April 27 2003

The Theme: Same Trail, Different Day

The Hares: Puff and Stuff and Velvet Pelvis

The Weather: Fuckin' A

Mystery Scribes: Hot for Tots, The Sugar Plum Fairy

The Pre-lube was at the Cambridgeport Saloon on Mass Ave. (It's right near the
gay bar, The Paradise, in case that provides a helpful reference for anyone).

We were all well lubed by the time Velvet Pelvis announced bag car. We threw our
bags in his jalopy and went back in for more beer. A short time later, Puff and
Stuff yelled 'chalk talk' and we headed outside.
Stuff Me was the first one out as she had misinterpreted his anouncement as
'Cock Talk'. The Sugar Plum Fairy, who thought he had heard 'Stalk Talk' was
right behind her. We were told to expect the usual trail with the standard chalk
and flour marks. Puff-n-Stuff
also assured us that 100% of the falses were marked with 70% probability and 69%

I was still doing the math as we took off down Mass Ave like well-packed
spitballs. We ran a few blocks in the direction of the Charles River before we
hit the first check. As usual, that's about all I can tell you about the trail.
I became the off-trail FRB after Cum Chowdah stopped off at the Paradise and I
made an uncharacteristically poor decision at the first check.

The Jizz Mopper was running at a slower than usual pace with a somewhat awkward
gait. He tried to explain to us that it was a result of having recently run 26.2
miles in under 3 hours. But we all assumed that he had just had a good time at
the Paradise the night before. He later changed his story by claiming that he
was abducted by aliens and taken back to their mothership where the oval-headed,
beady-eyed little bastards proceeded to anally probe the poor guy for six hours
straight before cooking him breakfast and dropping him off at the Cambridgeport.

At some point, we ran down Memorial Drive and crossed a bridge. We went down
some stairs and were relieved to see the Beer Near mark. With our mouths
watering like Pavlov's dogs we picked up the pace until
we came to the Beer Check. We were surprised to see Anal Avenger, Just Angela,
Swells Like Torn Anus and the other FRBs standing around empty handed.

There was no beer!!

We spread out in search of beer, looking behind trees, in and out of shanties,
and under rocks. Anal Avenger thought it would be a good idea to climb a tree
for a bird's eye view of the alleged beer check. This idea quickly blew up in
his face like a bad chemistry set as the branch he was clinging to snapped,
sending the paunchy Avenger tumbling to the ground. Fortunately for him, his ass
broke the fall.
Despite our best efforts, we didn't find any beer. We offered each other
emotional support as we all worked through the stages of shock, denial, anger,
and acceptance. Unfortunately for the hares, they arrived right in the middle of
the anger stage.
We sucked down a couple of beers and harassed the hares for a while.

A small group of hashers was singing, 'Shitty Trail', because of the lack of
beer. I wanted desperately to join them but Cockpit had me trapped against a
tree. I was forced to listen to her babble on and on endlessly about the
insidious manner in which heterosexual sex
involving penetration perpetuates the patriarchy. It turned out to be time well
spent, however. When she was done with her diatribe, I managed to cleverly
coerce her into admitting that she was addicted to the dick. We then snuck off
into the shiggy and began making love passionately and uninhibited like wild
Three minutes later, I grabbed another beer and joined in for the final chorus.

Hot for Tots was injured in a wrestling match with The Jizz Mopper. (He later
made up for it by giving her a foot massage at the on-after). When it became
apparent that the injuries were afflicted on her bumb, a line of hashers formed
to help tend to her wound.
The rest of the crowd enjoyed PBRs and Ciders and sang a few more songs.

Before we knew it, we were back on a magnificently set trail heading for Puff
and Stuff's for the on in. With plenty of beer to spare this time, we poured a
little on the laggards from the roof top deck. There was plenty of beer and
pizza for everyone.

Anal Avenger, masquerading as the Religious Advisor, gathered everyone in a
circle and instructed the hares to move to the center.
The RA then solicited comments about the trail. Among others, the following
concerns were voiced: 'What beer check?' and 'I guess there's a shortage of

The hares did a down down for being hares as well as one or two more down-downs
for screwing the pooch on the beer check. Apologetically, they offered to sing
'Take Me Out to the Ballpark' for us. They might have shot gunned another beer
or two before the visitors were summoned into the circle.

Little Giraffe from Scotland and Money Penny from Manila sang 'An Ode to the
Beijing Hashers Who Can't Leave Their Houses for Fear of Being Infected With
SARS'. Money Penny brought one of the virgins but I
never got his name. He said it like 4 times but I couldn't understand a fucking
word he said.
He seemed like a pretty nice guy though; he was the one that walked/ran the hash

There were a bunch of accusations. Most of them false. Various hashers drank.

Virgin Katie and Virgin
the-guy-who-wasn't-wearing-a-shirt-but-probably-should-have-been were asked to
come to the center of the circle. The acting dementor, Puff-n-Stuff, was curious
as to who made them
come. When Virgin Katie announced that Cliff was responsible, we all
congratulated him and thanked him for bringing a virgin wearing a penis
necklace. Unfortunately, she egotistically thought that she, herself, was the
square root of 69. Just Cliff blushed a little when Virgin Katie informed us
that she enjoys taking it from behind.
With Mrs. Robinson interpreting for me, I gathered that Virgin Shirtless'
favorite barnyard animal is a female. Oddly, none of the womyn in the crowd took
The virgins were given a down down and were reluctantly welcomed to the Boston
Hash. They sang, 'I should've known better with a girl like you'. No, that
wasn't the name of the song; that's all the pathetic ingrates sang.

The RA then announced that Just Angela was ripe for nomenclature. We surrounded
her and told stories about her and asked her questions. Unfortunately, she
hasn't done anything too embarrassing
yet (other than going to a hash on her first date with her boyfriend). The
candidate names included: 'Never Too Big', 'Future Ex-Boyfriend', 'Too Big To
Cum', 'Viagra Doubtfire Jr'
and 'Athletic Supporter'. She will forever be known in the Boston Hash as
Athletic Supporter.
She thanked us for the name by singing Bestiality's Best.
This quickly got out of hand and we accused the RA of losing control. He
regained control by running across the roof top and diving head first into the
bucket of beer and ice. We all hurried over to make sure the beer was ok.

The crowd sang Swing Low and ended hash religion as one big happy family again.

Announcements (and other stuff taken in and out of context):
'I have some Vaseline; it works well' - Puff & Stuff
'I swear I didn't squeal like a pig… it was more like a sheep'
- Mrs. Robinson
'Thank you sir, may I have another?' - Velvet Pelvis
'It's small, it won't hurt a bit' - The Jizz Mopper
'Sports Bras make me flat' - Tongue Me Please

Hashers Present: Anal Avenger, Athletic Supporter, Bang Cock, Biker Chick, Ching
Ching, Cockpit, Creme Whora, Cum Chowdah (missing in action), Deep Throat,
Dribbles, Hare Club For Queers, Hot For Tots, Iron Juggies, The Jizz Mopper,
Lickety Slit, Master Gator, Mrs. Robinson, Pat My Fly, Prom Cream, Puff-n-Stuff,
Snoreplay, Stuff Me, The Sugar Plum Fairy, Swells Like Torn Anus, Tongue Me
Please, Velvet Pelvis, Virginia Slim, Wee Willie Wanker, You're Not My Daddy,
Little Giraffe, Money Penny, Just Cliff, Just Dennis, Virgin Katie, Virgin
Shirtless Guy

Late Cummers: Mom's Cumming, Hong Kong Spewey, Hot for Jizz, Impo-tent

Master Gator

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