Boston Hash House Harriers

Hares: Wiki and Frosty
Bag Car: Udder
Pack: Chunderellie, Clit Notes, Cum Ear, Cummy Sticks, Cums Like Clockwork, Dr BLOW, Edward Sissy Hands, Fireball, Flapjack, Friar, Just Colin, Just Keith, Just Ken, Just Mark, Mudslut, No Man, O'Bone’R, Single Use Camelback, Snuffleupherass, Shart, SWAB, Virgin Santosh, Virgin Tom

Start: Hub Pub
Shot Check: Some park
BC1: Public Gardens
BC2: Post Office Square
Onion: Pilot House Park (Harborwalk)

This was a Wiki trail from start to finish. Wiki was FRB to start, which made everyone nervous about when the hares would leave. Shockingly, the hares left late and about 5 minutes later Frosty came running back into the bar looking very flustered.

Chunderellie: You look like you need a hug (This was actually the start of Chundie hugging a lot of people later)
Frosty: OK
C: “So how's trail going?”
Frosty: “I literally nev-, LITERALLY never again.”

Pack circled up for chalk talk and a variety of wild animals appeared; Unicorns, raccoon, Triceratops, a Manatee, more that I forgot, and of course, the illusive pineapple. The two virgins were introduced, Virgin Santosh and Virgin Tom.

Leg 1:
Trail started out great with two checkbacks in a row, followed by two falses in a row, and then another checkback. We also saw the first of many marks that we could barely read.

Shot Check:
We eventually found a mark of “Brak the shots” which meant Shot check. There was a bottle of McGillicudys and hot cider, which everyone knows is a great combo. Muddy was trying to make a snow shot glass to do the shots, which then turned into her trying to make an ice luge. With hot cider. 

This went as well as you can expect.

Pack then continued through Beacon hill where a hasher photobombed an engagement photo shoot. We went up and down and up and down until we saw a new mark a “FL”, which looked suspiciously like Wiki’s handwriting. Trail went through the Public Gardens where there was a Turkey Eagle split.
Turkey saw some good dogs and stupid parents who parked their stroller in the MIDDLE of the path while they were taking pictures of Make Way For Ducklings. One hasher remarked “What is this Market Basket?”

Eagle went over the frozen swan boat pond. I could tell because Pineapple Cummy was seen walking across.

BC 1: On the corner of the gardens.

Leg 2:
More CB and falses. We also started seeing the “Pink Man” balloons which were fun. At some point there was an animal sound check at some point on trail where people had to make the sound of their animal having sex. Apparently a Raccoon sounds like a horse.

BC 2: Post office square
This BC had one of the Balloon guys that looked like he was humping the tree.

Leg 3:
More CBs and falses. Went past the aquarium where there was a seal check. Just Meghan kept trying to gender the seals and was checking out what was between their flippers.

ONION: Harborwalk park

Circle was started and the bottle of McGillicuddy’s was brought into circle. Someone said, “You can’t finish that whole bottle by the end of circle” Chundie responded, “watch me.” making it his own personal challenge.

Trail was rated both the worst and best Wiki trail so far this year. Any blame for trail was placed solely on Wiki and not on Frosty. Wiki also admitted that the “Frosty Lost” mark was written by him.

FRB/ FBI were Flapjack and Sissy.

DFL no one seemed to know

The two Virgins were devirginzied.

Mudslut was called in for not realizing hot cider on snow was a bad idea. Everyone was called in for thinking a raccoon sounds like a horse. Just Meghan was called in for not having a name. We asked what was the weirdest place you’ve ever had sex, which is Buttler’s shower. We all decided to ignore that tidbit and she was named Snuffle-Up-Her-Ass or Snuffy.

 
With the bottle of McGillicuddy’s finished and no more accusations to be had, circle ended. A cry for Hong Kong as on after rang out and we stumbled there.

On-ONION was intentional- on,
O’Boner

Gather round children, and I will tell you the tale of The Worst Weather I’ve Ever Hashed In.
The ‘Anti-Valentine’s Day Trail’ was supposed to start at The Wrong Kong (the Harvard Square Hong Kong). But the Kong was too Wrong, so start was moved to Shay’s Wine Bar.
It had snowed about 6 inches the night before, and then rained all day (including during all of trail), resulting in a wet sloppy mess everywhere. What, you wanted a sex joke?

The souls brave and/or stupid enough to a attempt trail in the snow, slush, and rain were:
Hares: Just Meghan, Whoops I Milked Her Again, O’Boner
Bagcar: Just Mark
Pack: Strap on Strap off (RA), Sex The Final Frontier, Slippy, Beeez, Just Clayton, Cummy Stix, Friar Fuck, Shits and Ladders
Angry Sock and Fellowship of The Cockring showed up to prelube, but decided that they were not quite dumb enough to do trail in the horrible weather, so bailed.

The hares left. Reluctantly, pack did too. We went over marks very briefly, then began trail.

We followed orange carpenter’s-chalk marks on Mass Ave. We missed a check and had to go back a bit. We cut through the Harvard campus. We death-marched down broadway. We turned north and went through Inman Square. I was running behind Cummy Stix when he ran into knee-deep water and fell. Not ideal. I picked a different way around. I’m not sure it mattered, we were all very wet by this point. Strap On Strap off made a joke about “caulking your boat and floating it”. Cummy Stix corrected him that a boat should already be caulked, it was a wagon that needed caulking. Sex The Final Frontier quipped that someone’s mom needed caulking.

We came to a shot check in Lincoln Park. A bucket of Pink Nips. Again, I don’t have a good sex joke here. Lame, I know. After sucking on some of the nips, we threw out the evidence. I couldn’t fit the bucket in the trashcan hole. STFF used his superior knowledge of physics to solve the problem (by smashing the thing to pieces so that it would fit through the trash hole).

We ran through Union square and ended up on summer street. I strongly considered zenning straight to Cummy-Stix/Puker’s place, where I was 95% sure we were headed, but decided to follow marks just in case. This was the correct decision, as there was indeed an actual beercheck in store for us. We nearly caught the hares right before the beer check at Somerville High School.

At the beer check, we waved to a camera that was possibly recording us. We learned that Friar was conducting his own beer check at Remnant Brewing in Union. Report from the alternate beer check: “It was good” -Friar F.

 
Back at the official beer check, the hares left and pack followed shortly thereafter.

I zenned like a mofo to the on-in, as I was cold and also now 100% sure where it would be, despite Cummystix’s bad lying. It was a very short last leg to on-in.

At on-in, we gathered in the basement for circle. We accused the RAs of the weather, Cummy of swimming part of trail, Friar of warming up in a brewery, the hares for death marching us, and just Mark for cocking the bagcar and floating it. After circle we gathered by the fireplace to warm ourselves and dry off.

I took some brief notes, thinking that I might write a hash trash about trail. The only direct quote I recorded at on-in was this: 

“Sir that is a dildo” -O’Boner. 

I will leave the context to your imagination.

After trail, much of pack, plus some additional sweat-test-failures, got a piece of scorpion bowls and pupu platters at the Right Kong (Hong Kong Boston). A symbolic righting of wrongs after our earlier false start at the other Kong.

Hare: Swedish Eagle
Bag Car: Cuntcussion
Virgins: Zoe, Devon, Natalie
Transplant: Shell D*ck
Pack: B-A-N-A-N-A-Ass, Beeeestiality Before Boys, Blue Balls Matter, Chunderelli Chunderelli, Dribbles, Dry Hose, Drunkelweiss, Fellowship of the Cockring, Fischstick, Goat Throat, Friar F*ck, Frosty the F*ckman, Just Jess, Just Sharon, Mudslut, Marbellous *sshole, No Man on the Moon, Orgasm Famine, Pop Cum Ear I’m Infected, Popo Peepshow, Shart of Darkness, Shits and Ladders, Sketchy Ho, Slothy Seconds, Snatchchat, Strap On Strap Off, The Buttler Hit It, The Testicular Mechanics, Type A-Hole

The 7th Anal Midsummer trail was described as “aquavitorious,” “short,” and “like the movie.” Testicular was so concerned about the perceived brevity of trail that he chased Sweagle down after the second beer check to ask him to make it longer. Orgasm Famine, on the other hand, wanted to hurry things along further and wrote a song in chalk at one of the song checks rather than waiting for people to sign with. Trail was actually about 4 miles (a perfectly adequate length!) and featured an Aquavit check and high-fives from children at a middle school baseball game.

At the end Sweagle shared pickled herring, cinnamon buns, and “good” Aquavit while we gathered around an authentic maypole (an American flagpole). Cum Ear made and distributed plant crowns. Swedish Eagle did his best Swedish Frog impression and made us all hop in a circle while he sang a traditional song and we definitely were not a cult. Wikipedia suggests that the first line of this song translates to: “The little frogs, the little frogs are funny to observe” and I think that if Sweagle’s goal was to make us funny to observe, he succeeded.

Blue Balls Matter lured a veritable gaggle of virgins to trail. Virgins Natalie, Devon, and Zoe know each other and Blue Balls from a kickball team which was described as having a “fully defeated” season, so they seem to have the right competitive athletic spirit for the hash. Virgin Zoe (I think, it’s hard to tell virgins apart in the dark) actually said the right answer for the square root of 69! No Man on the Moon managed to say head, face, and lips (since when is this one off-limits?) while dementressing them. Just Devon made an accusation for everyone going to KNURD this weekend (did you know that’s DRUNK backwards? I did not).

Our transplant, Shell D*ck, comes to us from the Florida panhandle. Education is so impoverished there, he didn’t even get to learn any hash songs before coming to us! But he’s about to make up for lost time getting an MBA from “a small technical college” in the area. Good luck at Benjamin Franklin Cummings Institute of Technology!

A debate emerged about whether, since gut bacteria are described as gut flora, a tapeworm should be described as gut fauna. Dribbles… had an interaction with a brown Norwegian rat? IS a brown Norwegian rat? Type A-Hole really tried with this accusation and it went about as well as his rendition of New York, New York.

Mudslut did pushups in circle because she has some kind of weird agreement with Famine and Shart that she will do them every day as punishment until she fixes the flood damage in her house. You guys know she likes pushups, right? Maybe public shaming will work better.

On – fix your house, Mudslut – on,
Slothy Seconds

Hare: NAMBLA (Nectarines Apples Melons Blackberries Lemons Avocados)
Bag Car: The Buttler Hit It
Pack: Beeestiality B4 Boys, Disappearing Hareline, Edward Sissy Hands, Frosty the F*ckman, Holy Dumpster Fire, (Kum-On-In, kinda), Muff Snorter, Sex: The Final Frontier, Shits and Ladders, Slothy Seconds, Spud Porker, Type A Hole, Udder Whore

Even though it was a berry cold day, the hare laid a trail worth going bananas for. Trail was praised for exploring “new terrain for an 11-year-hasher” (Udder Whore) and employing a clever trick for crossing trail without causing any confusion. Despite the transplant hare only learned some Boston haring basics an hour before trail (like that he needs to organize the beer and what time pack leaves), the actual trail was smoothie as could be. We’ll ignore the fact that we lost a visitor literally seconds after chalk talk because we picked up some trail treasure: Kum-On-In, a transplant who came on into the pack shortly before circle.

The theme was certainly fruitful in generating little hashing novelties. A banana check – at which the FRB was supposed to find the nearby bananas and give one to whoever was behind them – resulted in some banana-based tomfoolery, including accusations of Sex the Final Frontier committing “fruit assault” on Beeees, hashers forcing their bananas on one another, and Sissy Hands saying he prefers them bruised (at least, I hope he meant the bananas). The FRB to each stop got the distinct honor of carrying a pineapple for the next leg of trail.

Frozen piña colada was a fancy treat I’ve never seen on trail before, and what better time to enjoy it than a freezing cold day? Pack members weren’t the only ones delighted by this stop – a couple of old ladies had followed our marks down to the little deck where we were drinking. They had lots of questions, and though they declined our offer of sharing, I could tell at least one of them enjoys getting lost in the rain. They were so interested in our marks that Sex gave them their own personal chalk talk. Their presence seemed to awaken some latent gerontophilia in Beees, who offered drinks to another old person later on trail. A bunch of people spilled drinks in circle and Udder Whore probably revealed something personal when she sang to us that if it’s shorter than it’s wide it’s a dildo, and then we adjourned back to Summer Shack having put off our date with scurvy for another few months.

On – did you know bananas are botanically a berry? – on,
Slothy Seconds

Hare: Mudslut
Bag Car: Spunk in the Trunk
Pack: Blue Balls Matter, C*ntcussion, Fellowship of the Cockring, Frosty the F*ckman, Full Frontal Fireball, Just Enzo, NAMBLA (Normal American Making Beer and Loving Ass), Oral Instructor, Orgasm famine, Popo Peepshow, Shits and Ladders, Slothy Seconds, Strap On Strap Off, Swedish Eagle, Triceratopped

There were several factors conspiring against this trail. Originally scheduled as the divorce trail, those hares didn’t follow through on their commitment (which probably should not have been a surprise). 

Then, Spunk in the Trunk, our bag car, got a flat tire 2 hours before trail. Thanks to the miracles of AAA and Mudslut drunkenly agreeing to hare, trail came together.

Mudslut wrote lots of cute little notes to the pack. Everyone thought this was a huge flex that she is fast enough to have the spare time to write these, a notion which was only somewhat undercut by the fact that she got snared twice. For her part, Mudslut was disappointed not to be pantsed. She also fed us Jell-O shots that were almost certainly congealed cough syrup.

Goat Throat kept finding large appliances and giving me rides on them. Any lawn mower is a riding lawn mower if you’re brave enough! The vacuum made a horrible scraping sound on the sidewalk and the mower was kind of scary, but how good of a ride should I have expected from Goat?

NAMBLA (officially a transplant) stopped mid-trail to get donuts, the only kind of nut he’ll be sharing with anyone else. Fellowship was also in a sharing mood, flashing muggles twice on trail. Shits and Ladders accused people of not dressing in the slutty theme with him, believing himself to be in theme because he was wearing shorts, which were not even the shortest shorts he owns.

In the “what does that mean?” category, Sweagle taught us what a Zoidberg is via live demo. If you don’t know, I recommend not attempting it with two people with a heigh difference of >1 foot between them. Asked to provide a one-word reason for backsliding, Frosty the F*ckman said, “porcupine,” which is the new “rosebud.”

On - more stuff might have happened but my fingers got cold and I stopped taking notes - On,
Slothy Seconds