Hash House Harriers

a drinking club with a running problem

Hash Trash

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

| Blue Moon Hash #2 | Blue Moon Hash #1 | The Mad Hatter Hash | The Return of GAP | Beaver Moon Hash |

Blue Moon Hash #2 (almost 9 years ago)
Hares: Cocksmith, The Crying Gay
Bag Car & Navigator: Just Amanda, Vagetarian
Pre-lube: Red Hat Cafe near Government Center
Weather: Clear and cold (20s)
RA: SUPER Teflon Dong
Pack: Glitorus, General *ss Pounder, Cum is Kosher, Mr Papagiorgio, Invisidick, Saskapoon, Bloody P*ssy, Peppermint P*ssy, Hoover McSuck'n'F*ck, P*bic Service Announcement, Octop*ssy, Father Shishkaboob, Just Mike, Crucifux, e=I'm a Douche, Nipples Erectus, Time of the Munch, Tampon Jelly, Bondage Barbie, What Can Brown Do To You?, Schindler's Fist, Tw*t My Mom

Wangers –OR– People That I Don't Recall Seeing On Trail Or At Circle But Who Did Show Up Either Before The Hash, After The Hash, Or Both: Wang Chunks, An*l Beads, Dirty Latte Sanchez, Catheter the Great, Dude Where's My Virginity, Beat By A Girl, Krusty the Meat Miser, Shawsk*nk, Redtail Swallows, Stretch P*ssy

So it turns out that this may not have been a real blue moon. I am no longer in any way sure what a blue (blew?) moon actually is so I'm just going to shut up and talk about trail. Blue moon or not it was the last Boston-area hash of the year!

A very large group of hashers congregated at the Red Hat Café much to the bemusement of the locals (oh, wait, that isn't news. Moving on …). The Red Hat did have red jello shots, upon hearing which SUPER Teflon Dong immediately ordered 5. Not all for himself. Really.

After extricating the runners from the drinkers, the pack left the lovely Red Hat Café and spontaneous RA visiting from goodness-knows-where-anymore SUPER Teflon Dong led an energetic rendition of "Michael Jackson Likes Little Boys." Saskapoon was already drunk at this point. Remember this fact.

Pack found trail pretty quickly, through a parking lot, behind the State House … and through the winding streets of Beacon Hill. Somewhere along the way we managed to lose trail for no good reason except that it looked like trail would go around a 20-foot fence. Oh and those false trails didn't help but we pretty quickly learned that all the flour trails were falses and started ignoring them. At least until they stopped all being falses. Trail wound back over Cambridge Street and past a bunch of cops and the Whole Foods before taking us on a guided tour of a bunch of hospitals. Right about when I lost my bearings there was a turkey-eagle split. The eagle leg led up some stairs and down into the parking lot for Mass Eye & Ear, location of the first beer check.

Bag Car wasn't at the beer check because she had gone to find a parking spot. Unfortunately all the way around, she was delayed getting back due to parking in a garage and losing the ticket in the dashboard of the car … and while Just Amanda and Vagetarian's hands may fit some other places just fine, they didn't fit down the dashboard of the car.

Somewhere on trail Tampon Jelly had found a frilly pink …. I don't know – dishcloth? He said it must be a harriette's negligee. Well it did have satin on the outside. Perhaps in his dreams harriettes wear square pieces of cloth about 1 square foot in size for clothing but not on a cold December night!

Also at this beer check, Saskapoon announced "I wish I were a smokin' hot chick!" In his defense, he was drunk at the time. Remember this fact.

Pack took off because we were cold and had been there for at least 15 minutes. Trail led down Storrow and did *not* go over the pedestrian bridge but instead wound through more of the West End. At one point there was a turkey-eagle split and the FRBs announced that the eagle trail was a YBF. Tricky hares!

After dangerously proceeding through Leverett Circle (a few hashers jumped out in front of cars, a particularly bad idea at that intersection!) we found a park with the second beer check. Rather, we found the hares claiming that this was the location of the second beer check. But bag car wasn't there. Apparently the pack isn't supposed to leave until bag car leaves or something. Whatever. We were cold. And were cold again waiting for beer – but the beer arrived and all was well. At this beer check GAP shared a couple tricks of the trade including how to make beer float.

Eventually we realized the hares were away and since we were cold again, took off.

Trail wound through the park then towards North Station. When in doubt, trail goes through … as it did in this case. Trail was marked with yellow sticky notes; emerging on the other side the pack pretty quickly figured out that trail did not go over a two-story concrete wall but instead led around the wall, over the dam by the state police and to the no-name park under the Zakim Bridge.

Pretty sure our RA was drunk by the time circle started so there was much craziness, singing of songs, and handing out of tags to people who attended both blue moon hashes.

  1. Hash crash – Bloody P*ssy (enabled me to say the word eponymous in a sentence, never a bad thing!), Bondage Barbie, The Crying Gay, P*bic Service Announcement
  2. Dumping beer (alcohol abuse!!!) – Tampon Jelly
  3. Moonburn – Bloody P*ssy & Hoover McSuck'n'F*ck
  4. Serious situations (or some such) – Crucifux for her engagement to I Eat C*m, and Immaculate for his son's bar mitzvah.
  5. FRB/FBI (aka cheaters, apparently??) – Father Shishkaboob and Octop*ssy
  6. The hares were made to shotgun beers because bag car was so late to the beer check.
Then Tampon Jelly danced around with his pink thing.

Finally all attendees of both blue moon hashes partook of the bottle of Blue Moon Grand Cru that was provided for the occasion. Nice of them to make a special edition drink in honor of our hash!

At some point along here Saskapoon wanted to say something about the hash drunk, whose birthday it was that day. Saskapoon was drunk and apparently forgot that the Boston Moon Hash is *not* the Boston Hash, whereupon Saskapoon was nominated as hash drunk of the Boston Moon Hash. The pack roared in approval, and we now have an official hash drunk!

Finally, realizing it was cold and we were due at The Cellar for on-after, circle ended and we were out.

- Bloody P*ssy
Blue Moon Hash #1 (almost 9 years ago)
Hares: Bloody P*ssy, Bondage Barbie
Bag Car: Hoover McSuck `n' F*ck
RA: Glitorus
Pre-lube: Victory Pub in East Boston
Weather: Clear and mid-40s (some light rain started up as circle was ending)

Pack: Octop*ssy, I Eat Tea Bags -> The Crying Gay, The 2nd C*mming, High An*s, Invisidick, Just Amanda (Houston transplant), Just Amanda (Stuttgart transplant), Cocksmith, Bring Out the Gimp, N*pples Erectus, Hash Mattress, Inspector Gadget, Chunnel (I heard she got renamed but she was Chunnel that day), D*ck Jockey, Just Melvin, Far From F*cking, F*cks All, Just Ben, Mooseknuckles, Peppermint P*ssy, Father Shishkabob, Just Mike

Not the brightest idea in the world to have the hare write hash trash but I guess that's what you get and, after all, never let the truth get in the way of a good story. Sooooooo …

From Victory Pub, trail headed down to a not-at-all-dangerous-to-be-finding-trail-around rotary, and from there a couple of blocks to the base of a hill and then UP three flights of stairs to the Madonna Queen National Shrine, perfect location for a t*t check, followed by a d*ck check 1 block later before trail headed DOWN the same hill the pack had just run up. Suckers.

From there trail went around a curve over, and through the Suffolk Downs T stop. On the way, one hasher (to remain nameless) just HAD to write their hash initials in wet pavement. Leaving our mark in East Boston … the first beer check was just after the T station in Belle Island Marsh Reservation. The beer check location was particularly notable due to the planes landing at Logan flying about 200 feet above. Invisidick was the first runner to the beer check, mainly because he managed to get lost on trail and zenned his way to the beer check. While we're on the subject of Invisidick, he managed to show up for a moon hash with advertised shiggy without a cranium lamp, OR a cranium cover. Oddly enough, he took up Bring Out the Gimp's offer to borrow a spare cranium cover, but not fleshlight. Wish I'd remembered that when I was filling out nominations for the Hash Darwin award.

After the beer check, trail wound through the reservation with a false trail over a bridge ending by some crazy-looking structure … maybe a lookout tower or something, before heading back to the main road, through a ball field, through some tennis courts, up a hill, back down a hill, and then straight through the marsh. Luckily it was not high tide but nonetheless I managed to take a wrong step and sink in up to my knee (luckily I could get out, stranded hare would make for a fun snare for everyone involved but me!), and one of the other hashers managed to have a marsh crash as well. This segment of trail was accompanied by much whining about potentially toxic sludge and the potential presence of rotting mob bodies.

Trail continued down an access road, near the beach and paused for a song check at the bottom of a hill by a highly decorated house. After climbing up the hill, trail wound around to give the pack a lovely view of Boston before heading back down the hill. At this point Cocksmith decided to cut across the lawn which was not received well by the property owner who promptly shouted "No no no no no no no Get Off My Property!"

After this, the pack followed trail through puddles, a stand of sumacs, a bunch of construction equipment, and over a fence before continuing through the projects and then through some very, VERY dark streets in Winthrop. I mean, what up Winthrop can't you afford ANY street lamps except on major roads? Sheesh … anyway the pack eventually emerged for beer check #2 which was at the other side of Belle Island Marsh in some scrub grass. At this beer check, the beer was supplemented by some blue Gatorade with blueberry vodka.

Due to sh*tty planning by the hares, we nearly ran out of chalk and had to borrow some from the pack but I was somewhat redeemed by storing said chalk in my bra. Not sure where Bondage Barbie put hers.

Following a sufficient pause, the hares departed leading the pack past a bunch of boats, behind a carwash and Dunkin' Donuts, past Belle Island Lobster & Seafood, and over to the ritzy neighborhood facing Logan Airport (no, that's not a contradiction in terms. There is water in between the two). At this point there was a turkey-eagle split, with the turkeys running on the road and the eagles descending to crawl along the rocks by the water. Trail reconvened by the Orient Heights Yacht Club, site of another d*ck check (apparently missed by the pack, sadly ….), and then ran along Constitution Beach in true Chariots of Fire fashion, ending between the hockey rink and the ocean. Somehow the pack got lost for about 5 minutes at a check about halfway along the beach, but eventually made it to the end.

Songs sung on trail included End of the Month, My Girl's a Vegetable, and I Used To Work in Chicago (when not being interrupted by planes flying overhead).

Here is a map of the trail, with some of the high (and low…) points noted

Notes on circle are a bit spotty but here is what I remember:

Hares' song: Free Beer for All the Hashers

DFLs: The moon GMs, Cocksmith and I Eat Tea Bags ambled in after circle started. Not entirely sure what was keeping them together on trail so long. Planning the next moon hash, perhaps? Yeah, that must be it….

Comments on trail: Not enough planes, checks too small, not enough marks with a smiley face and "BB" next to them, not enough d*ck checks, not enough t*t checks, no one ran on the Eagle trail, too much Air Lingus and not enough c*nnilingus

Winner of best spandex: Hash Mattress. Winner of worst spandex: I Eat Tea Bags.

Since I Eat Tea Bags was a moon GM without a moon name, the decision was made to name him. I didn't follow all the ins and outs, but The Crying Gay beat out I Prefer It in the Rear. I Eat Tea Bags will henceforth be known at the moon hash as The Crying Gay.

Due to sh*tty planning by the hares, there were only about 45 beers (including 12 Blue Moons, let it be known!) 30 blue jello shots, and the remaining Gatorade/vodka for circle, so Hoover volunteered to go out and get more beer. Before he returned with an additional 60 PBRs, the pack had been reduced to drinking blue Gatorade mixed with vodka for down-down drinks. Which would have been fine except that the ratio of Gatorade to vodka was about 69:1.

Following circle, the hash attempted to fit all the trash into the solar-powered trash compactor. It didn't work. A hardy contingent headed back to the pre-lube for the on-after but most hashers headed home. I later heard something about a "hash crash of the year" involving Hoover, a bunch of other hashers, and the 2nd Cumming's bag, but I was too busy downing free drinks at Victory Pub. I must say the locals at this particular bar were very bemused by the hash, to the point of insisting that Chunnel not leave on her own when she was clearly leaving with a decent-sized group. Good to know chivalry is still alive and well in East Boston.

- Bloody P*ssy (with help from Cocksmith and Bring Out the Gimp)
The Mad Hatter Hash (almost 9 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. 

Pre-lube notes:
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
  • Twins!!!!!
  • Too few Rent a Cops
  • Four Tit checks too many!
  • More Po Po Please!
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!
  • Virgin Evan (Cum Fly with Me) Remembers his first BJ well! And remarked it was quite salty. (touche')
  • Virgin Sarah (Fire in the Hole) Would Definitely get off if she were on a bus full of lesbians.
  • (uhm..... I can't deal with thinking about this anymore)
  • Virgin Paula (Wicked Witch of the Wet) Was not able to calculate the square root of 69. The pack informed her of the proper response!
  • Virgin Cat (brought herself) Could not figure out what one boob said to the other. (We have got to stop letting this dick get between us)
  • Virgin Emma (brought by virgin Cat) Was intimately familiar with the sound a pony makes when it has been treated right.
  • Virgin Andy (F#cks like a Rabbit) Was not ok with demonstrating any acts with his sponsor. Some BS about incest being off the menu.
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. 

  • FRB: High Anus
  • FBI: Fire in the Hole
  • Sitting in Circle: Sextra credit, Cocktologist, Just Sager, P!ss stop
  • Hat in Circle: Most of the Pack
  • No Hat on Mad hatter H@sh: The rest of the Pack (Notable excuse for hatless state: Hoover McSuck n F#ck was afraid to wear one, even after one was offered, because he was worried about the police...)
  • New Shoe Penalty – Fire in the Hole. Graciously shared the penalty with OH GOD THEY ARE IN THE CIRCLE AGAIN TOGETHER.... Virgin Sarah.
  • Backsliders: Maid of Honor (family gatherings and getting some (separate occasions)), Bring out the Gimp (wild kink parties), An@l Beads (sex with 2C's mom), Hoover (Pelvic fracture – BS alert), C#m Fly with me (evil law firm), P!ss stop (no excuse)
  • 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
  • Just Jessica- Stories were about her making bets involving giving Sager BJ's, dating men with enourmous veiny members, and her cavernous tw@t.
  • Possible names: BJ Bet, Blew the Big One, Gamble the Goo, 8 something, You're so Veiny, and Chunnel (the enormous truck sized hole connecting England and France) We now pronounce you: Chunnel
  • Just Ted – Wore running tights with all sorts of definition going on (not all flattering) Possible names: Nutcracker and Moose Knuckles. We dub thee: Moose Knuckles
  • Just Sager – Stories included: his roots in Butte, Montana, Sex involving a stripper he brought home from a strip club, memorizing the list of services available off the menu at strip clubs...Possible names: Bridezilla, Butte Pirate, Allegedly had Sex, Banana Montana, Skinemax, Spankovision, A La C#nte. Be forevermore: A La C#nte!
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.

The Return of GAP (about 9 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)
Virgins: none
Late Cummers: Wang Chunks, An Inconvenient Poop, Welcum Wagon

Hashers Present:
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.

The On-In:
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.

  • Visitors: Since Pig F-er had to leave, Spunk did a proxy down down for him.
  • Backsliders: Sextracredit, GAP, Goat Throat, and Second Cumming got down downs.
  • Sweat Test Failures Wang Chunks, Gay Pride, Necrophiliac Jack and Welcom Wagon got down downs.
  • Infractions: Accusations went on for about an hour for every conceivable infraction. Private Parties, late cummers, missing the boat down down, same shirts, etc. etc. All hares got to drink a number of times, as did all RAs and former RAs and GMs and former GMs . and on and on.
  • Naming: Just Jenny was due for a name. There was discussion of her stepping in dog poop, something about a marathon with sailors, and then how she threw up into two pint glasses. This inspired the following possible names: Cud Slut, Pampered Pussy, Likes Long Time, Two Sailors in a Cup, Long Dong, Two Pints of Puke, and finally the winner . One Girl, Two Cups. Thus she shall be known in the Hash.
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 9 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