the Hole, Stick It To the Bros, Nice T*ts, I Eat Teabags, Just Heather, Just Becky, Virgin Maura
From the Farmer's Almanac
"Many moons ago when hunting was vital to preparation for the winter season, Native Americans would set traps for beavers. Beavers provided warm furs to help make the cold temperatures more bearable. November was a good month for hunting beaver since the swamps were not yet frozen. So as tradition had it, November's full moon became known as the Full Beaver Moon." Hahahaha, "beavers provided warm furs." Moving on.
So I wasn't aware until this hash that MIT's mascot is the beaver. I would laugh, but Babson also has a beaver as a mascot. The best (or so I have heard) is when the diving team is announced: "the beaver divers." Not kidding. Not quite as much fun as a USC/SC Trojans vs. C*cks game but at least it's on theme. Not on theme but I am obligated to say here that nothing, and I mean nothing, is as stupid as the Stanford Tree. Moving on.
The hares were wearing cardboard beaver tails, which Just Ellen had apparently made at work. A pretty good-sized pack formed for a Monday night. The 2nd Cumming explained marks to our virgin. This was all old hat except for the pineapple check (it was supposed to be a beaver tail).
In a scene reminiscent of the previous day's hash, the pack spent about 5 minutes going every way except for the right way before finally finding trail. Trail wound through the neighborhoods before ending up in an abandoned lot on Summer Street near Davis Square, apparently owned by the T. Just Heather managed to have a hash crash at the beer check, much to everyone's amusement. After the hares had left a cop showed up. I wasn't sure whether he was more annoyed or amused, and he made us pick up trash that wasn't even ours (which someone, I wish I could remember who, actually told the guy!).
The next leg of the trail went past a shop called Kick*ss Cupcakes. This conjures up all sorts of bad, bad images. Somewhere along this leg, The 2nd Cumming found a picture of some lions sitting out with the trash. And what else to do with a picture of lions than pick it up and carry it along? Not long after that, trail craniumed up. And up. And up some more. And around a corner and up some more. Seriously, Somerville must be like the Rome of the greater Boston area or something. Luckily, someone had left a rolling chair out with the trash, which Tea Bags put to good use. Perhaps when realizing that gravity would take him back down the hill, he abandoned the chair.
The second beer check was at Bailey Park, right next to the Somerville Hospital Nursing School. At this point, The 2nd Cumming began drawing the anatomically incorrect body parts [for lions] on his lion picture. Well, really, what else do you do with a picture found on trail?
The final leg was relatively straight and downhill, and the pack had no problems finding trail, at least for a while. While the males of the pack were waiting at the beaver check in front of Butts, Ellen, and Maura's boss's house, the hares were unloading the bag car in plain sight, about half a block down the hill. Now, had the pack been aware of their surroundings and scouting for trail, rather than beaver, they would have noticed that the trail went behind the abandoned house on Central Street and through a big hole in the fence into the vacant lot, rather than around the corner, behind Wings Over Somerville, and over an 8-foot fence with a nasty picker bush on the other side. But hey it's not a moon hash if you don't have to climb something, so much of the pack climbed the fence with gusto.
Circle took place in half a building, and unfortunately I don't remember too much about it because I was too busy picking the aforementioned pickers out of my pants. Well, it beats some other things that could have gotten onto my pants.
Virgin Maura was demented to great acclaim when asked her favorite sexual position she actually asked "Do you know what a dirty sanchez is?" Seriously, Virgin Maura, you clearly don't know the hash very well! Yet. The pack attempted to name Just Ellen but couldn't think of anything so she was tossed back.
The on-after was at Razzy's, where the pack broke into a spontaneous second circle in the back room, singing "The S&M Man" and "I Used to Work in Chicago" until we were notified by management that open mike comedy night was starting and our comedy wasn't on the schedule. The funniest "comedian" was the one who started making fun of the audience, in particular Just Becky. The "comedians" were NOT happy about the presence of a drunk, sarcastic, foul-mouthed mob at the bar, mocking (loudly) every word that came out of their mouths. However, one did come up to us after his bit and said that he wanted to join the hash, probably because we will be a never-ending source of material I'd wager.
- Bloody P*ssy
(about 8 years ago)
As I did not see any Scribes present by the 2nd beer check, I thought it proper that someone enlighten those of you who missed this event as to what may have happened on trail today. I did not have the foresight to find someone with either a pen or a photographic memory so you will have to settle for what I remember of trail.
It all started at BHP with 2 bright-eyed hares: Necrophiliac Jack & Just Ted who had grand ideas of what trail could be so we sent them off with their hopes, their dreams and their eagle scout uniforms that apparent still fit after 10 years... This is what they gave us:
A start that was eerily reminiscent of STD's first trail set with Bros as we were yet again cluster fucked near Mass General Hospital. Is trail going over the Longfellow? Along Storrow? Towards North Station? Into MGH (Just Ted's Scrubs seem to indicate that this last option was possible). No! We headed down Charles St. towards Beacon and unlike the aforementioned trail... there were marks! Already this trail was looking good.
They properly falsed us over the walking bridge to the Esplanade, where Buoys and a few others decided to wait at the end of the other side until most of us had made our way over before calling it false... wankers! Once we were turned around and making our way deeper into Boston, an alley way with a pleasantly surprising BN came into few and we drank warm Miller High Life before I had even heard anyone b*tch about needing a beverage... thank you hares.
Earlier during chalk talk the 2nd Cumming had ripped up pieces of orange paper and had thrown them on the ground illustrating what we may see later on trail. A collective groan escaped from the pack as these crumbled bits easily blew away in the wind. Krusty and Kosher were among those grumbling that perhaps they could have also used pavement colored chalk... another hash favorite for laying super secret trails. These pieces of paper, however, were actually quite visible in both Macy's and Downtown Crossing were the regular patrons looked in awe as The Butler Hit It and PPBBVVvvvzzz power walked through the perfume section. Awesome!
While they did not lay any invisible marks to get the pack turned around, they did manage to get lost on their own trail and were snagged by myself @ 4:21 pm and then again by Krusty, Crucifux & IEC who missed the 2nd beer check and had to ask the hares for directions as not to miss a second opportunity @ piss warm High Life. The 2nd beer check was right in the middle of Liberty Square. We all finished our warm beers and headed in the direction Krusty indicated eventually making our way to on-in @ the Hong Kong.
Circle was relatively short and aptly led by The 2nd Cumming. The Hares sangthe S&M man and were ridiculed for getting caught and bitched at for warm beer: apparently the hash drunk has standards... who knew?
There were 4 virgins demented by BBAG and Jamaican and I apologize for either making up or forgetting your names:
Hmmm, what else about circle. Oh, the hares had small nips of alcohol to award best costumes. I believe there were 5 categories:
That rounded up our night, and Swing Low made it official.
Buoys then serenaded us with Puff the Magic Tampon earning himself a free pint at the bar and the rest of us a desire to get those 5 minutes back in addition to the daylight savings hour we got earlier today.
That is pretty much it. I hope to see you all next week, as I believe we have some hashers that need to be named: Just Ellen, Just Ted, Just Sager and Just Sara to name a few... Get to know these new hashers as we need good dirt to name them properly.
Un-officially Scribing, Tits
|The C#mbridge Salem Halloween Hash
(about 8 years ago)
The C#mbridge H*sh Hallloween run 10/24/2009
Pre-lube: Porter's Bar and Grill
Hare: Wang Chunks
Bag Car: Stretch P#ssy
RA: Krusty the Meat Miser
Surprise Scribe: The Maid of Honor
Jimmy crackwhore, Dirty layte sanchez, Dude, where's my virginity, P#ssy factory, Counterfeit dick, Peppermint p#ssy, Inconvenient poop, Fisty, Nancy Reagan, G-string, Pbbv..., Bbag, Gay pride, Cougar consulting, Cletus the fetus
So uh... I'm a lazy bum and I agreed to write this one about a month ago. Since then I have slacked like crazy. I also wasn't the designated scribe until afterwards, so no notes. We shall see what I can remember.
Now that I have whined I will commence with making up great stories about all of you.
The Pack slowly assembled in Porters and had ourselves some early afternoon brews. Apparenty MOH didn't get the memo that we were in the witches and warlocks themed costumes. Everyone else showed up in there dark garb while MOH showed up in A jester outfit and some killer running tights. Pbbzzt... and MOH remenisced about the good old days of writing suggestive messages all the way up Pbbbzzzt...'s leg on the graffiti h*sh. Oh the good ol days.
We had some strange conversations in the bar including one in which the stereotypical image of lesbians was shot down as the norm. The locals agreed. Someone may have mentioned lipstick lesbians as the cure to the broken fantasy. H*sh managed to avoid offending any die-hard feminists in our midst. We left the Porters and tromped on down to North Station.
Most of the pack managed to follow the instructions and make the train to Salem. Most...
The train ride was about as subdued as could be expected from a group of folks applying black lipstick to their male contingent and Fisty trading her corset off to another h*sher. Fisty, it looked great on you too, don't worry.
Arrival in Salem and we met up with a few more brave h*shers willing to face the drizzle. Nancy pulled up in style only to realize he and MOH were both jesters. Faux pas!
Wang let us know what we were doing and we scurried off down an abandoned rail bed. Got lost several times before finding a marked trail that actually led into Salem. Finally the travesty could begin in earnest.
Off to a good start we had a song check directly in front of a line for a haunted tour bus. Salem in October is full of a lot of freaks. Our pride continues that we can still top the bunch and really confuse, amuse, and generally make people feel uncomfortable. We rock.
Back to trail. Which, as it turns out was getting very challenging to follow. If I remember correctly, this was a dead trail on a fairly rainy day. In other words.. fading fast! We hustled down the main street of vendors in Salem, speculating that there was a trail hidden somewhere under there feet. Whatever the case was, we did find trail at the end of it. More mucking about the residential neighborhoods finally pointed us towards the harbor shore.
We found one of the best BC's ever. Wang and Stretch had a small burner out the back of a truck warming a pot of cider to which excellent things were added. This is a very good way to make the pack happy.
The BC came to an end and Wang pointed us towards the continuation of trail. More Running through throngs of costumed people.
And then we came to a very special place! A giant statue of Bend Over Mommy's ancestor. I think he was standing triumphantly with virgins fawning at his feet. Makes sense with a cool descendent like BOM.
All the vendors around town were really starting to make me hungry! Between the hot salted nuts and spicy giant sausage I was salivating. (I believe the stache made me write that again)
We found the On-In which was some chill divy bar/restaurant. No idea what it was called. Bu they were very cool with us taking over their back alley to sing songs and drink beverages.
Circle involved calling out C#mbridge virgins, hat wearers, non-costume wearers, late-c#mmers, backsliders, and generally anyone who just deserved to drink more.
Somewhere along the line Krusty found the mankiest rotting roller blade I have ever seen. Which we then tried to get one of the pack to drink out of. He refused claiming something about standards... BS.
Most importantly we gave a shout out to our favorite future H*sher: Cletus the Fetus (currently residing like a creepy alien in Dude, Where's my virginity's belly)
BBAG was kind enough to be a surrogate down downer for his spawn.
We finished up and went into the bar to settle into many pitchers and a bunch of cheap, mostly edible food.
We took our dear sweet time and missed the first train. So that lead to more pitchers.
Which got us into fine form. I can now continue my H*sh grooming styles commentary with a shout out to Fisty sporting the Adult woman, full, but not out of control styling.
Eventually we extricated ourselves and blazed a trail back to the train. With so many pitchers in us it just didn't seem right to let the peace rest. And so we sang. Oh did we sing. The platform of that train may never be the same. Verse after Verse of Yogi, S&M Man, old department store, and one particularly cruel rendition of Jesus saves once a sign-board man approached us with his “Jesus Saves!” Signs.
Forget it dude. We are beyond saving.
-The Maid of Honor