Hash House Harriers

a drinking club with a running problem

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| 2010 Boston Marathon Hash | New Moon Marathon Hash | Easter Hash | Johnny Cash Hash | March Madness Hash |

2010 Boston Marathon Hash (over 8 years ago)

Bag Cars: Spitz, Sp*rm Bumpin Shorty, Just Amanda -> C*ms to the Rescue
RA: The 2nd Cumming
Hares: An*l Beads, Maid of Honor, C*m Locker, Fire in the Hole

Pre-lube: Hennessy's upstairs, Boston
On-in: Kitty O'Shea's upstairs, Boston
Weather: Varied! Started off high 40s and drizzling, ended cloudy and in the 50s

Pack O'Locals
1 Girl 2 Cups, Accidental An*l, Aim For My Chin, Be All That You Can Blow, Bend Over Mommy, Better Late Than Pregnant, Blows My Mind, Bondage Barbie, Brigham Tongue, Bring Out the Gimp, Catheter the Great, C*cktologist, Coochie Monster NumNumNum, Crucifux, C*ms Alone, Deaf Dumb and Do Me, D*ck Jockey, Dirty Latte Sanchez, Double Flush, Dribbles, Drippy Spigot, Dumbledocker, E=I'm a Douche, Five Inch Penalty, Gay Pride, Goes Down on Buoys, Grease My Monkeys Nuts, Hare Club for Queers, Harpoontang, Headmaster, High An*s, Hoover McSucknF*ck, Horse's *ss, I Eat C*m, I Eat TBags, I Heart Poo, I Licked Butts, Just Jess, Just Becca, Just Hayley, Just Jeremy, Just Lesley, Just Sandra, Just Susan, Kick Me In The Nuts, Krusty the Meat Miser, Lick Hole Ah, Mexican Humping Queen, My Chemical Homance, NAMBLA, Necrophiliac Jack, Nice T*ts, N*pples Erectus, Papa Skwurf, Pat My Fly, Peppermint P*ssy, Pink Thing, Piss Stop, +2 Coonass, P*bic Service Announcement, Puffy, P*ssy Long Stockings , PVBPVbvpbvzzz, Save a Tree Ride a Cowboy, Screaming Japanese Girl, Shawsk*nk, Shorn Scrotum, Sketchy Ho, skibobbitt, Slush Hussy, Snatchsquatch, Spank Me May I Have My Mother, Spoonful of Seamen, Spunk In The Trunk, Stick It To The Bros, Stretch P*ssy, Sucker's Bet, Sugar Plum Fairy, Taj My Hole, Tampon Jelly, The 2nd Cumming, The Buttler Hit It, Time of the Munch, Tw*t My Mom, Used to Live with a Crack Wh*re, Vagetarian, Willy Wonka and the Back Door Factory, Yankee Pay 5 Dollar More, Yellow D*ck Gnome, and You Oughta Blow

Pack O'Visitors
69 on the Rectum Scale, Avalanche, Bleeps Sweeps and Creeps, Bobbin for Buttplugs, BORT, Brownie, Brrrggghhhhhh, Chinwacker, Circle Jerkinator, Counterfeit D*ck, Cuffed and Stuffed in da Buff, DEEP Black Hole, Deep Sh*t, Donkey Ho Te, Ear Shot, Fossil, Friar F*ck, Fuwangi Boner, General *ss Pounder, Goat Throat, Ice Princess, International Virgin, Jimmy Crack Wh*re, JuicyPearl, Just Lisa, Just Rachel, Kitty Kitty BANG BANG, Knees Up, Mount Me in the Mud, Mouthful of Girlfriend, My C*ck Is So Long That Even On A Cold Day It Flops Down and Hits The Urinal Biscuit! (Seriously? This is someone's name? I want to know how in the world he got named this and *didn't* like his name!), Nookie Monster, One Drunk Walking, One Hasher At a Time, Peace O Chum, Phantom of the Areola, Pig F*cker, P*ssy Factory, Roscoe Pee C*m Stain, Seizehercooch, Sister Golden Showers, SpongeBath SquarePants, Stops to Pet the P*ssy, Swamp Gravy, Swamp Whine, TheRapist, Two tickets to Pair-a-Thighs, Uncle John, Village Tool, Vincent Van Goat F*cker, Wang Chunks, Watergate and Yoron Weed

Well I would have given myself carpal tunnel typing up all those names if it weren't for the wonders of cut & paste. Where do all you circus freaks c*m from anyway???

M*rathon Saturday: the pack gathered on a cold, drizzly day. To all those people who said it never rained on m*rathon day, thanks a lot! Not much of great interest happened at the pre-lube other than that we got to check out each others' costumes, or in the case of those of us who declared it too cold to wear our costumes, we had to explain this over and over. When I first laid eyes on The 2nd Cumming and from across the room, I thought he was a girl. Not kidding.

Then someone yelled "bag car, 2 minutes" so I chugged the rest of my beer. But bag car was not for another 10 minutes or so, whee. Eventually after piling everything into the three cars, we craniumed up to the Government Center plaza next to the circus tent for chalk talk and introductions. This took about 20 minutes, but luckily it was already warming up at this point. And, perhaps just as luckily, no trapeze artists came flying out of the air to hit any of us. Group photos took another 5 minutes, so let's just say there was no shot of a hare snare on this first leg!

Of special note is that the satellite map on Google shows the circus at Government Center. It does not, unfortunately, show us. :( Anyway after all the photo opps we quickly found trail, which went right by BBAG and Dude's place. Unfortunately they were not out front with Cletus (I mean Emmet), or, if they were, I didn't see them.

Predictably, after that, we went down the stairs into the Boston Common. I skipped out on the real trail and ran over the ice rink because I thought that was more fun. We had a song check in the middle of the Public Garden, amongst the willows and the tulips and the tourists, singing something about working in Chicago.

From there, trail led out to a check on Beacon Street. For some reason everyone headed outbound on Beacon, but Tea Bags, Tw*t and I decided to head into the Beacon Hill street, figuring it looked more promising. After an on one, Tea Bags saw a true trail, and we were off to the races. And by the races, I mean the footbridge over Storrow where Just Zeth was hanging out at the top with yellow and red shots.

At the end of the bridge there was a check. I followed it east which was really stupid, when I think about it, because clearly we were going along the Esplanade. Someone yelled that we were following marks from the beer mile but actually we weren't since they had been washed away. However, after a two and out, we ran part of the beer mile course up to rejoin the rest of the pack and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran (yes the Esplanade is a deathmarch, if an incredibly scenic one!), until we hit the duck-eagle split which no one including the RA understood at chalk talk. It now made sense. Ducks were supposed to swim across the water to the other side. A couple people (yes, like Goat Throat) actually attempted this but everyone else ran around. And this time, The 2nd Cumming was not able to walk on water (this was the same spot he had run across the ice on the VD trail a few months back. Yes, I remember random sh*t, so better watch out you never know what I might remember about you!).

Crossing at another footbridge, we ran down Dartmouth Street for a while. The entire pack had blown right past a check by some public alleys so a few of us stopped to scope this out. Turns out the pack was right, and trail led up, hung a left on Newbury, where we dodged a lot of bemused civilians in an interesting remake of the Halloweenie hash. A couple people including Bring Out the Gimp tried to cut the corner and run through a church archway only to be blocked by a large metal fence.

We rejoined the rest of the pack in Copley, some of whom were singing something that I can't remember and a couple people were posing on the statue of the hare and the tortoise. After we were done, a bunch of people hit up the row of port-o-potties that were there. One hasher purposefully opened the door on another hasher, prompting a "What the f*ck??" which amused me in passing as we continued on.

Next, we continued through Amtrack Back Bay station where, I think it was Spunk kept telling everyone "Welcome to Boston." I bet the ones who were leaving were thinking something entirely different. On the other side, we temporarily lost the trail before finding that it went through the T station and emerged on a narrow park on the other side. We ran down this for a little while before coming upon an unexpected but very welcome beer check. Apparently the beer check had to be moved from a park a little further away. Not sure why. I think someone said noise, but that didn't make any sense unless the beer check was moved after half the pack was already there. I mean, how much noise can 4 hares and 3 bag cars make? Ok, never mind ...

After enjoying snacks and Sam Adams and continuing to check each other out, the pack departed and ran through where the beer check was supposed to have been. I somehow wound up running into another park where I either had to backtrack or jump the fence. I bet you can guess which one I chose. We continued on for a bit, through a playground, and on through Blackstone Square into Franklin Square where we had a song check. As this one was in the shadow of some huge church, and we hadn't sung it yet, we had a nice long rendition of "Jesus Saves." Free beer!

The pack took off along Brookline Street before someone pointed out that no one had actually seen any marks. I ran up St George Street and happened to glance left into an alley where I saw a mark, and, of course, figured that was the right path. Turns out I was right - after another arrow there was the turkey-eagle split. Now, having been party to inside information that the turkey trail was over 5 miles I decided to run the eagle trail. Yes, sometimes I am a glutton for punishment.

Unfortunately, despite a number of us yelling as loud as we could, most of the pack apparently never found the split and ran the turkey trail instead. I wondered why there were so few people on the eagle trail, because usually most people run the eagle. Unless it's a GAP trail, that is, but we don't have many of those any more.

So one of the first things we ran by was a mental hospital, and P*ssy Long Stockings announced that she worked there. Either that or she lives there and is let out occasionally. So we ran along a bunch of really boring streets then across the Mass Ave Connector. It was around this time that Hare Club spotted a building full of rock salt piles and wondered why no one had run up them, so he and I headed towards them at a full sprint but we both wimped out a bit ... I was scared because I wasn't sure if the salt was going to be so soft that I would sink in, or so hard that I would trip and crash against it and hurt myself again. As it turned out, it was somewhere in between. Whatever. Buttler, showing either no fear or no common sense, take your pick, made it to the top of the pile.

Trail wound back around, down South Bay Ave and past a prison where the hares had chalked "On-Inmates" and "On-K-9" a little while later. Unfortuately the location of the K-9 had changed since they chalked it, and the K-9 decided to bark at us repeatedly. Well, to be fair, I probably would have too had I been in its position. The C.O.s, however, just looked at us with some amusement.

We continued our deathmarch, and turned left through the shiggy behind a tall fence. Emerging on the other side, we saw that trail went up some stairs to an overpass over the highway. We also saw Tea Bags on the other side of a very tall fence yelling "Help!" Of course, there was a door to the fence about three feet from him, but I guess he was having fun playing inmate for a while.

So if I thought the last deathmarch was bad, the next mile or so of trail consisted of running alongside 93. Hare Club didn't make me feel much better at this point when he announced that he knew were the on-in was and it was nowhere near here. Well, not like I didn't know what I was getting myself into. Nice T*ts and I amused ourselves by checking out the smashed up police cruisers to the right of the road, and were a little bummed when we were practically DFL to the beer check. Then I realized it made sense since we had run twice as far as all the turkeys.

Following the beer check, we made it pretty quickly to the vicinity of the Mass Pike, where we got very, VERY lost. The FRBs had hung a left on Marginal then realized there were no marks. We ran just about every direction, including the right direction several times. Turns out the first mark from the check was not only a block away from the check, but was halfway down the *next* block, so everyone who ran that route didn't see anything and came around. Well, on the plus side, we all got more exercise.

Once we finally found trail again we ran through Chinatown, dodging civilians left and right. Someone announced that there was a third beer check by the Barking Crab. At this point, nothing would have surprised me. While we did wind up going that direction, we went through South Station (again welcoming everyone to Boston) and continued up Atlantic to another song check where, again, I forgot what we sang. Well, that's what I get for not writing this up for a week.

From here I was able to follow the pack pretty easily to the end, which turned out to be Kitty O'Sheas. After most everyone had a drink, the RA called us to order and made the hares sit on the ice blocks. They announced that this felt "just awesome." Bullsh*t, bullsh*t ... after a sufficiently long rendition of "The S&M Man" (the best part was when C*m Locker wanted to sing a verse, even though her *ss was on the ice!), we shot the hares with silly string and let them drink.

Then visitors were called in but there were too many of them to sit on the ice, so they were spared. Of everything but the silly string and the drinking, that is.

So we didn't do comments on trail which means I'm just going to make up some comments of my own:
  • Not long enough
  • Too many marks
  • Not enough real ducks on the duck trail
  • Not enough t*t checks
  • Not enough pigeons attacking GAP (yes, this really happened, I saw it)
  • Not enough gambling in Chinatown
  • What turkey-eagle split?
  • Not enough civilians calling us "hash housers"
  • Not enough Japanese tourists taking pictures
  • Not enough sh*tty beer at the beer checks (well, I didn't mind and BBAG wasn't around so I guess that's OK)
For those who want to see a map of trail one can be found here.

The rest of circle
  • Nominees for best-dressed male: The 2nd Cumming, The Blue Man Group of GAP and Bros (who claimed they did not blow each other), Wang Chunks, BORT, Stops to Pet the P*ssy, Bleeps Sweeps and Creeps, Hare Club for Queers, Tw*t My Mom, Goat Throat, and NAMBLA. Unsurprisingly, The 2nd Cumming won in a landslide. I just wrote handslide, which, well, heck it seemed funny at the time.
  • Nominees for best-dressed female: Bend Over Mommy, Sketchy Ho, Sucker's Bet, C*m Locker, An*l Beads (!), Fire In The Hole, Better Late Than Pregnant, International Virgin, Coochie Monster NumNumNum, and Swamp Whine. Sucker's Bet, Bend Over Mommy, C*M Locker, and Fire in the Hole sat on the ice for a vote. Bend Over Mommy and C*m Locker were the two finalists and somehow C*m Locker wound up winning. Don't understand that one myself (no offense, C*m Locker!).
  • The 2nd Cumming and Accidental An*l drank for being FRB and FBI. Not sure being a wanger counts as being an FRB but I seem to write that every week... anyway Hoover and Yankee Pay $5 More joined them, as DFL
  • Next up was the tallest hasher: Goat Throat, 'Edmaster, Goes Down on Buoys, e=I'm a Douche, Urinal Biscuit, Be All You Can Blow and Hoover McSucknF*ck. Buoys won this one.
  • You guessed it ... shortest hasher. Sp*rm Bumpin Shorty marched into the middle of circle and no one dared challenge her. So Buoys and Shorty had a mini-drinking contest which was easily won by Shorty, especially as Buouys wound up spilling half his beer down his chest.
  • Fuwangi B*ner loudly announced "We have a f*cking loser!" when asked if there were any accusations. Clearly he was referring to himself, so he drank.
  • The half-minds who thought they were ducks instead of various other circus animals drank: Urin*l Biscuit, Hoover, Tea Bags, and Goat Throat.
  • Yellow D*ck Gnome had apparently been hounding +2 Coonass to get new shoes. He did, wore them, and made her join him in drinking out of them.
  • The following wankers lost tags on trail: Bring Out the Gimp, C*m Locker, Mouthful of Girlfriend, Krusty the Meat Miser, and P*ss Stop, who lost hers at AGM. Tea Bags lost his underwear (what's so unusual about this, I ask?). Wang lost his later, but luckily for him it was after circle and given that his costume change involved a non-circus-related bathrobe is probably not that notable anyway. So these fools sat on the ice for a while then drank a beer.
  • The following groups of people drank for wearing the same outfit: me and Bondage Barbie (as lions), GAP and Stick It to the Bros (as Blue Man Group), a bunch of clowns, and Sketchy Ho and Catheter the Great should have drank (as tattooed ladies) but Sketchy never showed up. I think Catheter should have drunk her beer in a proxy down-down but didn't think of it at the time.
  • Next up, the m*rathon co-chairs Spank Me and Dirty Latte Sanchez drank, and were joined by Nice T*ts who was hash cash aka The Bank.
  • Just Amanda was wearing a lovely fireman's outfit with an enormous d*ck protruding from the front. I am not sure what firemen really have to do with the circus, but I can't fault her on her costume, really! So as she had attended a bunch of hashes we felt it was time for her to be named. Candidate names included: Bathroom B*tch, Pipe Dreams, Hos Me Down, Period Piece, Lady D*ck, Here's to Not Sucking C*ck (my personal fave), C*ms to the Rescue, I Got Gas, Flaming Ho, and Short'n'Curlies. The group consensus was C*ms to the Rescue!
And with that, we did hash religion and proceeded to get very drunk and debaucherous. Although nothing quite like the Fat Boy, but that's a story for another scribe...

Heard on trail and after the hash
  • Hasher: "You have the best *ss of any of the harriettes!" Harriette: "Really? Whose *sses have you been checking out?" Hasher: "All of them."
  • "Oh, this is all coming off!" - Bondage Barbie
  • "That girl can swallow!" The 2nd Cumming in reference to Sp*erm Bumpin Shorty
  • "Tea Bags, be careful, you're getting it in my eye!" - Brigham Tongue (he was waving Latte's wig around like a mad man)
  • "I got of it off in the bathroom." - Stick it to the Bros (after I commented he was no longer blue)
- Brigham Tongue
New Moon Marathon Hash (over 8 years ago)
Hares: I Licked Butts, The Crying Gay (Tea Bags)
Bag Car: Mangina (aka "the Boston Strangler")
RA: Tw*t My Mom
Wangers: Better Late Than Pregnant, Accidental Anal

Pre-lube: Tom English's, Dorchester
On-in: Pavilion on the water, near the Bayside Expo Center
On-after: Tom English's, Dorchester
Weather: High 50s and clear

Pack: Sp*rm Dumpster (Buoys), Bloody P*ssy (Brigham), Glitorus (Hare Club), Cocksmith (The Buttler Hit It), Bring Out the Gimp, Bondage Barbie, Aim for My Chin, Willy Wonka and the Backdoor Factory -> Fat Box, Sucker's Bet, The 2nd C*mming, Peppermint P*ssy, Hoover McSucknF*ck, e=I'm a Douche -> Amelia Airfart, Just Megan, 5" Penalty, Yankee Pay $5 More, An*l Beads

Tom English's. Where we would have ended last week's trail if they'd given us a better deal on beer. C'est la vie. So the pack gathered for a drink, and the hares took a good long time to take off, because the pack seemed pretty small. I presume everyone was still recovering from the JP hash the night before, and weren't trying to attend every hash event in the week. Which makes them all way smarter than me.

We circled up in the parking lot next to the bar. Bag car had taken off without the chalk, so luckily Preggers agreed to take it with her. Nothing like wasted chalk.

Since we were ostensibly searching for STD on trail, this was explained to us. Printouts of STD had been printed out and would be used as checks, and two together as t*t checks. This worked pretty well until, I guess, the hares ran out of printouts. I can only wonder what the locals must have thought the next day when they saw pictures of a guy in banana yellow pants all over town.

Anyway after quick introductions we were off! It somehow took us a while to find trail, but it went east through some very nice neighborhoods with well-kept triple-deckers. Eventually we headed south, crossed Dorchester Ave again, and some idiots ran up Whitby Terrace to a checkback (STD used to live at the top of that road). I waited at the bottom. A little while later, we ended up at the first beer check which was in Mangina's backyard, which had a great view of downtown Boston, and was within spitting distance of STD's old place.

The most exciting thing that happened at the beer check is that Willy Wonka sat on a box, which was empty, and collapsed underneath her. She was spontaneously named Fat Box in honor of this event. And I think it's fair to say that she wasn't very pleased by this.

Following the beer check, we charged up to the top of the hill (!!) before, yes, running back down. Well, this is Dorchester. About halfway down was a song check where we sang a few verses of Tampon Factory. It was a pretty sad rendition since no one knew many verses and Gimp sang an exact verse over, like two verses after it had first been sung. Clearly we need to sing this song more often. At the next song check we sang Chicago, which went much better.

Coming back down off the hill, we turned back south onto Pleasant Street. For the first time we crossed over the trail from the previous Sunday. Today's hares had put a check at the bottom of the hill and since we had been up there the previous week, we at least knew trail didn't go that way. Although that would have been pretty devious.

Crossing Dorchester Ave again all the men were held up at a t*t check. Sucker's Bet and I apparently felt more like running than flashing, so we went and found the trail but the men still waited around to see some flesh. Ha. Of course, they caught up with us eventually as there was a check at Savin Hill Ave. I turned right, with Sp*rm Dumpster, figuring we'd go somewhere around Savin Hill Park. He ran right to the top of the hill and into the park then had to stop because he had no cranium lamp. Oops.

At the top of the park there was a check, and trail led down the far side, to a beer check at the bottom of the hill. We drank until we realized we were a bit chilly then craniumed off into the night, following the hares. And not following last week's marks. Not too far along there was a d*ck check that looked to me like a dog's bone and I didn't quite process what it was until right around the time that a d*ck was whipped out!

From here, trail went down a dead end street and across Morrissey Blvd. Only a few people were nearly killed, most of us waited for a good break in traffic. But we were excited by SN, which meant the shot check was near. Then somehow we managed to get lost and wandering around in the shiggy. I did get to see a beautifully naturalized daffodil.

Anyway the bottle of whatever ... whiskey of some sort but someone said it was American which would make it bourbon, no? Well whatever, it was at the Vietnam War Memorial. So we stopped there and drank most of the bottle before running on a lovely deathmarch along the water, up to a check. Trail actually ran across another pretty big road to a large grassy area where we lost it for a while and picked it up again in a parking lot. Then there was another t*t check and this time along I decided to help the guys out so I said "wait for the cars" to which someone responded "wait for them to go, or for them to get here!" Not wanting to be called in for indecent exposure, I had meant the former.

Moving along ... trail went through the shiggy for a bit before another quite long deathmarch in front of all the condos over to the on-in. Bag Car was parked a bit away so a bunch of us went to unload. Helpfully, someone had abandoned a shopping cart so we loaded it up with bags and Douche pushed it across the field, with some difficulty. Something about wheels not being designed for soft surfaces.

Comments on trail:

  • Short
  • Not enough dongs
  • Not enough deathmarches
  • Not enough locals asking what we were doing 
  • Too many arrows
  • Nothing
  • Not enough old marks
  • Not enough of Buttler's p*nis
  • Fabulous d*ck check

The rest of circle:

  • Peppermint P*ssy did an honorary down-down for STD who was not available
  • Then the GMs drank for some reason. Any excuse...
  • The 2nd Cumming and Accidental Anal drank for being FRB and FBI. Not sure being a wanger counts as being an FRB but I seem to write that every week... anyway Hoover and Yankee Pay $5 More joined them, as DFL
  • Glitorus drank for being a backslider. You'd think he had something going on in his life more important than the hash!
  • Cocksmith, Butts, and Accidental Anal drank for singing too much (??), and were joined by the other GMs. And bald guys.
  • Tonight was Tw*t's upside down 69 an*lversary. So he was demented, which consisted of demonstrating an upside down 69 with 5" Penalty, who didn't know what it was. 
  • The 2nd Cumming produced a Mexican wrist band that said "Hair Club" so made Glitorus and the other Mexicans (Yankee Pay $5 More, Gimp, Aim for My Chin, and 5" Penalty).
  • Then Sp*rm Dumpster accused Douche of looking like Montgomery Burns
  • Cocksmith accused The 2nd Cumming of racist behavior
  • I Licked Butts accused Cocksmith of finding more of my s*x toys on trail
  • The Crying Gay accused me of using the s*x toys, following that up with "I like Bloody P*ssy" which he said in such a way that he got accused of coveting another man's wife ... that would be me.
  • Then I had to drink. I'm not sure why. 
  • Aim for My Chin accused the 2nd Cumming of ignoring calls on trail from both his mom and his dad. Not sure why she knew this, but that's probably why she was made to drink, too.
  • Tw*t and the Crying Gay drank for wearing the same shirt, and they were joined by all the hares and GMs. 
  • Next, Douche had to drink for "warming up" The 2nd Cumming. Of course, he was joined by The 2nd Cumming.
  • Fat Box drank for not drinking in honor of her new name
  • Douche, An*l Beads, Bondage Barbie, Just Megan, and Suckers Bet drank for not drinking enough
  • I Licked Butts accused The Crying Gay of making false accusations. So she drank, because he didn't really make any. So all the GMs drank. Well, that's one way to get him to drink ...
  • The RA got confused and missed his own down-down so he drank for that
  • We decided to name e=I'm a Douche at the moon hash. Candidates included: Mr Burns, It Burns when I Pee, Amelia Airfart, An*l Baron, Douchebag Car, C*m In his Eyes, Squirts Too High. Amelia Airfart was the overwhelming winner. He was wearing aviator glasses on this evening.
  • 5" Penalty accused the hares of naming a hash after a Twilight movie.
  • 5" Penalty was accused of knowing the name of a Twilight movie.
  • Then the GMs drank again for some reason, with Peppermint, Amelia Airfart, and An*l Beads who were having a private party
  • Finally, there was a social for everyone who didn't accuse anyone of anything

Tired, cold, and trying not to become too wrecked before the beer mile a number of us traipsed back to Tom English's and had pizza from Pantry Pizza next door before heading out for a relatively early night. Somewhere on trail Hoover had found a license plate, complete with license plate holder. This is still in my car, as a matter of fact...

Heard on trail and after the hash:

  • "You're lucky I didn't have a few more swigs of this genuine American whiskey - I'd be on the street!" - Just Megan
  • "Well that was before I started playing with you." - Bondage Barbie to Douche
  • "And then I grabbed your leg." - Douche to Bondage Barbie
  • "Sing me a song at least before you r*pe me!" - The Crying Gay
  • "I'm glad I had goggles on." - Amelia Airfart

- Bloody P*ssy
Easter Hash (over 8 years ago)
Hares: Octop*ssy, Accidentally An*l
Douchebag Car: e=I'm a Douche, Yellow D*ck Gnome (injury)
RA: The 2nd Cumming

Wanger: An Inconvenient Poop
Pre-lube: Mission Bar & Grill, Boston (by Brigham Circle! Whee!)
Beer check: On the shores of Jamaica Pond
On-in: Midway Café, Jamaica Plain
Weather: Hot and sunny. Well, I was hot. Let the jokes begin.

Pack: Dirty Latte Sanchez, A La C*nte, An*l Beads, I Eat Tea Bags, Brigham Tongue, Jimmy Crack Wh*re, Goes Down on Buoys, Stretch P*ssy, Sucker's Bet, The 2nd Cumming, The Buttler Hit It, +2 Coonass, Taj My Hole, Dazed'n'Confused, Sugar Plum Fairy, Tampon Jelly, Pbvzzz, Just Edward -> Bolitas Anales, Willy Wonka and the Backdoor Factory, C*m Fly With Me, Just Evan, Bend Over Mommy, Tw*t My Mom, Nice T*ts, Virgin Kibbles, Horse's *ss, Blows My Mind, Virgin Leslye, Virgin Megan, Spunk In the Trunk, D*ck Jockey, Floppy D*ck

Easter, Easter. Let me see, the day that Christians become upset that spring holiday is all about eggs and the Easter Bunny, no longer about celebrating the resurrection of Santa Claus? The day the Christians worship their undead lord? Who knows. Sadly no one dressed as a zombie Jesus, but it was far too hot for that sort of an outfit anyhow.

The pack slowly gathered at the Mission, hopefully happily sated after Easter brunch. Or, you know, brunch with the family. I guess the Mission is the place to start a hash if you want unseasonably warm weather! The 2nd Cumming walked our three virgins through the marks. As it turns out, he probably should have refreshed the hares on how to draw a true trail mark, but we'll get to that later.

From the first check a bunch of us ran gamely down Tremont on a false before, DUH, trail went up the stairs by Stop & Shop, through the parking lot, and directly up a hill into a park. Then we ran down the hill, and back up the other side before pausing for a song check. Well, AB didn't pause very long for the song check but instead bounded up some stairs, announced he was either on-on or on a false (well, DUH), and waited for us to sing a couple verses about crazy sh*t that happens in Chicago. Turns out he was on-on, as we headed up the stairs through a parking lot, and out to another check.

Instead of running up or down the street, a few of us headed across the park, which turned out to be the right way. In the park there was a d*ck check, and happily for me Jimmy Crack Wh*re helped me out there. The 8-year-old boy behind me may not have been as pleased. For the record, Jimmy Crack Wh*re is one of my all-time favorite hash names. Love it, just love it. In any event Jimmy and I ran down some steps but couldn't find anything. So we ran back up, rejoined the others, and ran down a false. Apparently marks started not just down the stairs but across the street and part way down the block. Well, ok.

So we gamely ran all the way down to the bottom of the hill before finding a CB5, which was, you guessed it, at the top of the hill right by the stairs. Since Jimmy hadn't found anything going one direction earlier, we craniumed the other direction over to a song check where Tw*t and Tea Bags sang to us about a couple of starfish on a rock. And some waves. Or something, it was pretty boring.

Following the old adage not to lose elevation most people just continued straight from the song check. However, finding a quick on two, I figured that was too easy and started down a really steep hill which would have been a really, really, really bad idea except for that we finally found a third mark at the bottom of the hill around a corner about a block from the last mark (right about when I was getting really scared that I'd have to run up that hill again!).

We ran up Heath Street a bit, and Jimmy and I found some shiggy around the back of a building before rejoining the pack, running through a parking lot and then in a really long deathmarch along South Huntington Ave, before a BVC by the Jamaicaway, and another song check in the park. At one of these 81 song checks we did our duty by singing "Free Beer for all the Hashers." It might have been this one, I forget.

The deathmarch continued down the Jamaicaway. The 2nd Cumming ran off into the woods at some point for some reason and a bunch of people followed him, for no reason other than that it seemed like it might have been a good idea. Yet the trail was pretty clearly marked. It was a little boring though so maybe they just wanted some excitement.

After essentially running in circles around Olmstead Park and dodging civilians, we ran down a bunch of steps and along the edge of Jamaica Pond. The water level was quite high, causing the walkway to be single-file, and lots of trees to be coming up out of the water. The island that appears on the map? Yeah, not so much with the island. Anyway we were all quite relieved to find bag car there with some mimosas. Very theme-appropriate.

After the mimosa check we ran back across the park, across the Jamaicaway again, and through some very nice neighborhoods. At one point Sucker's Bet and I ran the wrong way from a check but happily the road connected back up again so we didn't completely have to backtrack. It was around this time that I saw +2 Coonass and Dazed'n'Confused carrying one of those wooden cut-out things people put their craniums in in order to have funny pictures taken … this one had a nice circus theme, and props to them also for carrying such a heavy object for half of trail!

So we ran along and ran along, and finally encountered an arrow that had been turned into a check. Clearly someone was here ahead of us and so we concluded that the trail could not go straight (since the CB was that direction) and instead started run in every other possible direction, but all we found was a CB going south … so either it was some sort of funky double check-back or goodness only knows … but eventually we ran straight from the checkback, to yet another song check by the Green Street T stop. Here we sang "Whip It Out at the Ballgame" in honor of the Sox opening night [soon to be win against the Yankees! Whee!!].

Continuing on, we ran down a couple of streets, across some Astroturf, down the road, and to the on-in at Midway Café. Rarely have I been so relieved to see an on-in … this weather is very taxing if you're not used to it. Fortunately I kept my mouth shut so no one could give me a hard time. About whining, that is. OK blah blah blah, comments on trail:
  • Not enough check backs
  • Egad! There was some shiggy!
  • Trail of the month
  • Not enough d*ck checks
  • Not enough churches saying take it in the rear
  • Not enough large bodies of water
You can see an approximate map of trail here.  It wound up varying a bit due to fences, or other changes of plans.

The hares, in a fit of extreme creativity, led us in a very loooooooong version of "Free Beer for all the Hashers."

Then we drank for Willy Wonka's one year Boston an*lversary. She even brought her own drinking supplies for this (a bottle of Jager). Go Willy Wonka! Then we drank for C*m Fly with Me and D*ck Jockey, who had actual birthdays that week.

Next up, Mommy demented the virgins:
  • D*ck Jockey and Nice T*ts made Virgin Kibbles c*m. Nice three-way they have going on there. For some reason, after refusing to get on his knees, he started to pull his cell phone out in circle. Not even sure what to say about this, but as it turns out he masturbated in the last week. Ok moving on …
  • Stretch P*ssy made Virgin Leslye c*m. Virgin Leslye is a kindergarten teacher and her favorite number is 13. Not being able to do anything with that Mommy moved on to
  • Virgin Megan. +2 Coonass made her c*m. She picked 26 as her number, prompting the "what's the best thing about 20 6 year olds? There are 20 of them." 
Yeah ok ok … so we accepted these virgins and moved on to discussion of all the various flavors of 69 that were written on the easter eggs that were hidden on trail. "69 shaved cats" was my favorite. I Eat Tea Bags found the egg with plain old 69 on it and for this he won a Monty Python's Holy Grail Ale.

Moving on to accusations, etc:
  • Spunk in the Trunk accused Accidentally An*l of dropping her map on trail … and not only on trail but at the first check. Ouch.
  • +2 Coonass and Dazed'n'Confused did an honor down-down for finding the aforementioned m*rathon-themed object and carrying it on trail. Then people threw eggs at it. Yippee. Despite their best efforts, these two strapping young men were unable to kiss each other by sticking their craniums through the holes. Wow, not going any further with that one. Oh, except to note that they started drinking before we started singing "down down down." Bah.
  • Just Edward and An*l Beads drank for blood on trail.
  • I Eat Tea Bags drank for falsely accusing Buoys of having a cranium cover in circle, when Buoys wasn't actually in the middle of the circle but was only standing in circle.
  • Tw*t My Mom accused Octop*ssy of managing to hare in both Boston and Montreal on the same day. And when one hare drinks… or anyone in bunny ears … or, well, pretty much anyone …
  • Then The 2nd Cumming dropped the h-bomb (aka as the h-word)
  • Next, Tampon Jelly brought up Spunk's exhortation for him to remove his clothes (see below!). 
  • All the kilted/skirted hashers then drank – Spunk, Jimmy, Pbvzzz, and Tampon Jelly
  • Jimmy Crack Wh*re drank again for being a hash wh*re and visiting us. Joining him in the down-down was Dazed'n'Confused who is a transplant from Tucson. And he's single, ladies!
  • Buoys accused Octop*ssy of dressing like a piano, then he was accused of wanting to finger her!
  • Jimmy Crack Wh*re and Floppy D*ck were accused of technology on trail, and were joined by Just Kibbles for his tech in circle. Somehow this turned into a massive social, but I didn't have any beer left, bah.
  • The hares left what was almost a true trail mark on trail … it was an arrow with two lines through it, not three. So, of course, they drank! Then Tea Bags drank for claiming this was acceptable behavior … on a moon trail, which this was not. So Buttler joined him as moon GM.
  • Brigham Tongue, and An*l Beads were FBI and FRB, respectively. For some reason I didn't quite catch, Horse's *ss, Blows My Mind, I Eat Tea Bags, and An Inconvenient Poop joined us. One of them was DFL (not sure being a Wanger counts as being DFL other than by definition…)
  • Marathon is capped, yadda yadda …
  • JP trail the week of marathon in JP (where else??)
  • Moon trail the week of marathon in Dorchester
  • GAP is coming up the last weekend in June, and will be AMAZING
  • +2 Coonass announced nothing
  • The last Sunday trail of the year is next week in Dorchester, hared by yours truly & Bring Out the Gimp. And I am willing to bet that a lot more people have read that post by now than have gotten to the bottom of this one…..
Heard before and then after the hash:
  • "No comments in the rear…" – The 2nd Cumming
  • "Tampon Jelly would you please take off your clothes. You're making me hot." - Spunk
  • "When I tell someone to take their clothes off I expect them to do so!" – Spunk
Last but not least, on the way back to the car I saw two fighter jets fresh from a Fenway flyover. Yeah, baby, that's some afterburn!

- Brigham Tongue
Johnny Cash Hash (over 8 years ago)
(because Johnny Cash is cooler than worms)

Hares: I Licked Butts, The Crying Gay
Bag Car: Bloody P*ssy
RA: Tw*t My Mom
Pack: e=I'm a Douche, Cocksmith, Goat Throat, Tw*t My Mom, Bondage Barbie, Yankee Pay $5 More, 5" Penalty
Wanger: Bend Over Mommy
Pre-lube: Casey's, Somerville
On-in: Under the Charlestown Ave Bridge in Cambridge
On-after: Courtside, Cambridge
Weather: Lousy!! 50 degrees, raining and windy; the middle of a Noreaster that continues to pummel the state

A small pack gathered at Casey's, much to the chagrin of the hares who were hoping to recycle the trail for marathon. Suckers. I was so happy to discuss Don Cherry with 5" and $5 that I nearly let my parking meter expire. Slumerville has apparently decided that it thinks it is Boston, with meters running until 8pm.

Right as we were leaving for bag car, Goat Throat showed up. Great timing, I expect running trail in the rain with a bag is probably not the most fun …

So I have no idea where trail went or what happened on trail. No one would tell me. So here is what else happened:

The beer check was in a sandbox under a roof in Ryan Playground, near the big Sullivan Square rotary. Since it was rainy, windy, and cold, we didn't stay there that long. Just long enough to drink a beer, eat some cheesy poofs, and all shout out "Moose" at the same time. And I got to relay my favorite story of an out-of-stater trying to pronounce a Massachusetts name: Cochituate came out "Cock-a-twatty." Not kidding.

So when the hares said that there was a check in front of bag car, what they neglected to note was that it was a t*t check. And of course, Goat refused to carry the beer to the car until he saw some t*ts. Well, he got me back later.

The on-in was under the bridge that connects Charlestown to Cambridge. I was quite amused sitting in my warm car watching the pack wander around through the park trying to find trail. Suckers. Although they had all acquired hubcaps on trail, apparently from running through a recycling center.

We quickly circled up and after quickly serenading the hares and performing an abbreviated version of "I used to work in Chicago" (I will note that both of these songs allowed the Crying Gay to brag about the size of his c*ck, prompting cries of `b*llshit, B*llshit…), we proceeded on to comments on trail:

  • My shoes are too dry
  • Not enough hubcaps on trail
  • Annnhhhhh
  • Not enough paper separated from plastic
  • Not enough white trash, too much wet trash
  • What trail?

Accusation, etc:

  • FRB/FBI – Goat Throat, Bondage Barbie, Bloody P*ssy
  • The Crying Gay is building a garden. Apparently he needs some Mexicans like 5" Penalty and Yankee Pay $5 More to help him out. So they all drank.
  • Cocksmith accused Glitorus of not being in attendance, so he drank for him
  • Bloody P*ssy, The Crying Gay, and e=I'm a Douche had moonburn (in my defense, I was under shelter nearly the entire hash!)
  • I Licked Butts drank for accusing The Crying Gay of being hilarious (clearly a false accusation)
  • Bloody P*ssy drank because bag car lost its hubcaps (apparently, at least, although none of the hubcaps produced actually match the car!)
  • Bloody P*ssy drank again for somehow losing a s*x toy on trail despite not running trail but shall we just say this particular item was so impressive in size (I would estimate its height at about 3 feet) that I agreed to drink anyway
  • Then Goat Throat made Cocksmith drink for making Bloody P*ssy need s*x toys
  • Then Goat Throat made Tw*t drink for not drinking enough in circle
  • Cocksmith drank for not smoking enough in circle
  • Barbie drank because her gloves were wet, so clearly she was fingering herself on trail
  • Then there was a social because we were all idiots for being out on such a night
  • Finally, The Crying Gay drank for bestiality. I forget why.

We finished up circle and quickly proceeded to the on-after to drink overpriced PBR and eat very doughy pizza. But the bartender had some amazing facial hair going on. And the Bruins beat the Devils!

Heard before and then after the hash:

  • "What's that sound? Oh wait, it's me!" – Ice Princess (oops, sorry, wrong hash, but I still find that hilarious)
  • "Give me an alley and my pants are down." – Goat Throat
  • "I promised myself I wouldn't get wet tonight." – Bloody P*ssy
  • "I usually try to say at least one stupid thing just so I can quote myself." – Bloody P*ssy

- Bloody P*ssy
March Madness Hash (over 8 years ago)
Friar says:
Hello everyone - since none of the regular scribes were there, I am attempting to scribe. At the Newtowne, I took notes on a paper plate (which I still have) but started half way through the virgins. I filmed the opening circle so I'll be able to get the attendance list that way.

Nips/Jamaican - do you remember the names of the virgins. I got the last two. I remember a lot of them were with the Army and not supposed to be drinking.

Did anybody know where trail was supposed to go. Hares - this is your chance to set the record straight, since I'll have not choice but to believe you. As usual, I caught up with the people who were lost - Oh wait, that was most of the pack at some point.

Anyway - going through a particularly bumpy patch of sky, but it's not that much worse than the Silver Line to the airport.

Someone responded with:
For the virgins, I cant remember their real names.... all I can really remember is:

  • Loud Red-Neck guy wearing jeans/t-shirt and carrying a bottle of Gatorade filled w/ piss colored vodka
  • Business Casual Walker who dresses better for a hash than I do for work
 Song Checks (fail):

  • I used to work in Chicago, Sh*tty Trail
Comments on trail:
  • "With this many virgins, we can afford to lose 2-3 and no one will notice"
  • "With the trail this well marked, it must be False" (it was)
  • "Are you running for beer?" ( 8 year old girl in playground)
  • "The geese definitely havent migrated north yet....this baseball field 
  • isnt covered in sh*t " (Gimp)
On-in comments:

  • "Wow, we really stink" (Jamaican Me C*m)

  • Failed Sweat Test (Gimp memory failure of who actually got called in)
  • Marks too close together
  • Moose Knuckle had more marks on trail than the hares