May 7th, 2008 - Stinko de Mayo Hash

Hares: General Ass Pounder, Hiscoxin, Dirty Latte Sanchez
Bag Car: Spank Me May I Have My Mother
RA: Goes Down on Buoys with special guest Vibrating Dr Love Monkey
Scribe: Jolly Green V*gina
Found on Trail: Public Rectum
Weather: 55 degrees, clear & calm

Hash Trash: The pre-lube for the Siete de Mayo hash was at Muddy Charles on the MIT campus, which was in line with the evening’s theme of immigrants sneaking across the border in order to attend graduate seminars on civil engineering and computational calculus. The pre-lube featured a good deal of alcohol consumption – apparently some people thought that getting really drunk would alleviate the pain of running a GAP trail, in the same way that taking two Advils alleviates the pain of punching yourself really hard in the family jewels for a couple of hours. Originally scheduled for two hares, Dirty Latte Sanchez was added as a surprise third wheel the day before the hash. Sharing GAP obviously came at great personal sacrifice to Hiscoxin, because as everyone who’s every met GAP knows, there really isn’t a lot of him to go around.

Before the hares were away, Buoys, drunk on the overwhelming cosmic power that comes with being semi-involuntary RA, wasted a good deal of time and beer blessing the hares. The pack took 20 minutes or so to drink more beer, and then went outside, whereupon Spank Me advised everyone to bring T fare.

Uh-oh.

During circle, Buoys brought out Vibrating Dr Love Monkey to assist him with RAing. Whenever Buoys needed a little moral support, Dr Love Monkey was there for him, vibrating. Dr Love Monkey turns out to be spectacular at vibrating. Indeed, Dr Love Monkey is probably the world’s foremost expert on just sitting there and shaking. In completely unrelated news, Just Brian spent the circle quietly crying to himself. Eventually, Buoys finished explaining the pack marks, and after Joe pushed the button with his tongue, the pack was away.

Something like half a block later, there was a T/E split. To summarize: The Eagles ran from Hynes to Allston St along the B Line. The Turkeys rode the Green Line from Hynes to Allston St on the B Line.

Of course, there were some amusing anecdotes, such as how the Virgin, some Justs, and a visitor ran Tough/Easy rather than Turkey/Eagle. And how the aforementioned visitor got off a train full of metrosexuals in order to run a half-assed Eagle. And how JGV attempted to sing “Free Beer for All the Hashers” on the train. And how for the first time in his life, SPF was FRB for a couple blocks. And how Headmaster ran both the Turkey and the Eagle trails (we didn’t see him again until just before the On-In). And how the pack ran into backslider Public Rectum and dragged him along. But really, who wants to read about silly crap that happened on trail?

After some running and/or creative use of public transportation most of both packs reached a beer check on a hill with some large rocks, some brightly colored used condoms, and some beers. The poor suckers who thought they were taking the Easy took a little longer to arrive, but eventually everyone who wasn’t Headmaster showed up. Pack members whiled away the time by having a second, or in some cases fourth, beer, and Shorn and Floppy divvied up the harriettes too new to know better. Also, Hiscoxin’s cookies got around. They were peanut-butter flavored, and Stick It seemed to take particular pleasure in eating them.

And then hares were away, bravely setting trail through the shiggiest parts of Boston and Watertown. The pack followed the piles of anthrax-colored flour down some unused train tracks next to a bus station and, as Shorn put it, “across the peeing grounds of many hobos.” Finally, the pack arrived at the last check, on the hill next to Martinetti’s Liquors. Beer was served, and the pack dribbled in … including Headmaster, who apparently hadn’t been kidnapped by one of the MIT fraternities along Mass Ave after all.

The final leg of the trail was a long, grueling quarter mile to Hogan’s Run, where drinking at the picnic table out back has apparently become a capital crime. However, there were large, tasty burritos and cups of cold beer, so the pack was able to overlook any shortcomings the bar might have had. Following a short but gruesome feeding frenzy, circle began.

RA Buoys called out the hares first, naturally. Comments on trail included “No hablo español”, “¿Donde esta la Border Patrol?”, and “Does a long trail mean GAP’s compensating for something?” The hares drank, and sang, and then Buoys cast them aside like last month’s Barely Legal in pursuit of visitors (Always Comes First, Higgins, Yoron Weed, Darth Bladder, Just Matt) and backsliders (Spoonful of S*men, Just Michelle, S*men on the Street, Public Rectum, Velvet Pelvis).

Following those down-downs, Dr Love Monkey made a triumphant return to the circle, with Virgin Jess in tow. Dementress Peppermint P*ssy asked the virgin if she would get off a bus full of lesbians, to which Virgin Jess replied, “Well, I went to Wellesley.” Touché, Virgin Jess. Touché.

After an uneventful Mexican costumes down-down, and then a same shirt down-down, JGV was called into the circle for attempting to sing hash songs on the T. Despite protestations that making an ass of oneself in public constituted the pinnacle of hashmanlike behavior, your honorable scribe was forced to do a down-down of Buoys’ personal stash of gasoline-flavored tequila. ¡Olé!

And then the moment that everyone had been waiting for since last week: the naming of Just Brian. Several names were proposed, but the clear favorites were Tinkle Tinkle Little Homo and Seizure Salad. As Just Brian was about to walk out of circle with the name Tinkle Tinkle Little Homo, the Seizure Salad contingent forced a recount by the underhanded but surprisingly effective tactic of shouting a lot. Buoys put the names to a boob-off, which was a wonderful idea in theory, except that SPF took it upon himself to vote for both names. Your scribe is thankfully suffering a memory block of those few moments, but someone declared Seizure Salad the new winner. The Tinkle Tinkle Little Homo party accepted their defeat silently. I guess you just can’t argue with boobs.

The final accusation was true lesson in the horrors of a mob mentality, as a completely innocent hasher, not the least guilty of a false accusation and undeserving of his punishment, was called into the circle, and then Buoys, in a fit of vile pique, dumped a beer over the martyred hasher’s bald cranium. As a measure of deepest respect for the victim, he shall remain nameless, but his courage and conviction shall be remembered for at least 6.9 hashes to come.

Circle ended with Swing Low, and if your scribe may be permitted one final observation, it’s that Buoys made at least as good an RA as Ron Paul would have made President. If, y’know, people had voted for him. Except they didn’t.

On-On
JGV

Overheard on trail (mostly)

You really gotta get something more masculine, dude. –Spank Me, ironically questioning another hasher’s manhood
I saw Milli Vanilli live. – SATRAC
No you didn’t. – G-String
Headmaster was a good friend of mine, and you, sir, are no Headmaster! –J-Mo
Oh wait, come back! Come back! -Hiscoxin to yet another male hasher
You know, Anal Beads looks exactly like Booger from Revenge of the Nerds. –Just Katy
Actually, he looks more like Booger’s older, shorter, less successful brother. –Anonymous
Paris is my prison bitch. –Best. T-shirt. Ever. Proudly worn by Merkin Muncher.
Beef! Beef! Beef! Beef! Beef! Beef! Beef! Beef! Beef! Beef! Beef! Beef! -Yoron Weed

Boston Hash House Harriers

a drinking club with a running problem

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