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Marathon Beer Check & Crossroads | Boston Marathon Hash | Back to the Future Hash | Iditarod Hash | Annual Robbie Burns Hash
| Marathon Beer Check & Crossroads (16 years ago) Hares: General Ass Pounder, Spank Me May I Have My Mother Bag Car: None Pre-Lube: Crossroads Beer Check: None On-In: Spank Me's place Distance: about 6.9 yards Weather: cool and windy, upper 40's? Scribe: Spank Me May I Have My Mother wrote this from "memory" Late Cummers: Sugar Plum Fairy, and probably others The Pack Without notes? I'll try: Peppermint Pussy, Taj My Hole, Just Vicky, Beat By A Girl, G String, Goat Throat, High Anus, Sketchy Ho, Save A Tree Ride A Cowboy, Super Teflon Dong, Catheter The Great, Dude Where's My Virginity, Harpoontang, Better Late than Pregnant, Wang Chunks, Ass Spelunker, Late Night Drive-Through, those brothers from Sweden, that guy from London, a young blond virgin, and about 40 more hashers I can't remember and probably just pissed off because I forgot you.  TrailWhen I, Peppermint Pussy, GAP, Taj My Hole, and Just Vicky got to Crossroads at 4:00, it was at capacity, and there were apparently only a few hashers already inside. Ditto for the nearest backup bar — the new Corner Tavern (formerly the Last Drop). But Taj had been given strict orders by Hare Club for Queers to spend the remainder of the Marathon weekend's cash on beer for everyone. So we were not going to let overcrowded bars get between hashers and free beer. Like a well-oiled machine of gay men on fetish night, we sprung into action — Just Vicky bought flour at the Sketchy Mart, which GAP started to use to lay trail from Crossroads. Taj and I shopped for beer at Marlborough Market while Just Vicky and Peppermint Pussy hit the chips and cookies aisles. I updated the hotline and went to my place to hide all the gay porn and warn hash crasher Ass Spelunker that he would not be able to rest after his 26.2 mile run. Trail was Beacon to Mass Ave to Marlborough, ending at 439. GAP laid flour arrows so big that people were tripping over them. He even had a check, because, being typical GAP, he got lost on his own trail and had laid a mark down my alley instead of to my front door, so he had to mask an incorrect arrow with a check. Circle Someone realized that since we technically had a trail, we should have a circle, so Wang Chunks stepped in as RA and gathered people on my porch so that we could really annoy my neighbors. I was handcuffed to GAP so that I wouldn't run away screaming. Comments on trail included the obvious: "BEST GAP TRAIL EVER". Hares did their down-downs and tortured people with "Follow The Hares". Many visitors were called in to circle; this gave the Swedes the chance to sing something that sounded like Chewbacca gargling a chicken, but we politely smiled and pretended we were listening. G-String had brought a virgin, who was demented by a visitor. As usual I forget her name, but she was so young that I'll call her "Just Don't Tell Daddy I Served Alcohol to a Minor". (And if she ever escapes from my storage closet, I might need the services of one of you lawyers.) There might have been a few accusations, but Wang was either bored or cold, so circle was mercifully short, without even doing Swing Low. The partying continued, even after Taj's hash cash budget was exhausted. Not even two broken glasses and Late Night Drive Through passing out on the sleeper sofa could stop things. A spontaneous $5 hash cash collection and 2 more beer runs and some pizza kept the action going until maybe midnight. You overachieving alcoholic wankers managed to drink 237 beers. Now if only Marlborough Market sold kegs… Quotes:
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| Boston Marathon Hash (16 years ago) The Official Marathon Hashers! It's official because it came from Hash Cash… Hares Due to the um, graphic nature of this event all photos are posted on hashspace. Look for the hashspace event or search for pictures from the hashers named Spunk in the Trunk and Better Late Than Pregnant. |
| Back to the Future Hash (16 years ago)
Hares: GAP, Hoover McSuck n F*ck
Bag Car: I Eat Tea Bags RA: Bend Over Mommy Virgins: There were 6, 4 of which came on account of Anal Beadswell done champ Pre-lube: Whiteys On-in: The dock right next to the Barking Crab On-after: Sissy Ks Pack Members: Lots, most of which arrived at the pre-lube at 3:10 or later, because in Boston, mid-50s makes us beach-bum lazy. Lets all forget this weeks snow, shall we? There must have been 35 people or so, according to my calculations. I might have written down their names if Jolly had given me his notebook BEFORE I drank that tumbler of Bacardi. Something to think about for next week Trail notes: Its amazing how much nicer the starting circle is when youre not freezing youre ass off. Some of Whiteys patrons even followed us into the back parking lot to observe the spectacle, or maybe to protect their cars from the Brat Pack (reference to the 80s garb, FYI). Once BOM finished showing off the marks, the pack was off and away. We got fairly lost in the beginning, but eventually ended up near that Gillette dock (I think) and then got a lot more lost in the charming alleyways right next to it. We then made our way across some bridge, where we got WAY more lost. But alas, we re-found trail and darted in and out of all the pissed off people waiting in a long line to get ripped off by Amtrak, one of which exclaimed, This is NOT a good place to go for a run. Doh. After emerging from South Station, we quickly found our way into a parking lot and under a scenic bridge littered with ladies� deodorant, tampon applicators, and some syringes. We enjoyed some DE-licious brews, basked in the sunlight, and then watched GAP and Hoover prance off and attempt to set falses while we were still watching them, then realize we still watching them, then give up on setting falses. Leaving the beer check, we actually did manage to go the wrong way quite quickly, and then retreated into Chinatown, where we went the wrong way several more times. There was a lovely song-check in Downtown crossing, where we sang Whip it out at the Ballgame, for the kids. That song-check was quickly followed by another, where Hyan*s led a lovely rendition of The Days of the Week. After that we had a reprise of the usual Hash clusterf*ck that is Faneuil Hall, but once we found our way out of there we were rewarded with a nice Tang check. Mmmnnn. It was VERY soon after the second beer check that An*l Beads snared the hares on the dock. We all gathered round and sang a song while giving the hares a few minutes to escape. As soon as we did leave that spot, we stumbled on another group of hashers who had zenned their way a little further up trail and had ALSO snared the hares. Double-snare! FANTASTIC! It was only a quick run across the bridge (led by Beat by a Girl, who unknowingly volunteered to hare in two weeks when he took off first) until we came upon I Eat Tea Bags with a car full of pizza. On in! Now there were of course several funny moments in the circle, but my personal favorite had to be when Spank Me discovered that his Members Only jacket had a little name tag that his mom had sewn into the lining approximately 20 years ago. Another highlight was the virgins, who did a great six-person-orgy demonstration, which looked strangely similar to the ending pose of a jazz dance number. The lowlight had to be the beer. It was mostly Genessee �Full Flavor� and Genny Light, brewed right near Shorn�s hometown! Several fist-fights over the rare but coveted Keystone Light had to be broken up. Our lovely day of hashing concluded with a trip to Sissy K�s, where several hashers partook in an intense game of Apples to Apples. I�m not saying who won, because it wasn�t me. Argh! After most people stumbled home, the hardy spoke of an encore of karaoke at the Hong Kong. Not sure if that actually happened, but if it did, I�m sure it was the usual sh*t show! For all of you who missed the first spring Hash, too bad my friends, too bad. On-out, Fire |
| Iditarod Hash (16 years ago) Hare: Hare Club For Queers Invisible Hare: CreamWhora Bag Car: Dribbles Slacker Extraordinaire: Taj My Hole RA: Goes Down On Buoys (On-Out), Bend Over Mommy (On-In) Scribe: Jolly Green Vagina Weather: 35-ish, clear, and slushy Pack: Wang Chunks, Just Kendra, Super Teflon Dong, Friar F*ck, Schindler’s Fist, Dirt Latte Sanchez, Peppermint P*ssy, Just Brian, Beat By A Girl, High Anus, Laa Laa, I Eat Teabags, Dick Jockey, Just Rob, Virgin Ellie, General Ass Pounder, Dude Where’s My Virginity, Nice T*ts, Polly When this trail started out, I had it pegged for a Wang trail. We took a bunch of stairs up a hill that would’ve made Rocky Balboa proud, and then had a lovely view of a Target/Stop’n’Shop that looked just like the one in Dorchester, and then went up and through a T-station. That was only the first half mile, though. After that, it became clear that Hare Club’s trail was nothing like a Wang trail, and was actually more like some sort of unholy hybrid between a GAP trail and Robert Peary’s expedition to the North Pole. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me back up a bit. Trail was originally going to be hared by Hare Club and Creamwhora. CW, however, pulled a no-show. Whether this was due, as some said, to “family issues,” or whether he woke up on G-String’s couch sore, naked, and covered in Vaseline and was too embarrassed to show up, we may never know. CW, if you’re reading this, you should at least know that you weren’t the first, and you probably won’t be the last. Pre-lube was at the Victory Pub off of something called “the Blue Line.” The beer was cheap, the chairs were sticky, and if you had to change, the bathroom was a frightening place to take off your shoes. In other words, it was a typical hash bar. Outside, Buoys did introductions and chalk talk in front of a few horrified onlookers, and then the pack was away. The short Wang intro to Hare Club’s trail brought us through residential neighborhoods, where an unusually large number of people were out shoveling snow, which was strange given that the last storm had been about a week before. We also passed a building with some sort of decoration around the top that looked very much like one of those paper Burger King crowns, which didn’t make any sense. One of the people out shoveling explained that it some sort of Catholic building. Which doesn’t make any sense either, when you think about it. From there, trail led under the approach path to Logan Airport. The planes coming in for a landing were pretty cool. The uneven, half-frozen pack-ice crusting the top of the salt marsh was somewhat less so. The major problem with half-frozen pack ice is that “half frozen” by definition implies “half not-frozen,” and some of the heavier members of the pack had the opportunity to find out what was underneath the half-frozen ice. (Answer: cold, nasty-smelling muck.) Then the pack came to several 8-foot wide channels filled with cold, nasty-smelling ice water. Most members elected to jump across. Laa-Laa, ever the nonconformist, chose instead to fall in. After that, it was a short jaunt across a causeway, through a car wash, through a second salt marsh (complete with more channels), up a hill, and across a snow-covered field to the beer check. But there was PBR and a chance to clear the snow out of our shoes, which made it all worthwhile. From the beer check, trail immediately led into a third and final half-frozen marsh, and then into some woods consisting of some briars, a couple of trees, some more briars, a burned sofa, even more briars, a foot of snow, briars, and animal poop. And briars. I can’t speak for anyone else, but when we got out to the road, I had to spend about 45 seconds pulling thorns out of my earlobe. Then the trail turned residential, although running on the slushy, poorly-paved roads didn’t really represent much of an improvement over running across the treacherous, icy salt marshes. Note to the town of Revere: Maybe you could – I’m just throwing this out there – but maybe you might want to consider GIVING YOUR D.P.W. SOME F*CKING MONEY SO THEY CAN FIX THE F*CKING POTHOLES, A’IGHT? The On-In was at BK’s, near the Revere Beach T-Stop. If you haven’t been there, the beer was cheap, the chairs were sticky, and if you had to change, the bathroom was a frightening place to take off your shoes. In other words, it was a typical hash bar. From a 1:30 HST start, trail finished right about 4:00 PM. Unless you were Friar or BBAG, in which case trail finished at around 4:30. Bend Over Mommy was our RA for the evening, and after “And The Hares,” Hare Club serenaded Just Kendra for his song. It was something about necrophilia and included lots of yo-ho’s. That Hare Club … he sure knows how to impress the ladies. After that Peppermint Pussy demented Virgin Ellie, who thought that Teabags was our most attractive harriette. That Virgin Ellie … she sure knows how to impress the ladies. Then our Irish visitor Polly sang a song called, I think, “Naughty Rude Girls.” I didn’t catch all the lyrics, but it was a nice segue into our next accusation, which was that almost all the harriettes were wearing blue for no apparent reason. There were probably more accusations waiting in the wings, but by that time, the locals were starting to get uncomfortable, so we Swung Low and ate pizza. Except for Friar, who skipped the cheese-and-sauce portion of the meal and walked around collecting leftover crusts from empty down-down cups instead. Yum. Overheard on Trail
Citizen: Why are you running? Hasher: Beer. Citizen: Beer that you drink? Hasher: Yeah. Citizen: Beer that’s free? Hasher: Nope. Citizen: F*ck! |
| Annual Robbie Burns Hash (16 years ago) WHAT: Robbie Burns Hash HASHERS PRESENT: THE START, THE TRAIL: The pack circled next to the drive through window of the Burger King for an explanation of marks. The back-of-the-pack walkers had a map to follow, and Sperm Breath was entrusted with the whiskey for the whiskey check. Ski must have hit the lottery, as the whiskey was in a glass (not plastic) bottle. It was actually drinkable. The map showed that the pack had a nice long circle jerk over toward Comm Ave. The walkers made directly toward the whiskey check that was less than a mile away, on the far side of the Mass Pike, next to a flight of stairs in lower Allston. We weren't there very long before the FRBs showed up. Eventually, the rest of the pack arrived, and all were given little cups of whiskey that most chose to drink. Except, as we were cleaning up after the pack left, we did notice a bit of whiskey on the snow. The shame!!! From the beer check, the pack was off on a long circle in Lower Allston, while the walkers went directly to the beer check, behind the Model Cafe. Ski was there in his car when we arrived. And, being first, we were treated to some really GOOD beer that Ski had bought (he also had the usual hash swill). Before too long, a couple of FRBs appeared … we pointed past where we were standing, and they kept going … until we called them back. Silly FRBs. The pack eventually arrived. There were so many that we filled the entire section of the parking lot, and had to make a hole when cars from the condos wanted to enter or leave. There was only one broken bottle of beer, which was fortunate. From the beer check, trail went around to the front of the building and into the Model Cafe. Bonus points to Ski for a short trip to the on in on a cold day. THE ON~IN: Virgins: Puff & Stuff demented virgin Camilla. Krusty made her cum (and the rest was obliterated by the noise in the circle) There were down downs for various infractions, for the visitors, etc. etc. Naming: Just Jenn with two ns was due for a name. She used to (or may still, I'm a bit unclear on this) be a roller derby competitor. This led to a whole lot of possibilities. She was not named any of the following. Video Hash Bitch, Beaver Fever, Anal Smurf, I smurfed all over her face, Blue Balls, Skanky Couric, Scum Guzzling Crack Ho, Tra La La La La La Tra N N, Smurf on My Face, Blue Period, I'm a Lesbian, Grease My Wheels, Clit Wit, Dirt Digglers Bitch. She was almost named Slut Dog Roller Whore, but NOT. Just Jenn with two ns was named The Wheels on My Butt Go Round And Brown. Which is actually a song. The pack did hash religion, and we adjourned to eat pizza. I bit into the first slice, and the cheese had a funny texture, it was really granular. The flavor of the cheese was off-putting. It was nasty. If you scraped the "cheese" off, it wasn't bad. Hashers were eating it (everyone was hungry by that time), but the expressions were priceless. Ski Bobbitt ordered pizza from the closest restaurant (a vegan joint near the Swillo). At some point a $5 hash was initiated so there would be more beer to wash down the nasty pizza. And there was much rejoicing. QUOTES
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