Boston Hash House Harriers

Hares: Taco on a Tacos, Shits and Ladders*
Bagcar: The Buttler is a Patriot
Pack: Angry Crotch*, Beeeestiality B4 Skeletons, Cookies for NoCostume*, Devil Sissy Hands, Devilgasm Famine, Father Rodgers, Fellowship of the Gladiator, Golden Snitches Matter, Mudcorset, NAMBLA (Naughty Aroused Mouse Briskly Looking for Alcohol), O’Bone’Ren Faire, Popo Baconshow, Princess Luva Lamp, Slothy Mike Wizowski, Testicular Slothcanics, Wikibunnyphilia

The hares took the well-costumed pack (*shame on the non-costume wearers) on a tour of Halloween décor around the city. This tour is also known as the Freedom Trail. It was very well-marked in red brick. Shits and Ladders left his phone at the start (by my count, this is the second time this year he’s lost his phone while haring), both hares left nearly full beers at the first beer stop, and several of their drink stops stank in the olfactory sense.

There was an orange jelloshot check that just absolutely did not look right to me, although everyone said it was good. The hares later revealed that the shots had been layered like candy corn before they ran with them and I just want to say I freaking KNEW the essence of evil was with those shots.

Blue Balls Matter shared her location to various groups so that latecomers could find the pack, and then promptly ditched the pack to spend like 20 minutes in pursuit of Starbucks. Somehow both Cookies for Nookie and Mudslut found us late, regardless, both with questionable sartorial choices. Mudslut was wearing a corset she found on the ground, and Cookies for Nookie required us to make a human wall so she could change her pants without exposing herself to children.

Some evangelical dude with a microphone in Boston Common had words of praise for Mr. Rodgers, who was dressed a little too convincingly as a priest. But he admonished Edward Sissy Hands to “take off your horns, man.” More supportive of us was the security guard at the first beer check, who was easily bought off by us sharing our snacks with him.

The trail description said to come dressed as “your deepest fear or your heart’s desire,” and Testicular Mechanics came dressed as a sloth (which is it???). Angry Crotch showed up in a pantsuit which was her actual conference attire, and everyone thought it looked like a costume, which feels like some kind of sad commentary on how we view professional women in 2022.

At the end circle there was a concrete wall spraypainted with “Wiki Leaks,” which Wiki described as “my own private urinal.” On this note, the pack migrated to our own private karaoke bar, where Shits and Ladders tested the hypothesis that the instrumental break in Total Eclipse of the Heart is long enough to leave the stage to get a beer (it isn’t).

On – your deepest fear AND heart’s desire – On,
Slothy Seconds

Hare: C*ntcussion
Bag Car: Tacos on a Bridge
Virgins: Kevin and Yang
Visitor: Backdoor Steward
Pack: Beeeestiality Before Boys, Blue Balls Matter, Bodies in Lotion, Bring Out the Gimp, Cookies for Nookie, Chunderellie Chunderellie, Dr. Blow, Dribbles, Extra Terresticle, Fellowship of the Cockring, Full Frontal Fireball, Goat Throat, Holy Dumpster Fire, Luva Lamp, Mudslut, No Man on the Moon, Mr. Rogers, O’bone’R, Oral Instructor, Orgasm Famine, Popo Peepshow, Puker Blooper, Sex: The Final Frontier, Shits and Ladders, Sketchy Ho, Slothy Seconds, Spunk in the Trunk, Strap On Strap Off, Swedish Eagle, The Buttler Hit It, The Testicular Mechanics, Topless Barbie, Triceratopped, Wikipedophilia

C*ntcussion used her birthday trail to prove she can make a lot of people cum - at least 38, by my count. She truly fucked us with a YBF and led us on a bit of a death march at the end but rewarded the people who made it to circle* with an apple tart. There was a lot of stretching at the beer checks; apparently bag car is providing eye candy in addition to orange food these days. As bag car, Tacos on a Bridge was slapping people’s hands away from the Oreos at the beer checks, only to later be heard begging people to eat them “for the love of God” at end circle.

*Not everyone made it to the end - RIP to Cookies for Nookie who left during the first beer check and missed out on the many calls to accuse her of r*cist behavior for running her first half last weekend. Mudslut ran her first full, and a bunch of clowns either just ran or were about to run ultras (and at time of press they have done that. Clowns, the lot of them).

Topless Barbie accused Extra Terresticle of knocking her up! He counter-accused her of pulling the goalie. I can’t wait to welcome little Topless Terresticle!

Luva Lamp falsely accused Oral Instructor of being a massive backslider, even though she’d been out 2 weeks ago. But before THAT it had been 10 years! What she really should be called out for wasn’t revealed until after circle: this trail was her very first time ever drinking Bud Light. And on Wednesday BH3 said, “Let there be (Bud) light!”

Lots of folks were accused (accurately) of backsliding because they’d been away at Oktoberfest. Shits and Ladders introduced a well-received, relevant song that started with yelling “Hitler,” and I just gotta give props cause that’s a hard thing to pull off.

We had two well-prepped virgins. Virgin Kevin said the alcohol he no longer drinks currently is Vodka. Why? “Because I ran out!” Virgin Yang (pronounced “young” and yes, there were young virgin jokes) no longer drinks Jack Daniel’s because she got hospitalized on it at 17, though she didn’t even get a stomach pump out of it (Bring Out the Gimp wanted to name her Too Drunk To Pump on the spot). She claimed that her favorite animal, fish, do not cum, but really proved her mettle with her demo that what doesn’t go in you goes on you by dumping a lot of beer on herself. In a break from tradition, the virgins were deemed acceptable!

There were a lot of announcements and no one knew the dates of their own events. So I guess just go out and drink whenever you like.

Hare: Swedish Eagle
Bag Car: C*ntcussion
Visitors: Jizzy Gillespie and Johnny Dildonics
Pack: Angry Crotch, Blondie McF*cksalot, Beeeestiality Before Boys, Blue Balls Matter, Clit Notes, Cookies for Nookie, C*ms Like Clockwork, DJ GagZZ, Fellowship of the Cockring, Fischstick, Goat Throat, Frosty the F*ckman, Just Colin->All Purpose Chicken Hole, Mudslut, Marbellous *sshole, No Man on the Moon, O’bone’R, Popo Peepshow, Sex: The Final Frontier, Shits and Ladders, Slothy Seconds, Tacos on a Bridge, The Testicular Mechanics, Wikipedophilia

On a notably temperate evening following some record-breaking heat waves, Boston H3 got together for the Hotter Than Hell Trail. The official weather report suggests it was a mere 69 degrees. What it lacked in Fahrenheit, it more than made up for on the Scoville scale. Specifically, the shot check was a chili infused tequila. It was hot. Like, really hot. Everyone stood around talking about how hot it was. I “tripped” and “spilled” some of mine. Fellowship of the Cockring scolded me for doing that because other people would want it, drank some of his own, then said, “What happened to yours might happen to mine.” Fischstick said of the shot, “My body is like, ‘OMG why do you hate me so much?’” Fellowship (apparently in a spicy mood) responded, “You should say, ‘Body, I wouldn’t hate you so much if you sweat less and ran faster.’”

The back half of trail might have been a little recycled from the Trail of Two Titties (but at least no one had to jump any fences this time). Or from Shortest Night Dumbest Trail. But that’s ok, because at least it was well-marked. Although Do Me Decimal and Tacos on a Bridge would beg to differ. They were somehow so late getting to circle they had already missed the DFLs getting called in.

Sweagle continued his assault on our tongues in circle with ramen of varying degrees of spiciness. The heat was clearly getting to folks – I don’t think a group of people has sniffled that much since Rose let Jack go in theaters. Also, the strippers (read: cops) showed up! Marbellous *sshole sweet-talked them into letting us stay, as long as they couldn’t hear anything, which gave everyone a chance to practice their dynamics in circle. During this time, I overheard Blue Balls Matter comment, “It’s not good to drink the tears of children,” which, while true, feels like something one shouldn’t need to say.

Lots of identity crises in circle. Sex: The Final Frontier reported that he had to impersonate Fellowship at Hong Kong to get his ID back for him. Blue Balls likes to toy with her prey, and engaged the circle in a rousing variant of 20 questions to determine whose license she had picked up. Though there are a surprising number of 5’5” hazel-eyed brunettes in this kennel, only Blondie McF*cksalot could claim the title of Biggest (ID) Loser.

The spiciest part of the evening was a NAMING! Just Colin is a Freemason who enjoys Southern Comfort and the classic Mary-Kate and Ashley film “When in Rome.” There were many strong name contenders, including Fold Never Roll Bulge In The Back Dangles In The Front, Hamster I Hardly Know Her, Canadian 10, Cum Vinci Code, Chicken Sexer, and Pavlov’s Puddingshotter. But one name prevailed above the others, and so henceforth and forever more, throughout the world of hashing, except Great Falls (f*ck them), Just Colin shall be known as All Purpose Chicken Hole!

On – my sinuses are still clear from that shot – On,
Slothy Seconds

Hares: Orgasm Famine, Shits N Ladders
Bag car: Mourning Wood
Pack: Beeeestiality B4 Boys, Blue Balls Matter, Cookies For Nookie, Crawdaddy Cooter Esq., Cumboy Wonder, Cums Like Clockwork, Cumstache, C*ntcussion, Disappearing Hairline, Edward Sissyhands, Extra Terresticle, Fischstick, Frosty the F*ckman, Full Frontal Fireball, Goat Throat, Hickey My Dicky, Holy Dumpster Fire, Just Caleb, Just Chris, Just Colin, Just Jan, No Man on the Moon, North American Massive Butt Licking Ambassador, Quarter Mile Queer, Slothy Seconds, Strap On Strap Off, Tacos on a Bridge, Testicular Mechanics, The Buttler Hit It, Triceratopped, Virgin Cam, Wax Off

Pre-lube: The Tip Tap Room
Beer check 1: Lederman Park
Beer check 2: Train tracks under the Picower Institute
On-in: Fort Washington Park

I was pretty sure that a trail theme parodying A Tale of Two Cities meant we were going to spend time running in both Boston and Cambridge, but that wasn't all the hares had planned for us. Each leg of trail consisted almost entirely of a turkey-eagle split. I chose turkey each time and probably ran 5 miles, while those who did all of the eagle trails were reporting something in the vicinity of 7.7 miles.

The eagles easily beat the turkeys to the first beer check. Sure they ran longer, but turkeys had to climb Beacon Hill at least three times. Turkeys finished before the eagles at the second beer check. In fact we got there before eagles had even started crossing the Mass Ave Bridge into Cambridge. Then turkeys bested eagles again by arriving at the on-in first, but that was because the eagles supposedly took a trip around the MIT track on the last leg.

In circle, trail comments included too short, turkey was overcooked, turkey was a little dry, more titties, enough titties, more train tracks, worth missing a flight for, boobs, two titties is a basic amount of hotties (huh?), not enough dicks, not enough Dickens, and tricked into doing an eagle and they're not mad. Hares sang a song about Bud Light, and circle continued.

No Man and myself were the FBI and FRB. DFL was, you guessed it, Buttler. Just Caleb drank for his August birthday, then visitors were welcomed. We had Crawdaddy and Cumboy who were both in from Ithaca (to see the Alicia Keys concert), Cumstache from Greece (chasing after sweaty tramp stamped boys), Just Caleb from Happy Valley (who's here for the summer so that makes him either a temporary transplant or a recurring visitor), and Nambla who got lost on the Appalachian Trail (and is either North American Massive Butt Licking Ambassador or North American Massive Booty Lovers Association--he went by both). Oh, and Beeees stunt livered for Disappearing Hairline who left early to catch his flight.

Transplants were Hickey My Dicky who's originally from Little Rock, and Tacos on a Bridge whose origin I didn't catch. No Man demented Virgin Cam, who doesn't have an uncle Jack, considers Charizard to be his favorite animated character, had a quick comeback to a pirate joke, and was brought to the hash by Jimmy (who dafuq is Jimmy???). Not acceptable. Taken anyway.

Accusations started with Just Minnesota (Chris, I think) tackling a person using a walker, which basically makes him the anti-Necrophiliac Jack. Cumstache was accused of throwing up while running toward the beer nears (wut?). Something like 10 people pissed on trail, so they all did their environmental down down. Shits accused everyone who didn't say something brilliant, which was basically a social, except for Slothy who said that everything that comes out of her mouth is brilliant.

Um, C*ntcussion and Cookies got bit by a dog on trail, so that happened. Beeees did multiple laps on the track which was absolutely accusation worthy. I have "something something jumping fences something something," in my notes. Angry Crotch had some lost property, but she wasn't there so Shits drank. There was some confusion about the train tracks opening being closed during the construction that led to Testicular and No Man drinking.

Clockwork was concerned about circle being in the lit corner of the park, but it really wasn't an issue as the MIT police station that used to be just 100 feet away was torn down a few months ago (no they didn't defund their police, they just moved to a new building). RA drank for the weather as it was the first time in a week where the temp was not in the 90s. Then Blue Balls sang a new jellyfish song that required dancing. And finally, Just Colin drank for being stuck with a pink tutu for another week after failing to find its owner.

With accusations wrapped up, we moved onto announcements, and there were many. Pay Fireball your hash cash. Pick up your beer cans. Fishnets and Fishhooks on August 31 (starting in the South End perhaps). Talk to C*ntcussion or Do Me if you want to be on 22-23 Misman. Anything But Clothes next Wednesday. Romance Awareness Day trail this Sunday. August Moon ideally next weekend.

-ET

Hares: Do Me Decimal
Bag Car: Wikipedophilia
Virgin: Chris
Visitors: Just Caleb, Nurse Rainblow, Serial Lubist
Pack: Angry Crotch, Beeeestiality Before Boys, Clit Notes, Cummie Sticks, Dribbles, Edward Sissy Hands, Goat Throat, Frosty the F*ckman, Holy Dumpster Fire, Just Andrew, Luva Lamp, Mudslut, No Man on the Moon, Orgasm Famine, Puker Blooper, Shits and Ladders, Sketchy Ho, Slothy Seconds, Strap On Strap Off, Tacos on a Bridge, The Buttler Hit It, Testicular Mechanics, Yellow Dick Gnome

Salt and Pepper. Peanut Butter and Chocolate. Netflix and Chill. Pickles and Pikachu. There are some things that are just meant to go together in this world, and BH3 got together to prove it.

Some folks brought Destihl’s Dill Pickle Sour Beer to the start, which I think might have just been canned pickle brine. The first shot check bucked the trend of deconstructed foods with a reconstructed Pickle Back: mixed pickle juice and whiskey. Do Me Decimal shared that this should, in fact, be called a Pickle During. Normal Pickle Backs were available later on trail. There were no Pickle Fronts. There were also no gluten-free options at the beer check, which led Luva Lamp on a journey to Whole Foods for his own supply. He came back with White Claw Surges, unaware that they are more alcoholic than normal WC’s (it’s okay, you’ll learn to read someday).

End circle was at the baseball field on Magazine Beach, where the pack shared their own pickled offerings. Somehow hashers still couldn’t make it to third base, even when they were standing right on it. There was a lot of discussion about the brown area at the base of Do Me’s Pikachu tail. Is it anatomically accurate to the real Pikachu? Is it a cloaca? (Editor’s note: I think Pikachu is mammalian and this is not a cloaca).

Hares were accused of recycling trail from Moon. Wiki used a wagon for beer transport which was honestly smart. Sketchy Ho reallllly wanted to be asked when she started hashing. The circle had such a bad tempo tear during one song that Holy Dumpster Fire said people were singing it as a round. The visitors got lost on trail. Nurse Rainblow is also wanted to be on record saying, “Fuck Pokémon Go. For sex trophy reasons.”

Virgin Chris stated that “F*cking Caleb” made him cum. Virgin Chris fully looked the part of a math teacher with his thick-rimmed glasses and acted the part by guessing the square root of 69 as 8.35 (it’s 8.3066, if anyone wanted to know how close he was). But the man was a quick study and subsequently knew the square root of negative 69 was “I ate something.” Or perhaps he wasn’t really a quick study after all: when he got called back into circle as FRB, he exclaimed, “Oh my god, again?” Buckle up, friend, drinking in circle is what we are here for.

Hasher-generated Pokémon pickup lines:

• (dressed as a Pokéball) Are you a Pokémon? Because I intend to throw myself at you in an attempt to get you inside me.
• You’ve been saying your own name a lot. I think it’s time I make you say my name.
• I’ll jiggle your puffs.
• If you were a Pokémon, you’d be a Pikachu, cause I want to peek at you.
• “something something I choose you”
• Do you want to mew with me too?
• Right now I’m a Pokémon, but later I hope Imma poke a man.
• Want to join Team Rocket? I can blast you off again.
• Want to suck Meowth?
• What’s your move set? Mine’s Horn Drill, Hydro Pump, Harden, and Bone Club.

On – only one way to find out if I’m a Squirtle – on,
Slothy Seconds