January 27th, 2008 - The Annual Robbie Burns Hash

Date: Sunday, January 27th, 2008, 2:30 HST
Hares: Ski Bobbit and Stretch Pussy
Bag Car: Cums Alone
Pre-Lube: Sullivan's Tap
Scotch Whiskey Check #1: Robby Burns statue in Winthrop Square
Beer Check #2: Lobby to Ski's Office
On-In: The Hong Kong
Distance: 4-5 Miles
Weather: 30 degrees and quite snowy
Scribe: DEEP Black Hole
Late Cummers: Dirty Latte Sanchez

The Pack:
Beat By a Girl, Catheter the Great, Crucifucks, DEEP Black Hole, Dribbles, Drippy Spigot, Dude Where's My Virginity, Floppy Dick, General Ass Pounder, Goat Throat, Goes Down On Buoys, Hare Club for Queers, Head Master, High Anus, Homobile, More Head, Nipples Erectus, Puff-n-Stuff, Rodent Felcher, Stick It To The Bros, Sugar Plum Fairy, Wang Chunks, Hiscoxin, NAMBLA, Just Beth, Double Flush, Lube Me In, Sperm Breath, Bend Over Mommy, You Oughta Blow, Queer Leader

Cainus Lickus (Happy Valley), Pig Fucker (Halve Mein), Bleeps Sweeps & Creeps (Seacoast), Mr. Rodgers (Rhode Island)

It was a cold and snowy day, so I half expected our hash to be small, but I was wonderfully amazed and surprised to find almost 40 hashers come out for Robbie Burn's Birthday. Maybe it was his poetry, or maybe it was Ski Bobbit's curious email verbiage that drew the crowd. Or maybe it was because the day was perfect for wearing a kilt. Which many hashers did. Regardless, it was a great hashing day with a clusterfuck of a trail.

Trail started at Sulley's Tap, according to Ski, but for those of you who may be confused, it was actually Sullivan's Tap. Ski "explained" the marks in somewhat comprehensible English, but I was asked by Wang Chunks "what the heck is he saying?" I calmly suggested to Wang Chunks that he should listen to more Bob Dylan and then all would be clear as mud. Apparently a boob check sign had become a check sign, indicating Ski's age and ability to actually see the difference between marks. Yesterday's hash was all about Ski - and Robbie Burns.

Anyway, the pack was anxious to leave so we didn't really warm up, introduce ourselves, or anything. And we were off! Trail…what can I say about trail. Trail was half following the hares, who sometimes knew where they were going (Ski forgot trail because he's….aged like a fine scotch, and Stretch Pussy forgot trail because she's…. young like jailbait - but not actually jailbait) and half following some orange marks in the snow. I get the feeling that Trail eventually went cajun. Anyway, trail started with a fine tour of many parking garages which eventually popped the pack out right by Beacon Hill. The pack slumped up the hill with much grumbling, saying "this better not be a false." It wasn't. Trail continued down towards the Commons. Okay, so trail didn't actually go into the Common, as one of our hares told us after the fact. "Trail" is a bit of a subjective word for this trail. After floundering in the common, the pack I was with went through the public gardens. Some brave hashers decided to cut across the frozen swan boat pond. Luckily, none of them were lost to Davy Jones' Locker…in the pond.

At this point, I was in the crabby I-want-beer-now stage, but trail continued on through Downtown Crossing. There was a split at one point - now labeled turkey or eagle, just a split, which I don't think was actually a split because I never saw any marks the direction I went. Finally, I found one of the hares, who was "sweeping" (aka laying) trail. Floppy Dick had the wonderful idea of following the hare instead of the marks, as anyone knows a hare wants beer too. Trouble is, the hare didn't know where she was going, so trail went through Chinatown before we heard her mutter "Uh, this isn't right" and start running. After much badgering, she finally lead us to the first beverage check, a Scotch Whiskey Shot check at the foot of the Robbie Burns Statue.

The pack was happy to finally get some tasty Scotch, and two of our visitors (Pig Fucker and Canius Lickus) were so excited that they burst into recitations of Robbie Burns Poetry. The pack was delighted and amused. Near the end of this BC, Ski began running around incomprehensibly yelling where the next beer check was. I guess the hares gave up on actually setting a trail - well, they were sort of hashing with the pack. Anyway, it was a straight shot to the second beverage check, a beer check, in the small ceiling-mirrored lobby of Ski's office. Fine Scottish beer, as well as PBR, were provided. Antics at this beer check included a three-some eiffel tower elevator ride consisting of Crucifucks, Pig Fucker, and Canius Lickus. It was a short ride.

From the beer check it was about 3 blocks to the Hong Kong, our on-in. The pack knew this because Stretch Pussy was yelling it as they left the beer check. Best third section of trail ever.

GAP was HA for the evening. The hares, Ski and Stretch Pussy, were brought into the circle. Comments on trail included "Not Enough Haggis" "Mr. Rodgers got excited" "Flour Shortage!" "Robbie Burns: Prick of Steel, Balls of Fury!" Instead of singing a song, our hares recited a poem. Maybe it was by Bob Dylan. Or Robbie Burns. It was hard to tell.

Our visitors (Bleeps, Pig Fucker, Puff-n-Stuff - Woooster, and Canius Lickus) were brought into the circle. They sang some shit song. No really, it was about shit. As good visitors should, they did their down-downs.

Next was the backsliders, of which there were many: Just Beth, Lube Me In, Double Flush, Sperm Breath, Ski (?), Rodent Felcher, Mr. Rodgers. And then, somehow, because one of these had been a GM at one point, all GMs and X-GMs and XXX-GMs drank. It was chaotic. Basically, if you wanted to, you could do a down-down. And so they did, to the song "I Love Her".

Since we didn't have any virgins on trail (and Floppy Dick had brought a lot of Bananas for them…awwwww), the pack amused itself in naming Just Beth. It was the longest naming in hash history, which is curious, because the pack came up with a name for Just Beth within the first 6.9 seconds of her naming. Just Beth apparently once said "If I put it in my mouth, it's going down." Either she's talking about beer, or something else. Then she started explaining some game that involved flipping quarters and stripping. Every time the coin comes up tails, everybody has to take off an item of clothing. GAP decided to flip a coin, and sure enough, it came up tails. So Just Beth removed her shirt. GAP kept flipping the coin and it came up tails SEVEN Times. Suggestions for Just Beth's hash name included " Big Gulp" "Strippy Poo" "Heads You Win, Tails You Win" and "Forget Me Twat" But, in light of the coin flipping and stripping, the hash began chanting "More Tail, More Tail!" Thus, Just Beth was named More Tail. Welcome to the hash with your new name, More Tail. In the middle of the naming, because More Tail had new shoes, she, her original sponsor Floppy, and NAMBLA (because he had the same shoes) had to down-down, which they did.

Because More Head is joining the mile high club by moving to Colorado, she was served a down-down, along with her name sister, More Tail. "Whip It Out At the Ball Game" was sung to commemorate the fact that the hash now has a More Head and More Tail.

Although the pack was gone by now and chaos was in reign, accusations continued. Catheter the Great was accused of calling Sugar Plum Fairy "Jolly Green Vagina" because SPF was wearing a very large and green coat that could be seen from Scotland. When one twin drinks, all twins drink, so Dude Where's My Virginity joined Catheter in the circle. Head Master and Cums Alone did down-downs for no reason at all.

Pig Fucker, You Oughta Blow, and Goat Throat were having a orgy through all of this, so they were served a down-down, and Goat Throat was called back into the circle for using a towel as a kilt throughout the entire trail. When one kilt drinks, all kilts drink, so all of those who wore kilts to the hash (Head Master, Pig Fucker, Canius, Puffy, and Ski - Bleeps skipped out on this one), duitfully down-downed with respect served to Robbie Burns. For some reason, all the GMs and X-GMs and XXX-GMs took this opportunity to down-down once more.

Wang Chunks was accused of missing his tags, which he was, so he was served a down-down. Suddenly, Goat Throat and Floppy Dick were shirtless (maybe they were playing that quarter game), so they were accused of being members of Chippendales, and along with More Tail (because she had played before), they did a down-down.

Circle went on: Pig Fucker, not satisfied with his first private party/orgy, had another with Crucifucks and Wang Chunks. The song "Gang Bang" was sung to commemorate this particular down-down. Throughout all this, Drippy Spigot had been dashing around whispering "Chinese Fire Drill" and after singing "Gang Bang" took the opportunity to instigate the drill, causing much rushing and bashing and moshing and alcohol abuse. I found myself on the other side of the room. Circle went on.

Dirty Latte Sanchez, our late cummer, failed a sweat test, and when one family member drinks, all family members drink, so Catheter the Great and Dude Where's My Virginity were back in the circle to down-down. The hash then burst into song, singing "When The End of the Month Rolls Around".

Circle continued on, like a Ski Bobbit email written in broken english. Stretch Pussy and More Tail were having a private party (this one without Pig Fucker), and were served a down-down. Bleeps down-downed for something, and at this point it was again all GMs, X-GMs, and XXX-GMs drinking again, so hashers such as Hare Club, Pig Fucker, Hianus, Nipples Erectus, Ski Bobbit, and Drippy drank, and probably a bunch of others but hell if I could write it all down.

More Tail drank for being racist (I never did find out why), and then there was a down-down for being from Florida for Dirty Latte Sanchez, Queer Leader, Dude Where's my Virginity, Wang Chunks, and Catheter the Great. Who knows if any of these people are actually from Florida anyway. Stretch Pussy and NAMBLA were sitting through all of this, and thus needed to do a down-down for being tired. Hianus drank for Jingle Bells (?) and Crucifucks, Floppy Dick, Canine Lickus, NAMBLA, You Ought Blow, Pig Fucker, and More Tail drank because circle was lasting forever and they were thirsty.

That's the last thing I wrote down because scribe was drunk at this point. I think maybe we swung low. I remember the pizza. If you're read the hash trash this far, good for you. It's almost over. It is closer to being over that circle ever was last night.


  1. "If I put it in my mouth, it's going down." - More Tail (Formerly Just Beth)
  2. "Will you please eat my banana?" - NAMBLA

I'm don't know about you, dear hasher reading this hash trash, but I feel ashamed that our hash has wronged one of our own. I hope that if you were at yesterday's hash, you will consider chipping in a contribution to reimburse Hare Club for the rogue beer purchased at the Hong Kong last night. Maybe you didn't order the beer, maybe you had a glass thinking someone out of good will had bought a pitcher for general consumption, or maybe you didn't drink a drop of it, but please consider contributing if only to right a wrong and to exhibit true hasher-like behavior. In the past I've seen the hash take care of each other, and I sincerely hope that the hash will rise to the occasion in this instance.

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