Missed a hash? Catch up on all the trash here...
(5 months ago)
What: The 10/10 trail
When: see above
Hares: Blondie McFucksalot and Cuntcussion
Bag car: Marbleous Asshole
Pack: Bottom Wrangler, Gnome, STFF, Shits, Five Inch, Easy as 123, Vaginacologist, Sketchy, Gimp, Shits, Dribbles, Dry Hose, Topless Barbie, Testicular Mechanics, Knuckles Deep, Tinder Dick, Bodies in Lotion, Spank Me, Cummysticks, Luva Lamp, Sweagle, Chunderellie, Falmon, Goat, a visitor (who will be here for AGM too!), Just Ruth, Just Jimmy**, a couple virgins
Trail got off to a promising start when it was found that the announced start location was, in fact, closed. (Blondie swears she called the venue earlier in the week and they said they'd be open -- like that stops us from blaming the hares.) Instead, we crammed our loud, strangely dressed selves into Hopsters, where we continued the longstanding tradition of getting in the way of waitstaff and annoying other patrons.
Leg 1: A seal of approval
Eventually, we decided to GTFO and look for more beer. Trail got off to a strong start, with a long checkback toward South Station; after we ran back, we found that trail went over the bridge toward the Financial District.
We ran along the Greenway and the Harborwalk for a while; the hares seemed to have a loose understanding of arrows and/or directions, but fortunately there are only so many directions trail could plausibly go when the ocean is on one side of you.
There was a song check next to the seals -- we tried and failed to think of a seal-related song or a song that was even tangentially related (ocean creatures, penguins, tuxedos??). We kept going and eventually found the first beer check, which was on a pier, with the smell of Buttler (who had hobbled to to the BC) wafting through the air...
Leg 2: Who let the dogs out?!
Trail turned and went in to the North End, where we proceeded to piss off the locals in about every way imaginable. An older woman yelled at us because she was walking on the sidewalk and we kept running around her, I guess...? Seems like she was confused about the function of sidewalks.
Trail went uphill, obviously, until we found a check at the very top of the hill. We checked every direction -- or so we thought -- and finally realized that trail actually went down some stairs and through (dun dun dun) a DOG PARK.
I was not a frontrunner at this point, but from what I understand, hashers going through the dog park messed up the double-gate system somehow, and someone's dog made a run for it. Apparently STFF ultimately caught the dog before it managed to run into any intersections. By the time I arrived at the dog park, there were just a lot of angry dog owners yelling about how totally inappropriate our behavior was. (And I mean, in this case, they probably weren't wrong...)
I didn't feel like getting yelled at, so I ran around the dog park and rejoined pack. There was a shot check next to the skating rink (something with cranberry juice, I think?) and then another long checkback, this time across the bridge. Trail actually went across the locks and to a beer check at a playground in North Point Park, where thankfully there were no children for us to accidentally set loose.
Leg 3: You're the only 10 I see
We felt pretty confident about where trail was ending, and craniumed in the general direction of Courtside, where -- gasp! -- we saw familiar chalk marks outside.
We were provided with the finest of beers and began circle. Buttler, who is impressively dedicated to being Beer Bitch, limped around with pitchers to ensure no one went thirsty. We did the usual circle shit, got some visitors to sing us songs, called in backsliders, yadda yadda.
**Finally, after much deliberation, the RAs brought Just Jimmy into circle. It turns out that he's been c*ming to Boston hashes for a year and we haven't made it official yet. This makes since, given our collective fear of commitment, but we decided it was time to right that wrong.
We asked for his most embarrassing sexual moment -- he told a story involving coitus-temporarily-interruptus in the backseat -- and somehow, we also found that he had gone to some weird sex event in New York with his girlfriend and her friend, and both the ladies had brought dildos, but not to use on themselves or each other...
We pondered several names, but when someone suggested Strap On, Strap Off, it was a clear winner. And thus, Just Jimmy is no more, and we have our newest named hasher.
10/13 -- AGM! Show up to tell Marbles and Falmon what a shitty job they've done all year.
10/14 -- AGM Fat Boy. Put your life in the hands of the new idiots who agreed to run this thing.
10/27 -- E4B in Beverly
December -- Antibuffet! Sign up! It's a fun time.
|Another Hash Crash (10/10 trash version 2)
(5 months ago)
Shart and I independently trashed it up. Here's my account since you don't have to work or anything today. Some overlap, some differences, Flyby video showing Shits' bad zenning, and dog park shenanigans to be posted to the Book of Visages soon.
Oct 10, 2018 The Perfect 10 Trail (OMG, I just got this!)
Hares: Blondie McFucksalot and Cuntcussion
Bag car: Marbelous Asshole
Pack: RAs Yellow Dick Gnome, Bottom Wrangler/Ass Cowboy, Sex: The Final Frontier, Dribbles, Knuckles Deep, Testicular Mechanics, Shits ‘N Ladders, Shart of Darkness, Dry Hoes, Dribbles, Just Ruth, Just Jimmy*, Just Sarah-Claire, TindrDick, Spank Me May I Have My Mother, Twat My Mother, Swedish Eagle, Vaginacolagist now from Sacramento, Visitor from DC, Topless Barbie, 5 Inch Penalty, Cummy Sticks, Virgin Chris, Virgin (James?), Orgasm Falmon, Body in Lotion, Bring Out Your Gimp, Easy as 123, Chunderelli Chunderelli, Angry Crotch, Luva Lamp, Goat Throat, Angry Dog Owners, STF: Clit Notes. (Like 3 others I can’t name).
Prelube and Leg 1: The Harborwalk
We started at
Leg 2: We Let the Dogs Out
Trail immediately went uphill and into the dense narrow streets of the North End, where trail kept getting solved at record pace. A check at the top of Copps Hill seemed unsolvable because no one would venture downhill toward the way we came, but when someone finally did, we found ourselves dashing through a dog park and basically freeing all the enslaved dogs from the fenced yard. One dog in particular made the most spirited dash for freedom since Mel Gibson’s run across Bannockburn. I put myself in an all-out sprint ahead of the owner and caught the jailbird. I apologized profusely. The muggles’ only exasperated cry was, “Use common fucking sense.” I replied that such was a faculty we did not have and sprinted off to catch up with pack. Through the Charlestown locks we went, waiting for a tit check (though trail was arguably solved). We emerged at Paul Revere Park and has a song check under the Zakim, before BC2 at North Point Park.
Leg 3: On-In probably begins with “C” and rhymes with “Shortside”
With strong inclinations towards an ON-IN, we headed down Cambridge St. Those of us following trail had a minor detour via Otis while Gimp and Gnome zenned to Courtside. Shits also attempted to zen, but promptly went the wrong way by a mile.
Visitors were called in. Crimes against caninity were called in, to be met with multiple rounds of Bestiality’s Best (Boys!). Virgins were demented. We asked the conditions of their ski slopes. Wrangler gave a Faulknerian level of backstory to asking a Virgin about his Uncle Jacking off a Horse (he would!). The virgins couldn’t find the dollar menu or do math. We rejected them for being unacceptable, but we took them anyway. Just Jimmy, who had been c*ming for a year but with the consistency of Bob Dole’s pre-viagra erections, had not been named. His most embarrassing sexual story involved keeping a cop away from his automotive tryst through a Titanic-like hand print on the window fog (“My C*m Will Go On”, I screamed.) allowed him to finish. Another story revealed that Just Jimmy had gone to a kink convention in some unlikely place like (C)Rochester and was doubly penetrated by his 2 girlfriends with strap-ons. He was thusly christened Strap-On Strap-Off and we never heard from him again. Clit Notes was called in for a sweat test failure. We swung low and Courtside pizza was served.
|Pallete Cleanser Trash
(6 months ago)
What: Palete Cleanser Hasher
Where: Pub 99, Charlestown
Who: Dry Hose and Chunderelli
Pack: There weren’t any visitors and not too many justs so lets see if I can remember all them; Brown vs Board of Fornication, Pop Cum Ear Im Enfected, The Butler Hit It, +2 Coonass, Justine Beiber, Just Katie?, Twat My Mom, Sketchy Ho, Udder Whore, Whore’s Box, Shits and Ladders, Five Inch Penalty, 3 Ring Cervix, Phish sticks, Just Who Was At the Gas Station, Just Andy?, Just Ruth, Virgin someone, yeah, I failed.
Was held with a borrowed cranium lamp from one of the justs.
Trail Surprisingly Few Hills:
When chalk talk ended with “The first mark is somewhere, go find trail” things were off to an ominous start. We scouted in all directions around the parking lot but found no marks. Not wanting to get frustrated, I decided to just run the block around the parking lot because the marks had to come out somewhere…right? Right? Right. They did, on the otherside of some road (G knows how they got there), and then we ran up a hill to a contentious song check; contentious in there people wanted to sing different songs, but eventually everyone was caught up and we just went to go find trail. I did some bad zenning. I should clarifiy, I did a lot of bad zenning and didn’t see pack until we briefly passed at the back side of the Bunker Hill Monument. I was not on trail. So, things happened and shots that were not M&M shots happened. We found trail to a tit check then trail went down hill and crossed a bussey road under a big bridge during which I stared a driver into submission; never step on these baby blues! We crossed into the “waterfront development area” whatever it’s called and ran past a good dozen or so dogs out for walks until eventually we found a BN an BC overlooking the harbor.
BC No Snow:
People remembered this beer check from the past. People remembered it being cold. People remember Krusty posing in underwear. Peoples memories were not helpful. Brown provided some delicious apples and pack was treated to those rarest and most refined alcoholic delights; warm PBR. Eventually, after giving Dry Hose some really bad best man speech prep, the hares were gay and we debated how to improve our PBRs; our solution was to drink them.
Trail Essentially a circle jerk, but also bad zenning:
From the beer check I very aggressively checked the wrong way, then was very confused when two flashing cranium lamps were coming quickly at me – but not responding to calls of RU? – until I realized they were on bikes and pack was running away from me. I caught them at a song check, from which trail continued around a very confused security guard. We then all followed phish sticks through “Boston shiggy’ (wet grass) and back out to the main road. Someone called on back towards the “big bridge road” in the previous section so that didn’t make any sense, so I kept running back towards the dog park, but not seeing any marks. I saw pack out of the corner of my eye so I kept going, but still didn’t see any marks. Udder ran up to me and asked if I was on – I hadn’t seen a mark in ages, but I was going to go scout under the bridge and I found a true trail pointing through more Boston Shiggy (wet grass) to a song check, where I regathered a very spread out pack – and walkers – with “as I came home on Monday night…” From there trail went across the locks – past the musical things and turned under the bridge. Shits, Butler and other front runners rain past the shot check and only returned when they ran out of marks. Trail went left from the shot check through the Garden, then around a tasty burger to another song check leading into the west end. There was a check back down a parking ramp and trail continued across storrow to another shot check at the base of the Lechemere Viaduct. Trail continued alongside the viaduct and turn in towards North Point Park. We started discussing the ineventiability of the dog park, though some more stuburn amoung us insisted that it would be behind the north point condos. The check at the base of the footbridge removed all doubts – we were OnOn to the dog park, until unexpectididly we saw a BN on the middle of the bridge (were the tit and dick checks normally are), and ONIN marked at the base (though no sign of hares or beer…) The beers, bags, food and hares showed up (they were humping supplies in from bag car and we had a quick pre-circle feed.
I missed some of the comments for reasons and TL:DRd them to “You should’ve used more flour and chalk” the hares sang us something – I want to say El Camino, but I actually know it wasn’t that. FRB – 5 Inch and FBI – UDDER WHORE were called in, Udder Whore who said in the prelube “I used to think a < 30 5k was a good goal, but now I’m running 8:30 5ks as part of my tris, I’d love to run one to find out my real pace” – anyway, they were called in and we made them drink, then the DFLs – Luva Lamp and Just John (who were just standing in circle) were made to drink too. We quickly called Brown in since she was the only visitor, then we called in the virgin, and Udder demented her. A few things of note; when asked what her favourite barnyard animal sounded like when it came she responded “a group of them, like they’re running a train?” we were shocked, filed that away for later and said “no, just one.” She then poured beer all over herself. She’s not worthy, but we’ll take her. Circle was then opened up to accusations; all the same shirts (red shirts) drank because they were about to die. Racist attire was also called in, as were sweat test failures – Topless Barbie. Topless Barbie was called in again, but didn’t have any beer, to which Luva Lamp replied “I don’t have any either” so they both were accused of not having beer and made to ass to ass, bend over and hold hands between their legs while we sang them a short song. We sang them “Nacy Brown” Topless survived but Luva collapsed and laid curled up in circle for the next few accusations, which I forgot. There were a few attempts to end circle, but we had plenty of beer so we kept going. Eventually it was Dry Hose and Butler yelling at each other. Oh yeah, some “local residences who live under the bridge” yelled at us for “singing under the bridge” and we gave them beers. They had returned and were yelling at us to move along so we swang low. See announcements below.
On – under bridges – On
Friday 9/28: Ginger Take Over Moon Trail, 6:45HST, $5, Paddys Launch 260 Walden St, Cambridge (Closest T stop: Porter)
Wednesday 10/3: Dot Ave Tavern Trail, $15, Dot Ave Tavern, 840 Dorcehster Ave, Boston (Closes T stop: JFK/UMass)
Saturday 10/13: BOSTON AGM – Details to come.
Sunday 10/14: AGM FATBOY – Details to come.
November 11/3: SADIE HAWKINS 70s DANCE CLUB !!! Find a Taco and get a pin!
November 11/9-12: IT’S ALWAYS HASHY IN PHILLADELPHIA -> Have you heard of travel hashing? Want to rage in some sketchy hotel in a distant city, or maybe rage in an even sketchier hash pad? There’s a night club down there giving us a free room for the night depending on how many people sign up. There’ll be prizes for the best repped kennel! Rego here:
|The Blow My Shofaa Hash Trash
(6 months ago)
What: The Blow My Shofaa Hash
Who: Sex, The Final Frontier, Just Steph
Escort Required, Pole Sitter, Udder Whore, Sketchy Ho, Dribbles, The Butler Hit It, Just Dumb, Other Justs, Cunt Jungle, Virgin Internet, Goat Throat, Orgamsn Falmon, No Man On the Moon, Twat My Mom, Bottom Wrangler, Wikipedophilia, Spunk in the Trunk, Shits and Ladders, Five Inch Penalty, 3 Ring Cervix, Other People I Forgot.
When I arrived at the bar Twat and No Man were talking about Mother Hash and the Danish couple were drinking. They informed me of a conversation that had with the bartender. It went something along the lines of “Do you have Malort?” The bartender looked shocked and said “How do you know about that?” Escort said “I’m a hasher, I know things.” The bartender then informed him that a friend of the bartenders had gone to Chicago and returned with this utterly vile drink called Malort, of which he has a bottle behind the bar. He will drink shots with customers but he can’t sell or pour them, or tell people that he has them. So, I leave it to you, noble readers of this trash, to do with the knowledge what you will. There is Malort at a bar in Boston, but you have to ask the bartender, and he has to judge your worthy – or I guess no worthy enough – to give you a shot.
Enough of that, here’s what happened on trail:
Was held in the gas station parking lot acorss from the bar. Packed was asked to demonstrate what they think a Shofaa sounds like. Bottom Wrangler says it sounds like someone yelling Tequllia so he always drank Tequllia as a kid? I might have made that up. Anyway, eventually once we introduced ourselves and explained the marks to the virgins and visitors (chalk talk was drawn in white chalk, the marks were in … grey?) we set off.
Trail “Listen to your eldars”-
A few hashers who were arriving late (or rather normally, the hares left shockingly at 6:45 on the .d.o.t.) saw the hares running past Porter, and so knew which direction to scout and to blow through the first YBF. Trail apparently ran behind a few buildings then came back to Mass Ave where there was a check in front of Lesley. The hares and physicists, so I’ll assume that their math skills are better than mine but they seem to have a very liberal idea of what 369 degress is. Trail was solved through the parking lot behind what used to be TiTs and back to the road which the check was drawn on - I have no idea how the two connected. It eventually led to a check back into the “Aggizia” neighborhood of Cambridge, and to what is now my new favourite song check. After starting out Jesus can’t go hashing with why Moses can’t go hashing, we proceeded to sing to the glory of all our favourite Tora/Old Testiment heros and why none of them could go hashing until people realized that we could do this for years and went to go find trail. Trail continued towards the sketchy Shaws on Beacon St, with a predictable check back. Standing at a mark pointing towards what would eventually become a check back, I saw Twat running to the bridge under the rail road tracks and my hashey senses went off and I followed him. Much to my surprise we found not only trail, but also a surprisingly drinkable shot check! We waited for pack to regroup before emerging from the tunnel in front of the fire station and checking up the wrong hill. Twat again checked up the right hill, saving some of us from a check back – truly he is the hero we need, not the hero we deserve, or however that line goes. I never watched the Batman movies. Trail flitered with running up hill but she’s a tease and we should’ve kept on going down. With half of pack running merrily along not seeing marks someone in the back third noticed a WN and a true trail pointing to a random apartment building, with a mark saying to go up the stairs to the roof…so up we went!
Wine Check Roof:
I’m not calling it a “Roof Deck” because I’m pretty sure we weren’t supposed to be up there; there were no structural elements or rail guards, but there was wine. At this point in the night I was still following my “no drinking on work nights” rule so I abstained from the wine. I was later informated that it tasted like being punched in the face by grapes. We were all appreciative of the home-made wine donated by the hare, but suggest the perhaps she shouldn’t quit her day job; Chatueax La Tour this was not. I learned that either Prince sung a song about have sex in a whorse box, or he had sex with whorse box, or all horses boxes are really just full of people banging. It was unclear. Talk to Whorse Box. Eventually we noticed that the hares were gone so we shuffled down the stairs and tried to find trail.
Trail Um, what marks?
From the wine check we scouted up hill and down hill, to the left around the block and to the right around the block. We crosses Somerville ave and scouted towards Aeronaught and came we back. We were able to regal the virgins, justs, and new hashers of the time five years ago when we on-ined at the abonded lot which we had been running around three times in a row and each time the cops were called. The last time the cops were like “No, seriously, stop coming here, this is the third week in a row we’ve have to speak to you!” And we did stop going there for almost five years. More on that later #foreshadowing. Eventually not finding any marks some people noticed that the marks to the wine check (which were in high-vis grey chalk) had been crossed out and replaced with arrows in higher-vis blue chalk pointing the other way. All this led to much yelling and complaining in pack, right at the time when a bedraggled young mother came out to pled with us to be quite because she was trying to put her baby to bed. At that exact same moment trail was called up hill in the direction we came which caused one hasher to remark, in a very calm and relaxed tone “OH, FOR FUCKS SAKE!” then take off. Trail was called up hill to a song check where we resumed our retelling of the Old Testiment from the point of why Jesus can’t go hashing. Pack quickly tired of this and would rather run up hill, which we did, to another song check in front of a church. Not wanting to annoy the newcomers, we sang about Father Burgminhams many exploits, before deciding we were all going to hell. Luckily the beer check was a block away.
Beer check – Nah, I’m good, oh, wait you have Gameldansk, lets pound that! And the Malort too!
The beer check, like most of the trail, was made from the dregs of last weeks hash. In fact, the beer check was exactly where last weeks beer check was supposed to be if one of the hares hadn’t gotten lost #trashshade. I was happily munching on smart food and sipping water when I saw a group of young, enthusiastic hashers gathered around a slowly getting drunk off his own supply Escort who was passing around bottle after bottle of Gameldansk. I love Gameldansk, mainly for the memories, so I joined the circle, and you kinda need something to chase it so my sober night suffered the revenege of the Danes for Copenheginization…#deephistorycuts #wikionwiki. We conducted a lot of back-2-back shots of Gameldansk and Malort and forgot to notice that either the hares had left, or the our esteemed Ass Cowboy hand wrangled himself up the virgin and a group of justs who had been hopeless lost and arrived at the beer check just as I was calling pack away, so we all drank some more until everyone was drunk enough to think following trail was a good idea.
Trail Essentially a lot of zenning-
Marks, being exclusively laid in grey and purple chalk was increasingly hard to find. We zenned through or around a retirement home then ran up highland street for a while to as hash sitapeed. We scouted downhill, then up hill, but found nothing until we found marks in a very creative reading of 360 back across highland street going down hill. No fool I, I refused to give up the highground for a few blocks until I saw pack running away from me down School street, so I chased after them, eventually catching up at a song check in which I lead the Engineer Song while Cunt Jungle gave her just a blowjob in a playground. Trail was again eventually solved downhill to a beer near heading into the abandoned construction lot of multi-evictions and mentioned previously in this trash. In a rare case of “not wanting to get in trouble” the hash listened to the security guard who told us we couldn’t go in so instead we ran across the street to behind the ice rink where there was a beer check last week.
Since we were constantly worried that the hockey players would get mad at this group of retrobates singing and drinking next to their ice piles we started with a whisper circle, thought we slowly realized that they cared about as much about our revelry as they did about the Oilers training camp. We called the hares into circle and told them they should’ve used more flour and chalk. I tried to control circle by threatening private parties with Gameldansk, but that kinda backfired as people were requesting the shots! Oh well, we moved onto FRB (5 inch?) and FBI (Whores Box) and DFL (Spunk) – who in a very weird way maintained eye contact and answered all my questions about if she was lonesome during trail. After than Uder Whore demented the very delightful virgin who was asked a lot of amazing questions most of which I forget because of an increasing amount of Gameldansk and Malort cursing through my veins. The virgin was and we’re desperate (and she found out about the hash by read these!!) so we’ll take her. We then called in the Chaos Muppets of evening Escort and Flagpole and we all drank more Gameldansk. We then called in the transplant (Just Dumb – his actual name) who has recently moved from Begjin; he sliently stalked us at the bar last week but decided not to come to trail (bad idea) but decided to come this week instead (good idea). He says he’ll keep cuming back! There were then a lot of accusations – I remember anyone where “sketchy” clothes, racist attire, and others, but my steady diet of Gameldansk was starting to catch up with me and Falmon was giving me “finish this now eyes” so we called in birthdays – it’s Escorts! – and then swang low and ate surprisingly good pizza.
On – Gameldansk – On
BH3 AGM – Saturday October 13th, 2pm. Details to come. If you want to volunteer for misman talk to Falmon or Marbles.
|Snow White Snow Black Trash
(6 months ago)
Snow White and Snow Black and the Seven shots trash
(yes I'm trash, I know)
please excuse punctuation and capitalization errors and run on sentences as I'm on my phone.
[Note, the editor has attempted to correct these]
Hares: Wikipedophelia, Bloody Slip Inside
Bagcar: Easy as 123
CEP, Topless Barbie, No man on the moon, Cuntcussion, Oboner, Quarter mile Queer, Salty Mudflaps, Knuckles Deep, The Buttler hit it, WhoresBox, Lumber Jack off, Sex the Final Frontier, Orgasm Famine, Cum Ear, Bottom Wrangler, Luva Lamp, Dry Hose, CuntJungle, Chunderelli, +2 Coonass, Testicular Mechanics, a just who hashed somewhere else with her sister and just moved here, a virgin or two. Another just or two, one if them presumably named Pete. Two visitors, one from Japan. Definitely other people I forgot.
In the days before this hash, there was talk from Wiki of "shooting the moon". A feeling of apprehension hung over the Boston Hash as we pondered what this might mean.
After a quick walk/jaunt from my apartment, I arrived at prelube earlyish to find Cuntcussion, OBoner, Qmq Knuckles, and Salty at the bar. I was served a cheap beer quickly and settled down in a comfy booth facing the other hashers. This was already shaping up to be the #trailoftheyear. Some tunes wafted out of the bar's speakers, O'Boner looked around with a distraught but knowing look on her face and identified the music as Phish. We determined that Wiki (or possibly Buttler) had selected the song on Touchtunes while not even at the bar yet (yes you can totally do that). This was shaping up to be the #worsttrailoftheyear. Wiki showed up and no one said hi to him because we were mad about the Phish. Others showed up. I decided to "go for 3" (beers before trail). This will come into play later when my memory of trail is not great and I make shit up.
The hares left sort of on-timeish, or they didn't, I don't remember. It might have been 7? Pack sauntered out to the parking lot by Porter where we all stood around for a few minutes getting beeped at by some angry motorists, then stood on top of a grate for a few more minutes before Quarter Mile told us he couldn't do chalk talk on top of a grate ("What do you mean? This is a grate place for chalk talk!”). Easy's calls of "guys there's a perfectly good alley right here!" were ignored by all in favor of QMQ and Boner's calls of "back to the bar!", which were associated with no clear plan. We walked back by the bar and after some more uncertainty shcanery proceeded to circle up in a small parking space a block or so down. we introduced ourselves while adding "-ee" at the end of our names for some reason. Something about dwarves or some shit. Quarter mile went over the marks badly and shouted some words which were meant to provide clarity on finding trail to the virgins/justs/visitors, but only served to confuse them more.
We (surprisingly) found 3 marks and were on-on immediately out of chalk talk. It was late when we left chalk talk, I remember seeing 7:26. we headed north-northeast at a 43 degree heading until we didn't. I forgot to bring a light and it was dark out. We hit a shotcheck/checkback, or two, while making our way over to the aptly named Highland ave area in Somerville. We gave up the high ground a few times after gaining it (this would be a theme on this night), but there were shot checks most of those times, so it was kind of ok. The shots ranged from decent to bad to worse, there was a lemon drop one, a margarita, a blue one ("this is the worst one!" - a hasher..."I disagree, it is the best one!" - a different hasher), there were some haterades, and tequila was featured heavily. We finally made our way down a long hill (central street?) to Somerville Ave, where we suspected another shot check, but instead snared a hare. (Yes, even after the late start and delayed chalk talk, we snared a hare #worstharesoftheyear). We went back up the hill to congregate pack and sing a long song and get beeped at by some cars and shouted at by some balcony sitters, and to allow the hares some time to get their shit together. Wiki came by from up the hill (the direction we'd just come from) and shuffled past us. Yes we snared the other hare at the bottom of the hill but Wiki was somehow behind us up the hill? apparently there had been a miscommunication and Bloody went somewhere other than the beer check that he was supposed to go to. Anywho after waiting a few more minutes we r*n down the hill and found the beer check by the skating rink on Somerville ave.
After this things get a little hazy. we ran up and down the hill on both sides of highland a bunch more in a generally Eastward direction. again finding shotcheck-checkbacks galore. We ran by my apartment where I briefly considered quitting the #worsttrailoftheyear in favor of my bed, but alas my shit was in bagcar so I continued on. At some point we came down a little from highland, I hadn't seen a mark in a while and came to an intersection. Muggles said "they went that way" indicating not uphill, not downhill, but side hill. I didn't believe them. But then we found a true trail mark and grudgingly accepted that we were in fact on. A little later, we found the tower thingy, thinking it was on in (as it was getting pretty late), but it wasn't, it was a beer check.
Beer Check 2: we drank some beer up in the tower and met some mughles and explained to them what hashing was, as is tradition at the tower thingy. Cuntjungle informed pack that she was drunk. We were all shocked and aghast at her gross irresponsibility.
We on outed from the tower thingy, and qatar mile had to go back to the bagcar because he had the keys for some reason (sidenote: he seems to have a habit of doing this). Me and some other hashers stupidly ran past the staircase that went down the hill, but were corrected and re-routed by some nice muggles who pointed us in the direction the rest of pack had gone. We finally had a portion of trail that was good because it lacked serious hillz, but bad because it featured Moxie (Moxie +151, and Moxie + Malort, I am told). There was a turkey eagle split or two. we finally reached on-in by the train tracks and gazebo thing in eastish Somerville/Cambridge? Eagles and hares reported 7+ miles, and turkeys not much less.
At the onion we sang some songs, accused the hares of their crimes, asked questions to our visitors and had them sing a song (maybe), asked our virgin some questions (almost definitely) and did hash religion and then ate some pizza after, that got there really late (I think).
epilogue: I got semi lost running home and promptly deleted my activity on Strava out of embarrassment (at the gettinglost part) once it synced, as is tradition.
Shits and Ladders