Boston
Hash House Harriers

Hare: Swedish Eagle

Bag Car: C*ntcussion

Pack: Blondie McF*cksalot, Body in Lotion, Edward Sissyhands, Extra Terresticle, Fellowship of the Cockring, Goat Throat, Just Harry, Luva Lamp, Marbellous Asshole, No Man on the Moon, O'Boner, Po Po Peepshow, Sex the Final Frontier, Silence of the Skin Flute, Sketchy Ho, Strap On Strap Off, Testicular Mechanics, The Buttler Hit It, The Second Cumming, Wikipedophilia

Pre-lube: Pizzeria Regina at Station Landing

Shot Check: Train tracks behind the August A. Busch plant

Beer Check: Morrison Park

On-In: Fellsmere Pond

To mark the Swedish Midsummer, forget the aquavit, the poles, the hopping like frogs, the cinnamon buns, or the picking herring, our hare gave us a little bit of Thor (lightning and thunder), mixed with a touch of Loki (mischief and chaos, or what we in Boston like to say, a shiggy trail). He took us over train tracks through greenery like the branches of Yggdrasil. Treated us to an aquavit that I really enjoyed. Led us to a beer check where we witnessed a glorious lightning show. Then like a Norse god, he had an epic hash crash that slashed up his arm, and he still finished laying the trail! A trip to urgent care and 14 stitches later and he now has his own lightning shaped scar to show for it.

I didn't catch too much of what happened. I went into the last bit of shiggy with Just Harry and Body in Lotion and we managed to find a check in flour by a fence that was bent over. I crawled across the fence only to find a large parking lot with a police car circling it. Figuring that was not a direction I wanted to continue in, we walked out of the woods and started zenning around the park before we found trail again. That might have been around the place where Sweagle had his hash crash. Allegedly, he bloodied himself up, then laid trail to the on-in where there were two Malden PD cruisers already on the scene breaking up a gang of teens who were lighting fireworks. After presenting ourselves as an innocent running club, Sweagle asked the cops if they had any gauze, so they stuck around and helped bandage him up. They drove off and we circled up.

In circle, I didn't catch the comments, but Sweagle led about two-thirds of the pack over to a trio of tall flag poles where he demonstrated the hoppity hop dance and got everyone over there to join along. It was only two-thirds of the pack because there was still an active lightning storm overhead and those flag poles were about 50 feet tall. O'Boner drank for her birthday; Second Cumming, No Man, and Sketchy were FRB, FBI, and DFL in some order; Silence of the Skin Flute, Blondie, Sex the Final Frontier, Second Cumming, and Strap On all drank for backsliding, and we had no virgins so it was on to accusations.

Blondie kicked things off by accusing Wiki of being Wiki, which our RA deemed false, so Blondie drank. Sweagle drank for a hash crash so bad he needed help from the local 5-0. Wiki accused everyone who didn't get yelled at by the cops, which was basically the part of pack that lingered on the second leg of trail to watch the fireworks at Trum Field. Then O'Boner accused everyone who got hit by stinging nettles. Around this time, like Heimdall swooping the Marvel heroes away with the Bifrost, my transportation arrived, so I missed the rest of circle, but if you have announcements, throw them below in the comments.

Hares: Dribbles, Topless Barbie

Bag Car: E = I'm a Douche

Pack: Clitoris Notes, Cums Like Clockwork, Extra Terresticle, Fellowship of the Cockring, Full Frontal Fireball, Just Ali, Just Harry, Just Joel, Just Remy, Mudslut, No Man on the Moon, Panic at the Dildo, Po Po Peepshow, Sketchy Ho, Snatchchat, Spunk in the Trunk, Testicular Mechanics, The Buttler Hit It, Virgin Ethan, Virgin Jennie, Virgin Kagan

Pre-lube: Cambridge Common

Beer Check: Riverside Press Park

Shot Check: Vail Ct Parking Lot

On-in: Cambridge Common

After the heat and rain from earlier this week subsided, the pack expected a treat at last night's Cambridge-based trail, but instead were given tricks from the hares. It started when trail turned into Harvard Yard before leading to a locked egress. Sketchy examined the lock and felt confident that it was Dribbles' bike lock. Not a big deal, there were plenty of other exits to leave from. We picked up the trail and found ourselves joined by a skateboarding virgin named Matt. Picking up a virgin on trail--a treat! But after singing one of our lewd songs at a song check, virgin Matt peaced out--a trick. Then trail continued over one of the bridges into Allston--a treat! Before counting back to the Cambridge side--a trick. But wait, another bridge to cross over the Charles on. Another count back? Not this time! An excuse to do a riverside death march before crossing back over to Cambridge at the next bridge down? Tricked again. On the back half of trail pack found the shot check, treats! Except for Clockwork's nip where the label was completely worn off, as if it had been left in a pants pocket on laundry day, tricked.

At circle, Snatchchat left early because she was scootering home, and wanted to get back while it was still light out. Comments on trail included not enough locked gates and not enough port-a-potties. I was the FRB while No Man and Just Ali were co-FBIs. Buttler was our DFL, but that was because he was distracted by the turkey in Harvard Yard. It would not be his only brush with wildlife on the night. Clockwork drank for his June birthday, then it was onto the virgins. Virgin Kagan (like the Supreme Court Justice) was brought by Clit Notes, except Kagan called him Clitoris Notes. Virgin Ethan found us on the internet, and Panic at the Dildo brought Virgin Jennie. Po Po led the dementing and asked the virgins what advice they would give to a bachelorette for her wedding, to which they answered do not clench, bring a friend, and have fun. They weren't worthy, but we took them anyway.

During accusations, Panic at the Dildo accused Just Remy of having a dildo in his backpack. It was one of those push tubes that you compress to squirt liquid out of, and it was indeed shaped like a penis. He struggled to fill it with beer, at which point Just Ali, who has professional experience with specula, helped show him how to handle his insertion tool. He drank his down-down from the dildo tube to all of our amusement. Remy hadn't hashed for two years, but if he sticks around this time, keep this story in mind for his naming.

I was then accused for sprinting to the shot check, but that's because I had inside info that there were some decent shots in there. Testicular accused Just Ali of trying to recruit the skater boy before saying see you later boy. Then Just Remy, Douche, and Clit Notes drank for backsliding. Now remember Buttler and the wildlife? At some point in circle he saw two hares in the darkness, and Buttler being Buttler, he gave chase around Cambridge Common. So we accused him of hare coitus interruptus. Clitoris Notes was then accused of bringing an anthrax expert to trail, which gives us something to ask Virgin Kagan about next time we see him.

Just Ali was accused of alcohol abuse at the beer check--she only had half her beer before we were on-out, but that was really my fault for having a conversation with her that was so engaging she forgot she was holding a drink. So I joined her for the down-down. As did Buttler for some reason. The hares were accused of saying there wouldn't be any tit checks or dick checks on trail, then laying them anyway. (I guess that's one trick that turned out to be a treat.) Lastly, Buttler proxy drank for Snatchchat's early departure.

Announcements on the night included Dribbles' Beantown trail on Sunday starting from the Beacon Hill Pub, a trail on July 14 that will be exclusively laid in hash sitapedes, and antibuffett. On a personal note, honor to all the veteran hashers I overheard welcoming and getting to know our 7 combined Virgins and Justs.

Hare: Quarter Mile Queer

Bag Car: 5 Inch Penalty

Pack: Chunderelli Chuderelli, Cums Like Clockwork, Dimebag Daddy, Extra Terresticle, Fellowship of the Cockring, Full Frontal Fireball, Hand Job for Humanity, Just Ali, Just Joel, O'Boner, Patron Taint, Po Po Peepshow, Shits N Ladders, Sir Menage-a-lot, Sketchy Ho, Snatchchat, Testicular Mechanics, The Buttler Hit It, Tinder Dick, Wikipedophilia

Pre-lube: Hong Kong

Beer Check: Lederman Park

On-in: Galvin Memorial Park

I guess that when you're halfway through HongKongukah, everything starts resembling a scorpion bowl. Or at least you'd think that was the case had you witnessed last night's circle, where Wiki and a few others attempted to weave scorpion bowl references into every down-down song. Does anyone even know what goes into a scorpion bowl? Does it even matter? According to Yankee Pay $5 More, the alcohol is premixed according to a secret family recipe, then combined with a blend of fruit juices. Ignorance is bliss, right?

Trail was a fine urban jaunt around the West End of Boston. There was a healthy share of count backs (including a CB1 at City Hall), a few view checks, and one of those angel wings paintings for the Instagrams. Pack was exceptionally speedy on this trail--you really were either among the FRBs, or getting swept up by Fellowship at the checks, there was no in between.

At circle, Topless Barbie autowanked over to join pack. She tried to claim FBI, but that distinction went to Just Ali. Testicular was FRB and Butter was DFL. Barbie and Shits were accused of sweat test failures. Then our visitors Sir Menage-a-lot of San Francisco and Patron Taint from Long Island Lunatics did their down-downs, with Taint singing us the (now defunct) Knickerbocker H3 song and giving us an underpants show. O'Boner, Shits, and Cums Like Clockwork drank for having June birthdays, while Tinder Dick did a down-down for their three-year hash analversary.

At this point, Snatchchat accused O'Boner of tech on trail, but it was because she was looking up a song about scorpion bowls (as opposed to making one up), which she (mercifully) sang on-key. Buttler accused O'Boner of not completing her down-down, but that ended up being a false accusation, so he drank. Menage-a-lot and Just Ali were accused of layering up at the on-in, then Testicular, Buttler, and Just Joel were accused of putting trash in the recycling (or was it the other way around?). Shits et al drank for non-hash attire, Po Po for not peeing at the porta potty because it was too far, and Shits and Sketchy for being left at the karaoke altar.

Shits told us the story of how his name was called for karaoke while the pack was leaving chalk talk, and how he made eye contact with hashers as they left for trail leaving him to sing all by himself at the pre-lube. Just picture Shits giving you a sad puppy dog face begging you to stick around to hear him sing, but abandoning him to do trail instead. From his perspective, it was a sad story. Unfortunately while telling this story, he used his nerd name, so he drank for that.

The last story of the night concerned the first hash sitapede, where after everyone stood back up, O'Boner spotted a small puddle on the ground. Apparently one of our San Francisco hashers accidentally peed on the other one while in the seated position, so they both drank (I understand that there are pelvic floor exercises to help with incontinence).

The night ended with a round of announcements: On-after at the Hong Kong (duh), Barbie and Dribbles haring next Wednesday in Harvard Square, there's an email list on the website, pay O'Boner hash cash, Shortest Night Dumbest Trail this Friday, and a finish the beer trail that won't end until all the beer is gone.

Hare: Extra Terresticle

Pack: Angry Crotch, C*ntcussion, Dribbles, Edward Sissyhands, Frosty the F*ckman, Full Frontal Fireball, Handjob for Humanity, Holy Dumpster Fire, Luva Lamp, Mudslut, No Man on the Moon, Puker Blooper, Quarter Mile Queer, Shits and Ladders, Sir Menage-a-tw*t, Sketchy Ho, Snatchchat, Spunk in the Trunk, Swedish Eagle, Testicular Mechanics, The Buttler Hit It, Topless Barbie, Virgin Charlotte, Virgin Rose

Pre-lube: Columbus Memorial Park

Beer Check: Extra Topless’s Backyard

On-in: Columbus Memorial Park

It feels a little self-serving, writing the hash trash to my own trail. I mean, I can keep in all the good parts of trail, and leave out the shitty parts, right? Also, aside from the beer check, my reporting will be second-hand, so I’ll tell the story of how Sketchy acted sketchy, then dive into the circle write up.

At the pre-lube we were joined by Hoover McSuck N F*ck, who graced us with his presence since we were starting down the street from his place. He told me ahead of time that he wasn’t running trail, but apparently didn’t tell anyone else, which is relevant. After chalk talk, Hoover started walking home, at which point Sketchy, who was running late, joined him thinking that he was on the walkers’ trail. They went to his place and enjoyed a beer, which led to Sketchy thinking that he was hosting the beer check. It wasn’t until some time passed before she asked him when pack was getting there, and he told her he wasn’t doing the rest of trail, so Sketchy finished her beer and continued on toward the actual beer check. Pack, which wanted to wait for Sketchy and Hoover (remember, nobody else knew he wasn’t doing trail), turned the beer check into a two beer check, before they gave up waiting and left for the second leg. I started driving to the on-in where I intercepted Sketchy and told her pack departed, so she about faced and walked back to the park. At the on-in, pack saw Sketchy, but not Hoover (again, nobody knew he was going home), and well, now there’s a narrative that if you invite Sketchy to your place for a beer, you might never be seen or heard from again.

In circle, Buttler and Sketchy were the FRB and FBI, while Spunk was DFL. We met Handjob who transplanted from San Francisco and Sir Menage-a-tw*t who was visiting from San Francisco. In the wildest of coincidences, Handjob moved to Acton and Menage-a-tw*t was visiting family in Acton. Super weird connection there. Handjob met her husband at the hash "by the keg," and he's newly working in Cambridge, so we can expect to meet him sometime soon. Snatchchat brought Virgin Rose and Handjob brought Virgin Charlotte. They gave the standard virgin answers to our questions, acted out their favorite barnyard animals having sex (I think I heard sheep noises), and were welcomed by the pack. Luva Lamp drank for lost shit: his 2019 Anthrax giveaway that had been in my basement throughout the entire pandemic, and Fireball did a down-down for her lost shit: her favorite grocery bag. C*ntcussion, Sweagle, and Butt Pug drank for serving Malort at the bonus shot check on their stoop. Many drank for the backsliders down-down.

Around this time, a cop drove by, but didn't stop. I pointed out that we were on a dead end street and they'd be driving past us again, which they did, and again did not stop. Phew. Everyone who spotted a 69 reference (like the bus lane on Mystic Valley operating from 6-9 a.m., or gas being $2.69 a gallon) on trail did a down-down to Sweet 69 (sang in the key of Sweet Caroline). Angry Crotch and Shits drank for being new Medford residents, and Sketchy drank for being able to see into their kitchen (as if she wasn't sketchy enough). Snatchchat drank for pooping at the beer check, which I was going to let slide until another hasher asked me if I was letting her defile my bathroom. I drank for a 69 trail on 6/9 on a hump day to a song Sissyhands sang about having three balls, and then drank for having solid non-beer options (cider and two kinds of hard seltzer). No Man and Testicular were accused of aerating the Malort, C*ntcussion for sending Sweagle home early to get her pizza, and Menage-a-tw*t for some story about frozen pizza back in SF. Nobody accused Buttler of making grilled cheese sandwiches for everyone during circle, but that was a thing.

As for announcements, Moon trail on Friday, Shortest Night Dumbest Trail on 6/18, Hongkongukah, Beantown H3 on Sunday in Charlestown, and Sweagles Midsummer trail on 6/30.

Hares: Silence of the Skin Flute, Testicular Mechanics

Pack: Bring Out the Gimp, Chunderelli Chunderelli, Clit Notes, Comes Like Clockwork, Cuntcussion, Edward Sissyhands, Extra Terresticle, Full Frontal Fireball, Goat Throat, Holy Dumpster Fire, Just Godfrey, No Man on the Moon, Orgasm Famine, Quarter Mile Queer, Sex the Final Frontier, Sketchy Ho, Snatchchat, The Buttler Hit it, Virgin Louis

Pre-lube: Conway Park

Shot Check: Abandoned lot next to Bailey Park

Beer Check 1: Albion Playground

Beer Check 2: Somerville Junction Park

On-in: Behind Veterans Memorial Rink

When we get old and tell our grandchildren stories of past trails, this one will stand out not for the theme, nor for the glorious late spring weather, nor for the brief visit by our friends in the SPD, but for the excessive laying of falses. Mother f*cking falses. We’re not talking one and outs or two and outs, we’re talking four, five, six marks in a row coming from the check followed by that dastardly evil YBF. I recall one check in particular where one direction had five marks followed by three horizontal lines, another direction had five marks followed by an F, and a third direction had five marks followed by a YBF. And this happened again, and again, and again. You couldn’t assume you were on-on until you found the next check. When the pack yelled RU, I was sure to turn around and give the on-on in air quotes, because even after three marks, you just weren’t totally sure. Sissyhands figured he’d just walk the trail because it took so long to solve each check, and that strategy worked pretty well for him. Gimp’s tracker had an even 3.69 miles, though Testicular said he was at 6 and change. In actuality, trail was probably in the five mile range.

As for that theme, it was an excuse to create a couple of new checks. The J in a circle was not a joke check, but a jack check, where someone named a category and everyone had to shout out something in that category. The Q in a circle was not a QAnon symbol, but a queen check, where everyone was supposed to ask a question of another hasher. The 9 in a circle was a bust a rhyme check. Creative additions, though most were forgotten by the second beer check.

On the trail itself, after climbing up and down the Somerville hills and having a God-awful nip at the shot check, I saw the shiny beacon that was the Somerville Wine & Spirits store. Two miles in and still beer-less, that package store called out to me like the Sirens to Odysseus and I stopped in to grab a four-pack that I shared with Sissyhands, Sketchy, and the Virgin.

In circle, pack commented that they weren’t f*cked enough. Virgin Louis, brought by Snatchchat, had to drink what I think was a Russian Irish Car Bomb, or something. It was his punishment for winning (losing?) King’s Cup. His ski slope description is backwoods, he’d get off on the bus full of lesbians, and he likes to think he’s good at math. No Man and Cuntcussion were co-FBIs, Chuderelli was FRB, and Buttler was DFL. Testicular drank for having a birthday, and Buttler, Gimp, and I drank for being conceived in May. Testicular also drank for his fourth hash analversary, and Cuntcussion joined him for celebrating her third year hashing. People drank for thinking the bag car key was lost, the hares drank for labeling the BN with a 5/19 to indicate the day (we were close to crossing over a past trail’s marks), and Silence drank for leaving his bag unattended. I was accused of using technology to record my scribe notes, as well as for my not all heroes wear capes moment of the mid-trail beer run. Then the cops showed up and told us it would be best for everyone if we wrapped it up (no babies!), so we whispered announcements and went home.

As for those announcements, there’s a ball-less dog ballbuster coming up, a finish the beer ballbuster, a Moon trail on Saturday, and Beantown Mywhorial and Independence Day trails. Mark your calendars, take the COVID rules survey, and be good to each other.

Till next time, on-on!