February 22nd, 2004 - Broken Hearts Recovery Run

Date: Sunday February 22, 2004
Theme: Floppy Gets Hot Hash (the original theme was Broken Hearts Recovery Run)
Hares: Floppy Dick, Drippy Spigot, Shorn Scrotum
Start: Miracle of Science, Mass Ave, Cambridge
Beer Check: the basement level of a parking garage by MIT
On-in: Floppy Dick's place off Harvard Square
Time: 2:30 p.m.
Total Distance: 4 or 5 miles
Scribe: Cums Alone
Weather: 39 degrees

Hashers Present: Floppy Dick (hare), Drippy Spigot (hare), Shorn Scrotum
(hare), Just Anne (2 or 3 hashes?), Bare My Lingus, Bonsai (a transplant
from Germany), Just Caroline ( a whole bunch of hashes, Piss Stop’s sistah),
Chapped *ss, Cherry Poppins, Just Christopher (3 hashes), Cums Alone (me,
the scribe), Father Birmingham's B*tch, General *ss Pounder, Harpoontang,
Just Leanne (2), Master Gator, Nipples Erectus, No Vacancy, Pat My Fly,
Rodent Feltcher, Schniedelwutz, Shine On Harvard Moon, Just Stacy, Sugar
Plum Fairy, Threat from Behind, Vowel Movement (sometimes known as Pukey
Smurf)

Virgins: Brian, Jason

Visitor/Transplant: Dick Pop Fly (Cambridge, UK), Slow Bumps Ahead (Atlanta)

Late Cummer: Puff-n-Stuff

Really Late Cummers (after the circle): Boston Mangla, Cum Chowdah, Grease
My Monkey's Nuts, Sponge Bath Square Pants

The Start and the Run:

The hash gathered at the Miracle of Science, a venerable MIT area watering
hole. The pack swelled with anticipation. The hares took off as I arrived,
to set trail live. Meanwhile, the pack prelubed. Eventually, we gathered
outside for the explanation of marks from Drippy Spigot. It was pretty much
the standard hash stuff. We did intros and then No Vacancy said we should do
Father Birmingham. Father Birmingham's B*tch was mighty pleased that he was
going to get done, but then NV started the SONG. Oh, yeah. Well, anyway, we
did our best to entertain the bunch of head bangers who had been stuffing
one of their buddies into a dumpster across the street (no, really, it's
true, I can't make sh*t like that up!).

The pack took off in generous circle jerks around A for a while. Eventually,
trail went over toward the new MIT dorm, where those who were in the back
missed a turn and were headed upriver toward Harvard Square. An emergency
phone call to the beer check corrected this mistake, and we turned back into
the MIT campus. We perambulated by the nearly completed but unfinished
looking Strata Center (designed by Frank O. Gehry) … it's a little like
Gaudi meets the Jettsons. It's freaky but interesting to look at. We went
down some railroad tracks that are going to be in a tunnel under a new MIT
building, took a right and found the basement level beer check. There were a
couple of additions to the pack at the BC. Sugar Plum Fairy had gotten a
late start. So did a visitor, Dick Pop Fly from Cambridge England, who was a
friend of Bare My Lingus, Chapped *ss, and Vowel Movement.

After a beer or two, the pack was once again out on trail … it had gotten
a bit cooler, so it was good that the remaining trail was fairly short …
the on-in was at Floppy Dick's (we had not seen him since A, but that was no
surprise, given that the on-in was at his place). The DFL walkers figured
out that the T was a faster mode of transportation than walking to Harvard
Square, so a bunch of us went to the Kendall stop, and arrived at B before
the last of the pack.

**** The on in:

I updated the hotline … putting the plea out to hashland, that we had 2
kegs and needed drinkers. Thus, assorted late cummers arrived to help with
the "problem".

Puff-n-Stuff was RA, as usual. The hares were brought into the circle for
abuse, but Floppy Dick was nowhere to be seen, so No Vacancy got to stand in
for him. It was difficult to scribe, since my hands were getting really cold
in Floppy's back yard. Among the comments on the run were: "-6.9", and "This
run finally proved there is something uglier than MIT men … the new MIT
buildings". The hares and hare proxy did a down down and sang "Whip it out
at the Ball Game".

The first in was Harpoontang, followed by Vowel Movement. They did a down
down along with Puffy, who got one for being a late cummer and failing the
sweat test. The down down was a demo for the two virgins.

**** Virgins:
Shine On got Virgin Brian and Virgin Jason on their knees in the muddy back
yard. She told them the virgin tree would decide their fate. She said they
were to call her Shine On, to which Rodent Feltcher added "or Mommy".
Virgin Jason said that Just Anne made him cum, but that they are just
friends. He likes s*x with the woman on top.
Virgin Brian said that the last girl he hooked up with made him cum. If here
were on a busload of homos*xuals he would get off very quickly. If it were a
busload of lesbi*ns, he would ride until the buss runs out of gas. And he
had been well coached by Shorn Scrotum, as he knew the square root of 69.
They were given a down down, and are virgins no more.

**** Visitors/transplants were brought into the circle.
Slow Bumps ahead is from the Atlanta H3, but has relocated here.
Dick Pop Fly said he was from the real Cambridge in the UK. They were given
a down down, and sang a song.

*** Then in a startling revelation, Dick Pop Fly turned to Puffy and asked,
"Doesn't anybody know me? I am one of the hares." Puffy took a really good
look and stepped backward in shock and awe. It was Floppy Dick, transformed.
He pulled off one unbelievable stunt. After he left A, he went and shaved
off his beard, bleached his hair and dyed it a reddish blonde (with help
from Vowel Movement, Chapped *ss and Bare My Lingus). He then put in contact
lenses and applied a bronzer to his face. He worked on his accent for a few
days before the hash. Not one hasher recognized him before he outed himself.
It was one great scam on the pack. And, actually he looked good. He was the
talk of the evening. He fooled everyone completely.

Accusations:
*Backsliding: Just Christopher, General *ss Pounder (his excuse was that he
has hangovers on Sundays), Chapped *ss (she was hibernating).
*New shoes: Just Anne had worn new shoes. Despite having gotten them a
little muddy, they still did not pass the test. She had gotten into this
trouble by accusing Shorn Scrotum of having bought new shoes, when she saw
him at the New Balance store; however, he did not wear his shoes to the
hash. As her shoes were not big enough for a decent down down, she was given
a cup of beer to down.

We did Swing Low quickly, as the cold was really setting in. We rushed back
inside from the circle. It was time for the contest: the most lovelorn and
scorned expression and the worst love poem.

Master Gator went first with his lovelorn pout. It got cheers from the pack.

Then Threat From Behind insisted on reading his special poem. He read it to
one of the lovely Irish harriettes. (It is reproduced in full at the end of
this hash trash, as there was a great clamor to see it in print). It was
purple prose … errr, poetry, at its best/worst. It was a most commendable
effort.

The voice vote awarded the prize to Threat; Master Gator's pout was not even
a close second. Threat received a build your own hash necklace kit.

We ate pizza and continued to drain the kegs. As I left it was harriers vs.
harriettes playing drinking games.

Quotes:
"Do you want this tacked anywhere?" - Nipple Erectus to the very hot Floppy
Dick

—- Cums Alone, your humble scribe

P.S. Do not forget that the Cross Country Ski hash is this Saturday, with an
overnight til Sunday morning at the Fat One's in Rumney NH. It is worth the
trip for the food alone. The naked skinny dippers are a dubious bonus. TFO
and Basket insist that trail will be ski-able this year (and that snow shoes
are not necessary … we will see).

Threat From Behind's winning poem:

Roses are red
Violets are blue
If you were my valentine
This is what I would do.

Why I’d hold my breath
Until my face turned blue
And that's just the start of how
I'd prove my love to you

I'd chop up my heart
And make valentine's stew
Served with a nice Chianti
And some fava beans too.

I'd shave off my beard
And leave a fu-manchu-choo
So that the hair on my chin
Wouldn't scratch your cootchie-co-co

I'd go downtown and buy you
New high heeled shoes
So you could stomp on my heart
Like all the other harriettes do.

I'd fulfill all your fantasies
And political ambitions
You'd be an intern
I'd be a democratic politician

I'd go down to New York
And bash Steinbrenner on the head
And bring Alex Rodriquez
To Boston instead (yeah baby …
that's how to get Bostonians hot!!)

Yes I'd do all those things
And one more thing too
To prove just how strong
Is my ardor for you.

I'd put on a dress
And some frilly underthings too
And pretend I'm a lesbian
Come to teach you a thing or two

Then we'd go to see the legislature
And I'd slip them a bribe
And have them announce officially
That you're my gay bride

So believe me, my darling
It's sad but it's true
There's very little in this world
That I wouldn't do

To prove my devotion
To make you be mine
to get in your pants
To get a big ???????

Ok, so I see
You’re not convinced yet
But there is one more thing
That you've not guessed, I'll bet

I know that you like em
All big and strong
That you need a male member
At least 12 inches long (this verse started a huge
"Bull Sh*t" chorus)

So just for you, darling
I'll go see Master Gator,
And borrow his trusty
Well used, penis inflator

And I'll use the old pump
Morning, noon and night
Till the length of my Johnson
Is a terrible sight

And come and surprise you
Right after the hash
Come sneak up behind you
As you're taking hash cash

And then I'll slip you a present
And old Threat From Behind
Will make you regret
You weren't his Valentine.

Maybe Threat should consider writing romance novels instead of being a
soldier???

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