Date: Wednesday April 25, 2001
Theme: Peter Brook Memorial Hash (** see end of write up for explanation)
Start: Sullivan's Tap by North Station Boston
Beer Checks (2!): in Lobby of Ski’s office building on State Street, in parking garage near North Station
On-In: Sullivan's Tap by North Station Boston
Hares: Ski Bobbitt, Menage a Tw*t
Time: 6:12 p.m. HST (we left at 7:10 p.m.)
Total Distance: maybe 4 miles
Scribe: Cums Alone
Weather: approx. 50 degrees F, rapidly growing dark
Present:
Ski Bobbitt (hare), Menage a Tw*t (hare), Cock-aholic, Cream Whora, Cums Alone (me, the scribe), The Jizzmopper, just Michael, One Drunk Walking, Rectal, Rodent Feltcher, Stuff Me, Tongue Me Please
Virgin: Stephanie (from Wyoming, but living in Boston)
Late Cummer: Sugar Plum Fairy
Early Flight Attendant Departures: The Jizzmopper, just Michael
Not present, but remembered: Wilbur, the baby squirrel, now living in Norfolk MA (Lubie misses him)
The Start/the run:
We gathered inside Sully’s and waited for our hares. Cock-aholic and Tongue Me, Please were shooting pool. The rest of us watched and drank inexpensive beers. Eventually, the hares arrived. We waited around to see if we might have a few more hashers, but this being early in the season and our first Wednesday night, the hash gathering was smaller than usual. There were 13 of us, but The Jizzmopper was blowing us off to have drinks at another nearby bar with coworkers. Michael and Stuff Me didn't want to run (planed to keep bar stools warm in our absence). Ski was bag car/beer check and Menage was sweeping trail. The marks were more or less standard … but Ski and Menage had not coordinated the number of marks for false trails from checks, so any number might be on. Trail was billed as A to B (that was a lie).
We took off past the Fleet Center and across the footbridge at the locks of the Charles River Dam. Into a daffodil-filled park we ran. Trail went up a flight of stairs and back down to the park. Trail went under the Charlestown Bridge and up another flight of stairs. There we found the dreaded double-headed arrow mark. This meant we were either visiting Charlestown or were to return to Boston (a circle jerk). A circle jerk it was! A rather pleasant fellow stopped me (okay, he was cute), who wanted to know what we were doing … I managed to briefly explain that we were a drinking club with a running problem. He seemed quite interested, so I provided information regarding … our web site.
Trail went across the Charlestown Bridge, up Prince Street (past the garage that Ski usually uses for a beer check) and up into the North End. Trail then crossed through a Cemetery and down onto Atlantic Ave. There we found a check, but only found false trails off it. Seemed that true trail involved a tight (ooh) squeeze down a tiny alley, with the scaling of a fairly tall chain link fence. We eventually realized this and went around the long way onto Hanover Street. Across from the Old North Church there was another check. The “entire pack” (One Drunk, Cock-aholic, Tongue Me Please and virgin Stephanie) went straight, while I investigated the park by the church. I found true trail and started blowing my whistle, but no one came back. True trail went around on a few side streets, through a school yard and at one point dead-ended on a cull de sac. Trail emerged from Salem Street, crossed under the Central Artery along the Freedom Trail, to a check just past Haymarket. Then it was down an alley, through Quincy Market and over to State Street, where I was first to the Beer Check!
Eventually, the other 4 running hashers appeared, as did the Jizzmopper, who had apparently worn out his welcome with his co-workers. Eventually Rectal walked in, followed by Menage (who had gotten slightly lost while sweeping trail). There were no signs of Lubie or Rodent Feltcher. We dutifully drank the Old Milwaukee Light beer to keep the old codger happy (Ski Bobbitt), but it was pointed out that Old Milwaukee Ice is just as cheap and packs more alcohol.
From the first beer check, we short cut a bit of the trail through 3 Center Plaza and down past the State Office Buildings and the new courthouse toward North Station. Trail led us into the third level of a parking garage, where Menage was stationed at the second beer check. The Jizzmopper had to leave the beer check early, again blowing us off (twice in one night?). He went to get Michael, so the two of them could meet up with some flight attendants after the Sox game (uh huh).
From the beer check it was a short 2 blocks back to Sully's, which was the On-in.
The on in
Rodent Feltcher was our RA. He called the hares into the “Turbo Circle”, which was to be short and quick (“just like The Jizzmopper having s*x”). The following are among comments on the run: “I got as lost as I have ever been on trail, with the hare who was sweeping!”, “Brown flour?”, “Great run, I don’t remember it”, “I'm hungry and it’s Wednesday, and you know what happens on Wednesday!”, “No food and too much beer”. The run was deemed thumbnanimous. Our hares did a down down.
Rodent was Dementoress for our Virgin, Stephanie. Stephanie is from Wyoming. Some DC hashers made her cum (Rodent noted that a 600 mile cum shot was pretty good). Stephanie likes the barnyard horse. We gave her a down down, and she is a virgin no more. (Note: during trail she revealed that she has been engaged 3 times … possible ‘fodder’ for a future naming? “Runaway Bride”?)
Accusations:
Sweat Test failures: Stuff Me, Cream Whora, Sugar Plum Fairy, Lube Me In, Rodent Feltcher (Rodent and Lubie did trail, but got lost … they made the second beer check, but found several other bars on the way)
Both Lubie and Cream Whora wanted to see “the scar”. So, during the circle there was a bunion showing by Ski (actually, the scar where it used to be). I have no idea why this happened, but Tongue Me also showed her bunion (good thing WinToes was not present). We gave Cream Whora and Lube Me In a down down for instigating this nonsense.
We quickly sang “Swing Low” (it was near the end of 9th inning of the Red Sox-Twins game … the patrons were not amused by our singing), and drank more Papst Blue Ribbon beer (still only $1.75).
In an unprecedented move, Rectal made this hash FREE. Yes, hashers, this is not a misprint! Seems the hares had screwed up (what a shock) and didn't realize that the only pizza place in the area was closing early. We had plenty of cheap beer, but no food. There was much grumbling and unrest. Rectal avoided a total mutiny and lynching. Hashers eventually departed in search of sustenance after the Sox lost in the 10th inning.
Quotes of the day:
“My pussy hurt my hand” … Tongue Me, Please
“At least your pussy doesn't piss on you” … Lubie
“Where's the f*cking food???” … several hungry hashers
Okay, our hares requested that their hash be titled “Peter Brook Memorial Hash”, as stated above.
Peter Brook is responsible for bringing together the cat and dogfight mix of Menage and Ski. PB claims to be a hasher (he lurks on our email list) and reprimanded Menage for her use of the email list to find a hasher's email (Note: this is appropriate list use, if you can’t find someone in the group). Apparently, Ski chivalrously came to Menage's defense, and the 2 of them (tho publicly still at each other's throats) have cum to some sort of mutual “accommodation”. It is quite sweet, really. (BTW I know PB, so I know he isn't a hasher … saw him doing a track workout Tuesday at Tufts U)
—- Cums Alone, your humble scribe
P.S. Remember Cabana Boy? Just to let everyone know, Cabana Boy has been backsliding due to his Marathon training. He emailed me to let me know that I forgot to mention his down down at our Beer Check on Marathon Monday (now, maybe if he had mooned us, I would have remembered).
