Missed a hash? Catch up on all the trash here...
|Boston Marathon Hash
(over 9 years ago)
The Official Marathon Hashers! It's official because it came from Hash Cash…
Due to the um, graphic nature of this event all photos are posted on hashspace. Look for the hashspace event or search for pictures from the hashers named Spunk in the Trunk and Better Late Than Pregnant.
|Back to the Future Hash
(over 9 years ago)
Hares: GAP, Hoover McSuck n F*ck
Bag Car: I Eat Tea Bags
RA: Bend Over Mommy
Virgins: There were 6, 4 of which came on account of Anal Beadswell done champ
On-in: The dock right next to the Barking Crab
On-after: Sissy Ks
Pack Members: Lots, most of which arrived at the pre-lube at 3:10 or later,
because in Boston, mid-50s makes us beach-bum lazy. Lets all forget this
weeks snow, shall we?
There must have been 35 people or so, according to my calculations. I might
have written down their names if Jolly had given me his notebook BEFORE I
drank that tumbler of Bacardi. Something to think about for next week
Its amazing how much nicer the starting circle is when youre not freezing
youre ass off. Some of Whiteys patrons even followed us into the back
parking lot to observe the spectacle, or maybe to protect their cars from
the Brat Pack (reference to the 80s garb, FYI). Once BOM finished showing
off the marks, the pack was off and away. We got fairly lost in the
beginning, but eventually ended up near that Gillette dock (I think) and
then got a lot more lost in the charming alleyways right next to it. We then
made our way across some bridge, where we got WAY more lost. But alas, we
re-found trail and darted in and out of all the pissed off people waiting in
a long line to get ripped off by Amtrak, one of which exclaimed, This is
NOT a good place to go for a run. Doh.
After emerging from South Station, we quickly found our way into a parking
lot and under a scenic bridge littered with ladies� deodorant, tampon
applicators, and some syringes. We enjoyed some DE-licious brews, basked in
the sunlight, and then watched GAP and Hoover prance off and attempt to set
falses while we were still watching them, then realize we still watching
them, then give up on setting falses.
Leaving the beer check, we actually did manage to go the wrong way quite
quickly, and then retreated into Chinatown, where we went the wrong way
several more times. There was a lovely song-check in Downtown crossing,
where we sang Whip it out at the Ballgame, for the kids. That song-check was
quickly followed by another, where Hyan*s led a lovely rendition of The Days
of the Week. After that we had a reprise of the usual Hash clusterf*ck that
is Faneuil Hall, but once we found our way out of there we were rewarded
with a nice Tang check. Mmmnnn.
It was VERY soon after the second beer check that An*l Beads snared the
hares on the dock. We all gathered round and sang a song while giving the
hares a few minutes to escape. As soon as we did leave that spot, we
stumbled on another group of hashers who had zenned their way a little
further up trail and had ALSO snared the hares. Double-snare! FANTASTIC! It
was only a quick run across the bridge (led by Beat by a Girl, who
unknowingly volunteered to hare in two weeks when he took off first) until
we came upon I Eat Tea Bags with a car full of pizza. On in!
Now there were of course several funny moments in the circle, but my
personal favorite had to be when Spank Me discovered that his Members Only
jacket had a little name tag that his mom had sewn into the lining
approximately 20 years ago. Another highlight was the virgins, who did a great six-person-orgy demonstration, which looked strangely similar to the ending pose of a jazz dance number. The lowlight had to be the beer. It was mostly Genessee �Full Flavor� and Genny Light, brewed right near Shorn�s hometown! Several fist-fights over the rare but coveted Keystone Light had to be broken up.
Our lovely day of hashing concluded with a trip to Sissy K�s, where several hashers partook in an intense game of Apples to Apples. I�m not saying who won, because it wasn�t me. Argh! After most people stumbled home, the hardy spoke of an encore of karaoke at the Hong Kong. Not sure if that actually happened, but if it did, I�m sure it was the usual sh*t show!
For all of you who missed the first spring Hash, too bad my friends, too bad.
(over 9 years ago)
Hare: Hare Club For Queers
Invisible Hare: CreamWhora
Bag Car: Dribbles
Slacker Extraordinaire: Taj My Hole
RA: Goes Down On Buoys (On-Out), Bend Over Mommy (On-In)
Scribe: Jolly Green Vagina
Weather: 35-ish, clear, and slushy
Pack: Wang Chunks, Just Kendra, Super Teflon Dong, Friar F*ck, Schindler’s Fist, Dirt Latte Sanchez, Peppermint P*ssy, Just Brian, Beat By A Girl, High Anus, Laa Laa, I Eat Teabags, Dick Jockey, Just Rob, Virgin Ellie, General Ass Pounder, Dude Where’s My Virginity, Nice T*ts, Polly
When this trail started out, I had it pegged for a Wang trail. We took a bunch of stairs up a hill that would’ve made Rocky Balboa proud, and then had a lovely view of a Target/Stop’n’Shop that looked just like the one in Dorchester, and then went up and through a T-station. That was only the first half mile, though. After that, it became clear that Hare Club’s trail was nothing like a Wang trail, and was actually more like some sort of unholy hybrid between a GAP trail and Robert Peary’s expedition to the North Pole.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me back up a bit.
Trail was originally going to be hared by Hare Club and Creamwhora. CW, however, pulled a no-show. Whether this was due, as some said, to “family issues,” or whether he woke up on G-String’s couch sore, naked, and covered in Vaseline and was too embarrassed to show up, we may never know. CW, if you’re reading this, you should at least know that you weren’t the first, and you probably won’t be the last.
Pre-lube was at the Victory Pub off of something called “the Blue Line.” The beer was cheap, the chairs were sticky, and if you had to change, the bathroom was a frightening place to take off your shoes. In other words, it was a typical hash bar. Outside, Buoys did introductions and chalk talk in front of a few horrified onlookers, and then the pack was away.
The short Wang intro to Hare Club’s trail brought us through residential neighborhoods, where an unusually large number of people were out shoveling snow, which was strange given that the last storm had been about a week before. We also passed a building with some sort of decoration around the top that looked very much like one of those paper Burger King crowns, which didn’t make any sense. One of the people out shoveling explained that it some sort of Catholic building. Which doesn’t make any sense either, when you think about it.
From there, trail led under the approach path to Logan Airport. The planes coming in for a landing were pretty cool. The uneven, half-frozen pack-ice crusting the top of the salt marsh was somewhat less so. The major problem with half-frozen pack ice is that “half frozen” by definition implies “half not-frozen,” and some of the heavier members of the pack had the opportunity to find out what was underneath the half-frozen ice. (Answer: cold, nasty-smelling muck.) Then the pack came to several 8-foot wide channels filled with cold, nasty-smelling ice water. Most members elected to jump across. Laa-Laa, ever the nonconformist, chose instead to fall in.
After that, it was a short jaunt across a causeway, through a car wash, through a second salt marsh (complete with more channels), up a hill, and across a snow-covered field to the beer check. But there was PBR and a chance to clear the snow out of our shoes, which made it all worthwhile.
From the beer check, trail immediately led into a third and final half-frozen marsh, and then into some woods consisting of some briars, a couple of trees, some more briars, a burned sofa, even more briars, a foot of snow, briars, and animal poop. And briars. I can’t speak for anyone else, but when we got out to the road, I had to spend about 45 seconds pulling thorns out of my earlobe.
Then the trail turned residential, although running on the slushy, poorly-paved roads didn’t really represent much of an improvement over running across the treacherous, icy salt marshes. Note to the town of Revere: Maybe you could – I’m just throwing this out there – but maybe you might want to consider GIVING YOUR D.P.W. SOME F*CKING MONEY SO THEY CAN FIX THE F*CKING POTHOLES, A’IGHT?
The On-In was at BK’s, near the Revere Beach T-Stop. If you haven’t been there, the beer was cheap, the chairs were sticky, and if you had to change, the bathroom was a frightening place to take off your shoes. In other words, it was a typical hash bar.
From a 1:30 HST start, trail finished right about 4:00 PM. Unless you were Friar or BBAG, in which case trail finished at around 4:30. Bend Over Mommy was our RA for the evening, and after “And The Hares,” Hare Club serenaded Just Kendra for his song. It was something about necrophilia and included lots of yo-ho’s. That Hare Club … he sure knows how to impress the ladies.
After that Peppermint Pussy demented Virgin Ellie, who thought that Teabags was our most attractive harriette. That Virgin Ellie … she sure knows how to impress the ladies.
Then our Irish visitor Polly sang a song called, I think, “Naughty Rude Girls.” I didn’t catch all the lyrics, but it was a nice segue into our next accusation, which was that almost all the harriettes were wearing blue for no apparent reason. There were probably more accusations waiting in the wings, but by that time, the locals were starting to get uncomfortable, so we Swung Low and ate pizza. Except for Friar, who skipped the cheese-and-sauce portion of the meal and walked around collecting leftover crusts from empty down-down cups instead. Yum.
Overheard on Trail
Citizen: Why are you running?
Citizen: Beer that you drink?
Citizen: Beer that’s free?
|Annual Robbie Burns Hash
(over 9 years ago)
WHAT: Robbie Burns Hash
THE START, THE TRAIL:
The pack circled next to the drive through window of the Burger King for an explanation of marks. The back-of-the-pack walkers had a map to follow, and Sperm Breath was entrusted with the whiskey for the whiskey check. Ski must have hit the lottery, as the whiskey was in a glass (not plastic) bottle. It was actually drinkable.
The map showed that the pack had a nice long circle jerk over toward Comm Ave. The walkers made directly toward the whiskey check that was less than a mile away, on the far side of the Mass Pike, next to a flight of stairs in lower Allston. We weren't there very long before the FRBs showed up. Eventually, the rest of the pack arrived, and all were given little cups of whiskey that most chose to drink. Except, as we were cleaning up after the pack left, we did notice a bit of whiskey on the snow. The shame!!!
From the beer check, the pack was off on a long circle in Lower Allston, while the walkers went directly to the beer check, behind the Model Cafe. Ski was there in his car when we arrived. And, being first, we were treated to some really GOOD beer that Ski had bought (he also had the usual hash swill). Before too long, a couple of FRBs appeared … we pointed past where we were standing, and they kept going … until we called them back. Silly FRBs. The pack eventually arrived. There were so many that we filled the entire section of the parking lot, and had to make a hole when cars from the condos wanted to enter or leave. There was only one broken bottle of beer, which was fortunate. From the beer check, trail went around to the front of the building and into the Model Cafe. Bonus points to Ski for a short trip to the on in on a cold day.
Virgins: Puff & Stuff demented virgin Camilla. Krusty made her cum (and the rest was obliterated by the noise in the circle)
There were down downs for various infractions, for the visitors, etc. etc.
Naming: Just Jenn with two ns was due for a name. She used to (or may still, I'm a bit unclear on this) be a roller derby competitor. This led to a whole lot of possibilities. She was not named any of the following. Video Hash Bitch, Beaver Fever, Anal Smurf, I smurfed all over her face, Blue Balls, Skanky Couric, Scum Guzzling Crack Ho, Tra La La La La La Tra N N, Smurf on My Face, Blue Period, I'm a Lesbian, Grease My Wheels, Clit Wit, Dirt Digglers Bitch. She was almost named Slut Dog Roller Whore, but NOT. Just Jenn with two ns was named The Wheels on My Butt Go Round And Brown. Which is actually a song.
The pack did hash religion, and we adjourned to eat pizza. I bit into the first slice, and the cheese had a funny texture, it was really granular. The flavor of the cheese was off-putting. It was nasty. If you scraped the "cheese" off, it wasn't bad. Hashers were eating it (everyone was hungry by that time), but the expressions were priceless. Ski Bobbitt ordered pizza from the closest restaurant (a vegan joint near the Swillo). At some point a $5 hash was initiated so there would be more beer to wash down the nasty pizza. And there was much rejoicing.
|Track Stars Dirty 30 Hash
(almost 10 years ago)
I decided I couldn't hash again until I finished this hash trash (I am
caught up, because the remaining notes are for really old hashes, and all
mixed up). In a sense of deja vu, the Robbie Burns hash today starts at the
Swillo, same as this hash. So this may revive memories of terrain.
Also good news, although it's cold, it looks like the first Sunday in awhile
without snow (so I have no shoveling!).
-- Cums Alone
Track Stars Dirty 30 Hash
WHEN: Sunday, November 5, 2008, 2:30 pm HST
A: Silhouette Lounge, Allston
B: The Kells, Brighton Ave, Allston
Whiskey check: up the stairs by Brighton High School
Beer Checks: (1) behind Franciscan Children's rehab hospital (2) among the
boulders at the Stanley Ringer Playground
HARES: Going Down Syndrome, Super Teflon Dong, Floppy Dick
BAG CAR: Just Stacy
WEATHER: it was okay weather, a bit chilly, but not snowing or raining
HASHERS PRESENT (in addition to the hares, and bag car driver). Note, for
this hash, I decided to be lazy and let hashers write down there own names.
Only two problems with that: some hashers have poor penmanship (possibly
due to beer consumption), and some get "creative" with their hash names
(thanks a lot). Here are the names (it was a huge pack):
Clit Van Winkle, Sugar Plum Fairy, Mr. Papageogio (aka High An*s), Dirty
Latte Sanchez, Cum is Kosher, Catheter the Great, Knob Gobbler, Cums Early,
Sux to Blow, European Whore, Just Jenn (note 2 "n's", I hope she got a name
that reflects that), Just Jack, Just Mike, 6DOB, Just Katelyn, Just Laine, I
Eat Tea Bags, Just Alex, Fire in the Hole, Shorn Scrotum, Crucifux,
Immaculate Erection, Just Alex (again?), SATRAC, IEC, Stick it to the Bros,
Hareclub for Queers, Peppermint Pussy, Just Angelique, Bend Over Mommy, Goes
Down on Buoys, plus me Cums Alone (and if people didn't write down their
names, they are missing
Virgin: Tania. ... speaking of missing: Lost Virgin: Karl
The Start, the trail, the on-in:
Hashers milled about the lovely Swillo bar. It hasn't changed much from
when it was a smoky dive bar ... other than being able to breathe. The pack
circled behind the bar for an explanation of marks. The back of the pack
walkers had a map to follow. It was quite amusing watching the FRBs run to
and fro, zigzagging across true trail through the bowels of Allston. The
beer check was at the top of a rocky promontory behind the Franciscan
Children's rehab hospital off Cambridge Street. It was scenic if slippery.
From there the walkers got a short cut to the second beer check, thus we
missed the shot check (and a very long flight of stairs). We probably got
to the second beer check at the same time the FRBs got to the shot check, so
we had a long time to examine the detritus at the second beer check. There
was a mattress and some very soiled panties that were next to a boulder (we
put hazard marks on the boulder so the rest of the pack would avoid the
area). Of course the warning was to no avail, as a hasher picked them up
with a stick and started throwing the panties around (they kind of looked
like granny panties).
The pack took its time at the second beer check, and it was twilight before
everyone moved on to the on-in.
The on-in venue was a surprise. The Kells is a nice bar, kind of swanky by
hash standards, but at that hour I don't think they are normally open, so we
had the place to ourselves (I don't think their usual clientele would be
Eventually, the pack had beers, and the circle commenced, with Buoys as RA.
Comments on the trail included: It sucked, Nice, No more broken glass, Dirty
STD panties, itty bitty chalk, not enough shots for the walkers, not enough
hookers, No package check, etc.
Among the many down downs were:
Private Party: Crucifux, SATRAC, and a bunch of others
Hash Crash: Just Alex
FRBs: I Eat Cum, Stick it to the Bros
FBI: Fire in the Hole
Virgins: Tanya was there. Virgin Karl got lost on trail and was nowhere to
be found. The bartender, Allie was also roped into the circle. They were
demented, and welcomed to the hash.
Just Michelle was due for a name. She was not named Size Queen, Daisy
Dicks, Jamaican Jerk, Cranberry F*ck, Yeast Love, Tall Drink of Piss, nor A
Face I can Come on. She was finally named Jamaican Me Cum.
Just Jack was also due for a name. He was not named: Cougar Lover, Walker
Stalker, Jack on Jack off, nor Grandma May I. He was named Necrophiliac
Just Kaitlin was also due to be named. We lost our momentum however, and
she was not named any of the following: Not so Flexible, EZ Brake Hymen,
Clumsy C*nt, Cums in the Woods, Pool of Cum, Loose Lips Sucks Ships, Wet
Spot, EZ Free Condom, Woody the Woodpecker Filler.
There was an accusation about wearing race shirts. Crucifux apparently was
wearing one, but was no where to be found ... except in the men's room
downstairs with another hasher. The pack went downstairs to call on her and
give her a down down.
After that side event, the pack did a quick hash religion, and we adjourned
to eat an assortment of provided appetizers and mini pizzas.
Cums Alone, Scribe