Hash Trash
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The Blow My Shofaa Hash Trash | Snow White Snow Black Trash | #GoodIdea Trash | Tour De Franzia Trash | HongKongukah Hash Trash
| The Blow My Shofaa Hash Trash
(6 years ago)
What: The Blow My Shofaa
Hash
Who: Sex, The Final
Frontier, Just Steph
Where: McCabes
Pack:
Escort Required, Pole
Sitter, Udder Whore, Sketchy Ho, Dribbles, The Butler Hit It, Just Dumb, Other
Justs, Cunt Jungle, Virgin Internet, Goat Throat, Orgamsn Falmon, No Man On the
Moon, Twat My Mom, Bottom Wrangler, Wikipedophilia, Spunk in the Trunk, Shits
and Ladders, Five Inch Penalty, 3 Ring Cervix, Other People I Forgot.
Start:
When I arrived at
the bar Twat and No Man were talking about Mother Hash and the Danish couple
were drinking. They informed me of a conversation that had with the bartender.
It went something along the lines of “Do you have Malort?” The bartender looked
shocked and said “How do you know about that?” Escort said “I’m a hasher, I
know things.” The bartender then informed him that a friend of the bartenders
had gone to Chicago and returned with this utterly vile drink called Malort, of
which he has a bottle behind the bar. He will drink shots with customers but he
can’t sell or pour them, or tell people that he has them. So, I leave it to
you, noble readers of this trash, to do with the knowledge what you will. There
is Malort at a bar in Boston, but you have to ask the bartender, and he has to
judge your worthy – or I guess no worthy enough – to give you a shot.
Enough of that, here’s
what happened on trail:
Chalk talk:
Was held in the gas
station parking lot acorss from the bar. Packed was asked to demonstrate what
they think a Shofaa sounds like. Bottom Wrangler says it sounds like someone
yelling Tequllia so he always drank Tequllia as a kid? I might have made that
up. Anyway, eventually once we introduced ourselves and explained the marks to
the virgins and visitors (chalk talk was drawn in white chalk, the marks were
in … grey?) we set off.
Trail “Listen to your
eldars”-
A few hashers who
were arriving late (or rather normally, the hares left shockingly at 6:45 on
the .d.o.t.) saw the hares running past Porter, and so knew which direction to
scout and to blow through the first YBF. Trail apparently ran behind a few
buildings then came back to Mass Ave where there was a check in front of
Lesley. The hares and physicists, so I’ll assume that their math skills are
better than mine but they seem to have a very liberal idea of what 369 degress
is. Trail was solved through the parking lot behind what used to be TiTs and
back to the road which the check was drawn on - I have no idea how
the two connected. It eventually led to a check back into the “Aggizia”
neighborhood of Cambridge, and to what is now my new favourite song check.
After starting out Jesus can’t go hashing with why Moses can’t go hashing, we
proceeded to sing to the glory of all our favourite Tora/Old Testiment heros
and why none of them could go hashing until people realized that we could do
this for years and went to go find trail. Trail continued towards the sketchy
Shaws on Beacon St, with a predictable check back. Standing at a mark pointing
towards what would eventually become a check back, I saw Twat running to the
bridge under the rail road tracks and my hashey senses went off and I followed
him. Much to my surprise we found not only trail, but also a surprisingly
drinkable shot check! We waited for pack to regroup before emerging from the
tunnel in front of the fire station and checking up the wrong hill. Twat again
checked up the right hill, saving some of us from a check back – truly he is
the hero we need, not the hero we deserve, or however that line goes. I never
watched the Batman movies. Trail flitered with running up hill but she’s a
tease and we should’ve kept on going down. With half of pack running merrily
along not seeing marks someone in the back third noticed a WN and a true trail
pointing to a random apartment building, with a mark saying to go up the stairs
to the roof…so up we went!
Wine Check Roof:
I’m not calling it a
“Roof Deck” because I’m pretty sure we weren’t supposed to be up there; there
were no structural elements or rail guards, but there was wine. At this point
in the night I was still following my “no drinking on work nights” rule so I
abstained from the wine. I was later informated that it tasted like being
punched in the face by grapes. We were all appreciative of the home-made wine
donated by the hare, but suggest the perhaps she shouldn’t quit her day job;
Chatueax La Tour this was not. I learned that either Prince sung a song about
have sex in a whorse box, or he had sex with whorse box, or all horses boxes
are really just full of people banging. It was unclear. Talk to Whorse Box.
Eventually we noticed that the hares were gone so we shuffled down the stairs
and tried to find trail.
Trail Um, what marks?
From the wine check we
scouted up hill and down hill, to the left around the block and to the right
around the block. We crosses Somerville ave and scouted towards Aeronaught and
came we back. We were able to regal the virgins, justs, and new hashers of the
time five years ago when we on-ined at the abonded lot which we had been
running around three times in a row and each time the cops were called. The
last time the cops were like “No, seriously, stop coming here, this is the
third week in a row we’ve have to speak to you!” And we did stop going there
for almost five years. More on that later #foreshadowing. Eventually not
finding any marks some people noticed that the marks to the wine check (which
were in high-vis grey chalk) had been crossed out and replaced with arrows in
higher-vis blue chalk pointing the other way. All this led to much yelling and
complaining in pack, right at the time when a bedraggled young mother came out
to pled with us to be quite because she was trying to put her baby to bed. At
that exact same moment trail was called up hill in the direction we came which
caused one hasher to remark, in a very calm and relaxed tone “OH, FOR FUCKS
SAKE!” then take off. Trail was called up hill to a song check where we resumed
our retelling of the Old Testiment from the point of why Jesus can’t go
hashing. Pack quickly tired of this and would rather run up hill, which we did,
to another song check in front of a church. Not wanting to annoy the newcomers,
we sang about Father Burgminhams many exploits, before deciding we were all
going to hell. Luckily the beer check was a block away.
Beer check – Nah, I’m
good, oh, wait you have Gameldansk, lets pound that! And the Malort too!
The beer check,
like most of the trail, was made from the dregs of last weeks hash. In fact,
the beer check was exactly where last weeks beer check was supposed to be if
one of the hares hadn’t gotten lost #trashshade. I was happily munching on
smart food and sipping water when I saw a group of young, enthusiastic hashers
gathered around a slowly getting drunk off his own supply Escort who was
passing around bottle after bottle of Gameldansk. I love Gameldansk, mainly for
the memories, so I joined the circle, and you kinda need something to chase it
so my sober night suffered the revenege of the Danes for
Copenheginization…#deephistorycuts #wikionwiki. We conducted a lot of
back-2-back shots of Gameldansk and Malort and forgot to notice that either the
hares had left, or the our esteemed Ass Cowboy hand wrangled himself up the
virgin and a group of justs who had been hopeless lost and arrived at the beer
check just as I was calling pack away, so we all drank some more until everyone
was drunk enough to think following trail was a good idea.
Trail Essentially a lot
of zenning-
Marks, being exclusively
laid in grey and purple chalk was increasingly hard to find. We zenned through
or around a retirement home then ran up highland street for a while to as hash sitapeed.
We scouted downhill, then up hill, but found nothing until we found marks in a
very creative reading of 360 back across highland street going down hill. No
fool I, I refused to give up the highground for a few blocks until I saw pack
running away from me down School street, so I chased after them, eventually
catching up at a song check in which I lead the Engineer Song while Cunt Jungle
gave her just a blowjob in a playground. Trail was again eventually solved
downhill to a beer near heading into the abandoned construction lot of
multi-evictions and mentioned previously in this trash. In a rare case of “not
wanting to get in trouble” the hash listened to the security guard who told us
we couldn’t go in so instead we ran across the street to behind the ice rink
where there was a beer check last week.
Circle:
Since we were constantly
worried that the hockey players would get mad at this group of retrobates
singing and drinking next to their ice piles we started with a whisper circle,
thought we slowly realized that they cared about as much about our revelry as
they did about the Oilers training camp. We called the hares into circle and
told them they should’ve used more flour and chalk. I tried to control circle
by threatening private parties with Gameldansk, but that kinda backfired as
people were requesting the shots! Oh well, we moved onto FRB (5 inch?) and FBI
(Whores Box) and DFL (Spunk) – who in a very weird way maintained eye contact
and answered all my questions about if she was lonesome during trail. After
than Uder Whore demented the very delightful virgin who was asked a lot of
amazing questions most of which I forget because of an increasing amount of
Gameldansk and Malort cursing through my veins. The virgin was and we’re
desperate (and she found out about the hash by read these!!) so we’ll take her.
We then called in the Chaos Muppets of evening Escort and Flagpole and we all
drank more Gameldansk. We then called in the transplant (Just Dumb – his actual
name) who has recently moved from Begjin; he sliently stalked us at the bar
last week but decided not to come to trail (bad idea) but decided to come this
week instead (good idea). He says he’ll keep cuming back! There were then a lot
of accusations – I remember anyone where “sketchy” clothes, racist attire, and
others, but my steady diet of Gameldansk was starting to catch up with me and
Falmon was giving me “finish this now eyes” so we called in birthdays – it’s
Escorts! – and then swang low and ate surprisingly good pizza.
On – Gameldansk – On
-Wiki
Annoucements:
BH3 AGM – Saturday
October 13th, 2pm. Details to come. If you want to volunteer for
misman talk to Falmon or Marbles.
|
| Snow White Snow Black Trash
(6 years ago)
Snow
White and Snow Black and the Seven shots trash
(yes I'm trash, I know) please excuse punctuation and capitalization errors and run on sentences as I'm on my phone. [Note, the editor has attempted to correct these] Hares: Wikipedophelia, Bloody Slip Inside Bagcar: Easy as 123 Pack: CEP, Topless Barbie, No man on the moon, Cuntcussion, Oboner, Quarter mile Queer, Salty Mudflaps, Knuckles Deep, The Buttler hit it, WhoresBox, Lumber Jack off, Sex the Final Frontier, Orgasm Famine, Cum Ear, Bottom Wrangler, Luva Lamp, Dry Hose, CuntJungle, Chunderelli, +2 Coonass, Testicular Mechanics, a just who hashed somewhere else with her sister and just moved here, a virgin or two. Another just or two, one if them presumably named Pete. Two visitors, one from Japan. Definitely other people I forgot. Pre-pre trail: In the days before this hash, there was talk from Wiki of "shooting the moon". A feeling of apprehension hung over the Boston Hash as we pondered what this might mean. Prelube: After a quick walk/jaunt from my apartment, I arrived at prelube earlyish to find Cuntcussion, OBoner, Qmq Knuckles, and Salty at the bar. I was served a cheap beer quickly and settled down in a comfy booth facing the other hashers. This was already shaping up to be the #trailoftheyear. Some tunes wafted out of the bar's speakers, O'Boner looked around with a distraught but knowing look on her face and identified the music as Phish. We determined that Wiki (or possibly Buttler) had selected the song on Touchtunes while not even at the bar yet (yes you can totally do that). This was shaping up to be the #worsttrailoftheyear. Wiki showed up and no one said hi to him because we were mad about the Phish. Others showed up. I decided to "go for 3" (beers before trail). This will come into play later when my memory of trail is not great and I make shit up. Chalk Talk: The hares left sort of on-timeish, or they didn't, I don't remember. It might have been 7? Pack sauntered out to the parking lot by Porter where we all stood around for a few minutes getting beeped at by some angry motorists, then stood on top of a grate for a few more minutes before Quarter Mile told us he couldn't do chalk talk on top of a grate ("What do you mean? This is a grate place for chalk talk!”). Easy's calls of "guys there's a perfectly good alley right here!" were ignored by all in favor of QMQ and Boner's calls of "back to the bar!", which were associated with no clear plan. We walked back by the bar and after some more uncertainty shcanery proceeded to circle up in a small parking space a block or so down. we introduced ourselves while adding "-ee" at the end of our names for some reason. Something about dwarves or some shit. Quarter mile went over the marks badly and shouted some words which were meant to provide clarity on finding trail to the virgins/justs/visitors, but only served to confuse them more. Leg 1 We (surprisingly) found 3 marks and were on-on immediately out of chalk talk. It was late when we left chalk talk, I remember seeing 7:26. we headed north-northeast at a 43 degree heading until we didn't. I forgot to bring a light and it was dark out. We hit a shotcheck/checkback, or two, while making our way over to the aptly named Highland ave area in Somerville. We gave up the high ground a few times after gaining it (this would be a theme on this night), but there were shot checks most of those times, so it was kind of ok. The shots ranged from decent to bad to worse, there was a lemon drop one, a margarita, a blue one ("this is the worst one!" - a hasher..."I disagree, it is the best one!" - a different hasher), there were some haterades, and tequila was featured heavily. We finally made our way down a long hill (central street?) to Somerville Ave, where we suspected another shot check, but instead snared a hare. (Yes, even after the late start and delayed chalk talk, we snared a hare #worstharesoftheyear). We went back up the hill to congregate pack and sing a long song and get beeped at by some cars and shouted at by some balcony sitters, and to allow the hares some time to get their shit together. Wiki came by from up the hill (the direction we'd just come from) and shuffled past us. Yes we snared the other hare at the bottom of the hill but Wiki was somehow behind us up the hill? apparently there had been a miscommunication and Bloody went somewhere other than the beer check that he was supposed to go to. Anywho after waiting a few more minutes we r*n down the hill and found the beer check by the skating rink on Somerville ave.
Leg 2:
After this things get a little hazy. we ran up and down the hill on both sides of highland a bunch more in a generally Eastward direction. again finding shotcheck-checkbacks galore. We ran by my apartment where I briefly considered quitting the #worsttrailoftheyear in favor of my bed, but alas my shit was in bagcar so I continued on. At some point we came down a little from highland, I hadn't seen a mark in a while and came to an intersection. Muggles said "they went that way" indicating not uphill, not downhill, but side hill. I didn't believe them. But then we found a true trail mark and grudgingly accepted that we were in fact on. A little later, we found the tower thingy, thinking it was on in (as it was getting pretty late), but it wasn't, it was a beer check.
Beer Check 2: we drank some beer up in the tower and met some mughles and explained to them what hashing was, as is tradition at the tower thingy. Cuntjungle informed pack that she was drunk. We were all shocked and aghast at her gross irresponsibility.
Leg 3: We on outed from the tower thingy, and qatar mile had to go back to the bagcar because he had the keys for some reason (sidenote: he seems to have a habit of doing this). Me and some other hashers stupidly ran past the staircase that went down the hill, but were corrected and re-routed by some nice muggles who pointed us in the direction the rest of pack had gone. We finally had a portion of trail that was good because it lacked serious hillz, but bad because it featured Moxie (Moxie +151, and Moxie + Malort, I am told). There was a turkey eagle split or two. we finally reached on-in by the train tracks and gazebo thing in eastish Somerville/Cambridge? Eagles and hares reported 7+ miles, and turkeys not much less. On-In: At the onion we sang some songs, accused the hares of their crimes, asked questions to our visitors and had them sing a song (maybe), asked our virgin some questions (almost definitely) and did hash religion and then ate some pizza after, that got there really late (I think). epilogue: I got semi lost running home and promptly deleted my activity on Strava out of embarrassment (at the gettinglost part) once it synced, as is tradition. On-on, Shits and Ladders |
| #GoodIdea Trash
(6 years ago)
#GoodIdeas trail
Hares: Wikipedophilia and The Buttler Hit It (sorta - more on that in a minute)
Bag car: Goat Throat
Pack: including but not limited to PoPo, Fellowship, Falmon, Mudslut, No Man, Shits, Tinder Dick, Sweagle, Gnome, Clit Notes, Testicular Mechanics, Dry Hose, Sketchy, Cuntcussion, Luvalamp, Not Dead Yet, Sex the Final Frontier, Dribbles, Pat My Fly, Virgin Drew, Cuntcussion's roommate (a just), a different Just, and several visitors (from SF, Vienna, and Edinborough, I think)
Prelube
Buttler is, uh, not known for his punctuality, which is saying something among a group so chronically late that we specify everything in HST. Typically, if you're attending a Buttler trail, you can expect that pack won't leave the prelube for a solid hour+ after the advertised start time.
Prior to yesterday's trail, Wiki said that he would be gay at 6:45 regardless of whether Buttler was there or not, and he held true to that threat... sorta. He left Phoenix Landing at around 7 sans Buttler, saying that Buttler would catch up to him. This turned out to be true in a way...
Pack left the bar and headed to a parking lot for chalk talk; there was a man passed out in the middle of the parking lot, but we're not the type to let that stop us. #goodidea The RA asked us to introduce ourselves and name a recent #goodidea we'd had; most people named some variant of "attending this trail."
We were informed by the RA that -- since there have been two recent trails that started in exactly the same area, and there were old marks galore all over Central (start location: #goodidea) -- the first 2/3rds of trail would be laid in chalk. We were also informed that there would be a turkey/eagle/duck split. Just as we wrapped up informing the virgin about the marks, a security guard rolled up with lights flashing; I'm still not clear on whether he was there for us or to kick the homeless dude out of the parking lot, but we got out of there anyway.
Leg 1: If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck... it's probably not a water crossing (yet)
Since we had a pretty good inkling that this trail would eventually be crossing the Charles, we were mostly inclined to scout towards the south at every check. The wily hare thus made sure that true trail headed south as little as possible. Also, since he was still solo haring at this point, he laid two checkbacks in the first, like, 10 minutes of the trail. Scouting this trail was definitely a #goodidea.
Speaking of #goodideas - we realized at like the second check of trail that the virgin was not with us. (Luvalamp: "We lost the virgin!" Pack: "No, YOU lost YOUR virgin") It turned out later that he had tried to follow Sweagle from a check, and Sweagle decided to zen.... Lesson: Don't follow the sub-17-minute-5k r*cist if you don't know where you're going.
We found the first shot check in a little park; we were relieved to find that it was haterade, since Wiki had told us beforehand that he'd intended to make a malort-and-moxie check (#goodidea) but that the grocery store was out of Moxie. We groused a little about how Wiki carries shot checks in his flour bag, ensuring that you get some nice caked-on chunky flour in every sip, but obviously we drank it anyway. #goodidea
After leaving the shot check, I was scouting south when who did I see walking up the sidewalk but The Buttler Hit It, one of our esteemed hares, who said he was relieved to find pack so that we could lead him to trail. Coharing with Wiki: definitely a #goodidea.
We eventually managed to find our way to the first beer check, which was at Hoyt Field. Getting there involved running past a very bemused rec softball team, some of whom gave us high-fives.
Leg 2: In which trail went swimmingly
Finally, the foreplay was over, and we got to our water crossing. After talking at some length about the visitor who got giardia from swimming in the Charles that one time, a group of six or so people had the #goodidea of following Duck trail. The much smarter portion of pack continued over the footbridge, where they found a Baggo for their swim-viewing pleasure.
Now that the swimmers were sufficiently stinky, we ran through HBS, where some kind of black-tie flapper-themed event was going on; I'm sure the people walking around in tuxes and fancy dresses really appreciated us.
Drink checks were starting to come fast and furious at this point; we headed immediately to that park in the back of the Allston library for the second beer check.
Leg 3: What the duck
Not gonna lie, I was feeling the baggo at this point (or maybe it was the giardia setting in). Trail, mercifully, went almost directly to on in. I'm pretty sure there was another shot check with haterade at some point, and it might've been on this leg, but I do not really know. Trail ended at that "park" in Allston that is somehow perpetually a construction zone. (I like this on-in because there's lots of heavy machinery hanging around, behind which a harriette can relieve herself in relative privacy..)
Circle
RA led us in a delightfully drunk circle. The hares sang some dumb Rhode Island song, because of-fucking-course. We heard new-to-many-of-us songs from our lovely visitors, popped the virgin's cherry, and accused our friends of various things. Then we ate pizza and left. I opened a stranger's trunk because I thought it was bag car and tried to put some leftover beverages in it, and the stranger walked up and was like "uh... can I help you?" #goodidea (Bag car was across the street.) Good times! We went to Shays for an ill-advised on-after.
Hugs, kisses, and hangovers,
-Shart
Announcements
The goodest idea of all: Being part of our highly-regarded Mismanagement! #goodidea If you are interested in being on Misman next year (or want to hear more about the available positions), contact Orgasm Famine at orgasmfamine@gmail.com.
Also a #goodidea: Going to September Ballbuster! 9/15. Check the calendar or Facebook for deets.
|
| Tour De Franzia Trash
(6 years ago)
What: Tour de Franzia
trash
Who: Green Fairy, Half Tit your way
Pack: Anal Disco, Laurance My Labia, Wine Riot,
Quater Mile Queer, Cuddle Puddle (both parts), Trash Panda (as evidence off ...
cuddling), Shits and Ladders, A Just We Named, Hamburger Humper, Luva Lamp,
OBoner, Others.
Start: Both Red and Orange Lines conspired to
make me late for a hash which started a block from my house, but as I rushed in
breathlessly just after 7, the hares were still ordering food because “we
needed a base for the night” though the ancient wisdom of “don’t build your
house on the sandy land” might need to be rebranded to “dont build your rage on
pub food, don’t build it watered with beer” given the results which will
be presented in this document. The pack, confused as to what a hash was, had
gotten a table and were all trying to eat healthy to start the night - see
above. It didn’t work, see below. Either way, once everyone had finished eating
we meandered our way to bag car and chalk talk behind the Lesely Administions
building. The were standard marks, a check back, and “challenges” on trial.
Teams were then assigned - Ex GMs, Team Red, and others - and bags of wine were
handed out. The Ex GMs got Rose because we’re dumb, and Team Red got Red Fred.
I’m pretty sure I’m already mixing up my memories.
Trial - Harvard:
Trial (which was dead laid) almost immiedately
became half of pack walking with the hares and the bago and the other half
gamefully running trial. The first part of trial was a pleasant jog around
Harvard Law as though the hare - who had dead laid - intentionally laid it so
that her co-GM wouldn’t stumble on marks on his way to work. We ran through a
bit of the Lesely Campus, then past the Harvard science and math building, then
to the volleyball court where Krusty foundled that bull during the fatboy two
years ago...a trail also dead laid by the same hare, but that’s not the point.
The point was that we had arrived at our first challenge.
Challenge DRINK WINE FAST:
The challange was to hold Fred (the bag of wine)
in the air over your team members faces, and they had to drink it in a
continuous stream for 30 seconds. The team which drank the most/spilled the
least won. Unforutnately there was no imperical way of measuring this because
we are hashers. It should be noted that there was a volley ball game going on,
and the other picnic table was occupied by people drinking from gallon wine
jugs. They thought we were entertaining riff raff as we debaucherously chugged
our wine. Team Ex-GMs won, though your humble narrator might be biased.
Trial - Praying for Hills.
From the challnege, all of pack scouted back
towards Harvard and Cambridge proper, while YHS strolled towards Somerville,
and was rewarded with finding trial. The runners - Shits and Ugly Fuckingly -
caught up and we jugged through the back of Harvard Divinity, past the science
society (I think) park, and to the sketchy shaws. We then waited a solid ten
minutes for the walkers to arrive and free us from the tit check. Trail then
rather predictably ran up Lowell Street to the park at the top of the hill.
Challenge DON’T HURT FRED
The second challenge of the night was standing a
parking spot width appart, toss your bag back and forth - taking a step back
each time. The team that got the furthest appart without hurting FRED won. Team
Ex-GMs won. Team Red Fred I think just gave up and ran off drinking their wine
and Team HVD’s Rage Dragon (sans HVD) broke their Fred really bad. Team Ex-GMs,
in all fairness, also gave their Fred a booboo, but they were able to give him
a bandaid which helped a bit.
Trail Run to the bike path:
We ran down Lowell Street to the bike bath, then
drank Red Fred until the rest of pack arrived. The moon was rising over the
train tracks and it was pretty.
Challenge Drink From Such Great Heights-
Standing
on the top of the handicap ramp down to the bike path, one member of each team
had to pour wine into the mouths of everyone else on the team. The team with
the least wine splatter won. This is when trial devolved into a roving wine
party and your humble narrators recollection gets fuzzy. We sat on the bike
path for a while and made strange faces at all the bikers who went past.
Trial Where Are the Marks? Lets Just Go Find a
Park?
Trial from the third challenge was laid in
greying purple flour on cement sidewalks at night. Trial was easy to find and
we did not just zen to the park by Powder House Square. There was a check back
to Just Appartment. Other than that, I don’t think anyone was running. I saw
Quarter Mile run past me once, but I think that was because he was lost or
something,or maybe going to meat the harriets who showed up the the wine
challenge I will describe in the next section.
Challenge Kilts are Great:
This was a challenge in 4 parts. I believe it
was derived, at some point, from a beer mile, but that’s like saying I’m the
King of England because I speak English. That anology failed, but the event
didn’t. Basically you waddled with a bag of wine between your legs, then handed
the bag off to another team member, and repeat four times. Team Ex-GMs won,
then took our Fred to sit by a tree while *things happened* *waves hand*
Specifically, the harriets QMQ found played catchup. There was also a challenge
involving consentual glitter, which I consentually wanted no part of.
Trail Which Way To Butlers?
We walked down broadway Butlers house. I belive
that QMQ ran some portion because a story was told around the campfire - there
was no campfire, but allow me to paint the picture - of a young, luscios, QMQ
passed on Butlers stoop when a friendly looking lady walks up to him and says
“Hello.” QMQ, being ever so kind a drunk mumbles something that he’s okay, he
knows where he is and he’s waiting for his running club to catch up. The woman
replied “Um, I’m Rainbow.” It was Rainbow Fucking Brite! Nothing else of
consequence happened on that part of trial.
Circle:
Oh, you thought we circled? Nope! There was
another challange!
FIP-CUP-WITH-WINE-HAPPENED. Because that exactly
what we needed; to get more drunk. Anyway, team EX-GMs won because we’re
amazing.
Lets see how much of this I remember. The hares
were called in. I don’t think I fucked up that song. FRBs and FBIs probably,
but I don’t actually remember that. Moon burn was called in because 98% of pack
forgot cranium covers, but the stupididly of moon burn does explain the choices
which were made that night. Moon virgins were called in and Gnome demented
them. Ugly fell into a bike. The various teams were called in - Team Ex-GMs for
winning and Team HVD rage dragons for killing their Fred. Sweat test failures
weren’t, but I need a sentence here so I can type this next sentence. Ugly
Fucking fell into the wall again, and was taken up stairs. I tried to “Old
McDonald” someone, but sang “Father Abraham” instead, so i was “Old McDonalded”
We then accused Just Steph of being a just. I almost fell into the wall. I have
no idea what happened, or what her name was, but her What’s App Icon is now log
with cum on it, so take from what you will. We sang a song about meeting a
whore in a park, the problems we had getting it in, then the fun we had with
her corpse.
I believe people then refunded:
In the bathroom
On the patio
In the yard
In the bushes.
On -
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE - On
-Laurance My Laibia
|
| HongKongukah Hash Trash
(6 years ago)
Editors note: If you were in
Boston, or hung out with the Boston Hash (and associated kennels) during the
month of June, the calls of "HongKongukah" or "1S1D" will
recall to your liver shudders of agony. Over the week plus of nightly rage a
solid dozen scribes wrote their recollection and they were then compiled by
Quarter Mile Queer and Do Me Decimal.
On - why is this rage unlike any
others - On
-Wiki
HongKongukah (8S8D) Hash Trash, 2018
Written by Marbles, No Man,
C&C&C&C&C&C....., Wiki, Formerly-Just-Katie-Now-Knuckles-Deep,
Po-Po Peepshow, Blondie McFucksalot, O'Bone'R, Shits and Ladders, HURL SARONG,
Formerly-Just-Tati-Now-Cuntcussion, Jello Wrecked’em, Clit Notes, Luva Lamp,
Wrangler, Cum ear, The Buttler Hit It, 3 Ring Cervix, Glutenless Maximus, Spank
Me May I Have Your Mother, Sketchy Ho, Black cock down, & Anal Disco
Compiled by Quarter Mile Queer and Do
(Re) Me Decimal, the Mom (QMQ) and Dad (DMD) of 1S1D
Pride Saturday
During the Pride parade picnic,
infused much gay-ge, inspired by Wrangler’s biceps, we decided to start 7S7D a
day early. Packing up our blankets post-parage, some of the group played
pool with Massage a Trois’ brother, while others headed to Hong Kong to begin
the first night of HongKongukah.
Jello crashed after John Dalys, but
once at Hong Kong, O’Bone’R managed to get Django in the bar, where The Best
Boy took his photo with the birthday cupcake while Blondie, No Man, and Mudslut
had a scorpion bowl race. Then the corgi of epic proportions was
wrongfully evicted because too many of his friends were present. Still, Django
managed to not get kicked out for a longer period than Mudslut.
The harriette formerly known as Just
Tati, now known to all as Cuntcussion, managed to lose her voice and her phone
after applying makeup to Seagle and Wrangler.
At some point, a group attempted to go
see drag queens at Sinclair’s, but were met with a line of epic proportions.
They bravely forged ahead to Border Cafe, where, unlike Django the Good
Boy, Helix bit people.
Much drinking, poor decisions, and
surprisingly low bar tabs were acquired while Pride was had by all except 3
Ring Cervix, who was too sick to attend.
Sunday Sunday Sunday
Many people do not remember this day.
Others were too high, sick, or both to have either a song or a drink.
But rage was had. Gentle rage,
gentle rage.
The official start of 7S7D began with
a too-sick-to-work Do Me making Blondie’s dream of Hong Kong
Bingo cards come true, with input from QMQ, Gnome, and the 69s69d phone.
In honor of Mudslut and Django, “Don’t get kicked out,” was put on every
card. Inspired by another chance at food poisoning and hangovers, Do Me pulled
their dad bod off of the couch, printed up 50 Bingo cards, and headed to Hong
Kong.
The owner and a bartender were excited
to see the “running club” had returned and would be back for seven more
straight nights. And there was much rejoicing.
Sketchy wore a delightful green dress
and went square-to-square with Spank Me for Bingo supremacy.
Cum Ear may not remember because
ReasonsTM, but she was present while Buttler managed to sing 1 song and drink 1
drink in his own efforts to be the first person to Bingo.
Since the owner had given the hash
seats at the karaoke stage, we were able to witness a muggle celebrating her
21st birthday by failing to drink the HK birthday shot. (More about this
drink later, featuring Udder Whore.)
Basically, the kid couldn’t swallow.
A group of strippers sang and danced
to Cardi B's “Bodak Yellow.” None of the male hashers were familiar with
the song, but it didn't matter because: DAT ASS. QMQ valiantly attempted
to follow the unfollowable act. All praise
to QMQ, but there really wasn’t much to accomplish after that performance, and
the group disbanded for the evening.
(I Don’t Like) MONDAY(s)
Trial by gravity determined if you
have an "open Hong Kong" on your Bingkongukah card, you had to show
up when the bar opens, not when karaoke starts. There was a r*ce to be
the first few people into the Hong Kong.
Sketchy started the night by getting a
table (#BingoSquare) at 17:32. Jello and Blondie managed to both 1S1D.
While Jello stuck to “Under the Sea,” Blondie sang an excellent rendition of
"Psycho Killer," dedicated to Lovecat, changing the lyrics to:
“Psycho Kitty, qu'est que c'est, meow meowmeowmeowmeowmeowmeowmeowmeow!"
Then Blondie and Jello went to hot yoga.
C&C&C&C&C&C...received
a button from QMQ. O’Bone’R turned around bright eyes by singing “Total
Eclipse of the Heart,” which may or may not have also been sung on this evening
by Shits and Ladders, Chunderellie, and Cuntcussion. 3 Ring found free
parking, and decided to keep up the good luck by trying for blackout bingo over
the course of the week.
QMQ was given the Bingo cards at 21:22. Buttler got what may have been the first Bingo at 22:41 and chose the prize "blackout the card" over the prize "get a new card." Shits spent 26 dollars and blacked out after asking, "Do shots count as 'drink something that's not beer or a scorpion bowl?'" After receiving an affirmative reply, and downing the shots, he sang something by the Talking Heads. Do Me allegedly attempted to derail Spank Me’s goal of singing 1 song and drinking 1 drink by signing him up for another song, but this is mere speculation. Free food began, a token of affection from the bar that would continue through the rest of the week, truly a miracle indeed.
Wrangler raged too close to the sun.
(Got the club goin’ up on a) TUESDAY
Anal Disco claims this was the best
night of the week. The rage was strong, the rage was long, and there was
much singing on this day. Gnome is to blame for this excellence, though
she claimed she was Not In Charge.
Hong Kong was determined to be Game of Thrones and some hashers (probably r*cists), started to get competitive again about the Bingo cards. Gnome and Do Me kept reminding the group that, "YOU REALIZE YOU WIN NOTHING?!", a statement which probably has a lot to do with what they’ve learned by pursuing the highest of educations, but we won’t pile disappointment higher and deeper any longer than necessary. Undeterred, the competitive Bingo-ers kept instantly responding, "We don't care, we want to challenge ourselves to do silly things anyway, for pride." (For PRIDE, get it?)
Three early ragers competed for First
to Be At the Bar: Blondie, Spank Me, and Wrangler. Spank Me “won” by
opening Hong Kong at 16:04. This may
explain why the bartender remembered his name and looked vaguely surprised in
their photo together. Admittedly, the square “Opening the Hong Kong” was
a rare Pokemon, with only three hashers completing the feat of “WHY ARE YOU
DOING THIS.”
Wrangler arrived at 16:32, shortly
after Spank Me left, did the first karaoke song of the night after instructing
the manager in the ways of starting a karaoke machine, did a drink, and left,
all while providing video evidence. Blondie arrived at 17:27, also
photographed with the bartender, had 1D2S (including the Monster Mash),
received her Bingo card, then left to get blackout drunk at Harvard, albeit not
in the Hong Kong. A free pitcher was
provided to Blondie, presumably for these valiant efforts.
Jello came early and sang “Fuck Her
Softly.” Luva did an interpretive dance while
C&C&C&C&C&C..... sang “Total Eclipse of the Heart.”
Wiki forgot which Kong he was at and played trivia with the hostess. He learned that they do not have the following songs: Don't Worry About the Government, Ride Captain Ride, Mr. Mistoffelees, and Rock and Roll. Cuntcussion cancelled a date to attend, which may have contributed to her team winning a scorpion bowl race against 3 Inch’s team. We’ll never know, in part because both team leaders reported heading downhill quickly following this competition, though 3 Inch helped 5 Inch find free parking before crashing. Mangia, her mom, Señor, and CPA showed up. Lots of tearful goodbyes were had. Sketchy showed up in a homemade Bingo shirt! Glutenless arrived post-shiva in civilian clothes and ended up with a hash necklace from someone he’d never met (but is actually CPA). He sang Sweet Caroline with Buttler. Also World's Most Average Kirkland came with his actual Harvard Med School diploma in hand! QMQ stuck a "meat" stick into a beer and drank it, and said it was just awful. HVD gave neck massages. There was a three-way make out on the dance floor. In HVD's words, "Quarter Mile says if anyone had an actual threesome in the bar, it's an automatic super bingo." The gingers subsequently took control of Bingo r*les. However, a very exhausted Do Me was still asked a ruling: “If a muggle sings Purple Rain, but we dozen hashers YELL out ‘Gentle Rage’ at the appropriate time, does that count?" Trial by gravity (water bottle) establishes this is a yes, though Do Me was never quite sure what they were counting. It is also established that, in this ragefest, “a day”=“until closing that night,” which is technically 02:00 the following morning.
Cuntcussion left her debit card at
Hong Kong. Unclear whether she had the "leave your shit at Hong
Kong" square. Everyone else just left their dignity somewhere near
the karaoke bear. Rage.
(EVERY DAY IS) WEDNESDAY
IT WAS UDDER’S BIRTHDAY!!!!
Following what Clit Notes called “the
most successful whisper circle ever,” after Wrangler made new friends and
Dribbles was misplaced in the restrooms on the way to Hong Kong, the hash
invaded the bar and it immediately smelled...like the hash had invaded the bar.
Crowded...lots of sweaty people...more drinking...more singing...in
PoPo’s words: the best cure for jet lag ever!
Some folks who didn't do trail did songs instead. For insance, O’Bone’R skipped trail and was the first one there, where she kindly got a table for the group (or for her Bingo card, same difference). Jello came later, then sang “Don’t Stop Believing” for Blondie’s Bingo square. As reward, Blondie tried to put a dollar bill in Jello’s mouth multiple times. It is unclear whether Blondie succeeded in this task, but according to Wrangler, Blondie crushed Cyndi Lauper.
Shits had one drink, sung Total Eclipse
of the Heart for the third day in a row (he's been banned from running
jukeboxes for less) and left. In a similar Low Rage effort, 3 Ring again
found free parking, then drank just 1 drink before retiring for the night. Truly a gentle rage miracle.
In contrast, Udder drank the type of
Birthday Shot that Sunday's muggle failed to finish, Spank Me forgot what day
it was, and Cuntcussion ended up in Sweagle's and Luva's clothes because bingo
card.
Cuntcussion, Sweagle, Kirkland, and Do Me shut down Hong Kong. The staff turned on the lights and everyone sang "Closing Time." It was a good decision. Leaving earlier for 8am meetings was also established as a reasonable activity. Rage.
THURSDAY(’s Child)
Morale was low. This may be
because it was Señor's last 1S1D, or perhaps because Marbles was “ouching,”
compounded by Helix trying to fight a bouncer (DON’T DO THAT). Jello was
sick from meat sticks, Clit Notes had the first stages of hash plague, and Cum
Ear couldn’t function.
Some hashers were still alive and
singing, though. Sketchy’s days had begun running together, but she still
managed to attend. Blondie belted out a song and had a virgin drink, then
went to a work event and scouted ballbuster with Wiki.
Meanwhile, across the river, Shits had
dinner at Harvard Square Hong Kong and visitor Hurl Sarong arrived and promptly
WRONG KONGED.
Spank Me and Cuntcussion challenged
Hurl and Helix to a scorpion bowl race. Hurl killed probably 90% of his winning
bowl. Cuntcussion had to resort to writing on a notepad after losing her
voice. Cuntcussion again lost her phone
on the way home. The official tally isn’t ready, but Cuntcussion may have
lost more things than Quarter Mile, which is...admirable?
3 Ring got free parking for the third
(?!) time, learned about HK points, then tried (and failed) to get them for
previous nights.
QMQ decided we need to replace the
sombrero. This was after he attempted to take off makeup using Fireball.
Gnome drank beer from a pitcher using a straw. Do Me drank 1 song, sang 1 drink, then went
for Long Sleep. Disco learned that eating 5 whole meat sticks is actually
kind of a challenge.
The hash drank some, raged some...it
all blurs together...I don't even know what day it is anymore. Throw me
tomorrow, oh oh.
(It’s) FRIDAY (I’m in love)
ARE YOU HAVING FUN YET? We hope
so, because Marbles was crying, both Jello and Luva have no idea what happened,
Cum Ear rage napped, and there were nightmare-worth credit card bills reported
by multiple attendees. Blackie spent seven hours in Hong Kong. Holy fuck, Blackie.
But in case you forgot: it was
Wrangler’s birthday! There was glorious rage, People’s Republik rage,
muggle rage, co-worker rage, rageragerageragerage. Wrangler was presented
with an ultrasound and a card by Do Me, officially making him in charge of 1s1d
with QMQ. Congratulations, Wrangler: you’re the father!
Cuntcussion and Hurl Sarong opened
Hong Kong to recover Cuntcussion’s debit card (and complete Bingo squares).
Then they headed to Harvard Hong Kong, where they tied their onesie tails
together while explaining the term cis-gender to a bouncer who rewarded them, Spank
Me, and Do Me with a rendition of “Don’t Stop Believing” in exchange for his
own Bingo card. Then the hash quartet headed to People’s Republik for
Wrangler’s birthday.
Meanwhile, at Hongkongukah: so much
rage. So many people. Gnome put out the call around 5:30 that she was alone at
the Kong. PoPo and four other strangely civilized folks showed for
pre-dinner shenanigans. Blackie got his
shit together and made it over post-haste. Turns out Gnome lied (or the
truth changed), and Blackie found not only her, but Blondie already on stage
singing, with Marbles and +2 also present and in line for songs. Then...a wild
Krusty appeared! Two nights in one week. What the fuck did we do to deserve
this?! Turns out the five of them were going to a concert, and left not
long after Blackie arrived. Poor Blackie. But before they left: Vagetarian! And
as they left, Jack arrived from TBG (where was the invite, Jack?). Then Vag
left. Clitz and Chipz also made a brief appearance with her sign for the
cupcake.
Jack pulled a knife on some poor,
unsuspecting balloons while Blackie made vague threats with his shiny new
Hongkongukah pin. The balloons were let go with a warning.
PSA and friends showed up from day
drinking in Charlestown, and Jack Irish-goodbyed, but there were still two
hashers holding the place down. 3 Ring again acquired free parking &
snagged a corner table for the bingo card/the group, drank two drinks, and ate
meatsticks. Sketchy showed up with impromptu hab, including an iron for
DIY HongKongukah shirts, and Kong employees took photos.
Eventually, there was a very long line
into Hong Kong that HVD somehow managed to slowly navigate hashers through
using Ginger SkillzTM. Members of the communist contingent celebrating
Wrangler’s parents fucking some years back waited in line while Blackie taunted
O’Boner with C&C’s sign.
Once inside, Birthday Bottom Wrangler
provided an amazing performance of “At the Gay Bar.” A muggle
complimented Buttler on his rapping skills.
Shits fuckin raged.
O'Bone'R, Spank Me, and a variety of
others closed down Hong Kong. All of the rage was had. Discodome was
opened. Many people reported going to
bed around dawn. Lyrics and ukulele chords to Gentle Rage were provided
to 69s69d Phone. Krusty did not make a
recording for his Facebook friends. Raaaaaaaage.
SATURDAY (in the Park)
We survived! Well, all but
Marbles, who committed seppuku, and QMQ, who we tried to kill with fireball.
The day started early and way out of
town with a shitty Magical Beasts trail laid by a reasonably-hungover Harry
Potter (Hurl Sarong) and a too-hungover-to-hare Luna Lovegood (Do Me Decimal),
with bag car by Just Joe Romeo. Pack was Sweagle, Luva Lamp, and
Cuntcussion. Autohasher was Spank Me.
Cuntcussion and Sweagle were not doing well from the Discodome rage on
Friday; in fact, Cuntcussion was promptly lost on trail (sans phone, which was
lost to the Rage) before Beer Check #1. Luva and Sweagle finally found her
passed out, overheated, in the shade. Spunk in the Trunk and a visitor joined
pack at Beer Check #2. Pack booked it to HK, eager to get out of the sun. Cum
Ear and Motherload joined us and a short circle was had, interspersed with
karaoke. We sang an alternate version of Summer Nights, as well as Whip it out
at the Ball Game, then left on a boozy walking trail to Spank Me's house. Beer
and Cornish pasties were had, then we all showered with a traffic cone. No
records broken, but it was a great time. Some hashers left and others took
naps.
Most of the daytime pack was too drunk
to make it back to the final night, but Luva rallied and returned to Hong Kong,
where he and 3 Ring Cervix had the bold plan to close on the last Saturday.
They consumed two Redbulls and fortified their minds.
There were more songs. More drinks.
More free food. More jalapeño poppers. Lenovo. Got low. O’Bone’R slayed
“Killing Me Softly.”
Wiki signed up for a Phish song. The
“kareoke” machine broke. There was no causation. Once Buttler and Wiki
left, the karaoke machine was magically fixed.
There was no correlation.
3 Ring tipped the host so that we
could sing, beneath very bright lights, the last song of the night: “Gentle
Rage.”
SUNDAY
Buttler said, “This isn’t enough,” and
came back for 9S9D.
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