Missed a hash? Catch up on all the trash here...
|Zig Zag H3 Presents: A Leap Day Trail Trash
(over 1 year ago)
What: Zig-Zag H3: Presents the 2016 Leapday Trail.
Where: Friendly Toast
Hares: Queer and Foaming in my Anus, Not Dead Yet
Bag car: Show me the Penis
The Butler Hit It, Vaganacologist, Just From Wisconsin, 4 Virgins, PoPo Peep Show, Sugar Hump Fairy, Fellowship of Cockring, Luva Lamp, Dry Hose, Orgasm Falmon, Bottom Wrangler, Little Spermaid, Spunk in the Trunk, Wikipedophilia, Goes Down on Bouys, Udder Whore, Frair Fuck, Anal Disco, Pulp Friction, Black Cock Down, Marblelous Asshole, Blowcone the Glitter Pussy, Others I Don't Remember
After tierlously scouting the hares told us that State Park was closed and that trail was starting at Friendly Toast - a venue synonymous with good decisions. The Reigning birthday boy, feeling as though there was still more rage left in the group, decided to bring left over cookies from his party to trail. Decisions were made and snacks were had, these decisions greatly increased the confusion felt by some of pack later in trail. Generally, though, it was a tame start. With the notable exception that when I ordered by "Cross of Gold" lager, none of the hashers present understood why I looked around dramatically and proclaimed "I will not crucify this country on a cross of gold!" History lessons aside, though there would be more of those on trail, the hares left relatively on time (okay, not really, but whatever), and then bag car needed help being shown to her own car. Remember, she's the sober one. Eventually bags were deposited, chalk talk was had, and we ran off searching for promised shots, beer, and zigzags, oh my!
With the first check in front of bar trail turned left heading dangerously towards the work places of some of pack, before being imideiately stopped at a song check by the trail tracks, after a quick song and some lazy scouting down all 4 directions of the road, it was suggested that perhaps trail went down the rail road tracks, which, not surprisingly, it did. Trail continued around the back of Kendal square through some light urban housing before turning down some major road. Checks were well marked, pretty much one at every intersection, and trail aggressively switched sides of the streets (for what we thought would be the zig zag part of trail) until eventually reaching a park with a SN and True Trail marked. Marks continued for a suspiciously long time (though well within the 1/4 mile limit) to a shot check by a ball field.
Shot check Hanke-Henry:
The shot check featured some disgusting not-Fireball rip off, sweedish fish in vodka, and a bag with a lighter and two joints. Trail heads quickly assembled and pack made their decisions as to which inhebrient they wanted to peruse, and in a matter of minutes we were off down the right field line of the ballfield to to brief intermission on a play ground before resuming trail.
Trail crossed over Prospect street and ran to a song check in front of CEPs house. Not knowing any Japanese songs besides "Hat, hat, I have a hat" - or however that translates - we sang an abortive version of Tampon factory "My laundry's hit a snag, looks like a Japanese flag" we ran off up the hill, over a bridge, to a future, maybe, someday, we hope, T station to find a combination "Hash Sitapeed/Shot check." In a blatant defiance of both physics and safety, we were able to gather all of pack on the little traffic light island to perform a very well done sitapeed (with hip trusts during Dina) before continuing onto the shot check.
Shot check Qumaran:
I have to lay it all out on the line here, after the violation of my throat which was the first shot check, and after seeing the faces of the people ahead of me, I decided to play it safe and "just keep scouting" instead of indulging. How wrong I was! This was a Moxie-based shot check, and we all know that Moxie is the sweet nectar of the gods which flows endlessly on Mount Olympous. Anyway, the rest of pack disagreed with my love of Moxie, and passed the bottle around making "Oh God, please make it stop faces" before joining the wiser, or more foolish, members of pack at a song check in Union Square.
From the shot check trail run downhill, as I've already stated, to Union Square, from there we scouted in every possible direction, including running up two different hills and pretty much all the side streets of Union Square, until bag car was spotted in the shadows a few blocks away. With a beer near and walkers showing the way we took off down some random road (maybe Webster) towards what we thought would be beer and relazation. Except that the beer was not near. It was over a bridge and around a corner and behind a school.
Beer Check Seleucid:
At long last our thirst was quenched by the champagne of beer, and still more snacks, brought by spunk, left over from skiing/anti-buffet. After five minutes of noisy conversation, and neighbors peering out windows, the beer check was moved further into the park and the merrymaking continued until after the hares were away.
Leaving the park and turning right we immdieatly ended up a the base of a well-known hill. Trail ran up hill, then parallel, down the other side of the street, the aforementioned trail from the shot check to the song check. This time trail was heavily laid in true trail as to not confuse us as to just was constituted a "zig zag" trail. Crossing Union square on true, we again aggressively scouted the hills overlooking union, but found trail leading away. Spured on by curiosity, we followed, until trail did turn right and up the backside of the hill. Passing a dick check just before the crest there was a CB4/YBF marked to send us on another right which eventually lead to a Beer Near and Beer check #2 in the tower overlooking the city.
Beer check Runic:
Two 30 racks awaited us as the base off the tower, as did wind and history lessons from Dry Hose - something about a flag. The beers was was notable for it's views (which were totes gorges) and the very ungentlemanly effect it had on kilters. YHS spent most of time doing his very best Maralyn Monroe impression, but seemed to be failing. It was a leisurely beer check that lasted well longer than it should have, with the hares not being gay until we had drunk all the beer, but eventually, they decided that perhaps they should lead us to warmth and beer, they left.
Trail Chula Sakarat:
Ran downhill, though, of course, no one trusted it. Trail back tracked to the dick check, then switched sides of the street to run down that hill and towards the Market Basket on Sommerville Ave, only to be greeted very quickly by an ONIN outside everyones favourite vintage record store cum ONIN. The FRBS did a quick job of moving all the racks and rugs out of the way and eventually pack, and beer, were ushered in.
We were told we could browse - and buy - any of the products on offer, but mostly we wanted to make sure that beer wasn't spilt on them, though I did en up picking up a gaint Budwiser patch, that someone will have to earn, somehow. Foamy quickly ran across the street to get another beer, then announced he would be returning again with pizza. A virtual plethora of different types of pizza were eventually delivered by a very confused looking Dominios guy, and our mouth holes were filled with a delicious verity of grease and yeast before, at long last, Blonde* attempted to run circle.
The hares were called in and made to drink for their crimes. There were complaints of too much pavement, not enough shiggy, not enough Moxie, and we sang them an ode reminding them to use more flour and chalk. They sang for us, something I forget but required them to stand, and then they got out of circle. We had a right gaggle of virgins - 6, I think, 3 sponsored by Foamy (or surrogates) and 3 by Gloutonous (or surrogates). The virgin from Vermount did a memorable "What does Donald Trump sound like when he cums?" of "Oh, ME! Oh, ME! Oh, ME!" or whatever. I actually don't think that's what she said, but it was funny, so, whatever. They weren't good at math, but we took them anyway. Next we called in the visitors/transplants. There was a guy who was at trail Sunday and a Just Transplant from Wisconsin. The just looked as us accusingly then said "I can't believe you haven't sung my favourite song yet" before pounding her beer and launching into "El Camino." Noticing a kindred spirit, we took up the refrain and sang along for a good while, before eventually ending the song and calling in FRBs - Falmon and Pulp Friction - who apparently came to the onin arm in arm? Friar was called in for DFL, and somehow that escalated to half the circle. After that Blonde was insistent that we do down-downs for backsliders (though no one was interested in if you were on the last leap day trail) really just so she could hand out print-outs-on-recipets of Fellowship and Popo's Total Ecpilse of the Backslider, or whatever. After that circle was opened to accusations, and racist attire was called in, though this quickly turned into - kilter hasher, gm, ex-gm, etc - so about a third of the pack was in circle. There were a few more accusations, then announcements (see below) before it was time for "Vessels in your hands, cranium covers on: 'Ziggy Zaggy...'" for religion.
Pack was told that everyone had to throw away one piece of trash before disbursing into the night.
On - Next Leap Year trail is 2/29/2020, hares and location tbd - On
3/4-6: Burlington VT-> Mardi Gras Hash! Rego is still open:
It's hashing, good beer, beeds, boobs, etc, a Mardi gras parade in Burlington VT!
3/6: The Jorts Trail, start is 2:45HST, downstairs at Tasty Burger.
3/11-13: Philly Green Dress run! Rego is still open:
4/15-18: Boston Hash House Harriers Presents Dungeons and Drag Queens! Rego is still open:
5/13-15: Northeast Unoffical Running of the Drunks -> NURD! NURD! NURD! Rego is NOT open, but stay tuned.
(almost 2 years ago)
Founder's Day Hash Trash
When: Monday February 1, 2016 6:45pm HST
Where: The Publick House, 1648 Beacon St, Brookline, MA 02445
Pack: Five Inch, Douche, Dribbles, Grease My Monkey's Nuts, Friar, Blondie-Mc-Autohasher, and yours truly The Captain, plus Glutenless-LateC*mer and a few others who crashed the On-In
Holy shit we made it to 40 years. You'd think we'd all be passed out from the other events of the weekend, but a small intrepid group of idiots still managed to stumble their way to Brookline for the ACTUAL An*lversary of the Boston Hash House Harriers.
There was a bleak outlook as I arrived at the Publick House to find only a small handful of Hashers. Would we even have a pack to run? Eventually Five Inch showed up and it was deemed we did in fact pass Rhode Island Rules and would have a pack of at least 3. By the time our Hare left, surprisingly on time (if not early!), we had collected a pack of 6 runners.
The hare conveniently forgot to leave any chalk for the pack, but we managed to dig up two pieces which were claimed by Five Inch and myself, just on the off chance we lost Friar or any stragglers decided to follow after us (spoiler: one did!). Spunk lead a brief circle, sans chalk talk since there were no virgins and Wiki assured us "standard marks" would be used. The pack immediately set off in the wrong direction, but quickly noticed the lack of marks and turned around. Five Inch and Douche took the lead with Friar bringing up the rear. We made our way into residential Brookline and miraculously didn't get lost. It was apparent, however, that our hare had (of course), but instead of the dreaded "WL" we saw "CB 4 or 5" followed by an erroneous "CB 1" and "actually CB 1" before our hare seemingly finally figured out where he was going. And where he was going was up. And up. And up. Staircase after staircase we climbed. And then more staircases. We eventually started seeing words of encouragement in faded chalk on the ground (apparently not from Wiki--he was running out of chalk) and soon stumbled into a park on top of the hill where Wiki, Spunk, and Blondie awaited us with beer and snacks.
Eventually Wiki lumbered off. He claims he inadvertently made a bunch of noise leaving the park, but we were too preoccupied with our beer to notice. After several minutes we helped the bag car crew pack up, and the pack began searching for the next mark. The park itself was sloped along the side of the hill, and as we reached the road at the bottom of the park we found a patch of soft, dark, damp dirt. Douche promptly hash crashed, slipping in the dirt, and proclaimed something to the effect of “my pants are brown!” much to the amusement of everyone else. We soon exited the residential area and found ourself running along and across the Green Line. With the exception of a somewhat dangerous crossing over a busy street, the rest of trail was fairly straightforward and ultimately lead us to our ON-IN: the old favorite, Silhouette.
Spunk took care of procuring beers while Blondie picked up burritos from next door. Given the small pack, personal orders had been taken ahead of time, but the burrito place managed to screw them up a bit. All the same, we were fed and beered, and all was good. Buoys and Marbles had shown up to join the ON-IN, and soon Glutenless appeared as well—it seems our pack marks went to good use after all! We also discovered Cum Chowda playing pool, as seems to be becoming a regular occurrence for ON-INs at Silhouette. Once most of the eating was done, Wiki cried out “And the hare!” and began serenading himself until we formed a circle. He bumbled his way, acting simultaneously as RA and Hare, until it was time for accusations. FRB was Douche; DFL was Friar. There were auto-hashers, and latecomers, Douche with his brown shorts, and the ultra-backslider Cum Chowda was even dragged in for a down down as well. We tried to sing “The Story of the Boston Hashers,” and managed a few verses before it fell apart. With that, it was time for announcements and then Hash Religion.
All in all, a fine observance of Founder's Day.
On—Here's to another 40!—On
|Old Fahts Hash
(about 2 years ago)
Hash Trash - A Summer Hash in Downtown Boston - Old Fahts Hash
When: Wed. 9/2/2015
Time 6:30 HST
Weather: a very warm late summer evening
Start: Barking Crab, 88 Sleeper St., Boston
1. Under the bridge next to the Barking Crab
2. Under the sculpture on the Greenway (see photo below)
On-in: Biddy Early's
Hares: Pat My fly, Skibobbit & not Dribbles
Disclaimer from the hares: This will be a back to the basics hash. So far
back, that most of you weren't even a though on your parents' minds. Hell,
they weren't even screwing each other. They didn't even know they were gonna
be screwing each other.
Promises: Short trail, shitty beer, senile, deaf hares. Speaking of hares,
we could use a volunteer or 2. Familiarity with changing depends & able to
listen to tales of long ago hashes when we did things right.
HASHERS PRESENT (in addition to the 2 hares): Pulp Friction, High Anus,
Yankee Pay $5 More, The Buttler Hit It, Goes down on Buoys, Rodent Feltcher,
Hare Club for Queers, Bring Out the Gimp, Blowbot, Tickle Me Homo (Atlanta),
Just Stephan, Just Hanna, Just Mike, Just Rob, Just Megan, Just Anne, Black
Cock Down, WinToes 69, Cums Alone, Bottom Wrangler, Mr. Rodgers, Can't Eat
Pussy, Orgasm Famine, Clit Notes, Vienna Sausage, Just Isaac (I think I got
Virgins: Puja, Jason
Late Cummers: Dribbles (she was not a hare!), Twat My Mom, and House of
The Start, the trail:
Hashers crowded into the Barking Crab, adding body heat to the already warm
evening. Eventually, the pack finished their beers, and we circled outside.
Marks were more or less standard . with the addition of a "?" which
indicated a senile hare, and a double headed arrow, which meant the trail
could go left or right.
The walkers had a short one minute walk to the first beer check, which was
next to the Barking Crab under the bridge. We grabbed a beer and watched
the dragon boat crew come in from the channel. Meanwhile, the pack went all
around the new South Boston waterfront, and eventually arrived at the beer
check, all hot and sweaty.
Eventually, once sufficient beer was consumed, the pack continued on the
trail into the Financial District and onto the Greenway for beer check
From the beer check it was more or less a straight shot to the on-in, at
The circle started at 9 p.m. (one of the reasons I don't hash more often is
that it makes for a very late night). Clit Notes was RA. Comments on the
run included: walkers' trail was long and arduous, we didn't get yelled at
to get off the lawn, trail sucked, pretty sh*tty, etc.
The hares did their down down and sang Me no likee British soldier.
Accusations: FRB, FBI, DFL, Matching shirts, backsliding, visitors,
birthdays, sweat test failures, etc. etc. It was very loud in the bar, and
dark, so I didn't write anything down.
Virgins Jason and Puja were demented by Goat Throat. They failed the dollar
bill question. Proxy sponsors demonstrated a down down, and they were
welcomed to the hash.
We finally did hash religion, and adjourned to eat pizza.
Quotes: "I'm just going to make sh*t up (me)
Overheard snippet of conversation: That's the best way to get drunk". (I
missed the good part of that one).
And on my way to South Station, I passed a passed-out woman who'd been in
the bar (not a harriette). She was in the middle of the sidewalk. Two men
from the bar said they were going to call the police to help her, since they
couldn't get her to tell them the name and number of a friend who could come
to rescue her.
--Cums Alone, Scribe Emeritus
(about 2 years ago)
Hares: Blondie McF*cksalot & Marbleous Asshole
Bag Car: Wiki
Pack: 50ish of the prettiest people in Boston
What is a chumbawamba? That is the question Krusty asked us to answer when we gave our names and kennels before trail. For all that we heard many ideas of what it/he/she/they could be I remain as mystified as ever. Something about sex in a bathtub? A really old rabbit? A sober hasher? The most important thing we were informed of was that in honor of the tubthumping trail we would be presented with shot checks as the song dictates. As hashers departed chalk-talk they could be heard to recite “A whisky drink, a vodka drink, a cider drink, a lager drink” or something like that.
Trail went from BHP up into Beacon Hill to the distain and horror of the residents therein, who did not seem to appreciate my calls of on-on as I traversed their precious cobbled streets and narrow sidewalks. Eventually we started towards Gov. Center but followed marks in towards the courthouse where we found our first SC! The whisky drink was remarkably palatable so we polished it off and ran off in search of trail. However, trail was not to be found! I personally ran around lost for 5-10 minutes searching the paths by the courthouse, streets near Bowdoin T stop, and every side of the street for even one stray mark to encourage my direction. All in vain. Fortunately, eventually someone happened upon a Hash Sittapeed down towards the North end. I still don’t know how we were supposed to know to travel down that hill and across the giant intersection to get to it, but we were not too drunk yet so we managed it. After a successful Sittapeed we ran off towards and into the North end. At the site of the residence of the Knomy Coonass we found our second round of shots. Blue hatorade if I am not mistaken. From there we ran towards Hanover Street, through the parks full of famous stuff where we found some cans of cider hidden in a bush, through all the twisty turney alleyways and out towards the harbor near the skating rink. Since Wiki was bag car the call of Beer Near!!!!! was less bellowing than normal but thirsty hashers still seemed to get the message and pick up the pace.
We took in a beautiful sunset over the Zakim and the harbor as we sipped our (lager drink?) beverages and munched on orange food. The hares departed rather obviously towards the Charlestown bridge. A decent amount of time later we followed and wound through the locks to the dog park on the other side of the river where we found more Cider! At a Song check back up on the bridge we sang a little bit of El Camino before we continued on and somewhat quickly found ourselves at the secluded dog park across from the gas station just into Charlestown for the on-in!
There was some confusion getting all of pack through the gate and then we milled around a bit as we waited for beer and food to arrive. When it did Krusty immediately started circle and by calling the hares in to get on their knees. (hopefully not in dog shit) The comments on trail were pretty innocuous. Not enough shots? Too many shots? Shots that tasted too good? Not enough glitter ;) The hares kind of apologized for not singing us the tubthumping song before breaking into El Camino.
In a bold move Krusty then called in Just Allissa for an early circle naming. He told a story that my memory can’t possibly do justice to that had to do with her waving her arms about like hungry hungry hippo jaws and something about a dick? The name he proposed was hungry hungry dick ho which was med with rousing cheering from pack. After a slight pause in which nobody jumped in with another name idea Krusty began singing ‘Here’s to Hungry Hungry Dick Ho’ and pack joined in to make the name official. Hungry Hungry Dick Ho arose from her 69 second naming a true hasher forevermore. There was an FRB,FBI, DFL, maybe some backsliders, and all the normal stuff. We had visitors and transplants from all over the place. One of note. Krusty called in anybody who goes by the name of Goat. Goat Throat and a transplant who’s name includes Goat entered circle to face off. Krusty asked pack what we should have them do to figure out who is the dominant Goat and then said perhaps a chugging contest would be unfair… someone, maybe Krusty?, suggested Goat Throat chug 2 beers instead of 1 to make it fair. Pack loved that idea so 3 the beers were prepared and the chugging commenced. Transplant Goat dutifully began chugging and looked to be doing a decent job but Goat throat downed the first can in a single 4 second gulp. He threw the discarded can down grabbed the second can and began to chug, for that one he did stop to breath or something but the pause was short lived. Krusty declared him the dominant Goat and both Goats returned to circle slightly drunker. There was a bit more to circle but since Anna’s taqueria buritto’s were awaiting us it was wrapped up moderately quickly. We swang low.
As we were inhaling food it was announced that there was a slip and slide. As hashers joyeously stripped down to whatever level they desired and ran, slid, and frolicked we learned that the slip and slide was covered in glitter. Surprise! Only hashers would think it’s a good idea to strip down and dive onto a thin piece of plastic over dog shit encrusted ground. We drank and got increasingly covered in glitter. My chest began to take on a scaled look. Public Service Announcement: When covered in glitter do not hug people who don’t want to be hugged. Eventually our drunken glittery brains realized it was to to get the fuck out and our glittery bodies entered ubers, lifts, and trains home.
ON-Did you shit glitter?-ON
(over 2 years ago)
What: The Lefty Hash
Where: Brendan Briyan Pub
Who: Dry Hose, Shitonya (guest hare)
Yankee Pay $5 More, Visitor/Transplant/Whatever from DC, Visitor From Alamaba, Visitor From Philly, THE 2nd Cumming, Krusty The Meatmiser, Wikipedophilia, Bloody Slip Inside, Orgasmn Falmon, Twat My Mom, Willy Wonka and the Backdoor Factory, Popo Peepshow, Fellowship of the Cock Ring, Sketchy Hoe, Vienna Sausage, Pappy Von Tinkle, Bend Over Mommy, The Butler Hit It, More Justs Than I care to remember, and a Virgin.
Started with Pappy and I walking around asking if people are Left handed or Right handed, then tapping up their right hand if they were of the weaker disposition, in the mean time people introduced themselves, and said why they were here (beer and tits were the big winners).
For some unknown reason, marks started a block away from the bar and ran past chalk talk, before turning right past bag car and left into the glaring sunset then down a hill around a school. We meandered our way down to the emerald necklace and eventually found true trail pointing across the Jamaca Way and into some shiggy. There was a shotcheck by a pond in the park, and by shot check I mean a gallon jug filled with vodka-soaked gummy bears. I have no idea what that has to do with being a lefty, but they were strong a tasty. After staying there for way too long – pack was weary of such powerful treats – we found a check at the corner of the jamacia way and some cross street. Were there any marks between the true trail into the park, the shot check and that last check? Allegdgely the hares said there were “lots of marks” but, you know, hares have been known to lie. After a lot of scouting, we all finally regrouped at a gaint group hug that led us into the nicer areas of JP, and from there trail went, well, up hill (shocking, I know), through JP before coming to a very deceptive BN, followed by an even more deceptive BVN, and a yet even more deceptive BC.
There was beer and an idling Amtrak (or commuter rail, probably Amtrak since those are always delayed), on the tracks which made conversation difficult. There was surprisingly no orange food (but normal nacos, or maybe I didn’t look hard enough?), but plently of cold (actually) PBRs and more attempts at eating the remainder of the gummy bears. The hares ran off in a single puff of flour, and we waited a while before chasing after them.
Crossed almost immediately over the train tracks and started the invenitable wind up towards Franklin Hill Park. There was a song check by a school, and some falses (maybe?), and a good deal of darting through traffic, or maybe that was just me. There was a solitary turkey/eagle split, with the eagles vaulting a trash can (I’m pretty sure I saw Vaganicologist) leap it in full stride, to the delight of the onlookers. I remember another hill, maybe, before a BN that was surprisingly accurate.
Was up the road a ways from the (an) enterance to Franklin hills (roughly down the ledge-of-death where we’ve ended trail before). There was beer, but no orange food or water.
Apparently there was another leg of trail, so we all grabbed road sodas and walked around the standium to the bear cages.
Those of us who smartly grabbed road sodas for the walk we immediately described as “geniouses” as we beat the beer to the ONIN by a good (at least 10 minutes)(it could have been 5, I was drunk). Depression and desperation set in as time ticketed by and we were getting soberer and soberer until finally the beer, bags, and food arrived. Circle was quickly formed and here’s what might have happened in it:
The hares were called in and comments were had on trail – some liked it, some loved it, some hated it, some didn’t remember it, all in all, it was a trail. Most people, however, agreeded that the hares should have used more flour and chalk, so we told them this in the form of a song. Shitonya then sang to us, though I have no recollection of what, and we kicked them out. Next in were the visitors (see above). They introduced themselves to us, then Shitonya sang us about her hot, wet, sore, bald pussy cat. Next up were backsliders, there were no “epic” backsliders this week, just your standard, run of the mill, “My life is more important than hashing” crowd. Speaking of getting a life, we then called in Analverseries and someone (either Mommy or Sketchy or Bouys, I forget) has been hashing for 10 years! And when one ex-GM drinks, all ex-GMs drink, so we told them to Get A Life! Now, at this point (actually it happened earlier but I liked narrative flow better), there was one person who was extremely confused as to what was going on, so the Virgin was brought into the circle. His Just sponsored him and he didn’t know what a Dollar Menu was, he’d help his uncle jack off a horse, he liked the taste of his first blow job, and he’s back-country poweder down there – no one knew what that last one meant. Anyway, we didn’t find him acceptable, but we’ll allow him back. From there it went to accusations. I accused Krusty of talking a passing biker (a just from some other kennel who had just moved here) into joining us. When she was in circle, though, she said “No, I saw the man in the kilt and gaint coat first!” so your humble narrator was called in as well. 2nd then led us in a rousing rendition of “great big swinging tits” which caused my arms to hurt, somehow. Not sure if there were any more accusations, but the pizza was cold so we did announcements (see below) then swang low.
On – Bear Cages – On
PS: As I was arriving at the OnAfter (Coco’s Lunge) a patron was being led away in a stretcher by EMTs because he had fallen off his bar stool and cracked his head on the floor. This phased not the other patrons, nor the bartender, as we continued to drink into un godly like hours of the night.
This weekend: GAP
Next Wednesday: Sex the Final Frontier – details to cum.
8/24: Mismagamment meeting – Help us run this sh*t for another year!
8/26: Blondie and Marblelous Asshole – Rumors are that there’ll be a slip-and-slide on trail?
8/25: Poof in Cape Code
September 12th: Poof in RI
September 19th: Buffet (Happy Valley Camp out)
September 26: New England Red Dress in Worcester.
October 3rd: AGM
December 10-12: ANTI-BUFFET
Decemeber 17-19: Boston Invasion of Chicago
Feburary: Moon away
April 18th: Boston Marathon Main Event
July: Boston Invasion of Danish Nash Hash
Now – go back to work! Or, if you’re lucky, get a beer, then go back to work!