Missed a hash? Catch up on all the trash here...
|Polish Hash Trash
(over 1 year ago)
What: The Polish Hash
Who: Glutenless Maximus, Just Konrad
Um, if I remembered half of you, I’ll call that a win, but here we go:
Dry Hose, 5 Inch, Popo Peep Show, Fellowship of the Cock Ring, Bottom Wrangler, Spermaid, Sex the Final Frontier, Twat My Mom, Wikipedophilia, Luva Lamp, The Butler Hit It, Friar Fuck, Mr. Bean, Just Jules*, Tiger Lay*, Blowbot, Visitor From Huston (plus 4 Virgins), Virgin Mike, Spank Me May I have My Mother, Last Hole, Just Beat It, Black Cock Down, CEP, Show Me the Penis, JigglyTits, A Few More Justs, Probably Others I Forgot.
Using the only half piece of chalk given to pack, CEP ran a miniaturized version of chalk talk, and got about to the point of explaining what OnOn meant when a very authoritarian looking mall cop arrived to tell us we were on private property. Before she could ask us to “move along” “PACK AWAY” was called and we took off in search of marks.
The first check was by the bar, and after finding a false straight and to the right, true trail was eventually found straight and further to the right – running out falses became a bit of a thing – and meandered to the reflecting pool, though that trail was not found by YHS, who went on a lovely yog through the tunnels under and around whole foods, and a circle around the Symphony before hearing calls of ONON way down on Columbus/ia (whatever) by the mall, and rejoined pack at a check by tits sparrow park. Aside from a nice cover band playing for kids there were no marks of any sort to be found. Eventually marks were found in the Southwest corridor park leading back to Back Bay but turning left in unmark falses, then another instance of a marked false that was actually true, which lead to a Shot Check by the Salty Pig, which I quickly ran past fearing my co-workers might see me (#yearofnormalcy?); luckily none were there and we continued to a S/S (smart/stupid) check around the South End. I took stupid, clearly, and ended up death marching to a garden then to the park near JJ Foleys with baseball, etc. We sang to the ballplayers about what we do at a ballgame (hint: masterbate), then I scouted in three wrong directions before finding trail continuing straight-ish to a hash sitaped in front of the aforementioned JJ Foleys. At this point our beer-dars were blaring warnings and we pretty much zenned en-mass (and across traffic) to the beer check by the base of the 4th street bridge.
Beer Check Crackhow:
There wasn’t Polish beer, but there was COLD beer – PBR and ‘gansett, along with some food-like substance (though, in fairness, it was Styrofoam). Beers were had, good times exchanged and the hares encouraged to lay more marks. Also, we found pack-chalk. After not being surprised by bums or cops, we kicked the very sociable hares on their way and enjoyed our cold beers in peace.
[Note: according to Wikipedia Danzig is now called Gdansk, because f*ck vowels?]
The hares ran over the 4th street bridge, through the intersection with (I think Dot Ave?) and placed a check on the next block. Catching up to the FRBs, I was about to mark left, towards the seaport, when I very ominously heard “ONON” called in both directions, so I sat and waited for one group to return. Pack caught up with me and was about to start scouting before I told them of the predicament we had found ourselves in and we all decided to wait. Eventually 2nd and Sex came back from their northerly adventures and we all followed trail straight for a couple of blocks, only to have it turn twice and return us to Broadway. A few checks and a right turn later we stared up at Dorchester Heights and cursed glaciation (or whatever) had caused that hill to form and slowly made our way up it, following, as it turned out, two different sets of marks. One set of marks turned left and approached the monument from the stairs, the other turned right, but I didn’t go that way. Alledgely bag car and a shot check were to be found in that direction, but a hare was snared at the top of the heights instead. As we were standing around waiting for him to leave to continue setting trail, the other hare arrived, from what he though was the shot check to find us and mass confusion ensued. All parties were placated by the decision to turn the “whatever just happened” into a beer check.
After things were settled beer, shots, and Polish orange food arrived. The Polish Orange Food tasted exactly like the Polish Styrofoam, except with a distinctly “orange” flavor profile. The
PBR still tasted like PBR and the ‘Gansett like ‘Gansett. I didn’t partake of the shot check, because here how it went down: Spermaid would come frolicking up to you and say “Take this from me; it’s delicious and dangerous, and I don’t want to end up in the ocean!” To which a hasher would reply “Okay, well, you look good in the ocean, but I want shots so…” and would take the shot. They would then look around for someone else to pass the shot too, and finding Spermaid gleefully hoping up and down next to them praising the delicousness of the drink, off it back to her, which she would take and run away. Time slowly wore on and the hares were kicked out and pack followed them.
Ran down the hill, through a rotary, during which Fellowship offered his Treaties on Rotaries in the Western World, over the highways and onto Dot Ave. Packs collective beer-dar was blaring and our “ONIN” lock alarm was sounded when true trail turned us OFF Dot Ave and onto some random other street. Feeling hesitant, we started walking and were shamefully amazed when we found ONIN scrolled under the sign for the Polish-American Club.
Pack trickled in and beer was served, but no one cares, the only reason you are still reading this is because of:
CEP apparently knows the starting line to “And the Hares” so he started signing and eventually we caught on and circled around the hares, one of which had to be repeatedly called over from the bar, but, I guess that’s hashmen like behaviour (except that when he was called to do his down-down, he didn’t have drink!). After serenading them CEP ran around circle getting comments (mainly more marks, bigger marks, fewer hills, more hare-snares, you know, the basic stuff we complain about every week), and summarized that they should have used more flour, or chalk. We then asked the hares to serenade us (we’re such a lovelly pack, after all), and they skipped the opening verse and went right into “Oh Sir Jasper…” which ended with much moaning and thrusting and generally good times. Our FRBs, 2nd, Blackie and Sex, were thankfully joined by our FBI, JigglyTits, so that with a honey in the middle there’d be some leeway. Followed by our DFLs, Butler, Friar and some other lady (again, no questions due to the presence of tits). At this point the RAs called in our visitors, of which we had plenty, though, due to beer, their names escape me – there was the girl from Huston, the guy from Taiwan (with a vaguely Colin Powel based name), and the guy from Memphis (who had a southern accent), and a girl from either North Carolina or South Africa, I was never sure who…had nice tits? Yeah, we’ll go with that. Various things made them cum, the internet mainly, and despite hashing for over a decade, this was the first time the visitor from Taiwan had seen tits on trail! Rage! We sang to them and they sang to us, then the girl from Huston flashed us, because, you know, #wewon. At this point circle had been going on for a while and there were about a half-dozen very confused looking people who had identified themselves as virgins at the beginning of trail. Four were from England (maybe the Queen is going to take us back?) and one was a life guard in a porno? One of the ones from England, when asked what the square root of 69 was very earnestly said “8.2 something?” but we corrected her quickly. They are worthy, but we’ll take them anyway. Speaking of people who aren’t worthy, Tiger Lay, or something, who was foolishly named during marathon was called in and accused of having a shitty name. He knelt and we heard stories, oh did we hear stories; there was the one about him puking, then pissing on himself, then still getting a blowjob #antipapajohnson, but the best one was how someone donated a box of sex toys to the salvation army he was working at and the staff then closed the store and took the next hour off to play with them; Tiger Lay went down and Boner Doner came up. Quickly moving on to accusations, the RAs accused Just Jules of making herself a necklace, as a Just, so she was told to get on her knees. A few names were thrown out – Wet, Hot, American Cummer, and others, but since she “passed out standing up and fell into a tub and broke a rib” Just Jules will be known, henceforth and forever more, in the world of hashing as Rub-a-Dub-Tub Girl. At this point circle had been going on for a while, and beer was running low, but there were a few more items of business to get through. Colin Plowed had brought hab from Taiwan to give away – a men’s shirt to the hasher who could drink the most beer (it went to Twat) and a women’s shirt to who could do the best Pole Dance (it went to Spermaid). Hash business over, and beer running low, we swang low then descended on the Polish food, like invaders over the Polish Plane.
ON – return of the proto-scribe – ON
We are looking for mismanagement positions for next year, if you want to help run the hash talk to any member of MM, or Udder or Wiki, they might know what they’re doing! There will be a MM meeting in a few weeks.
Saturday 6/4 2:30HST: Eager 4 Beaver Trail #69-1, Millennium Park, Boston, MA, $1, Hare: Wiki
NEXT THRUSDAY 6/9: FREE BEER AT THE CORPORATE CHALLENGE. Sign up to hand out water, etc, and get FREE BEER for the hash. Marks to the volunteer tent will be laid from Park St. station.
Saturday 6/11: Eager 4 Beaver Trail #69, @Gimps in Billerica
July 8-10: INVIHASH: Burlington H3 Campout weekend: Rego NOW -> http://burlingtonhash.com/wordpress/invihash/information/
August 12 (Friday) : Boston H3 Color Run + BBQ Party. Start location TBD.
Saturday 10/22: Boston AGM
February: Moon Away
April: BH3 Marathon weekend
Stop reading this and drink a beer!
|Hash Trash is back! Anything but beer trail hash trash.
(almost 2 years ago)
Trail: Anything But Beer!
When: Wednesday May 11th 2016
Hares: Marbles, Not Dead Yet, and at the last min Pulp Friction
Bag Truck: Wifeout
Pack: Udder Whore, 5 Inch Penalty, Fellowship, Po Po, Famine, Goat, Just Blain, Seattle visitor and other visitor, Wild Thing(transplant), Virgin Annie, Spank Me, Spermaid, Blondie, Bloody, Clit Notes, Anal Apologist, Virgin KP, Virgin Josh, Slutty Charms, Dribbles, Final Frontier, Luva Lamp (many more my drunk brain forgot)
For a trail called Anything but beer I decided it was important to get to prelube in time for a beer. As I sipped my delicious beverage I learned that in true hash style one of our hares was MIA! Now normally we would just wait around drinking and waiting for a late hare to show up but in a surprising show of rule following Marbles found himself a last minute co-hare (Thank you Pulp Friction) so he could leave right at 6:45 as the new GM approved HST instructions mandate. (Well done Marbles) I suspect Marbles feels he was grievously punished for following the Hares gay at 6:45 suggestion because pack did not leave prelube till 7:10 and then chalk talk… but perhaps our RA’s will push us along faster next time. Hashers are slow learners. Anyway, Bloody led us in a rousing chalk talk where we learned about shameful things pack did in college. Among the answers Get Married, Sex in libraries, and not drink enough! We showed the virgins the ways of chalk and ran off.
Trail led us across the E line, past the MFA, and into the park, we sang, flashed each other, scampered, and indulged in rather racist speeds. There was a CB4 which at least half of pack was tricked into arriving at. Then we ran across the street towards Longwood and found not a BN (because no beer) but an AN (cider, twisted tea and Mike’s Hard for all!) As we carefully sipped our sugary beverages the geese eyed us with displeasure but we ignored them. I will say that the black cherry Mike’s Hard lemonade is surprisingly drinkable. However, when the racists started getting antsy and ran off not all the beverages had been consumed! I grabbed the Angry Orchard box with the leftover booze and brought it along. (no booze can be abandoned no matter how shitty!)
There was a false up the hill towards Beacon St. from Longwood but then trail was found going down Longwood Ave deeper into Brookline. We found a school to perform a hash sitapeed in its playground and got through all of Dino in the Kitchen in formation. I gave the last remaining roady beverage to Blondie who promptly drew an SC with her pack chalk and we impromptu shot check drank it. We ran through Brookline as if the cops were after us (they probably were) and found a deliciously tequila-y margarita shot in a remarkably clean ally. Someone found a lamp post for luvalamp to grind up on. Then we got a tad lost which clearly meant we felt trail as too short. But eventually we did find a WINE NEAR by another brookline Park kinda near Washington Square. Our wine check was joyously provisioned with 2 Franzia (I think) baggo’s which we partook from with great abandon. At some point the hares ran off and at another point we followed. We crossed Beacon street and much of pack realized that the only thing which stood between us and the likely ON-IN was all of Summit Ave Hill. I believe a small group of racists took the direct route up the Hill while the rest of us went in search of the marks that led us to the back stairway path up. Why go in the front when you can go in the back! We spied a few hares who bounded away up the stairs so we sang a quick Friggen in the Riggen to give them time to pant away. Somewhere around 150 stairs later we made it to the top, found ON-IN marks, and declared we would never run up another stair. (till next time)
We played on the playground while bags and food were unloaded and then ate yummy burgers before circling up. Circle was a bit exposed and we know Brookline hates us so we kept it to a dull roar. (Seriously well done) All three of our hares drank, sang and were serenaded for their sins. Comments on trail were focused around the sugary nature of the beverages and the stairs of death. Our virgins three were called in and Po Po led a merry de-virginazation. They seemed like an excellent crew. Our Seattle visitor serenaded us and our other visitor informed us he would bring Hash-sitapeeds back to his people. Goat was FRB, Famine was FBI, and Po Po was DFL. Not Dead Yet may have drunk for being late to trail as a hare. Pulp Friction may have drunk for Volunteering to help out. Udder our beautiful GM thanked us for being quiet and avoiding the attention of the cops and we swung low.
ON-The Return of Hash Trash-ON
From your GM: If you love the hash and want to help keep things running consider joining Misman for next year! We drink picklebacks, make decisions, and eat food. Many positions available, talk to Udder or Wiki.
Invihash! Rego is up! http://burlingtonhash.com/wordpress/invihash/information/
CUNT campout Rego is up: https://hashrego.com/events/lvh3-lvh3-campout-2016
NEXT WEDNESDAY! Bachlorette Party Trail hared by Popo and Pussy Passport. 6:30HST Lucky’s Lounge.
|Zig Zag H3 Presents: A Leap Day Trail Trash
(almost 2 years 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.
(about 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
(over 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