Boston
Hash House Harriers

a drinking club with a running problem

Hash Trash

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

| Twelfth Night Hash (Take 2) | Cinco de Augusta Hash | The Lasagna Lipstick Hash | The Wang and 2C Trust Me Hash | Zombie Hash |

Twelfth Night Hash (Take 2) (about 9 years ago)
Hares: Anal Beads, Beat by a Girl, Backdoor Factory (Bag Car), Placentos the Fresh Maker (secret hare) 
Start: The Sidebar (Downtown Crossing area)
Beer Check 1: Beat by a Girl's fabulous roof-deck overlooking the State House.
Beer Check 2: Across the lagoon from the Galleria Mall in Cambridge.
Circle: A circular paved area near where Memorial Drive meets the Longfellow Bridge.
On-In: The Muddy Charles (already crowded due to a game)

Present: I know I'm missing some but here goes. I also can't read my shorthand. The second cumming (initial RA), Fire in the hole, STD, Nice Tits, Gay Pride, Catheter the Great, Sketchy HO, just Amy, Just Angi => My Clitoral Law, just jenn, Coochie Monster, Just Sara, Dirty Latte Sanchez, Placentos the Fresh Maker, Spoonful of Semin, Muddy Buddy, Reclu, High Anus, Homobile, An Inconvenient Poop, 5 inch Penalty, My Chemical Homance, Floppy, Skibobbit, Dribbles, Jamaican me cum, Just Bridget, Brigham Tongue, Stick it to the Bros, Friar, Virgin Michelle, Virgin Ryan, Cum is Kosher, Crucifux, Bend Over Mommy, Sugar Plum Fairy. Peppermint Pussy, Boston Strangler, Dude where's my Virginity, Friar.

The pack gathered in the sidebar, first congregating around the table where Tits was trying to eat and then gradually taking over the bar. It was supposed to be pack away at 7, but I think we actually left a little later. We gathered at a brick plaza outside of Tj Maxx. There was a little horseplay and then the Second Cumming explained the marks. Nothing unusual, lots of tit checks and even a turkey/eagle split, but we were all encouraged to do the eagle. We were soon off!

Trail wound through the Downtown Crossing area, past the Old City Hall (now a steak house) where we were supposed to clamber down a wall. Coming up on Quincy Market was the turkey/eagle split. Even Skibobbit took the eagle!

The Eagle trail wound through Quincy Market, along what used to be the elevated expressway, and past a real live Carousel. I don't think any hashers got to ride it. There were several fountain crossings – the one near the carousel had water which spurted out randomly – almost daring hashers to run across it. I ended up falling behind as we wound back through the Financial District and Post Office Square (another fountain). I was now with the strays, and gradually we found more strays coming from different directions. Trail went through the commons and straight through an upcoming Shakespear performance. They were asking everyone in the audience to contribute $10 - but we ran right by.

After many years, hashers develop homing instincts. Given that one of the hares was Beat by a Girl, there was only one logical place for the beer check. Still, there might be another beer check so it's worth following trail - and we were certainly going in the wrong direction. Finally it was up up up hill past the State House and sure enough people were yelling encouragement from BBAG's rooftop deck. Everyone had to sign in. I signed in at 8:10pm. The beer check was just ending, but there was time to have a beer and take some twilight pictures from the roof deck. It was also last call for the bathroom. First things first.

A group of us piled into the elevator. Another group piled into the other elevator and pushed all the buttons, so going down took a while. At this point I caught up (or caught down) with Ski Bobbit. Trail went through Beacon Hill. Homing instincts again - there was only one place for the on-in, and we simply had to pick the most direct route there. Ski actually called someone (maybe the hotline) and said "yup - it's the BHP". Actually he called Dude, who said that the on-in WASN'T at the BHP. When we got the the BHP, there were no marks, but they did have bathrooms. Bros and some other hashers ran by. They had followed trail. I thought WE had followed trail. Anyway - call the hotline. We were going to the Cambridge Galleria, and basically bee-lined it there. This was a beer check on the other side of the lagoon. Some hashers contemplated walking across the channel, but I expect it was pretty deep. There was a motorboat, but it was tied up.

The beer check went on for a while, and eventually security came out. We left - going through the mall and along the river. Again – homing instincts. I expected trail would go over the bridge and back to the BHP, and was very surprised when we stopped at a sort of circular patio. Circle Up!!!

Crucifux was RA. "And the Hares".. We were asked to practice "Safe Public Drinking". There were two cop cars on Memorial Drive. Comments included "No Marks", "Clearly a Gap Trail" and Placentos the Fresh Maker was "outed" for being the mystery hare. The pack sang several verses of "Old McDonald", ending with the inevitable "whale" verse where the hares get soaked in second hand beer. Backdoor factory ran away and was chased with a full beer.

The hares were given the Option (sing a song or show your tits). Backdoor Factory showed her tits, but even that wasn't enough.

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? ?Thou art more lovely and more temperate:? Rough winds do shake the heaving bosoms of May,? And summer's lease hath all too short a date:? Sometime too hot the brown eye of heaven shines,? And often is the gold [domed] complexion dimm'd;? And every head [who said..?] from beer sometime declines,? By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;? But thy eternal summer shall not fade?. Nor lose possession of that beer thou owest;? Nor shall Shiggy brag thou wander'st in his shade,?When in eternal lines to time thou growest:? So long as beers are cold and marks are free.? So long as hasher friends gives life to thee.

Beat by a Girl and Anal Beads took turns reading this doggerel (evidently for the first time) while the hashers acted the part of "groundlings" and chimed in at every opportunity (the "head ...") part took longer than the rest of the poem.

Next order of the day: VIRGINS.

Virgin Michelle was brought by Anal Beads. She would not stay on a bus full of lesbians, but says Oooh Yesss when having an orgasm.

Virgin Ryan was brought by Just Jenn. His first blowjob tasted awesome and his favorite barnyard animal is a cow.

Next order of business: ACCUSATIONS

Backsliding: Coochie Monster was playing baseball. I Eat Tea Bags, Boston Strangler

Pouring beer out: Sketchy HO and Dirty Latte Sanchez.

Technology on Trail: Nice Tits but she was updating the hotline so Jamaican had to drink for a false accusation.

Song Check Skipping: Dirty Latte Sanchez, Peppermint Pussy

Pissing during circle: Boston Strangler.

Same Shirts: Placentos the Fresh maker, Bros, I eat Tea Bags, Spankme. This ended up as an ever expanding circle with All hares, All Gms and a lot of other people.

Leaving Boston: Crucifux, STD, Just Angi.

Naming: Before Just Angi leaves, we needed to name her. She goes to law school and was sent home in a cab at 7 pm. Mom walked in on her while having sex. Out of these great stories came "Mothers Love Bone", "Cummus Interruptus", "Mon San", "Keep it in the Family", "Cheap Date", and "Clitoral Law". The latter was Angi's least favorite, but her vote doesn't count and it was the overwhelming favorite of the pack. Votes weren't even counted and from until renamed Just Angi will be known as Clitoral Law.

Very Late Cummer: Wang Chunks. He was called into circle, along with an ever expanding group of hashers who had something in common with the previous set of hashers. I won't even attempt to explain the logic of this, because there wasn't any.

Announcement: We need HARES!!!

The on-in was at the Muddy Charles. There was a baseball game on, and the hash gathered in front of the overhead screen trying not to make too much noise (if that is possible). It was 10:10 and people were hungry. There was some beer, but because at least 8 people didn't pay hash-cash, there wasn't much. There was a lot of pizza, so I expect people had bailed before the Muddy. Speaking of pizza - I'm always amazed at how many people do not eat crusts. I like crusts. There were also whole pizza slices folded up and discarded with just a bite out of them. This is simply wasteful. I realize as I'm grazing on pizza crusts that I'd run out of words. My scribing duties ended at circle, and it was unlikely anything else would happen. I drank a Coke, went down to the basement to pee one last time, and hung out for a little with the herbal appreciation club. Time to begin the long journey home many miles beyond the last T station.

Well - that's about it. I'm sitting at a picnic table by Spot Pond (in the Fells) writing this. The sun is shining, not a cloud in the sky, and a gentle breeze is blowing. I should probably get moving – picnic tables aren't very comfortable to sit at for prolonged periods of time.
Cinco de Augusta Hash (about 9 years ago)
Hares: Hare Club for Queers, Fire in the Hole
Start: Space 669 in the parking lot of Oak Grove T station
Beer Check: At the bottom of an earthworks below a large rock pile
On In: No. 9 Ale House (118 Ferry St Malden)

The pack: I counted 38 people, but more may have came later: Dribbles, Fuwangi Boner (RIH3), Stick it to the Bros, High Anus, 6 inch penalty, Peppermint Pussy, Sugar Plum Fairy, Necrophiliac Jack, Jamaican me Cum, Dirty Latte Sanches, Catheter the Great, The Jizzmopper, Anal Beads, Beat by a Girl, an Inconvinent Poop, Floppy, The Butler Did It, Ski Bobbit, Target Practice, Drippy Spigot, Sketchy HO, Just Jenan, Homobile, Muddy Buddy (Dallas), Shorn Scrotum, Just Adam, Just Angie, Wooden Eye, Just Sara, Just Michael, Just Ellie => Brigham Tongue, Just Lloyd => Maid of Honor, Virgin Cindy, Virgin Rana, (Muddy's virgin), You outta Blow (latecummer), Friar F**K

Who says Boston can't set a shiggy trail, but one which you can get to on the T!

There was actually a space 669, which was empty. Fuwangi parked next to it and was there when I got to the station (at around 6:20). Muddy Buddy and his virgin were there too, and one of them brought beer. Interesting that the only people to get to the start of the run on time are visitors. It's getting dark early folks. 6:30 HST and the hares aren't there - more important the prelube beer isn't there.

Eventually people started rolling up including Hare Club who had much needed refreshments. We had quite a crowd before Fire in the Hole showed up. Shortly after that (or after we finished the beer and the hares were away) there was a quick circle conducted by Jizzmopper. There were fairly standard marks - and a portion of the trail was laid in flour (represented by faint squiggles). Unfortunately Jizz used the H word early on and we spent a lot of time giving the appropriate response. Finally after a quick circle we were off.

Trail started going along a bank, through an apartment complex, and across a main road. After that it was a scramble up a very steep bank. I could barely get myself over the wall, but some hashers helped me. We were now in Pine Bank Park. When I first came to Boston, I'd go exploring by taking the T to the end of each line. Pine Bank Park was my first wilderness experience in the area. Anyway it was great to be in an area I was vaguely familiar with. We passed a ball field and were into the woods. Muddy Buddy lost his virgin. Some of the trail was pretty hard going. Rocks are slippery, and covered with moss. Luckily there were only a few hash crashes, and no serious injuries. There was a check which dead-ended at a spectacular view, but people found trail and there was the all important Beer Near. To get to the beer, we had to cross a few piles of rocks - beyond the piles of rocks was a dirt excavation. Jamaican remarked that this trail was just like the ones in Port of Spain.

The beer was definitely needed, and soon we were off. Trail started off going down a steep gravel hill, but some of us went the other way and had to crawl under a fence. I started to fall behind and caught up with Ski - who I knew had a map. Unfortunately he was heading in the wrong direction. When the cross street wasn't shown on the map, it's time to ask passers by for directions. It's a couple of miles away - go back the way we came. We were actually very close to Oak Grove and it was a straight shot past an endless cemetery. Many of the graves have blue patio lights - I guess these are a stand-in for candles but it made part of the cemetery look like an airport runway. I heard what sounded like a beer check in the cemetery, but Ski said that he didn't hear Jizzmopper so it was probably some random people. As we were walking towards Malden, we ran into some hashers who must know something the rest of the pack didn't. Finally we could actually use the map, and navigated through Malden. The rest of the pack caught up to us, coming in from all directions.

The real trail was in the woods. It was totally dark by this time, and the trail was very steep.

We reached the No 9 Ale House. There were disco lights and very loud music - not the place to conduct a circle. Beer started flowing, and it was time to hang out. Finally the music was turned down and we all gathered around some tables for circle. Jizzmopper was the RA.

Comments on trail: None that really stuck. "Too long and too dark" were too obvious to say. The hares song was Alluette'ing Virgin Cindy.

FRB: Dribbles, Stick it to the Bros (though there was some question as to whither he was first, or was simply called in out of habit), High Anus.

DFL: Jamaican, Just Angi who took a cab to the on-in and called for directions.

Visitors: Fuwangi from RIH3, Ski Bobbit from the Boston Old Farts Hash (yeah right), Muddy Buddy from Dallas. Ski's excuse was that he needed help changing his catheter so of course Catheter the Great joined the visitors in circle. Fuwangi tried to sing the A songAaa; A great Aaa; A long great Aaa .....This song keeps going forever, unless the pack stops it - which they did after a few verses.

Hash Crash: Fire in the Hole, Beat by a Girl.

Erasing the marks with his Urine: Anal Beads (in the winter, urine can be used to mark checks)

Backsliding: Homobile

Racist Behavior (wearing a race shirt): Dirty Latte Sanches.

Birthdays: Catheter the Great, Fire in the Hole.

Pussy Foot (complaining about sand in the shoe): Shorn Scrotum.

Virgins: Virgin Rana was brought by Just Sara. Her favorite sexual position is
the Spoon.

Virgin Cindy was brought by Target Practice. Her favorite barnyard animal is a goat, and she has an orgasm with a goat by going "baaaa".

Virgin (sorry I didn't get your name because there were too many PRIVATE PARTIES) was brought by Muddy Buddy.

Namings: Jizzmopper picked on all the "justs" with more than 5 trails and kept
3 of them for naming. Just Ellie was from Utah so the name "Brigham Tongue" was suggested. Nobody could think of anything better, and instead of voting on it we
simply named her.

Just Lloyd has the same name as Andrew Lloyd Webber so there were various suggestions. "Dont cry for me Gonorrhea", "Alice", "Joseph and The Technicolor Dream C*nt". Unfortunately he liked some of these but told us a story about recent marriages in his family which prompted the name "Maid of Honor". This was the overall favorite so Just Lloyd will be known as Maid of Honor.

Just Sara has something to do with gorillas. "Gorillas in the Fisted", "Gorillas in the Fist", "Who flunked Who" were suggested, but none were the overwhelming favorite so hopefully she'll be named next time and remember to do something really stupid.

Jizzmopper was accused of pointing in the circle.

We did Swing Low and made a grab for the many Pizza's around the bar. There was a little bit more hash beer, but the bar was setting up for Open Mic night. Just Michael went up and sang "Egan" and "Top of the Pops". He used to be a recording artist, and is currently playing with a band called Pleasant Sweaters. http://www.myspace.com/pleasantsweatersUnfortunately most of the pack had left by this point.

-Friar
The Lasagna Lipstick Hash (about 9 years ago)
Date: 2009-07-29 Wed
Time: 6:30 HST (pack away by 7:30 or so)
Hares: Time of the Munch, Splitz, Shawshank (Bag Car)
Start: Mary Anns in Cleveland Circle
Beer Check: The same park on Summit Ave where we always do beer checks.
Circle: Ringer Park (at a large pie chart painted on the tarmac -
great for circle)
On-In: The Silhouette Lounge (where else??)

The pack: I counted 28, but more may have arrived later: Sugar Plum Fairy, The Butler Did It, Friar F**K, Stick it to the Bros, Catheter the Great, Necrophiliac Jack, Jamaican me Cum, Goes down on Bouys, Skibobbit, Taj my Hole, Grease my Monkeys Nuts, Better late than Pregnant, Hareclub, 5 inch Penalty, High Anus, Backdoor Factory, Bed Over Mommy, G re - (that's what my notes say), An Inconvenient Poop, Second Cumming (RA), Just Lloyd, Just Dan, Just Greg, Just Ellie, Immaculate, Bend over Mommy, Sketchy HO, Virgin Bridget.

Hashers gathered at Mary Anns for a few cheap beers. Talk was about Bouys moving adventures, concerts (Depeche mode coming up), and other topics. Mary Anns proudly displays it's "Worst of Boston" plaque. Unusual for a Boston hash - there was no dress code or theme today. Eventually Shawshank showed up and we all went outside for bag car/ chalk talk.

Virgin Bridget was our only virgin, and was introduced to what seemed to be every mark ever used in Boston. We did introductions and were off.

There seemed to be no trail anywhere near the bar. That has never stopped hashers though and everyone followed sheep-like in one direction and then the other. Finally we found trail. There was not much to remember about the trail until we got to the Boob Check. SPF blew through this one, but all the guys hung out. Finally Jamaican showed her tits and we were off. We were near Summit Ave - guess which way trail went?

The beer check was at the park we always use on Summit Ave. Some of you may remember it as the place where Anal Avenger and Deposits got married. There was a compass on the ground (large circles seem to be a theme) and people made the 6 and 9 into a 69.

I started with the runners and ended with the walkers. The map said that the on-in was at the Swillo (where ELSE would the on-in be, given that we were within a 2 mile radius). We got there - some hashers were already there. We had beer. We had food (well - popcorn). Why leave. After a few beers we went up to Ringer Park. Circle was being held at a painted pie-chart. Some hashers came in with large stuffed fishes.

We had one visitor who sang Hog Calling Time in Nebraska

Backsliders: Grease my Monkeys, Nuts, 5 inch Penalty, Shawshank

False accent: Jamaican me Cum

Virgins: Virgin Bridget was our one virgin. Jamaican me Cum made her cum. Bridgets favorite sexual position is the Cowboy (we had a demo) and she fakes an orgasm by laughing.

FRBs: Stick it to the Bros, Backdoor Factory.

Late Cummer: Time of the Munch, Shawshank,

Hash Crash: Just Lloyd - Blood on trail

Blew through Tit check: SPF who sang "I love my girl"

Racist Behavior: Immaculate.

Necropheliac Jack drank out of SPF's shoes for no reason (popular vote)

Hares got a downdown for sending the walkers to the on-after.

Anniversary: Better Late than Pregnant, Jamaican me Cum (Self).

Leaving us: SATRAC - she's going to DC.

We did swing low and went to (or back to) the Swillo where we had (guess what) Lasagna and more beer.

Friar posted pix of this event on Hashspace.
The Wang and 2C Trust Me Hash (about 9 years ago)

Hares/Organ-izers: Wang Chunks and Second Cumming
Religious Advisor: Krusty the Meat Miser
Assistant Transportation Fluffers: Stick It To The Bros, Floppy D*ck, Save A Tree Ride A Cowboy
Scribe: Jolly GREEN Vagina

Pack:
Fire In The Hole, You Oughtta Blow, Super Teflon Dong, Anal Beads, Pubic Service Announcement, Schindler’s Fist, Drippy Spigot, I Eat Teabags, Laa Laa, Dirty Latte Sanchez, Peppermint P*ssy, Stretch P*ssy, Filthy Rhode Island Scum: Fuwangi Boner, Swamp Whine, Anal Crabs

In retrospect, I suppose should have been worried when Second Cumming started talking about a Trust Me Hash. Not because a Trust Me Hash is a bad thing, but because of he the way he pitched it, which sort of sounded like he was trying to convince everybody that he had a ton of really great candy in the back of his van.

In any event, I, like about two dozen other hashers, were dumb enough to get in the back of the metaphorical van and showed up at An Tua Nua early Saturday afternoon. STD was, of course, already drunk, and I don’t believe he left that state at any point during the weekend. In fact, I have credible reports that he didn’t get down to a BAC of .08 until late Tuesday night.

After some pre-lube beer and pre-lube food, the hashers piled into a half dozen volunteer cars, including Wang Chunks’ SUV which has a carbon footprint roughly equal to all of the cow flatulence in Brazil. Then we drove. We drove so far away. We drove both night and day.

Sorry about that. I couldn't resist. We didn’t drive that long. It was only like an hour or an hour and a half, depending on whether your car stopped for a six pack of Burger King Gristle Shots or not. (Mmmm, mostly sphincter-free mystery meat grilled long enough to kill almost all the E. coli, then covered with a layer of warm cheese product, sprinkled with tasty pickle puree and delicious single serving condiments, and finally wrapped in tender whitebread buns. Heavenly.)

Eventually, we arrived in Newport, at a super-classy Econo Lodge, which only smelled a little bit like Indian food. While we unloaded the vehicles, 2C and Wang went downstairs to convince the management that we wouldn’t break things or light things on fire. Immediately after dropping our stuff in the rooms, Teabags rounded up a couple people and started playing Frisbee in the hall, while STD went out to the balcony and burned a decent quantity of vegetable matter.

After a few minutes, the hashers piled into a three cars and started driving to pre-lube #2. Out of the 20 or so hashers, about twelve decided to get into 2C’s vehicle. I’m told that the highlights of that particular ride mostly revolved around STD being on, under, or intertwined with various harriettes. The highlights of the ride for the other vehicles were trying to find which of the 69 red Jeep Cherokees on the road was the red Jeep Cherokee that we were supposed to be following. And we also got to see Laa Laa press ham. Whoever owns the car that he was in, I hope that by now you’ve cleaned his skidmarks off the rear window.

Pre-lube number #2 was a place called Cappy’s, which had a large banner announcing that they “Proudly Serve Narragansett Lite.” I want you to consider that for a moment. "Proudly serve" right next to "Narragansett Lite." All done? Okay, moving on.

At Cappy's, we also picked up our Rhode Island contingent of Fuwangi Boner, Anal Crabs, and Swamp Whine here. Then we drank. I think we spent a pretty long time drinking, because by the time we left, the golf match on television was beginning to seem interesting to me. Also, my trail notes from this point on are almost completely illegible.

Wang split his time at the pre-lube looking either outside at the sky, which was filled with extremely dark, threatening clouds, or at the television, upon which a weather guy was pointing at a flashing red storm front with a caption that said “HERE BE TORNADOES” on it. It was just slightly south of us.

“Only a 20% chance of rain,” Wang assured the pack.

At around 4:30, hares were away. Around 4:50, the pack went out to chalk talk, where we drew penises on the ground, much to the amusement of parents with young children passing by.

Almost immediately upon being on-out, Teabags did a faceplant while running through a public park. Not to be outdone, STD performed his own faceplant immediately after. Well, actually, he was sort of outdone, because Teabags’ flop was a lot better. Then we hit a song check. I have no idea what we sang.

Back on trail, STD bummed a half-drunk Red Bull off a couple of townies, which he downed while running. Did I mention STD didn’t bring shoes and was running in flip-flops? No? Okay, well, STD didn’t bring shoes and was running in flip-flops. Then we ran through some sort of nature preserve thing with huge, old, stately oak trees which were great for ducking behind and pissing on.

On the other side of the nature preserve was a rocky shore, where we had our first Beer Check, and frolicked in the ocean mist. Or sat there and sweated and drank beer in the ocean mist. I think most of us chose option B.

Following the Beer Check, trail followed a walkway along the shore for a bit, then crossed a road, and a muddy culvert for storm runoff. Besides the storm runoff, the culvert also held the second largest snapping turtle that I have ever seen. The shell was something like two feet long. The head was about four inches across. It could have swallowed a tennis ball whole.

And the hares had marked it with flour. Right on the top of the f*cking shell. F*ckers.

At this point, the pack proceeded in a couple different ways. Laa Laa went upstream to where the culvert was shallower and the water was turtle-free and crossed there. I followed the culvert on the near side until I hit trail again. And a bunch of idiots crossed the culvert, many of whom didn’t even notice that they were splashing around right next to something that could have easily taken a chunk the size of a filet mignon out of their calf.

Surprisingly, we had no casualties.

After our encounter with Newport’s giant mutant snapping turtle, trail followed the beach and then took a long windy path through residential summer houses and stuff. Then we hit our second Beer Check, at another rocky shoreline cleverly hidden behind a few acres of poison ivy. Despite the rocky shoreline, heavy surf, and possible riptides STD and Teabags went swimming.

Surprisingly, we had no casualties.

Trail ended there, and we piled into various cars to go to a microbrewery to have our On-In, which is seriously the best thing that has ever happened in the history of the Hash. It was so cool that even Latte showed visible emotion, and said things which ended in exclamation points. Apparently 2C knows the owner, although I suspect that having the Hash there for two hours might have strained their friendship. I mean, if someone I knew brought Laa Laa to my company, I’d probably never speak to them again.

Anyway, after some beers, Circle started. I have something in my notes about Krusty wearing tighty whiteys. I don’t know how I came by that information, but I wrote it down, so it must be true. After whatever it was that involved Krusty’s undergarments, there was a bald guy down-down, followed by a C*mbridge virgin down-down, and a Smaht Kids down-down. Then Drippy and Stick It had a same shirt down-down, and apparently there was some trash talk in the circle, because they had a bukakke fight on the way out.

Next, STD and Teabags got a Darwin Award down-down, for being dumbasses and swimming under conditions that routinely claim the lives of drunken morons. Then we awarded a down-down to Brent, our server, and he acquitted himself well. Then came Blood On Trail, which was quite a list, and included also SATRAC, by reason of menstruation.

Then I and Laa Laa were called in for same shoes. Same make and model and everything, and yes, this was a drinking out of the shoe down-down. Sort of. I’m not ashamed that I chose to wear the beer rather than drink it, on the basis that I know where my shoes have been, and that getting a reputation as a wuss was preferable to … oh, for example … dysentery. I got Old MacDonalded anyway.

Finally, Krusty brought out the condom. Brent, our server, was given the choice of who would drink out of it. He chose wisely.

So after SATRAC did the condom down-down, we closed Circle with “Today is Monday,” and then had burgers and hot dogs (for which we offer many thanks to Fuwangi, who slaved over a hot grill for us). And we also had more beer.

Oh, and just about then, it finally started to rain. I guess it really was a 20% chance after all.

Overheard on Trail:
  • Things happened in that car that we shall never speak of. –PSA
  • That’s my wankin’ hand! –Unknown, possibly Krusty
  • Booby, booby, booby … that’s the name of a bird. –Anal Crabs
  • I was mentally born retarded. –Teabags
  • When you’re bouncing, I can’t read. –Anal Crabs
  • What is on my butt? –Anal Crabs
  • Those are Bead marks. –Anal Beads
  • This burnt Cheeto tastes like burnt Cheeto. –Krusty
  • I just got wet. Who did that? –PSA

AFTERWORD

I don’t usually write up things that happened after Circle, but I’ll pass on a few gems from later that evening:
  • After the brewery kicked us out, most of us went back to the motel, showered, and went downtown to some bar that someone recommended. Most of the bar appeared to be well below the age of 21.
  • Some random woman did shots with STD. Then she stole his paper Burger King crown, which he wore to the bar. Apparently, the ladies love it.
  • I think there was a DJ. I think there was dancing. I think I danced.
  • I’m pretty sure I was not the whitest guy who danced.
  • When the bar closed, the hash wandered out to various pizza places. At one place, STD ordered two pizzas, then realized he left his debit card at the bar. He ran back to the bar and got his credit card, but forgot about the pizzas he ordered and ended up going to a different pizza place. Teabags had to pay for the original pizzas.
  • Trying to catch a taxi back was tough because all the bars emptied at the same time. One cabbie called out the window, “Hey, I’m looking for Dave! Some guy named Dave ordered a cab?” Without missing a beat, STD grabbed Floppy (whose nerd name is Axel) and said “Yeah, this is Dave, right here! There’s our cab, Dave!” STD referred to Floppy as Dave the entire cab ride back.
  • Back at the motel, Fire In The Hole, SATRAC, Peppermint, and Drippy shared a room. Fire got one bed to herself. SATRAC, Peppermint, and Drippy shared the other.
  • The next morning started with the Gatorade-and-Advil fairy making the rounds. Despite many people partaking of the goods the Gatorade-and-Advil fairy offered, no one offered him a blowj*b as a reward for a job well done.

Zombie Hash (about 9 years ago)
Date: 6/10/2009
Hares: I Licked Butts (virgin lay) & Beat by a Girl (hash drunk, 2008-2009)
Scribe: Friar Fuck
Bag Car: Stretched P*ssy & I Eat Teabags
Pre-lube make-up artist extraordinaire: Jamaican me 'cum

Promises:
There will be all things ZOMBIE such as...lots of ICE-COLD sh*tty beer...tight, short trail with 3 (that's right, i say three) beer checks (w/ZOMBIE snacks)...very light shiggy (about 2 on the scale; no fence jumping)...outdoor circle (w/delicious ZOMBIE food)...very awesome ON-AFTER ZOMBIE hang out

Finally the truth can be told...

Beer check 1: in Forest Hills Cemetery by some sort of spirit catcher thing.
Beer check 2: in Forest Hills Cemetery by a set of pigeon holes.
Beer check 3: who knows?
On-In: A roofless hall-like structure in Franklin Park

The Pack: This time I tried an experiment for taking attendance - I started to pass my list around so people could check their names off. Spunk took the list and walked around checking people off, but people took off before she got to everyone. If you were standing to my left, see me after class.

Crucifux (RA), Drippy Spigot, Dribbles, Dirty little Sanchez, Friar F*ck, Gay Pride, GAP (didn't he leave already), Goes down on Bouys, Goes down Syndrome, High An*s, Hoover mc Suck n F*ck, I eat cum, I eat Tea Bags, Jamaican me Cum, Jizz Mopper, Just Ellie, Just Meg, Just Tom, Las Laa, Necrophiliac Jack, Nice Tits, Pat my Fly, Peppermint P*ssy, Placentos the Fresh Maker, SATRAC, Shorn Scrotum, Stinky D, Spunk in the Trunk, Stick it to the Bros, Sugar Plum Fairy, Super Teflon Dong, Sketchy Ho, Vagatarian, Time of the Munch, Just Bert, Virgin Ellen, Virgin Ryan, Virgin Melissa, Virgin Kelly, Spoonfull of Semin. Just Dave.

I arrived (running late as usual) just around 7pm, and the hares were in no hurry to leave. People were getting drizzled with strawberry syrup, and having "one more beer". So much for HARES AWAY AT 7.

Eventually we did circle up. With barely enough time to take attendance and introduce the virgins, we were off! I was with the Walkers, so we had a somewhat direct route. It didn't take long to get to a big iron gate and we were now in Forest Hills Cemetery. The map was not very helpful at this point, so we followed trail or rather followed all the noise as the pack found trail. There were quite a few circle jerks, clambering up banks, etc and eventually we got to the first beer check.

Forest Hills has a lot of quirky art installations, and the beer check was next to some sort of canopy made of wire mesh. This was conveniently hidden in the trees. The trail meandered through the park after this, and we got to the second beercheck near a sunken maze with a set of cubby holes at the end. The sun was setting and it was getting late. The rest of the trail meandered through the park, but we saw green lights on the road. Park security was following us around, and it was time for a little haphazard running. I actually didn't see the cop cars, but we did meet two guys walking dogs who told us that we were probably locked in and should look for a hole in the fence by the side of the park. For a few us, trail basically ended at that point. One hasher (just Dave) got a ride to the entrance in the back of a security car. The hash is not really welcome in Forest Hills.

We made our way to the side of the park. A woman in a house outside the park directed us to the hole in the fence (it is a local landmark) and we were soon on the other side of the cemetery - on some unknown street with no marks in sight. Here's where the great comedy of errors started to happen. We were well equipped - a map, several cell phones, even a GPS unit. Here's what happened:
  • The person with the map wandered off. Now we had no clue where were were going.
  • I got a call - one of those really helpful hash calls "You know that bridge near the hospital - well you go under it and then cut through the woods and we're right there...". That could be pretty much anywhere.
  • Someone started laying pack marks, so now we were always on trail.
  • We somehow got back to JJ Foleys. I needed to pee so this was a welcome stop. I contemplated buying a round, but felt that this might be seen as a misuse of state funds. Besides when I came out, everyone had left.
  • I followed the pack marks, and I found what was left of the pack looking at the GPS trying to figure out where to go.
  • As we're standing in the street, the bag car goes past to get pizza. We get another map. We're in Franklin Park. Now the directions make sense.
  • Since there are two ways to Franklin Park on foot (I always thought it was some distance away and one got there by T), we almost split up. Luckily we stay together.
  • By now it's pitch black. I have my tiny keychain light. Spoonful of Semen is trying to lead us in, but we spend a lot of time looking for each other.

Finally we get to a large open-air hall which is the on-in. It's a bit spooky, and circle is already under way. I missed "comments on the run" and can only imagine what some of them were.
  • Just Melissa - NEW SHOES
  • Drippy spigot - BACKSLIDER
  • Gap / Stick it to the Bros - Late Nite Adventures in Foxboro. Gap ended up in JAIL.
  • Laa Laa - VISITOR
  • STD - REAL BLOOD ON TRAIL
  • (someone) - FELL GOING DOWN STAIRS (I have a picture of her recovery "dismount" pose, but it's too blurry to identify).
  • Just Dave - GOT A RIDE IN A COP CAR
  • Virgins: Virgin Melissa brought by Stretch, Virgin Kelly brought by Second Cumming, Virgin Ellen brought by I like Butts, Virgin Ryan brought by Just Megan
Random notes which don't really make sense! Accusat an Kevin at the Gate. Beat by a girl Cheat sheet Revenge Satbend. Whodus got the key to Megan's chastity belt.

There was pizza, beer, a great view of Franklin Park from the windows. When the beer was gone, we started to drift away. For those on the MisManagement list, this trail started a great discussion. I think that this may be the trail that gets nominated for both Best and Worst Trail of the Year.