Missed a hash? Catch up on all the trash here...
(over 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
(almost 3 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
(almost 3 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
(about 3 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!
|2nd An*l Waterwars Hash
(about 3 years ago)
What: 2nd An*l waterwars hash
Where: John Harvards Brew House
Hares: Shart of Darkness, Easy as 123, Bum Fucking Vagabond
Pack: Listen, I’m writing this three week late, feel honored if I mention you below, otherwise, be more memorable.
I arrived at the prelube at the reasonably sensible hour of 6pm, and found a visitor from Northborough - Revered Blowho - talking to the visitors from Check assuring them that the Boston Hash was all well and fun, and good and ragey and stuff. I mumbled a beer order and quickly corrected that opinion. Pack - there were 75 of you fuckers - trickled in over the next hour. I know this because I went up to all of you and demanded you give me money, unless you were a virgin, in which case you gave me slightly less money. For some reason I remember doing shots with Yankee, for reasons, then shots with Pappy because they were out of the beer we wanted? I’m assuming those were good ideas. The amount of “I’m gonna get wet tonight” or “I’m gonna spray your vissage jokes” were, well, predtictable. Eventually the hares were gay so we downed our beers and left the rest of the patrons of John Harvards wonder what just happened.
Bloody did his best to manage circle, but most people were trying to figure out just how far their guns could shoot. I think he asked us what the weirdest place we got wet was? No? He should have. In fact, he did, because I say so.
From the same enterance to the harvard quad we used last year, pack took an inordinate amount of time to find trail marked straight down Mass Ave past the Kong; perhaps some zenning was involved because as we were standing there serinading the customers of whatever restaraunt is on that corner, the rest of pack showed up saying that we had missed a song check in Harvard square proper. From there we began to scout down towards the river - the most common call was “I’m scouting, no marks, but they went this way last year” - more on that later. Back on trail on Mass Ave there was our first water ballon/water fight check outside the Belgain waffle place. Again, pack really wanted trail to turn down to the river, but, again, they were wrong and it continued along Mass Ave. At a check in front of the old Create and Barrel, trail finally turned down towards the river but immediately we came upon a song check, from which my memory fuzzes up (not due to the beer and shots before trail but because I have no idea how to navigate Cambridgeport) until we came out just past the marathon on-in to another park. Trail - true trail - in fact was marked left, but pack, in their inifite wisdom turned right and ran all the way to the foot bridge before coming back. Foreskin, Sex and I watched from the bushes as we ambushed them with water ballons before dashing away. We didn’t get far because trail was immediately marked from there into, and across, the Charles. Not being on to fear getting wet, I ran right in. It was terrifing, and the longest open water distance I have probably ever swam, but, whatever, I made it. Unfortunately, I decided to walked the last dozen yards to shore and my shoe still - 3 weeks later - smell like the Charles. I love that dirty water. From there trail crossed whatever’s on the other side from Memorial drive, or so we thought...but it didn’t. It waited until the intersection by the Double tree to do that. For the record, running in wet kilts suck. Everyone knew where we were going so we ran through the quassi-dangerous intersection and over the bridge to the beer check by the blessedly gone ice pile. Some hashers decided to roll down the hill, and arrived at the beer covered in goose shit. Oh the Eagles they fly high...
Beer check #1
Had a lot of surprisingly good beer; did you want a pale ale from cisco? A collection of Sam summer veritals? Would you just perfer a PBR? Or maybe a high-light? Did I see a few Bud Light Limes? Who knows? Were there also jello shots? That’s a rhetorical question - of course there were! Pack milled about, generally confused about what was happening given the quality and quantity of beer, but as the sun was beginning to go down, the hares darted off and, definetly more than 10 drunk minutes later, we chased them.
Allegedly someone saw them scramble back up the hill we just came down, so some of us ran up it, but most of back rain straight back out the enterance to that area, since, you know, trail went that way last year. I was running (foolishly) with the FRBs at that point, but I’d catch back out with the zenners later. Trail did not, as we all assumed, go towards the (former) land of the taquitos, instead it crossed right back over the otherside of the bridge we came in on and returned to my nemisis - Cambridgeport. Given how horrible I am with directions in that warren of urban streets, I’ll summerize this part of trail as “we ran to every park in Cambridge south of Mass Ave.” After a fair number of these parks, I decided it was time to start heading towards beer, and followed, or tried to, CEP and 2nd, in a futile attempt to zen trail to the end. We first ran out a check by MIT to George Washington Park, where there were no marks, hares, or beer, then decided that the trail MUST end at the goose-shit bridge, so we zenned some more, again, finding no marks, hares, or beer. At this point those two had far outpaced me, so I decided I had no other options but to try to find my way back to the last check I had found (about 10 minutes ago at this point) and eventually found it, running into the group of people who had run the other way from the beer cheeck - remember I said they’d come back into the story. From there, we actually found, and followed trail (a novel idea), maybe a block away from where I had given up zenning and found BN/BC at Magazine beach. RAGE.
Pre-Circle Water Ballon Fight:
Happened. Also, the ballons were filled with glitter. Thank you and your welcome. Luckily, I was off procuring food, so I was not ineffected with the glerpes.
RA’d by the faStest GM/stand in RA, Can’t Eat Pussy. First things first, as always, we called in the hares. Since pack was roughly 70 people CEP ran around in a circle and we all yelled out our comments on trail, which he then summerized with a song - You Should’ve Used More Flour and Chalk...We then called on the hares to sing and they did something I’ve never seen anyone intentionally - but maybe they were sad that they weren’t went and no one had sprayed them - anyway, they started in with “Old McDonald” which lead, inevenitably, to us spitting beer on them. They’re cray, but we hearts them. Next our gaggle of virgins were called in, and I think Gnome and Udder did a mass dementing on them. They aren’t worthy (they never are) but we’ll take them anyway (because we’re cheap and easy, and they were pretty). At this point I’m pretty sure circle decended into some form of controlled chaos. I have no idea what acctually happened, but I’ll say that the visitors were called in - Northboro, Checks, maybe some Aferican visitors, Chinese and Rhodies? We then called just the visitor from Rhode Island back in and asked her opinion of trail “15 times the price, with 15 times more people, 15% (charitably) poorer quality beer and 15% of the dirty of old men” will she come back? Probably, she, like us, is cheap and easy. We then called into a visitor from China, who tried to have us sing a boot camp training song, and that went about as well as you could have expected. After that, as the burgers were getting cold, there was one more matter to attend to - Just Jeff has been hashing since November and was somehow not named. This shocked everyone in attendence, so he was called into circle and went down on his knees. Stories were told about his first aborted naming, and his sexual exploits in college, however, someone asked a question “have you ever stuck anything up your butt?” to which he responded “Yes, Marbles.” This seemed like a legitimate story to us, so from hereon and hence forth in the world of hashing, Just Jeff shall be known as Marbleous Asshole.
Pack then raced off to decend upon, and devour 3 trays of tasty burgers, 2 trays of fries and a tray of toppings that some drunken hashers mistook for burgers. "What did you get?" "Um, lettuce and tomatos." "What?" "I reached in a grabbed something that looked like a burger, but it was just lectuce and tomoates." "Idiot, those are the toppings, go back and get a burger." I actually overheard that conversation.
On - heart taqitos - on
PS: CEP was noted as the "fatest" GM, this is, of course, a bold face lie, he is the FASTEST gm, having running 2 marathons in less than 3 hours, and pretty much out running everyone on trail, including the hares.
On - I got wet, did you? - On
Announcement (from date of writing, not date of trail)
TONIGHT: 8/5 - A sketchy wiki trail starting at Clerly’s, by Back Bay station.
August 14,15,16: GAP (the last gap ever, of 2015). Float down a river and get drunk. www.413h3.com
August 29 (maybe 22nd), not sure: PooF trail in Cape Cod.
September 12: PooF trail in Rhode Island
September 18-20: BUFFET, Happy Valley, but I forget their website. Look it up.
September 27th? - NERD - New England Offical Red Dress Run in Worcester.
October 3rd: AGM!!! If you are a masocist, or sadist, I always forget, and want to volunteer to help the good ship boston hash sail boldly through the endless sea of beer, (ie, you want to be on mismangament), contact anyone currently running this shit and let them know. Fun jobs like Holiday Chair, Marathon Chair, Scribe (best job!), RA, Beer Bitch (Butler, 2016!) are out there...
October 9-12: PooF middle of nowhere. www.poofh3.com
Novemeber: Maybe Sadie?
Decemember 11-13: ANTI-BUFFET. Like BUFFET, but with Skiing at Jay Peak.
December 18-20: Antrax in Chicago? Boston Invasion?
Feburary (Something) - Moon Away
Feburary/March (something) - Burlington Mardi Gras
March 5th - PooF in Myrtle Beach
April 16th - BOSTON MARATHON WEEKEND
May - NURD
Stop reading this, drink a beer, then go back to work!!!