Hash Trash from 2014

#286 | Lumberjack Hash | Semen After Ass’ Virgin Lay

cockmonkey’s log, beerdate 2.1.2014

Happy New Year! If you didn’t start the New Year off with a hangover, this trail probably fixed that. Or so I hear, I have no actual clue how shitfaced most of you were because I only remember about half of circle, some various snippets of memory, and being driven home by Two Minute Ride because no one could find my keys in order for Suckit to drive us home. Whoops.

Start: 500 Rock Valley Rd, Holyoke

Hares: Two Minute Ride & Semen After Ass (Virgin Lay!)

Pack:

Happy Valley: cockmonkey, Suckit Wrench, Big Piles, Just Caleb, Just Alden (NOT Aiden), Virgin Matt, Virgin Libby, Cajonas, Virgin Phil, Anticock with a K, Celine Ding-Dong, Pornstarboard, Bilbo Teabaggins, Just Sarah, Just Jason, Just Shaun, Rear Admiral

CVNT: Vomit Sutra, Nutter Butthole, Hymen Hero, Just Katie, Just Rebekah, Just Isaac.

We were a pretty butch group of wankers if I do say so myself. Beards, flannel, suspenders, and even an axe. At least most of us were, some went with fancy highfalutin running gear.

Chalk talk was… innovative and interpretive. They tried to get away with holding up a crumpled piece of paper with all the checks drawn out, but we weren’t having any of it and made them drawn them in chalk and large enough for us to actually see. Both hares claimed they couldn’t draw, and even if they could none of us knew even half the marks. And that was before half of the new marks were walked over in search of more ground to draw other marks on. Well the important marks we knew anyways and would be able to recognize, Tit Check, Dick Check, Beer Near, Shot Check, True Trail, what else did we need? A mess of blue chalk all over the place means a check of some sort even if we have no clue what it means. So the hares away and the pack warming up (we needed it, it was a tit bit nipply out).

So off pack slid (minus Anticock who it seemed came by just to say hi), down a hill, across a stream, and possibly blowing through a check. Then we came to probably one of the oddest things I’ve seen on trail, and that’s saying something. There was some upright wood standing in the snow (chunks of dead tree, not some sort of icy glory hole set up), with chalk blobs, and some sort of connect the dots ejaculation of blue chalk all over the snow in both forks of the trail in front of us. So, it was SOME sort of check, but no one knew what to do with it but look for trail. Well, Cajonas knew what HE wanted to do with it, and promptly got down to some log splitting (it was quite impressive).

Meanwhile, some of the pack found three marks off to the left, but some other hashers found a half hidden check (maybe a moose check, maybe a double-ended true trail, maybe something else?) off to the right. WHAT WAS THE CORRECT WAY? Then the pack to the left called out a check, while we were standing looking at one the other direction. So most of the hashers went off that way, while a handful of us stood around and went “well, this IS marked correctly,” and then decided to continue that way.

Ah, taking advantage of what may be a hare’s mistake totally pays off sometimes. Like when a handful of us find the Shot Check ourselves. We even managed to get a verse of the Moose Song for the Moose Check a foot away. YAY BOOZE. Well, after we had made huge inroads into the shot mix left for us, we started to figure that not only had we seemingly jumped a whole section of trail, but that we likely skipped a beer check in the process. The decision then was to go on (since we found more prelaid trail), go back, or just sit around and continue drinking. Ultimately some went back and others went on, where we discovered an overlapping section of trail that looped us right back to the shot check ahead of the pack and in time to see the hares just arriving.

While waiting for the rest of the pack to arrive (and in anticipation of watching some act with an inflatable sheep colored to look like a cow) some adhesive mustaches were distributed and more shots consumed. In our defense for how little we left in the thermos, it was delicious and we were bored. This may have also been what led to cockmonkey deepthroating Semen After Ass’ fingers in order to help clean off all the chocolate pudding (hey, no one else was volunteering).

Turns out there was actually a reason her hand was covered in chocolate pudding. And this and the other thing, Just Sarah ended up wrist deep up the pudding-filled ass of the inflatable sheep/cow to get something hidden inside (what that was I have no earthly clue, I blame booze).

By the way, if you haven’t noticed a trend about tasty booze may you learn from me. When something is labeled as a “shot” do not be deceived by the fact that it’s in a huge sippy thermos. It’s a huge jug of shots and should not be drunk like punch. Or at least don’t do as I do if you want to remain coherent and be allowed in the hot tub.

So now the pack was finally reunited, with various additions like a cow balloon, mustaches, and gummi cocks. Seems there was some sort of cow theme going on along with the moose and ice.

Well, somehow we all got back to circle, and even better, no one was lit on fire messing with the fire pit. YAY. Two Minute Ride went off to refill the sippy thermos of shots, and eventually we all formed up into a circle. And how else to start a circle but with the hares!

The circle was pronounced “one of the shortest, strangest trails I’ve ever been on” by someone. Possibly our RA. Seems like something he’d say, and he was in a position to say it. Feedback from the pack included:

• for my first time, excellent
• plenty of mustaches
• “granny groper laid a shitty trail, but you beat him!”
• plenty of shots, not enough mustaches
• more axes for everyone!
• WTF was that puzzle?
• not bad for a quickie

So it seems we were split on what is a satisfactory amount of mustache, but otherwise your standard comments on a virgin lay. I mean no-one expects a virgin to have much staying power. Though I suppose we don’t normally have axes on trail. Either way, they were serenaded with “Shitty Trail.” Or at least we tried to, I may not have been the only one half in the bag at this point.

“That was about as straightforward as the trail!” our illustrious RA cried, “I’m not done with you yet!” So we sang to the hares again, and actually managed to be all in close to the same time.

Did I mention that this trail also conincided with our virgin hare’s birthday? It’s true! Not only that Just Sarah and Hymen Hero had birthdays in the ballpark. And the ever-thoughtful Nutter Butthole brought them prezzies (nips).

FRB: Suckit Wrench
FBI: Just Sarah
DFL: Celine Ding-Dong and Pornstarboard

We had lots of digitizing. Probably at least a third of us.

Then to the virgins! Cajonas made Virgin Phil cum, and Just Alden and Caleb made Virgins Libby and Matt cum. I have no idea what half of my notes say at this point, I have some note that seems to say “Virgin Phil would satisfy” and “Virgin Libby would if beer.” Maybe it was about poor old Uncle Jack? That sounds likely. We did ask them about a bus full of lesbians, but who knows what people said. I think Virgins Matt and Phil would be down to party with the bus full of lesbians, and one of the three at least said “would totally” (something?). We asked a metaphysical question about dollar bills, and some high level math questions involving 69.

…something… something… “w/ alzhimers summon an unfamiliar?” something about “distracted into nipple piercings”… “talk to … circle … bekah, celine…” some more chicken scratch writing… What the hell was in that not-punch-mix? Somewhere around here we took care of lost shit (like my tag) and auctioned off unclaimed tags for various things (like burpees). In my defense, I was somewhere around here also carrying around the thermos full of shot mix sipping on it like it was juice.

Oh yeah, Air Pollution. Celene, Just Katie, and Just Isaac (can we name him just so I don’t have to remember how to actually spell Isaac, or which variation of it he uses?).

Then someone (or someones) were called in to circle for pissing. Lets just assume Vomit Sutra was one of them. And if he wasn’t, that he was shortly after called in just on principle for the fact that he was going to soon. Maybe even the cow balloon got into it.

If anything else in circle happened after this, I don’t remember. What I have pieced together (beyond the fact that I seemed to have gotten into my bathing suit and put my under back on with all my clothes over it at some point) is that Two Minute Ride was awarded the hash shit for some reason or another. Or maybe just because. There are photos, he looks happy (or maybe just drunk).

And there was a naming! I vaguely remember this, but I’m pretty sure I contributed nothing to it. It also seems no one else really remembers it, including the newly named hasher. But Just Shaun is now forever known as Great White Shart. It seems our more recent crop of hashers is very fecal minded, the last three namings have all had at least one “shart” option pushed, so I’m sure someone’s at least happy for there to be a shart name. I’m just wondering how to work in “shart” into the “great white shark” song and dance. Maybe we all make raspberries instead of going “da-da-daa-da-da-dada”?

Then mayhem and hot tubbing (but remember, no nudity!). At least I’m assuming there were shenanigans besides Nutter cracking up at how wasted I was and then the great car key hunt (that I kept insisting were in my pocket and that someone re-ran the entire trail looking for… sorry). However by the sounds of it no one fell into the fire or drowned in the hot tub, or did something utterly destructive, so that is fantastic. Fun virgin lay, and may Semen After Ass lay many more (no really, we totally need more active hares).

#287 | Green Dress Run

cockmonkey’s log, beerdate 3.15.2014

So, in Happy Valley land we had a little thing known as a Green Dress Run.  But if you’re one of the cool people you already knew that, because you were there.

Start: Hugo’s in Northampton

Hares: cockmonkey & Big Piles

Pack:
Happy Valley: Suckit Wrench, Rear Admiral, *Zznrk* Twat?, UFO, Tasty Topple, Just Dan, Two Minute Ride, Pornstarboard, Semen After Ass, Just Kelly, Celine Ding-Dong, Just Rob, Bilbo Teabaggins, Granny Groper, Virgin Rachel, Virgin Eric, Virgin Jen, and the new transplant to the area, With Ham & Cheese.

CVNT: Nutter Butthole, Vomit Sutra, Hymen Hero, Not Enough Fingers, Metro Testicle, Stage Fright, Just Karen, KY Jell-O, Jenny Cougar MellonCans, Virgin Dawn, Virgin Erika

Boston: Friar Fuck

Halve Mein: Pig Fucker, Sperm Bank, DeciBelle, Willy Wanker

PooF: Jimmy Crack Whore

Drifter: I Eat Cum (and junior)

It was one of those days that promised to be beautiful.  Which was pretty awesome considering the preceding week had a day in the 60’s followed by two days of ice and snow.  As the hares left their homes to set up trail the sun was out, the sky was blue, and the temperature was rising from slightly cool to a lovely lightly warm.  On top of
that we had over 40 wankers registered and we had some amazing beer thanks to Great White Shart and the ABC.  What could go wrong?

Well, apparently it’s a bad idea to tempt fate on the Ides of March.  No sooner did our intrepid hares start setting up trail did it start raining.  Then stop raining and the sun would come out, and then rain again.  This meant that any plans the hares may have had to pre lay small sections of trail were utterly shot to shit, since any chalk put out was washed away.  Not only that, but several hashers spotted the hares in setting up trail whom then may have assumed that the entire trail was a dead lay.

Well, as 3PM approached hashers gathered in Hugo’s.  Some had arrived early to play darts and were still in civilian clothes (or at least, not in green dresses), others had shown up and then left to go get food.  Hash cash was collected from wanker’s who hadn’t paid in advance, tags and loot were given out, some people might have purchased some hash items of questionable value, and dresses were changed into.  Eventually it was determined (or just assumed) that various people who had registered just weren’t showing.  It was tragic, I know.  Either way, if they weren’t cumming then it was time
to rally the troops and get this show on the road (fuck you, I can mix my expressions if I want to).

So outside for chalk talk we went (not like I can draw chalk talk all over the floor of a bar.. well, I could, but they’d get grumpy with me)!  But first, let’s flag down some random passing strangers to get a group photo!  Fortunately most people are actually alright with
being flagged down to take a photo of some 40 strangers in green dresses (and OK with one of said dress wearers standing next to them and mooning the lot of us).  Then to chalk talk… oh wait, beer… out comes the shitty beer and THEN, then we had chalk talk.

So it was a long build up for chalk talk, but I’ve been told my circle drawing skills are pretty fantastic, so it must be totally worth the wait to see a damn fine circle drawn.  Or maybe it’s because my dress was short and not very elastic so didn’t really do anything as clothing when I bent over to do chalk talk…  Either way, chalk talk was had, and it seemed like even the virgins vaguely understood what was going in, so that’s good.  So the hares were off while the pack introduced themselves and warmed up.

So there we were, jogging away (yeah, we’re slow hares, deal with it), laying trail, when we hear what seem to be whistles.  No, they can’t be whistles, we’re only like 3 minutes out from start.  With that overly optimistic thought, our hares continued, briefly splitting to
lay side areas of trail.  Turns out we had heard whistles because the pack was convinced the trail was a dead lay.  Time for some song checks!  IEC was actually quite kind to Piles, simply waving to him as he jogged down the other side of the street, and there was definitely sighting of the pack by both of the hares regardless of the distance between them.  This may have incited quite a bit of fear in the hares for the rest of this leg of trail.  Perhaps making cockmonkey try and run from Big Piles as he was catching up to her before she realized that it was her co-hare, not the pack.

But with the laying of checks, various skittering ahead quickly, splashing through puddles, and more, the hares successfully laid trail to the first beer check.  This was the more successful of the beer checks, maybe because it was in a parking relatively shielded… and because we had permission of Amazing to use the lot as a drink check. Apparently the people who work there really like the Dakin, because that’s what convinced them.  Might have worked out slightly better had there not been a huge ass puddle about 2 feet behind cockmonkey’s car right where people waiting for beer might be standing.

So before the pack finished drinking the beer, and with the hope that they’d get distracted by the porn store, our intrepid hares set off again.  So a little bit of this had been prelaid.  Let me tell you, the brief showers completely wiped that out (or at least wiped 70% of
the marks out entirely, and wiped the rest out 70%), so what was intended to be a nice loop to give the hares a chance to jump ahead in a few tricky areas of trail to avoid being spotted became completely live.  Actually, the hares had to hold up at one point while the pack went around a bend, as we looped trail back near an earlier leg, before veering into Thornes.

So we’ve used that parking garage for a beer check dozens of times. Again and again, usually a few times in a year.  But we didn’t consider a few things.  One of which is the placement of security cameras and the fact that it’s a lot easier to see what’s going on in
the brightly lit roof than it is in the busy shadowy cavern.  Two, few days before St. Patrick’s Day and a week after the Barney Blowout shennanigans at UMass with 2000+ entitled underage drinkers.  And three, some people can’t tell the difference between 35 people in green dresses and two in green togas, and a huge horde of people in green togas.

If you can’t figure out what happened I’ll spell it out for you. Someone called the cops on us.  Well, fortunately the cop figured we were all over 21 and didn’t really want to deal with it.  Also fortunately, non of the pack decided to “help” talk to the cop.  This meant there were fewer people “helping” (making the situation worse) so the cop ran cockmonkey’s ID to make sure there wasn’t some horrible flag on on her, told us to put the drinks away, and was on his way.

On the bright side, we may have recruited some hashers from the parking lot.  Also glad they’re not pissed that we interrupted their illegal public drinking by drawing attention to the area.

Here’s where things got interesting.  So, we weren’t all that far from the end point (A to A’ trail), but either people were overly confident of trail’s ulitmate path or they just utterly lost the ability to find flour (or forgot that trail could be marked in chalk OR flour… which is what cockmonkey switched to when solo haring the last bit).  The end result was that while cockmonkey was laying trail to the end she saw a horde of hashers zenning in front and across her path, right through end, and out of sight.  Two Minute Ride even climbed a snow bank, LOOKED RIGHT AT COCKMONKEY, and then ran on after failing to see
the approaching hare.  Actually, the only reason our RA was at the end point and not running with the rest off into the wild blue yonder was he was taking a piss stop as cockmonkey ran in and wrote down “On-In” in the back parking lot.  The next two there were Virgins (thanks KY Jell-O), and eventually MOST of the pack trickled in.

So we tried to hold circle.  But there were a lot of cops around, and we were a bit jumpy.  We got the hares in and sort of demented the virgins.  Feed back to the hares included “not enough police,” “too much clothing,” “strangely freeing,” “too many of my son’s teachers,” “got lost,” and “got me lucky charms.”  Now Virgins, we found out that Great White Shart made Virgin Eric cum (without even being there) because “if you ask me three times I’ll do anything,” and Virgin Eric made Just Jen cum because she has poor impulse control.  This sounds promising.  KY Jell-O made our FBI Virgin Erika show up (she declined to comment on exactly why she was there), and she made her co-FBI
Virgin Dawn cum.  Some time mid-demonstration of a down down, possibly even getting the virgins to do their down down someone called out “COP!”  That’s kind of like calling out “fire” in a theater, only without screaming panic.  Turns out when hashers here “COP” they attempt to act casual, and by act casual I mean they dump their vessel (maybe) and power walk off while attempting to appear like a casual bystander.  Of course, this meant we had about 40 of in green dresses scattering from a single point.  Good thing the cop wasn’t actually patrolling the parking lots looking for us, and was probably actually just moving down the road slowly.  Also, sorry for essentially bailing on you Piles (with all the evidence).

So it was decided even if the cops weren’t actually looking specifically for us, we should move on to the on-after.  Anyways, it was cold and the on-after had scorpion bowls.  So  people found cars. But we were still missing some wankers.  Just about when cockmonkey was going to ask Piles for a ride to the Deuce to see if they were there, Piggy and company ran up (actually following trail!!) after having enjoyed some drinks at the bar.

Not sure if this is because it’s Northampton or what, but the staff at Sakura seemed amused by us.  This is good, because while we may have made reservations for nearly 40 people, we might have not warned them that 2/3rds would me be in dresses.  There we consumed much tasty (greasy, Americanized) Asian food plus countless (oddly lacking in citrus) Scorpion Bowls.  Or at least, certain people consumed countless ones, the rest of us drank them at a slower rate.

In lieu of circle, some toasts and announcements were made.  Wankers who made trail were enticed to NURD at a special rate.  More scorpion bowls were drunk.  And a good time was had.

Eventually people started trickling away home (or to someone’s home at least), and those of us left got to enjoy the bromance that is Granny Groper and Two Minute Ride.  Let’s just say, not sure how much of it was the booze or what it did for them, but the ladies totally enjoyed it.  We also got to watch Bilbo be both sneaky in removing bras and
about as subtle as a brick removing bras.

Ultimately we donated just over $400 to the Dakin, and they are very happy.

#288 | Zombie Jesus Trail #6

cockmonkey’s log, beerdate 4.27.2014

First off, I want to address the weather gods. Fuck you guys.  Seriously. I get you like to pour down on us particularly when Piles lays a trail, but isn’t it about time for us to have NICE weather on trail? At the very least so that our cough-syrup laden hare has a
chance of setting up trail so that she can stay ahead of the pack?  Apprently we can’t have nice things and the weather persisted in being nice and sunny for about 5 minutes followed by a half hour of rain the whole morning and up until trail start.

So bitching aside, this trail actually seemed like it could be pretty fun, despite the hare’s half-assed efforts. We had a great sized pack, shitty beer, the sun started peeking out, and it wasn’t freezing.

Oh yeah. The hare also laid this trail a week late. Something about having terminally ill family out of state. Like we believe that when Easter was on 4/20.

So the pack gathered together at a classic Zombie Jesus Day Trail start location, because why the fuck not?

Hare: cockmonkey

Pack:
Happy Valley: Suckit Wrench, UFO, Celine Ding-Dong, Bilbo Teabaggins, Just Kelly, Two Minute Ride, Pornstarboard, Rear Admiral, Just Rob, Anticock, Just Eric, Just Jen, Just Karen (consensus was that she really should be counted as HVH3 since she lives in Amherst).

Boston: The Buttler Hit It

Halve Mein: Willy Wanker (aka Easter Jesus), PigFucker, Jizneygland, Assman Cummeth, Just Tyler, Just Mike

CVNT: Hymen Hero, Emergency Medical Tits, Just Craig

PooF: Jimmy Crack Whore, Counterfeit Dick, Pussy Factory

Is there everyone? I hope so. Time for some shitty beer and chalk talk. Chalk talk was pretty basic, but the pack seemed happy about the inclusion of tit and dick checks (though after laying trail I feel there should have also been a “tick” check… nasty little fuckers),
and of course everyone’s favorite marks B and BN (note: BEVERAGE, not beer, we’re doing things Easter themed today). Well, the important things were covered, so the hare dashed off (it was a very limited dash, but proof that I ran at least PART of trail), and the pack went through introductions and warm up.

I’m going to go out on a limb and say that checks didn’t take all that long to resolve for the pack. In the first leg of the trail there was at best one mark down a false. Wide open space without many chances for completely unnecessary twists and turns to stay out of site of the pack in the trail makes this hare nervous. So I’m making my (slow) merry way along trail, not sure if I’m actually hearing pack noises or if it’s just my imagination, and really hoping that it’s just my imagination. In the penultimate approach to the beverage check what does the hare hear? “ON-ON!” I look up to see a pack of walkers meandering their way down the assfault towards our hare. Fucking walkers (I know, I know, pot meet kettle?), well, time to scurry some more, because I’m certain I just heard some whistles.

And there’s the hiding place! YAY! And what did this beverage check hold? Why, it holds ingredients for mimosas (plus a few cans of beer for those too whiny for mimosas). Well, as the pack poured in, the hare handed over pouring duties, downed a mimosa herself, and dashed off. Reportedly EMT and Just Craig showed up long after all the mimosa was gone and got nothing, but I’d like to point out that there was still a can of (shitty) beer in the backpack when I unpacked everything. Though I am sorry that they didn’t get any mimosa.

So the hare was off again, and quickly learned that champagne is called “bubbly” for a good reason. Dear lord that shit makes running awkward. Fortunately, the hare had a chance to set up a few parts of this section of trail, which made not only dealing with foamy belly more bearable, but allowed for the laying of some YBF. Wooo.

Now, maybe the little extra time form set up was unnecessary. The pack DID sing Yogi Bear at the first song check, and then had a slow time of finding marks in the grassy field. The walkers found the beverage check far in advance of the runners, and the hare mentioned it would be a good time to check for ticks (having just removed one from clothing).

The themed drink for this beverage check was a classic, some good ole Boone’s Farm. That’s right, this shit is in colors not found in nature AND was cheaper than Mad Dog 20/20. How’s that for fancy? I’m going to assume it was acceptable because the beverage check bag was returned to me filled with empty bottles. But then, those fuckers could have dumped them out in the river. I don’t know because I dashed off to finish trail before the runners showed up.

Our hare made it to the end/back to the start reasonably in advance of the pack, and started cleaning up the pile of empties left so courteously next to the wheel of her car (btw, the trunk was unlocked). Around this time some wanker in a big ass truck started
driving slowly through the area, as if they were looking for someone.  Turns out they were looking for someone, it was Stunt Cock, swinging through to join us for circle. Fun times.

Eventually the pack all made it back to start. Some loaves of bread were brought out (but no fish), and the body of Christ was enjoyed by all. There was also a bush that Hymen Hero had found on trail and had decided to carry with him, once placed in the circle various efforts were made to turn it into a burning bush, but its probably for the best they were not overly successful.

Now to get down to business.

Our hare (oh look, that’s me). Trail was described by the pack as not having enough briars, being moist and deep, needing tick checks, that there were not enough verses of Jesus Saves sung (not my fault), that it took some to places they’ve never been before, and that while there were not nearly enough tit checks, they were thankful for the ones
seen. Other feedback recieved included that both baggo and the Easter eggs were missed, so maybe they’ll be included next year, who the fuck knows.

FRB – Two Minute Ride
FBI – Just Kelly
DFL – Pussy Factory/Pornstarboard

Then virgins! Or virgin (unless you were drunk enough to see double, then it may still count as multiple). Turns out Bilbo Teabaggins made Virgin Erica cum. When asked about the bus full of lesbians she didn’t even pause before announcing that she’d stay on the bus, and in case you’re wondering, she would also help her dear uncle jack off.  However, she wasn’t so sure what we meant when the dollar bill came out, and guess for the square root of 69 was not nearly accurate enough (did someone say she was a math teacher?). But she found Jesus, since you know, he was standing right there. Virgin Erica was also able to tell us not only what her favorite barnyard animal was (cow), but what a cow orgasm sounded like (moooOOOOOOoo!). Well, we had to then explain how to Down-Down, and our RA tends to get confused introducing this (in addition to having to demonstrate), so cockmonkey stepped in so Bilbo wouldn’t have to talk with his mouth full. And then of course, she’s not a virgin anymore, so what do we care. Get out of the circle!

The next accusation was pretty obvious. But I still want to know, what the fuck did Piggy do to his hand? That was a lot of blood! But while Piggy was freely bleeding, he wasn’t the only one with blood on them. Into the circle went Hymen Hero, Celine, UFO, Anticock, Bilbo, Rear Admiral, Piggy, Jizneygland, Assman Cummeth, and Just Tyler. Talk about a bloody trail. You really don’t need to try and guess what song was sung here.

At this point we brought in Stunt Cock for his sweat test failure (though while missing sweat he did seem to be missing parts of his pants).

And it turned out we had a handful of birthdays in April, including Pussy Factory,  Jizneygland, and Suckit Wrench.

Stunt Cock and Anticock were both called in for backsliding, though I only just noticed that there was a backsliding cock theme. I totally should have gone into the circle on name alone in that case.

Digitizing was combined with Tech on Trail, and that just became a social. Because why not (actually, it was because they did Father Birmingham, which means everyone pointed).

Piggy called in “Crabs (ticks) on Trail,” and while i don’t believe so few of us had ticks, maybe as the hare I collected some of them for the rest of the pack (I had enough for at least 5 other hashers, thankfully only on my clothes). But in the circle came cockmonkey,
Virgin Erica, UFO, Just Mike, Bilbo, and Rear Admiral.

Other accusations included Lost Shit on Trail (and for handing off lost shit to another hasher), Analversaries (both Two Minute Ride and Just Karen started hashing at Zombie Jesus Day Trails), No hash attire (all the Justs, and the Virgin because she wanted to), Visitors (fill in the blanks, you have the list of who came and from where).

And then to the hash shit. That’s right, it was there! Two Minute Ride had earned it previously. I’ll take everyone’s word for it because I don’t really remember that. Either way, he had that shit.  It was suggested that the hash shit be awarded to him again because he
clearly didn’t want it (and also that it should be awarded to him because he clearly did want it), and that he should get it because it would make Granny Groper jealous. UFO was nominated because she also clearly does not want the hash shit, Anticock for being Anticock, and Rear Admiral for putting a baby in something. Well… I’d think it’s
obvious who ended up with the hash shit, but since our minds may work in different ways, putting a baby into something won.

So Rear Admiral won the hash shit, and Hymen Hero volunteered a song for the down down.. and then fucked up a song he composed for the hash and has been singing for close to a year. So, we snuck in one more down-down just for Hymen Hero.

Then some of us parted ways and the rest of us made our way to the on after, to encounter a slight reservation glitch soon sorted (that actually worked out better than what they had planned for us since we were super early), and a tolerant waiter who totally played along with our desire to mess with cook (since he missed trail and all). So there was no wedding to interrupt this time, but we did catch a number of mundanes at the bar snapping their own photos as we posed for our hashy supper photo.

#289 | May the 4th Be With You!

cockmonkey’s log, beerdate 5.4.2014

Start: side lot near Athena’s Pizza, Amherst MA

Hare: Stunt Cock

Pack: cockmonkey, Big Piles, Just Megan, Just Francis, and Anticock

Resplendent in costume, Stunt Cock waited for the promised pack to arrive. And of course, on the first trial he lays in the area we have the smallest pack in months. Good job you wankers. On the awesome side though we got to see a few hashers who only make rare appearances. Guess it all evens out?

Cockmonkey came in an R2D2 dress and Big Piles had a “light saber” (at least that’s what he said it was), and Stunt Cock brought supplies for everyone else including Clone Trooper (NOT Storm Trooper, thank you very much) and inflatable light sabers (which were pretty darn cool… in addition to resembling horse cocks).

Chalk talk was a bit disorganized, but the important thing was to follow the rainbow chalk, and there would be some sort of T/E (or at least runners/walkers split) on trail. And drinks. Turns out we were in for lots of those. WOOOO!

So off we went, geared and costumed as we saw fit. And yes, we did attract attention even early on. We even ran past where Suckit Wrench was doing responsible adult things instead of having fun with us (though we weren’t close enough for him to notice). A pleasantly short distance from the start we came to the first beer check, in the middle of a soggy field. Fortunately, while May the 4th may be a geeky holy day, it wasn’t one where the stone circle would be used for pagan celebrations. Otherwise this could have gotten awkward. Or at least disappointing for those at the hash who felt that “pagan rituals” required nudity and thought it was a great idea for us to overlap.

Our first (besides everything consumed at the start) drink of the day was “Vader-ade.” Reactions varied, though perhaps the mistake was accidently opening the sugar-free gatorade first, rather than the grape vodka. Either way, several of us noted a flavor reminiscent of cough syrup. Not that this stopped us from finishing our drinks.

After the Vader-ade trail split into walkers and runners, and Just Francis and Just Megan just happen to be runners. Meanwhile the rest of us are lazy slow wankers (though, in our defense, we did do some running, just none of it very fast) took the walkers trail and used the time to make some plans for the eventually-resurrected Buffett.

I suppose since this is going out on the interwebs I shouldn’t specifically name where the second beer check was located… but it was quite comfortable and included access to chilled beer. You all missed out.

Then again to the trail, divided between actual people that run and those of us who more meander. This part of trail was prelaid, so Stunt Cock came along with us slower wankers as we made our way through campus.

Until the cop pulled along side us and asked what we were up to.

Turns out this fine upstanding member of the campus police recognized our hare, and wanted to chat. The walkers hung off to the side for a bit, but the two of them just seemed to be hitting it off so well (also there were some runners we were going to be meeting up with in a short distance and Stunt Cock is certainly capable of catching up to us slow-pokes).

Well, none of us figured on quite how close a hasher and a cop could get in such a short time. It was rather sweet, actually.

Since we had so cruelly left the hare behind, Mr. Officer offered his assistance. Squeezing into the front seat of the cruiser, Stunt Cock accepted. Then lights blazing the hare was swiftly delivered ahead of the pack, where they sat waiting in the car for us to clear a song check. Only then did Stunt Cock emerge, while Mr. Officer went on his way, his duty discharged.

Probably a good thing that Mr. Officer went on his way so quickly… since the next drink check was 50 feet or so from where Stunt Cock was dropped off. I think the shots we were handed he called “Yoda piss”? Either way, it was a color not usually found in nature.

I have to say, I was pretty happy with the fact we had three drink checks so far, and was even more excited to hear there was a fourth. I was also possibly a bit drunk, because I’m a lightweight and the drink checks were not so far apart that I worked one off before the next. Or even worked one off before the next two checks.

So of course, we had to find the fourth drink check before we could enjoy it. So stumbling along we went. There may have been some hare assisted zenning in this part. As a beneficiary of this, I’m totally not complaining.

Turns out the last drink check was in Johnny’s Tavern, where *zznrk* Twat? was hard at work. Or maybe he was just slacking, he was behind the bar when we showed up. Fun times were had as we enjoyed quite tasty beer and attempted to recruit the hostess and bartenders to future trails. Time will only tell if that worked.

But time does fly when you’re having fun. Turned out Just Megan and Just Francis had to cut out because of work and such matters (pah), so the pack quickly finished their drinks and went to finish trail.

As a side note, Just Megan, Just Francis, and Stunt Cock and book it when needed. Either way, by the time the rest of us made it to on-in, the Justs had left (so sad). But circle still was to be held.

The evaluation of the trail was that there were not nearly enough cops nor enough tit checks. However, the FRB and FBI had already left, but they came together so we can always just have fun imagining that.

Perhaps the best exchange from circle was:
“Where’s my vessel? Did it blow away?”
“It’s in your hand.”
“Oh.”

Stunt Cock was also made to drink for Auto-Haring with a cop, but I’m not sure if that was an accolade or accusation. And what else could we sing for it besides “Asshole”

There was no blood on trail or birthdays, but May did mark the 20th Analversary of hashing for Anticock.

There were announcements and then we went to Hanger for a large quantity of meat. Mmmm…

#290 | My-assic Park Trail

cockmonkey’s log, beerdate 5.22.2014

Hey, did you know it was leg day? Cause I totally didn’t. Yeah, it was leg day. All you people who actually work out and weren’t there? You missed out on a golden training opportunity.

So, unknowing this was ahead, some idiots gathered in the rain at Skinner State Park in Hadley, wondering where the hell the hare was. A few of us were stupidly early, but there was slight shelter, umbrellas, and one of us had beer, so it wasn’t too bad while we waited for the pack.

Well, trail was slated to start at 6:30, so maybe the hare was out laying beer, or maybe there was a mix up and the start point was a half mile up the road behind a locked gate (based on where the GPS thought start was). We didn’t know. At about 6:45 it seemed like the whole pack was present, but still no hare (and we were pretty sure that we identified the hare’s car). At this point Bilbo Teabaggins went to see if maybe the start point was well behind the locked gate. The rest of us lazed about drinking beer. Eventually a sweaty Bilbo returned with no hare sighting. As it pushed to 7PM we wondered if we needed to rescue the hare or if we should do a pick up trail.

Well, before we managed to energize ourselves enough for something like a pick-up trail, the hares arrived. Yes, that’s right. There wasn’t one hare, there were TWO! The hares claimed they were running 15 minutes behind due to being pulled over by a cop for a modified muffler. Sounds pretty suspect to me.

So present:

Hares: Hymen Hero & Just Beka (Virgin Lay)

Pack: cockmonkey, *zznrk* Twat?, Just Kelly, UFO, Bilbo Teabaggins, Stunt Cock, Virgin Hannah (Stunt Cock’s first virgin!), Just Rob, Anticock, and Big Piles (briefly)

Trail went uphill. It was hot, muggy, we were assaulted mericlessly by mosquitos, and went uphill. A lot. Along the way some of the slower wankers were possibly seperated from the pack by a stampeding pack of triceratops (or just a really fucking steep hill), and then shortly after Anticock fell victim to a velociraptor. Actually, while they were out of sight, even the runners didn’t get too far ahead of
the walkers, because they ended up having to walk as well.

Marks were really far apart, except if there was a true trail, which seemed to show up really close to other marks. There were checks. Not all of them were in chalk talk. Not all of them were discernible. There was one that involved some form of masking tape bondage so we could better play dinosaurs (if the creatures don’t have fur… does it still fall under being a furry?).

And still trail went up with no beer in sight. “Where is the beer?!?” we cried to the mosquito choked heavens.

Bringing up the (lagging behind) rear of the pack, Celine Ding-Dong and cockmonkey finally catch up with the pack at the EN (apparently we had “eggs” not “beer”) where they’d long been searching with no luck for the hidden beer (the hares were nowhere in sight, having continued on). At this point it was getting dark, it was slippery, and we were thirsty. Cockmonkey’s cranium lamp was eagerly incorporated into the search for the beer check, but even that did not help.

While searching did not uncover a stash of beer (or “nest of dinosaur eggs”) it did uncover some trail. So tally-ho and all that shit, let’s see where this takes us.

Where it took us was to the beer. So that worked. Those who wanted a warm shitty beer grabbed one, Bilbo shouldered the bag it was in, and off we went following trail hoping to find the road to walk out in short order. The encroaching dark was making the already hard to find trail even harder and more treacherous. But we did have beer now.

Finally the trail changed from shiggy and slippery leaves to an actual path. This was promising. But then we came to a T-intersection… with no real sign of marks (or just shit visibility) to show which is the correct way. However, we did find the road, so as a unilateral decision the pack made their way as quickly as possible from their present location to the assfault, and started walking down the hill,
regardless of the rest of the trail.

Now twilight was fading into actual night as we meandered down the road. Perhaps I should mention that the road in question was actually the shortest line from point A to point B for the entire trail, with trail on the way up regularly traipsing up for brief forays on this road.

About halfway down we encountered the hares. Turns out they had gotten tired of waiting at the On-In (at the TOP of everything) and started looking for us. Probably for the best since this meant the fact we were collectively zenning back to start (regardless of knowing the trail was A to A’) didn’t leave the hares stranded.

So, circle. It was late and buggy so we were hoping to get it done quickly. On the bright side, the hares provided bananas, jerky, gin, sake, and beer.

Feedback on the trail:
-mosquitoes drank more than us!
-there was something I liked but I forgot what it was
-Virgin Hannah liked it hard and sweaty
-UFO liked it because it was strenuous and didn’t like it because it
was strenuous
-etc

Then time to take care of our Virgin! Who was made to cum by someone named “Adam.” We were very confused. Turns out what she actually meant was Stunt Cock. Our virgin was here because she likes to drink beer. And while she didn’t know the square root of 69, “fuck me” was close enough. She was “absolutely” help her Uncle Jack off, would stay on the bus full of lesbians, and had no clue about the dollar bill. But hey, we need the dues, so hopefully we’ll see her again.

FR/FBI was some mix up of Stunt Cock, Celine Ding-Dong, and Just Hannah. DFL was some mix up of Just Kelly and *zznrk* Twat? Then the hares tried to make the pack drink for not making it to the On-In. Bilbo countered with “shitty trail, get in the circle.” The hares didn’t seem to mind all that much.

Backsliders netted us Just Beka in the circle, since she’s been living in MA for months and hasn’t shown up to a trail. Weak justification, but she wanted to drink.

Birthdays & Analversaries bought Just Beka back in as well as Just Kelly.

Only Bilbo went in for Blood on Trail (surprisingly). And Bilbo stayed in the circle and was joined by Just Rob and Just Hannah for Digitizing.

We wrapped up circles, and some started to figure out if on-after was occurring.

#291

cockmonkey’s log, beerdate 6.5.2014

Start: Umass Lot 13

The Missionary Position Trail (aka Plain Fucking Trail/No goddamn theme)

Hare: Big Piles

Pack: cockmonkey, Suckit Wrench, EMT, Rear Admiral, Pornstarboard, Stunt Cock, Just  Gabrielle, Granny Groper, UFO, Bilbo Teabaggins, and Semen After Ass

We had this awesome huge pack. Well, we would have, but half of you wanks who  craniumed canceled (or just didn’t show). And some other wankers (*cough* Twat? and Just Kelly *cough cough*) showed up at start but she “needed help walking her dog” (so that’s what kids are calling it these days). We did however get to see the rarely seen Granny Groper (tragically shorn of his flowing locks), and Stunt Cock brought a minor to the trail (it’s OK, it’s his kid, who by the way, has laid more trails than many of you reading this). What we did learn about this is Bilbo doesn’t know how to act around kids, and by that we mean he knows he acts inappropriately, obsesses over the fact that he knows he’s going to say something horrible, and then probably ends up being even dirtier than normal but this time it’s aimed towards per-pubescent children. Smooooth. On the flip side, I think he was more embarassed that she was, Just Gabrielle is at least nearing the age where we are all a bunch of idiots in her POV.

We didn’t have a theme, but cockmonkey decided to be an asshole and take “Missionary Position Trail” as a theme and showed up dressed as a priest (because when you’ve got clerical garb you have to use it occasionally). And perhaps also fittingly for a “missionary” trail we warmed up with Father Abraham. Trail was a dead lay, so once we finished that we spread out to find trail.

Trail soon passed through a nicely residential area, so we were able to confuse some mundanes as we ran by. But before long we were into wooded paths (and maybe off paths as some of us zenned to close the distances). It was in these twisting foot paths that we discovered the first beer check (and took some time to check for ticks, because fuck ticks). Mmmm.. growlers (and in excess).

And there marks the last time we saw Stunt Cock and Just Gabrielle for some time. For as we split off it all seemed well, and somewhere along the line they vanished. Meanwhile the  pack had ‘fun’ running on railroad tracks, back checks, and moving the beer check further  away from where the cop was chilling. It was at that beer check that the ladies decided that we had not had nearly enough communal naked time in hot tubs to satisfy any of us, and that we should take advantage of the ‘women’s day’ hut tub deal and East Heaven some weekend by arranging a Cooter day. The men felt left out of our plans to get naked and have a good time with each other, but of course they wanted to join the ladies’ naked time, and not have their own.

Well, once we navigated a steep hill filled with thorns and miscellaneous shiggy, the pack was back on trail the way the hare had intended. Now on our way back to start we had the extra bonus of a circle jerk and running along side some law enforcement property.

Well, we all made it back to start… except for Stunt Cock and Just Gabrielle. After some amount of waiting we started wondering if we needed to mount a search party. But it was still light out, so we started circle to blow some time before figuring out if we really needed to do some search and rescue. After all, we were pretty close to the center of Amherst, where if you go far enough in the same direction you’ll end up near something resembling civilization before too long.

So circled up we did.

We informed the hare that trail did not have nearly enough blood, that trail was so plain we weren’t sure if it would be better described as “nun” or “jesus”, “beer!”, not enough penis checks, and something about ticks. Bilbo tied this all together with the epitaph “I can’t fuck my sister any other way but missionary.”

FRB: Bilbo
FBI: UFO, Semen After Ass, and EMT

I don’t know if we’ve ever seen Bilbo quite this happy. Though I’m not sure if it’s because he never gets FRB or because it was just him with three ladies. Apparently his presence in circle was because Rear Admiral made him do it HARD (and then we had the two of them in circle for racist behavior, b/c by HARD they didn’t mean in terms of spank bank material for the rest of us, but as actually competing for FRB).

DFL (at that time) was Pornstarboard and Big Piles. But one was the hare of the dead lay, and the other pregnant. So, it’d be kind of silly for anyone else to be DFL.

EMT was our only visitor (daaaaw), and for lack of anything else we went to accusations.

So might as well start off with a social for Nerd Names. Bilbo was quite happy to show off his newly acquired knowledge of new verses to Roll Your Leg Over

Blood on Trail (and possibly ticks): EMT, Granny Groper, Suckit Wrench, and UFO. And then Granny Groper stayed in b/c of cranium gear in circle, only to leave it on for that down down, so third time’s the charm.

And then Stunt Cock and Just Gabrielle showed up in the distance. Thank god we didn’t have to on a rescue mission. While they approached we took care of Backsliders (UFO, Rear Admiral, Granny Groper, and Semen After Ass). This gave Stunt Cock time to reach circle, just in time to be pulled in for making us think we needed to mount a rescue party (but we got a GREAT story out of it that I totally can’t recall for you at this time).

About here is where circle got awkward (it didn’t have to be, but it did). For some reason it seems some hashers feel the need to protect children, even ones who have been hashing for years and grew up on an Army base and who’s father broth them to the trail. It started out OK, with Baby Shark. But then we moved on to the Hash Shit (to Bilbo for his first ever FRB, reasons, and no one else nominated), and we had sang one completely clean song… we were kind of tapped out.

Someone started Yogi Bear for Rear Admiral’s cleansing. Um… we ended up with verses like “Yogi’s… *awkward pause* something LONG AND GREEN.. CUCUMBER!!!” for the verses. The last few songs all went about the same.

Then announcements, including the call for hares (btw, we need hares, contact me to sign up for a trail). Granny Groper volunteered to hare the next trail, and Stunt Cock signed up for a trail in August when he comes back to the area.

So caps off and pots down, time for some Swing Low. I would like to make a request for some of the other versions in future trails, I miss them.

#292

cockmonkey’s log, beerdate 6.19.2014

Start: 500 Easthampton Rd, Holyoke

Hare: Granny Groper

Pack: cockmonkey, Suckit Wrench, Rear Admiral, Big Piles, Just Hannah, Just Kelly (+ hash hound), Just Craig, Just Rob, *zzznrk* Twat?, Semen After Ass, Dead Swedes

Trail was fraught with hazards.  Like trying to find a parking spot within a mile of start.  I’ll  give this to the valet’s working at the Log Cabin, they were getting some good cardio in that night.  We were a little late in getting started, in part because a few of us were really late in getting there (but hey, it worked out for some of us when we showed up late and found parking right where everyone was gathering…), and for those who were late arriving and unlucky with finding parking, it was even longer for them to gather.

Then came the next issue, where to do chalk talk.  Actually we had an issue before that – the hare didn’t have flour or chalk… and someone may have forgotten to bring hers when she said she would to help out the hare’s last minute need… but Big Piles saved the day by having chalk in his vehicle.  As it turns out, the parking lot we were in is a popular hang out spot for police cruisers, in addition to being a very popular spot for civilians overall.  This made drinking beer a little sketchy, plus there wasn’t a whole lot of room to even draw out chalk talk.  The solution was to largely draw out marks on a rock… and then when Granny Groper ran out of room there he started drawing on himself.  We pushed for further clothing removal for extra chalk talk room, but that didn’t quite happen.  Oh well.

Marks were pretty straight forward, though we had to note that ‘True Trail’ generally has 3 cross marks not just 2.  For new/special marks we got a ‘Clap Check’ and then Rear Admiral requested Dick Checks (for his viewing pleasure).

So we shooed the hare off and then wasted time giving him a cranium start.  After a possibly appropriate amount of time (who knows, we weren’t paying attention).  Off we went, dashing along, and then very shortly found a steep hill, which some mounted-goated up and kept running and many of decided walking up was more prudent.

We had some moments of disorientation, of widely spaced or missing marks.  Turns out for once, giving up the high ground was in our best interests, but we successfully re-found trail and soon enough, the beer!

The beer was all hoppy, someone (cockmonkey) wasn’t paying attention when picking up beer for the hare and got an IPA pack including an “Imperial IPA.”  That makes for some serious hops.  In addition to beer we also found a geocache, which was pretty cool.

While we drank beer the hound Just Kelly’s hound found the nearby swap and frolicked.  Supposedly she may have gone there to drink water, but all the mud and water seemed to be near her hindquarters.  Really stinky mud and water all around her hindquarters.  And with that inspiration the name “Swamp Ass” sprang from our lips (though we felt we had to wait until circle to officially name her, but it was sure to be a short naming).

There was more trail, and more beer, and the time to go back to start.  Near the end the cranium lamps were lit as it was getting dark in the underbrush.

Then there was time to figure out where to do circle.  Some folks wanted to do circle right at start… but the stronger overwhelming feeling was that doing circle right by the highway in the middle of a popular speed trap for cops was not in our best interest.  So we loaded up our pockets with cans of beer and moved back across the road slightly into the woods where our antics were less likely to be noticed by the friendly neighborhood cops and the legions of mundanes heading back to their cars after whatever the fuck was going on at the log cabin.

Thanks to the various fancy shmancy cranium lamps, we had a red light circle.  Sadly we lost a few hashers on our way to circle, EMT, Just Craig, and Rear Admiral had home life to take care of (and by home life we mean probably go home and have sex).  Then we had to forbid Granny Groper from lighting a fire in the middle of circle for reasons.  Then we pulled him into circle to give him shit for his trail (not enough tits, something about assdog, ‘more marks for 1,000 Alex?’, and some overachievers liking the intensity).

Rear Admiral was no longer with us, so Suckit Wrench got to be FRB.  He was very excited.  FBI was Just Hannah (btw, she’s the overachiever, we have got to get her trained up as a hare).  Our DFL was also no longer with us, so cockmonkey and Semen stood in.

Blood on Trail wasn’t really an issue, but Hash Crash totally was – so in came cockmonkey and Dead Swedes for falling down in the same place on trail.

Just Kelly and *zzznrk* Twat? were pulled in for chosing to “Walk the Dog” instead of trail last trail.  The consensus being that had they cum on trail that would have been totally acceptable.  Then we officially named the dog Swamp Ass, and laughed at the misfortune of Just Kelly and *zznrk* Twat? who’d have to drive home with the muddy ass dog.

Surprisingly we didn’t really have any backsliders (since we’re not harsh on missing only one trail), so we made Just Kelly and Twat? come back in for “walking the dog” again.

Only Semen After Ass and cockmonkey came in for Nerd Names, but I don’t buy it.  We’ve all been pretty bad about using nerd names lately, but hey, I had beer to drink.

Just Rob was a birthday boy, good for him.  Hashy birthday, fuck you, and all that jazz.

We suspected Just Hannah had new shoes, and she said they weren’t but totally was down to drink for it anyways… until she found out it involved drinking from her shoes.

There was some sort of racist story told by Just Rob (he wanted to tell it, something about being a racist, seeing some chalk marks on the ground, yelling “RU?” and a whole bunch of ppl yelling “ON ON” in response).  Semen joined him because she wanted to.

Cockmonkey asked if she could accuse herself just because she wanted to drink.  Turns out this is totally ok, but some reason needed to be provided.  “Whining” was considered acceptable.

At this point it was late and we were hungry.  So the hoped for naming didn’t happen, but soon… soon it will happen.

#293

cockmonkey’s log, beerdate 7.3.2014

Start: Atkins Farm

Hare: cockmonkey

Pack: UFO, Suckit Wrench, Big Piles, *zznrk* Twat?, Just Kelly, Celine Ding-Dong, Two Minute Ride

So the hare had this awesome idea for trail, but didn’t properly scout ahead of time, so then spent an hour before trail getting lost in the woods, variously trespassing, and botching that whole idea.  So instead of the awesome idea, we got a shitty urban trail.  And possibly a thunder storm.

The pack took their time cumming.  Except probably Two Minute Ride and Celine Ding-Dong, since they came together and I wasn’t expecting Two Minute Ride until the On-After.  *Zznrk* Twat and Just Kelly were really late, probably walking the dog, so with the ominous storm clouds, cockmonkey gave chalk talk and started laying trail (oh yeah, trail was 100% live).  Hopefully the hare had enough flour if the rain started.

And on to trail.  So, it seems that people have gotten a little to used to some of the shortcuts this slow hare makes when laying trail… which made it a great time to actually put a couple marks off in several directions at each check.  In other news, I might be getting slightly (very slightly) less pathetic when it comes to running?  Probably not, but maybe some day.

Right before the first beer check was a dick check, and the hare hiding in wait with the beer heard cheers of joy at the sighting of the check.  And then the hare waited a while because everyone was following hash marks off in different directions and not wandering towards the BN in front of the tall grasses hiding the beer check.  After the pack seemed unlikely to check the correct vector of travel, the hare helped them out and beer was enjoyed.

Whilst the pack sipped from slightly chilled and frothy brew, the hare dashed off to beer point two.  This bit left the hare a bit more exposed, with some longer straight-aways and fewer visual obstructions.  Yes, the hare was nervous, but not as nervous as the little bunnies who lived near the second beer check.  Adorable little critters.

The pack encountered the wild hares first, then round the corner to the beer.  We were in sight of the end, but between us and the on-in lay a well fertilized field.  So the hare kindly laid trail through the actual pathway since there’s only so literal that most of us want to go with a shitty trail.Once we all returned we decided to stop at the newly opened Antonio’s in Belchertown then hold circle at cockmonkey’s and Suckit Wrench’s home, though the incoming thunder and lightning was worrying.  But once we regrouped we found we had lost *Zznrk* Twat? and Just Kelly, and we had been looking forwards to a naming.  I won’t say that she was named in absentia.  She totally wasn’t.  But her naming may be a bit quicker than standard.

The pizza was pretty damn tasty by the way.Well, we really did need to do circle, and so what if it’s a torrential downpour, let’s do it outside!  So the ladies changed into their bikinis (because swimming pool time was on the schedule, might as well get changed now).

Circle was a rather damp affair.  How could it not be?  We criticized the hare for the shitty trail, then brough in our FRB (Two Minute Ride) and FBI (UFO).  We had a slight bit of trouble with DFL… because they weren’t there (guys, it’s great you want to make sure Swamp Ass gets enough exercise, but you need to work on your timing).  Turns out we had two July birthdays present – cockmonkey and Two Minute Ride, then cockmonkey and UFO were in for Nerd Names on trail.  We all came in for digitizing.

Well, we maybe got a little too social during our social, and the RA just lost control.  UFO tried to usurp power, but once we all clued in we ran around like idiots.  After Piles regained “control” of circle UFO was called in for Tech on Trail.

We couldn’t award the Hash Shit because it wasn’t there!  The horror!  Bilbo was off doing roller derby, which isn’t exactly hashmanlike behavior, but for non-hashing isn’t a horrible choice.

Trails were announced, Swing Low was sung, and UFO and cockmonkey spent some wet time together while the boys fled from the rain.  Eventually the thunder and lightening drove the girls inside, and much fun was had with Cards Against Humanity

#294 | Big Piles Memorial Hash Crash BASH #4

cockmonkey’s log, beerdate 7.17.2014

Hare: Anticock

Pack: Big Piles, Public Beach, Public Hump, Just Hannah, Just Rob, Vomit Sutra, Nutter Butthole.

Start: The Hanger

This annual trail was supposed to be hared by Suckit Wrench and cockmonkey, but the universe decided to shit all over their lives, so Anticock stepped in to save the trail.

Supposedly there was “good beer” on trail, with beer checks secreted away amongst the University grounds.  Unfortunately, the hare didn’t explain that trail was semi-cajun.  There were checks and such, but sometimes trail just turned on powder.  The hare also had fun with obstacles on trail.  Like stairs.

Notable things about trail included civilians at every major checks and the presence of a liberated rent-a-bike.

Circle was held inside the hanger because of the undercover park chilling nearby.  We deemed that it was somewhat prudent to not hold circle where we would be serenading a cop.  Suckit Wrench and cockmonkey had managed to show up before the pack reached the end, as did Bilbo Teabaggins, so they joined everyone in the Hanger for food and circle.

Feedback on the trail to the hare included:

• not enough stairs
• nervous for no reason
• not enough hills
• pavement-ey
• cajun-ey
• not enough chalk

Vomit Sutra was FRB, Nutter Butthole (who was actually FRB, but we were nice and let someone else drink for that) was FBI, and Public Beach was DFL

Obviously cockmonkey, Suckit, and Bilbo failed the sweat test.  And then Suckit was called in for “headgear in circle” (even though we were sitting at tables).

We had only one crash, and it wasn’t Big Piles!  Public Beach had a minor altercation, but was more a case of bruised pride than anything.

Anticock was called into circle by cockmonkey (who beat Vomit to the accusation) for failing to tell the back that trail was basically Cajun.  Then Just Rob self-accused for nerd-names on trail… and for some reason Vomit added LASAGNA! to that.  I don’t know why, but I know I was pretty damn sober, so I’ll just have to believe my notes.  Big Piles jumped in on the self-accusation bandwagon and brought up digitizing, which also brough in Vomit, Nutter, and Just Hannah.

We had Transplants (Public Beach & Public Hump) AND Visitors (Vomit Sutra & Nutter Butthole).  Vomit tried to sing “My Name is Jack” quietly.  He may have succeeded.

Other shit included named hashers with no ID, backsliders, changing before circle, failing to bring the hash shit to trail, and birthdays.  Then we dug into food (mmm… food) and shared stories.  One thing that we learned over the course of the evening was that Madagascar hashes don’t tend to sing or do hash ID.  Also, Bilbo hates Madagascar.  We also tried to start drawing out stories from Just Rob, who was about due for a name.

#295

cockmonkey’s log, beerdate 7.30.2014

Start: 36 Fair St, Chicopee

Hares: Celine Ding-Dong and cockmonkey

Pack: Big Piles, Just Rob, Suckit Wrench, Just Hannah, Bilbo Teabaggins, Just Andy (Rumson Hash), Just Victoria (Transplant!), Virgin Chris

So, did you know there’s shiggy in Chicopee?  There totally is.  Actually, trail up to the first beer check wasn’t so much “trail” as it was bushwacking in search of hash marks and hoping there wasn’t poison ivy.  Also, trying to avoid bits of rusted metal both large and small.  Actually, cockmonkey got slightly lost when putting out the beer for the first check and doing some set-up.

We had limited space for chalk talk, but Suckit Wrench’s hood was covered with chalkboard paint, which works out quite nicely for chalk talk (also, for drawing penises).  Chalk talk was pretty straight forward, nothing out of the ordinary, mostly explanation was for the benefit of the virgin and those not familiar with our regular marks (since who knows how they do it in far away lands).

Then the hares were away.  Eventually the pack followed.  I think everyone managed to avoid the gift of tetnaus hidden in the forest.  So that’s good.  Also, the hare’s managed to not completely lose the pack in the completely shiggy filled trail (foot path?  who needs one of those?).  The hares (or at least cockmonkey) may have gotten a bit turned around, so the trail going through the farm’s compost heap was a complete accident.  The moral of this story is the pack found the beer and no one got seriously injured, so it’s all good, right?

The problem with the beer check was the mosquitos.  They were nearly as thirsty as the hashers.  Well, time for the hares to go off, so down the ravine the hares went, to climb up the other side.  Or at least that was the plan.  Cockmonkey actually fell and managed to (somehow) gracefully somersault down the hill and land on her feet.  Yay avoiding serious damage.  Shortly after this point trail left the shiggy and entered possibly respectable neighborhoods.  They were probably less respectable after we ran through.  Sorry about any lowered property values.

And then back out of the neighborhood into some muddy ATV trails.  It was really easy to tell when the pack was close to the beer check by the tit-check induced cheers.  From there it was beer and then back to start.

The hares were probably informed of how shitty their trail was.  Not enough rusted metal, not enough mud on women’s asses, amazing how little ground we covered, not enough tit checks, and shoes too dry.

The FRB was Bilbo (and proud of it), with Just Hannah as FBI.  DFL was Virgin Chris (it’s OK, he’s a virgin).

Our circle attracted some attention from the neighbor, who shouted out that “you guys need to shave some legs.”  We tried to get him to join us, but he never did.

Now, since our DFL was a virgin, we had to first dement him.  So he was asked to call in his sponsor, Just Rob.  Apparently they lock eyes every morning at about 10:30 am, and he came because he was going to have a good time.  Turns out he’s OK at math and was in the right ballpark for the square root of 69.  He made a funny sound when asked about the bus full of gays, which Bilbo identified as “the sound of someone realizing there’s no good answer.”  Ultimately we declared him a little too intellectual for hashing, but we’d take him anyway.

Hash crashes included Celine Ding-Dong, cockmonkey, Just Hannah, and Suckit Wrench (or at least “close enough”).  That was followed by Digitizing which brought Celine, Suckit, Just Hannah, and cockmonkey back in the circle along with Just Virgina, Just Andy, and Just Chris.

Bilbo self accused for Tech on Trail, and got Just Rob with him.  While on self accusations, cockmonkey brought herself in for having a July birthday.

Our visitor, Just Andy, blanked on a song when called for one, so he drank double, and Piles sang “Meet the Hashers.”

We felt there MUST be something for transfers.  Our transfer, Just Virginia didn’t have a song, but told a bad joke.

The hash shit was again present, so we had a call for nominations.  It was a short list, we were pretty happy to give it to Just Hannah for not wanting to touch the hash shit (even just the tip) and for having the dirtiest ass.

And you know what, it was about time for a naming.  So into the circle came Just Rob.  We actually didn’t have much embarrassing on him, so we needed to fix that.  Cockmonkey told a story about how they’d met years ago at an event known as “The Snowbowl” involving a working bar sled.  When asked about his most embarrassing sex story we heard about getting it on in the basement of his fraternity house and a group of sorority girls running through singing.  We learned about his first time, his tastes in porn, the weirdest injury acquired during sex, and the weirdest thing he’s ever thought of during sex.  In case you’re curious, when he was a teen and looking for ways to last longer during sex he was told to “think of a lunch lady” and well… fill in the blanks.

So then the discussion of names.  We came up with names like Rotate Her Muff and Sexual Trauma.  Then the namee came up with a suggestion, Freddie Cooter, because of some of the more horrifying aspects of his lunch lady imagery.  Too bad he thought of it, and clearly liked it.  In the end, after much deliberation, he was named Sloppy Jodie, for his first time and for lunch ladies.

#296

cockmonkey’s log, beerdate 8.7.2014

Start: Ashley Reservoir

Hares: Semen After Ass & cockmonkey

Pack: Just Hannah, Two Minute Ride, Cajonas, Sloppy Jodie, Bilbo Teabaggins, Suckit Wrench, Virgin Dan, Virgin Erin, Counterfit Dick (PooF), Just Victoria, Emergency Medical Tits (CVNT), Just Craig (CVNT)

Two Minute Ride was more than two minutes late.  We started chalk talk without him.  He’s been to enough trails and there wasn’t anything particularly special (also, since the grounds technically closed after dark and all that, we figured it was worth starting approximately close to on time).

Trail was a mix of live and dead, and a mix of terrains.  More importantly, there were tit checks and beer.  Also lots of goose shit, but cest la vie.  While Semen and cockmonkey were waiting for the pack to show up at the beer check some r*nners who asked if were responsible for the flour… turns out one of them was a hasher but he didn’t join us.  Oh well.  More beer for the pack who showed up shortly after and enjoyed some brew.  They would have shown up earlier, but there was a tit check and a little bit of time spent lost on trail.

The next bit of trail was quite scenic, taking the pack out towards water, and a very scenic beer & booze check on a penninsula.  Mmmm… shipyard pumpkin, my favorite.  Then the last leg of trail went out through the reseviour and back towards start to a nice bit of trail where we could hold circle away from the road.

Now, I only vaguely remember what happened during circle.  But I can tell you it was a mess.  Possibly a hot one b/c we were all sweaty and there were shirts taken off, but more of a mess than anything.

FRB was Sloppy Jodie
FBI was Just Hannah
DFL was Just Craig

We of course, had two virgins.  cockmonkey’s stepbrother and his wife, brought by Suckit Wrench.  Turns out that Virgin Dan actually is not only decent at math, but good with puns, because while answering what the square root of 69 was he paused, and changed his answer to “8 something.”  Which marks the first time any of us can recall a virgin actually really getting the answer.  When Virgin Erin was asked about a bus full of lesbians we got “well, I went to an all girls Catholic school…” for an answer.  There were likely more questions and answers, but as one might expect, with two virgins it was a bit awkward.

We had all sorts of accusations, and general tomfoolery.  The hares were given shit for their shitty trail (of course), infractions were brought in, celebrations were brought in, and it was all fun chaos.  Birthdays and backsliders were in there, probably tech on trial and digitizing.  You know, the normal shit.  If you wanted to know more, you should have been there.

#297

cockmonkey’s log, beerdate 8.28.2014

Start: Rafter’s

Hare: Stunt Cock & Just Hannah

Pack: cockmonkey, Suckit Wrench, Anticock, Big Piles, Sloppy Jodi, and Cocksucker

We gathered mostly on time for trail in the parking lot behind Rafter’s.  We had a new to the area hasher, Cocksucker, who was quite easy to identify.  Because he was a new face, not because he looks like a cocksucker or anything, but I’m sure if he wants to show off any proficiency at that there will be plenty of willing subjects and witnesses.  There was some conversation about beer, and how Anticock wasn’t there because he was busy on the toilet.  Sounds like he had quite an adventure too, but soon enough he showed up with more beer for some thirsty bastards.

Chalk talk had been drawn out while we arrived, and the tit and dick checks both evoked comments on their similarities to faces.  Probably also comments about Stunt Cock’s rainbow chalk, and I know there were some about the missing toilet paper hash mark that Just Hannah had to run after.  Turns out the Turkey/Eagle split was actually Tough/Easy, so if we were overachieving bastards we should take the T, and lazy fuckoffs should take the E.

In the tune of something different, trail would be A to B.  Also, the hares only wanted 5 minutes, tops, for cranium start.  Really?  Guess having to run as part of the job pays off.

Trail was a good haul, starting on one side of campus and coming out on the other.  We never had to worry about being on the wrong trail, or a false, or even what way to go at a check.  Trail went straight at all the checks, was liberally garnished with true-trails at every check and turn, and even when there were no turns or checks indicating the turns.  Check tally included several Turtle checks (that cockmonkey at first assumed were tit checks due to the lingering hashers by the check), a double song check, and a T/E split.  The pack was very sad at the lack of tit and dick checks, but the hare is not required to include all the marks in chalk talk on trail…

Dark had fallen by the time we neared the end of trail, and nicely timed with the darkening sky, was the fact that trail left the pavement and went into a heavily wooded trail.  We had a lack of flashlights, but Stunt Cock had returned to the woods turn off to help light the way.  Some hashers actually followed the winding path down and around the steep hill… the rest of us just slid on well padded behinds.

Since our RA was absent (bad, naughty, RA), Big Piles stepped in.

Well, guess we needed to get the hares in the circle.  So in came Stunt Cock and Just Hannah.  Feed back on the trail included:

• not nearly enough true trail marks
• too short, not enough tit checks
• good trail

After singing shitty trail we brought in the over and under achievers on trail.  Or, at least those who were positioned to pretend to be such at the end of trail.

FRB: Suckit Wrench (because he had his own flash light and dashed ahead)
FBI: cockmonkey (being the only bitch helps)
DFL: Big Piles

AC tried to add on to this that when one kilt drinks, all kilts drink… but everyone wearing a kilt was in the circle already, so he joined us.

We had two big time backsliders.  Anticock has missed many a trail while in Hawaii, as did Stunt Cock while in Kentucky.  Excuses, excuses!

We couldn’t see any blood on trail, but we did have an August birthday.  Just Hannah was about to get older.  After serenading Just Hannah, she came right back in as we called in the hares for Turning on Powder (singing what else but “A soldier I will be”).  Building on to this Stunt Cock was hit for Tech on Trail, then both hares again for marks in chalk talk that weren’t on trail (which isn’t really an accusation, but I think there were some feeling of being cheated on the tit and dick checks).

Then, the Hash Shit.

First we needed to determine who we couldn’t give it to (ie. who’s about to disappear for several months).  So, we couldn’t give it to Just Hannah.

Nomination time:

• Sloppy Jodi, because he likes it long and hard (trails that is)
• Big Piles because he had any in awhile (the hash shit)
• Cocksucker for taking a year to come (to a HVH3 trail)

Suckit cleansed the hash shit to “Pissanya.”  The voting was close, we almost had a three-way tie (does “it’s not gay, in a threeway” count if it’s all men?), but by a small margin it went to Big Piles.  Anticock had a song!  He started singing “Go Bananas” which confused the hell out of everyone except for an incredibly excited Just Hannah.  Apparently it’s a favorite song of hers.  No one else had ever heard it.

Then, before we closed circle, we had a NAMING to take care of.  Just Hannah was due for a name, and we had been thinking about some names.  So we started out by asking questions.  Stunt Cock predicted that based on the names of the people present and in the pack overall, her name would have “cock” in it.  Nothing wrong with cock in anything!

We were regaled with stories about her first time (supposedly she “imposed” herself on some poor boy), awkward sex encounters (why she dislikes uncircumcised men… let’s just say the story involved the phrase “flaccid cock & tons of foreskin”), embarrassing drunk moments, and other bits of information.  Then we sent her and her beer off in to the dark so we could scheme.

We had some fun ideas.  Ginger Snatch (obvious, but why not), Foreskin All Around, plays on MI:6 because of her service branch, Cock Schmear, Cockward Moment, etc…  We were having fun, but nothing quite fit.  Then Stunt Cock mentioned her music tastes and suggested Limp Dickest, which cockmonkey followed up with Rage Against the Foreskin.  Well, we couldn’t stop giggling over that one, so our decision was made.

So, from this (that) day forward, until she does something incredibly stupid with the hash, Just Hannah will be known as Rage Against the Foreskin!  Huzzah!

#298

cockmonkey’s log, beerdate 9.7.2014

Start: Kellogg Hill Rd, Hatfield

“Dracula Can’t Swim” Trail

Hares: Two Minute Ride & Celine Ding-Dong

Pack: Rage Against the Foreskin, cockmonkey, Suckit Wrench, Cocksucker, Dead Swedes, Not Enough Fingers, Dead Swedes, Counterfeit Dick, Virgin Sam, Virgin Maayan, Just Victoria, Sloppy Jodi

More fuckers were suppose to show, but they’re lame. Or afraid of melting in the river. Could always be that. Yeah, we were going to be swimming a river today, water shoes are like minimalist running shoes, right?

Checks of note: Cranium Count (make sure everyone made it) and Group Hug (pretty obvious, no?). Other normal checks would be around. Knowing these hares the dick checks would be gratuitous.

So trail was similar to the year before, but not similar enough that we could assume we knew where it was going. I mean, we knew it was going to end up crossing the river and coming back, and started from the same place, so the hares had some constraints. But onwards we ran, resplendent along the roadside carrying our flotation devices. True to suspicion we found dick checks, and then a YBF shortly after with no clear potential paths besides somewhere shiggwards. In a connection not made until later, it actually turned out that the dick check was pointing at the direction we were to go, but until cockmonkey wandered way the fuck off course there was a lot of confused milling and wondering if the dick check was the check for the YBF or if we had to go back further for some reason.

All confusion was then immediately forgiven because we soon found the beer check. Mmmm… beer. Mosquitoes seem to have a similar line of thought, so that encouraged us to down our brew and get back on trail.

Through shiggy, out of shiggy, near the water, and through it all again trail went. There was a very oddly drawn dick check (rather resembled the ship from Futurama) that pointed where we were supposed to go, and near by also a tit check at which Cocksucker declined the privileged of seeing Foreskin’s tits with a “I”ve seen them already” and went back to the business of trying to urinate in an area we had already determined that trail didn’t go.

Then after a song check alongside some folks enjoying the fine weather along the river, we scampered up a sandy cliff to the next beer check. Amen to well stocked trails. Then we got to watch the hares swim the river while we enjoyed some possibly delicious brew (might have been really shitty beer as well, fuck if I remember). Either way, we kindly waited until the hares finished crossing the river before gearing up to cross ourselves. We were not so kind as to take the remainder of the beer check with us, but I think in the end that worked out better for the hares.

The river was crossed without incident. No one nearly drowned. Also, it seems that the S.S. Counterfeit makes a fine river crossing vessel. Then onwards through some random field, a tit check, and to get fucked at another dick check (that pointed again the way trail was went to go… and was also a fugly drawing of a cock). Along muddy riversedge to more drink! Cheap flavored wine! Score! Long story short, we drank the shit out of that wine.

Then continuing the trail, we seemed to spy to folks traversing the river without a boat. Now, trail didn’t go to the river at that point, but that looked awfully like our hares paddling along. We declined to turn back, after all, hares ahead (and beer).

Along the river banks lay boaters, fishers, and sun bathers. They kindly informed us that we were supposed to run away from the river and around before crossing. We told them

We didn’t catch the hares, but we made them paddle faster for a bit, so it was worth it. The first hasher to stumble to the shore and reach the hares at the On-In was, of all people, cockmoneky, followed shortly by Rage Against the Foreskin and then Sloppy Jodie.

Now circle could have totally gone on forever, and while we’re glad that it didn’t, more beer would have been awesome. But first things first.

Into the circle our hares were called. There weren’t enough tit checks (are there ever?), we criticized their artistic representation of cocks, more water and mud was demanded, and questioning why we were always getting fucked on the dick checks. The virgins seemed to have had fun though.

FBI: cockmonkey
FRB: Sloppy Jodie
DFL: Suckit Wrench & Just Virginia

Now, someone named “Just Jess” made the virgins come, but she wasn’t there, so we needed proxy sponsors. Celine Ding-Dong and cockmonkey rose to the occasion. Then in the middle of this all, Pornstarboard (and parasite) and Rear Admiral arrived! Well, beer for Rear Admiral, who’s drinking for three, and back to our virgins. We learned that our virgins aren’t bad at math, decently quick to catch a pun, and oh so considerate of dear uncle Jack. There might have been something said about us putting words in their mouths, which led Counterfeit to say “Words aren’t the only thing people will put in your mouth.”

Then we ran out of beer. Bad, naughty hares. So did a social calling everyone out for anything we could think of, drank it down, and did announcements before heading on to the on-after.

#299 | Deez Nups Hash

cockmonkey’s log, beerdate 9.26.2014

Start: Amherst Amtrak station

Hares: UFO & Semen After Ass

Pack: Suckit Wrench, cockmonkey, Big Piles, Stunt Cock, Pullouts Will Be Prosecuted, Virgin Chrystel, Virgin Tex, Just Tony, Bilbo Teabaggins, Cocksucker, I’m Always Soft, Hymen Hero, Just Nicholas, Tasty Topple, Just Dan, Granny Groper, Pussy Factory, Jimmy Crack Whore.

So, who’s smart idea was it to have me write this hash trash? You’re lucky I remember anything of trail, and what little of circle I was able to record (before I was handcuffed to some asshole who thought jerking my arm whenever I tried to write was the funniest thing EVAR) is a barely legible, beer stained mess.

First off, trail was supposed to start at 6:30. It totally didn’t. I don’t remember if we were the last ones to arrive, but cockmonkey, Suckit Wrench, and their trusty DD for the night, Big Piles, showed up after 7. Bad of us, but the hares were running behind and it’s not like they were going to start trail without the guests of honor? Actually, they might have. Fuck those late wankers. And I guess it was my own damn fault for being in charge of hash trash. Other fuckers were supposed to show up, but the visitors from Halve Mein got lost on the way, some backsliders forgot, and some virgins just didn’t show.

So, two fuckers (cockmonkey & Suckit Wrench) had decided to get married (horrible idea, right?). But who better to throw a bachelor/ette party than hashers? Which is why I don’t remember most of the night.

The hares decided to do shit a little differently. Cause they’re the hares. Fuck if I remember everything, but there was a Toilet Paper check, and Electric Slide check. I think there was a lack of tit checks that the pack was quite upset about, but the hares said if we snared them they’d show tits, and they guaranteed that we’d catch them. All checks are social, and the pack was to ask questions of the bride and groom. Tech was encouraged, and there was some sort photo hunt.

At this point it was dark out. So out came the cranium lamps and the attempts started to find chalk and flour.

It wasn’t too long before we found the TP check. I’m not sure the pack so much as decorated Suckit Wrench as attempted to mummify him (well, mummify minus the organ removal, but alcohol is good for preserving organs, right?). Photos were totally taken, but fuck if I know where they are, or who even took them.

Once we got over laughing our collective asses off at the hilarity of the toilet paper, we tried to find trail again. This took awhile. Where the fuck was trail? We got some silly posed photos, but simply could not find any marks for ages. We did find trail again, but this was a trend for the night. We kept losing trail as we ran through Amherst College in search of beer. We did find a few folks to take part in the scavenger hunt, including convincing some random dude to sing a Katy Perry song (and let us record it).

Trail went on, there was beer, there was something involving pickles, and an attempt to co-opt someone that a police officer was talking with for the photo scavenger hunt. The last of those was by Granny Groper who was also the most worried about getting shit from the police for being dark skinned carrying beer. Other folks were worried bout the po at the top of the hill so harriettes were urgently told to keep their good tucked away. That was a first.

Then there was more getting lost, there was journeying through downtown Amherst, there was some really horrible (or amazing) examples of the dances of my native caucasia as most of the pack tried to electric slide. Many, we are one pasty group of mother fuckers. Actually the self professed ‘ethnic’ people laughed their asses off and if they did try to help, it wasn’t enough to save the travesty that was hashers trying to do synchronized dancing. Fun factoid, did you know they teach line dancing in Texas public school gym? Or at least Virgin Tex’s school.

But trail was not yet done! There was more to drink! Nips. Cause mixing hard booze and beer works amazing. And yes, there was a nip of tequila.

A bit more trail left. There was some sort of dick check that chalk talk said had something to do with eating and all over your face. Not really sure what we were supposed to do, but Suckit got there ahead of the pack, waited around till some other gents got close, flashed his balls, and ran off. Sounds hashman-like.
Eventually we got back to start and vaguely formed up a circle.

• Feedback on the trail:
• it sucked
• too many hills
• too many marks not in chalk talk
• too many police
• not enough tits
• other notes that i can’t read for the life of me

FRB: Bilbo & Suckit (they came together, hot)
FBI: cockmonkey
DFL: Pullouts Will Be Prosecuted (didn’t pull out in time)

Pullouts and cockmonkey then got zinnged for cranium gear.

And then the Virgins! Yay Virgins! Virgins Tex (like the state, but shorter)& Chrystel (like the drink, but way more expensive). cockmonkey made at least one of them come, if not both, though only one of them is an ex.

Chrystel would let Uncle Jack get himself off, while Tex would watch (you do get really bored in Texas). There was no idea as to the square root of 69, though Chrystel’s “eat me!” was almost acceptable. As for the bus full of gays, Chrystel would totally get off, and Texas described something involving raincoats. Since we needed a second sponsor, Suckit decided to sponsor Virgin Tex (why not have the current sponsor the ex?), and they were taught the proper art of a down down.

Then Stunt Cock came forward looking all sorts of freaky. Kind of like this actually:

Turns out some sort of additional nuptials were planned for Suckit Wrench and cockmonkey, proceeded over by Stunt Cock. There was something involving being there for the other while drunk and hung over, and being handcuffed together to symbolize something. I was about 5 drinks in on an empty stomach at this point handcuffed to some asshole.

From what I can tell from my scribbles I think I wrote “lots of folks nerd names social because fuck you.”

Backsliders! Now, it was argued that this was taken care under the social. But we had some epic backsliders. Neither I’m Always Soft nor Pullouts Will Be Prosecuted had made a trail in YEARS. They actually argued who was the bigger backslider, and Pullouts won because there was one trail that I’m Always Soft had managed to make that made it only something like 3 years instead of tied at around 5.

I think we actually ended circle there. Someone gave me peppers (my guess is Tex, but I only found out about someone gave them to me about a week later when Piles cleaned out his car). I remember hugging some folks goodbye, then riding to ABC and having to pee REALLY REALLY badly.

As for the rest. Things went downhill. I can’t really tell you what happened at the on after, but fuck it, hash trash doesn’t need to record that. I probably should send a “I’m sorry” card to the ABC.

Hungoverly yours, your humble scribe,

cockmonkey

#300 | HVH300 : This is NOT Sparta!

cockmonkey’s log, beerdate 10.18.2014

So this shitshow has been doing its thing for 15 years. And had managed to put out about 300 runs. Give or take. We are talking about records kept by drunks. But it all works out really convientenly if it was our 300th for realzies, so we’re going to pretend that the records are correct.

If you weren’t there, you missed a totally awesome time. If you’re one of the 10 people that registered and didn’t go, you missed the MOST AWESOMEST TIME EVAR. If you are Anticock you may have had an awesome time, but you probably don’t remember it.

Your trusty Mismanagement & Company gathered early on Saturday morning to the Miller’s Falls Rod & Gun Club. And by early I mean some of us were there before noon. After all, there was shit to set up. Like beer checks and check-in for hashers. There was some stuff dug up that I’ve never seen before. Like the light up ON-ON foot that someone oh so lovingly made once upon a time (surprisingly, the lights still worked).

With this being a camp-out (with our own bartender), we actually had to do some set up. And pitch our tends before we were too drunk to do so. If you know what I mean.

For the Main Event
Hares
Stunt Cock & cockmonkey

Pack
Happy Valley H3: Anticock, Big Piles, Suckit Wrench, Muffalotta, Dead Swedes, Sloppy Jodi, Two Minute Ride, UFO, Celine Ding-Dong
Harrisburg-Hershey H3: Muffalotta
SBH3/CTrH3: BlowHole
Columbia University New Traditional H3: HuMMer
CVNT: Not Enough Fingers
Boston H3: Friar Fuck
Boston Moon: Crucifux
DRIFTER: I Eat Cum

Well, for all that we were ready to go at a good time, the pack was running late for even Hash Standard. So whilst the hares drew out chalk talk in advance and left it in the hands of Big Piles, they ended up with a bit more of a cranium start than intended. Whoops? (We’re not sorry)

No while we were pretty sure no one would be hunting in this area, we couldn’t be so sure no one would be target shooting. Regardless, we were running around in the woods like idiots during the fall in New England. This hare wore loud colors for a reason.

Away we went (and eventually, so went the pack). Trail taking a few easy turns out of the campground, across a field, then up a steep fucking hill. Who’s idea was that (oh right, the hares). But we were nice, we left some beer at the top of the hill. We assume you found it. Even if you probably had to share.

But we were only getting started. There was more trail, trees, and shiggy to go through. And a lot of sand. And possibly some folks shooting at who knows what right near the first real beer check. Also, really shitty TV reception out here. Or something like that. Yay beer!

And might I just say that this beer was damn tasty. The hares had their beverage, and then skedattled. Add in some hicks, and that’s about what the pack did as well. Or experienced. I don’t think they actually fornicated with the hicks, but you never know with hashers.

Then further into the wilderness the pack went. No more woodsy sand-dunes. And lots of really annoying sticker seed pod things. Possibly past some mundanes who were either having trouble reading a map, or had their hand job interrupted by the hares.

Actually, the next beer check seemed a lot closer than remembered from scouting. But we figured the pack wouldn’t be too upset by that. Especially since while there was a whole lot more trail left and another source of booze on trail. It probably seemed plenty far to the pack.

Now, sometime between the second beer check and the JD check things started to fall apart. Or, at least the seeds for things to fall apart were sewn. The pack separated out as the trail went deeper into the forest. The beer was starting to settle into bloodstreams. And then on top of this, came the JD check. Or perhaps we should call it the “JD” check.

Sorry folks. It wasn’t JD. Someone (Anticock) assured us that he had a full bottle of JD for the check and would bring it. Only it turned out to not be a full bottle, and it was a last minute discovery. So he refilled with with Fleichmann’s. We’re sorry. Or we would be, but we’re kind of laughing about it.

So the walkers come to the JD check, far behind the runners, who seemed only took the slightest taste of the “JD” before moving on. They may not have known what was wrong with it, but maybe the realized it wasn’t quite right. But that brings the walkers to the scene, and they find a generous amount of “JD” in the bottle. Perhaps he forgot, but Anticock helpfully took one for the team, and helped copiously in the efforts to empty the bottle.

Well, no matter how well the trail is marked, someone may end off trail. And so it happened that the walkers looked down and realized they had no clue how long they’d been walking on the path without seeing a mark. Well, there are a few options when you find yourself completely off trail in the middle of fucking no where. One is to back track. Another is to trust the shift faced hasher who claims they know EXACTLY where they are, and that if we just “cut through here” everyone will be out in no time.

Yes, that’s exactly the option they chose.

So back at the site the hares enjoyed some beer, watching the pack come in.

Yes, I Eat Cum was first in. Are you surprised? But not too far behind him came other hashers, landing UFO as FBI. Well, as hashers came in the bar did brisk service. Some folks went to pitch some tents, or otherwise screw around. But we all weren’t in yet.

About an hour later the stragglers came in. Anticock, Dead Swedes, Not Enough Fingers, and Friar Fuck. It appeared that the short cut was more of a long, sharp cut, filled with tall thorns. It looked like they were mauled by a bobcat on PCP. Fortunately it was all superficial (if painful).

So it came time to do circle. Hares, FRB, FBI, DFL, etc. We actually did DFL twice, once with Friar Fuck and Dead Swedes, then we wrangled Anticock into circle, and made the other DFLs drink again.

Well, we knew about there being quite a bit of blood on trail, but cockmonkey had to come in for an injury while haring (and when one hare drinks…), and the Celine repeated a verse of the song and joined us.

Married hashers were called in, since two present had gotten married two weeks before. So in came Suckit Wrench & cockmonkey and I Eat Cum & Crucifux.

Anticock tried to make accusations. But he was so many sheets to the wind it barely worked. For some reason he called in the club president and Celine Ding-Dong, I think he thought they looked similar. Either way it became a beard (the facial hair, not a woman you hide behind to “prove” you’re not gay) social.

UFO had a story about several hashers telling her a dick check was a tit check… and not showing off their equipment. So in came Two Minute Ride and Sloppy Jodi for pants down down-down… to Yogi Bear. We took our time.

UFO, Sloppy Jodi, and cockmonkey came in for Nerd Names. Visitors were Muffalota, HuMMer, BlowHole, Not Enough Fingers, and Friar Fuck. Then people in for messing up El Camino.

Announcements were made, then on to further drinking and figuring out cooking.

Later, after night fell, the fire was lit, and much meat consumed (and grilled), it seemed about time to UGH. Now, probably traditionally UGHs take place later on at night, close to midnight, but we went for an earlier time. Probably around 9. Why not, we had the whole campground, it was dark out.

UGH
Hare: cockmonkey
Pack: Sloppy Jodi, UFO, Dead Swedes, Muffalotta, Suckit Wrench, I Eat Cum, Big Piles, and Friar Fuck.

Trail was laid with glow sticks. cockmonkey also learned the importance of requesting a cranium start. But laughter and dashing about was accomplished, must to the surprise and amusement of the club staff. Then we did a second loop, this time running to the bar instead of the fire. The bartender claimed that Anticock had promised them shots with naked harrietts, and that one would get on the bar for a body shot. IEC would have done it, but there was too much body hair and belly button lint, so Muffalotta stepped up. Then it was decreed that if we were naked we got free shots. Celine may have at one point stripped down, walked to the bar and asked for a beer. At which point the bar tender reminded Celine that the beer was already free. So Celine put his clothes back on. Some time in all of this cockmonkey convinced Sloppy Jodi and Suckit Wrench to adorn their genitals with blue glow sticks. It was pretty awesome. We were also all naked for a long time.

At some point Stunt Cock and UFO went auto-UGHing to retrieve the beer checks. Which made things easier the next morning.

Eventually hashers put their clothes back on. Some decided that AC had the right idea and it was time to go to bed. Friar had a nice long nap by the fire too. So the hashers migrated towards the tents, got another fire going and eventually passed out.

#301 | Sloppy Jodi’s Virgin Lay

cockmonkey’s log, beerdate 11.23.2014

Sloppy Jodi Virgin’s Lay

Start: Potash Rd, Northampton

Hares: Sloppy Jodi & Bilbo Teabaggins

Pack:
HVH3: cockmonkey, Suckit Wrench, Cocksucker, Just Kelly, Big Piles, Dead Swedes, Two Minute Ride, Celine Ding-Dong, Just Sarah, Virgin Jeff, Virgn Kelly
CVNT: Not Enough Fingers, Vomit Sutra, Nutter Butthole, Stage Fright, Just Hannah, Emergency Medical Tits, Butterknife BuCzechi
Boston H3: Friar Fuck

Now, the week leading up to this weekend were brutally cold. Oh my fucking god. It was cold. So where this gorgeous warm day came from, I have no clue.

And we had some folks that we hadn’t seen in ages. Oh goodie.

In fact, one of these hashers we hadn’t seen since a trail in early July when she left before circle when we were planning on naming her. So, we decided to bring Just Kelly into the circle to take care of business FIRST.

Names that had months ago been considered for Just Kelly included: She Who Shall Not Be Here, Twat Happened, Fucking No Show, Loves Swap Ass (Swap Ass being her dog), Likes it Ruff, Dog Gone It, Comes After Hound, My Dog Came First, Taint Got No Alibi. But she was not named any of these things. The name chosen was Taint Here, so until she fucks up that’s what she’ll be known by. Good timing on the naming, I couldn’t keep track of TWO Just Kellys.

So we gave the hares a cranium start. Vomit took off with the hares, and got quite a distance along the trail before they noticed him. Wonder what they thought we were laughing at. Warmed up with “My Name is Joe” and confused the hell out of some mundane walkers.

Then off the pack went, past a large number of hobo camps then out onto a dike. There were a lot of dikes (and probably dykes) on trail. Just that sort of trail. And what’s better than a dike? A beer check on a dike, obviously.

Then back out through areas of Northampton that most of us haven’t seen, through a Turkey/Eagle split on which the Turkeys watched the Eagles get lost. Then back through the center of town, into a conga line, and then into Smith. The walkers briefly got lost, then found trail. A little bit of confusion again in Smith. We ended up on another dike (of course), and surprisingly, into the place of work for several pack members for the second beer check.

Well, we enjoyed various drinks. Not all of them beer. Mmmm… boozamachol. Then the hares left the building. Once the hares were out of sight cockmonkey casually reminded the pack that it was, in fact, a virgin lay. And that there is a history of being an asshole to hares on their virgin lay, making an extra effort to snare them.

So, yes. Sloppy Jodi got snared. And actually ran the last bit of the trail (down the hill, after the point where all the kids were) sans pants. And apparently sans underwear, because he wasn’t wearing any.

So circle. Feedback on trail included not enough homeless and various stuff and things. Bilbo tried to claim that since he wasn’t snared he was exempt… but when one hare drinks…

There was also some Lost Shit to take care of. Lost shit from several trails ago. Belonging to one cockmonkey who had been incredibly inebriated, and who doesn’t remember a good chunk of that night. She attempted to recount why the shit was lost. In the end a drink was had, so she finally got her vessel back, and a box full of shit returned.

FRB: Two Minute Ride (who also snared the house)
FBI: Nutter Butthhole

Who were then joined by Just Hannah who was discussing the finer points of crochet vs knitting with Two Minute Ride. (Oh yeah, cranium gear was involved, even if it was a kickass hot pink unicorn hat).

DFL: Dead Swedes & Friar Fuck

Friar was also brought in for “auto hashing” (I’m not sure he was actually auto hashing, but his car was in a really weird location on trail), to which we sang El Camino.

Just Chris was called out on being an antisocial hasher for reading a magazine in another room at the second beer check. We did ask if it was porn (because that is totally hashman like behavior), to which he replied “Yes?” And still made him drink.

Then we finally got around to the Virgins. Virgin Jeff and Kelly the Virgin. Sloppy Jodi made them come. It was like a menage a trois of co-working virgins. We brought in Just Chris, to round out the co-worker party, to act as a sponsor. As for the dementing. The had no clue about the $1, or about the square root of 69 (though Virgin Jeff got it when we gave the answer). If Uncle Jack was stuck on a horse, Kelly the Virgin would help jack off his uncle (and the horse too). Virgin Jeff would get off the bus and back on again, and Kelly the Virgin would get off several times.

Two Minute Ride gave us some Blue Steel while see how the virgins felt about a gay unicorn stare. They didn’t seem fazed.

Vomit called in many of us for named hashers without ID, which was followed by cranium gear in circle – Celine and Two Minute. Celine indicated that he was quite happy to be called in, and wasn’t going to take the hat off because he wanted to be called in again after this. So they got Old MacDonald’ed by most of the pack. It was glorious. People on the outside of the circle got sprayed. It was a beerkakke orgy.

Lots of folks in for digitizing.

Backsliders started out with Just Sarah, Taint Here, Bilbo Teabaggins, and Just Chris. Then was followed up by a super backslider for Taint Here and Just Sarah.

I don’t feel like listing everything else, but there were quite a few others. We made everyone drink until it was dark. Which means sometime after 4PM. Then the RA made a last call for accusations, and when none were brought forth, moved to wrap things up.

But wait, there’s more!

We had one final accusation. The RA, for not bringing up Hash Shit nominations. By the way, guess who won the hash shit? Bilbo again is the proud holder of the hash shit.

But enough of that shit, it was dark and getting cold (though there was still plenty of beer), so we wrapped shit up and went to Sakura. Because nothing goes quite so well after a day of running and shitty beer as cheap and copious “chinese” food. And scorpion bowls.

The morning dawned with hang overs and kitchen staff making coffee. The kitchen was nice and warm btw. Breakfast was on the kennel, and was great for drinking recovery.

#302 | Ding-Dong You’re 40!

cockmonkey’s log, beerdate 12.20.2014

The sun rose on a surprisingly nice day.  Most of us were still asleep at this point, but it happened anyways.  But we had reason to not sleep until mid afternoon, for the day promised beer and shenannigans.  It was the day of Celine Ding-Dong’s trail in which he gets us all drunk to celebrate his 40th birthday.  And also tries to kill two birds with one stone by making it a PooF and a HVH3 trail.  As much shit as we like to give him for it, it definitely made the pack size larger.

Start: Celine’s home

Hares: Celine Ding-Dong & Two Minute Ride

Pack (now, I usually seperate out who came from where, but this was too chaotic and who the fuck were most of you wankers?  You should come hash with us more often.): cockmonkey, Suckit Wrench, Big Piles, Just Trent Forever, Dick Roscoe Pee Cum Stain, Too Short To Tuck, Angry Crotch, Virgin Steve, Bleeps Sweeps & Creeps, Nipples Erectus, Just Julie, Just Dan, Sloppy Jodi, Jimmy Crack Whore, Stunt Cock, Counterfeit Dick, Swamp Whine, Bend Over Mommy, Reverend Blow Hole, The Buttler Hit It, Limp Biscuit (hash hound).

Now, since this was not only the 302nd running of the HVH3, but the 59th PooF trail, we had some aspiring PooFs (guuuuys, I really want to make Monty Python “No Pooftas!” jokes, but PooFs really don’t like that) looking to do challenges.  There was also an issue of Two Minute Ride’s sash left hanging on the railing and exposed to the oh so tender ministrations of the present sashed PooFs.  My favorite part was the sash getting stuck in Bleeps’ pants and Counterfeit helping get it out.

Before we started the rules for those wishing to complete Rags to Bitches were shared.  Then well, it seemed to be about time to start.

For a completely urban trail I think this sets a record on shortest amount of time to completely lose the pack.  Maybe not, I’ve heard rumors of a trail laid with cheetos, and there was that one trail Piles laid when the ground was covered with at least an inch of water and the skys opened up in a deluge on us (but that one we actually were able to figure out where to go without too much hassle).  See, for all that we’re irresponsible adults, many of us have learned to respect private property… particularly in urban environment with small property lots and no way to pretend you’re not traipsing through someone’s lawn.

After lots and lots of back and forth from the back check to the previous check, to a school parking lot with no marks, back the way we came from Celine’s home, back along a trail marked as false, and clothing swaps on the side or the road, cockmonkey and Suckit decided to go say hi to the guy in the garage near where the back check supposedly ended, because in theory it should be someone they knew (but weren’t sure if it was him or some other guy).  Turns out it was a friend (who knew nothing about the trail, and thought he saw Celine and Two Minute Ride maybe run off to the school, but wasn’t sure), and so we talked for some time since we had no fucking clue where to go.  Around then the owner of the property (another friend) drives up, and after some further shooting the shit mentions something about “oh yeah, Jim said something about a hash coming through, and that they’d close the gate.”  Looks like trail DID go through private property (that had lots of signs indicating trespassers were not wanted).

The good news is we were about 100 feet from the beer check.  A multitude of sins can be forgiven by close proximity to beer.

Well, we had to scout out where trail went from there.  Some of us idiots (namely cockmonkey) decided to cross the stream to check for hash marks, but trail didn’t actually cross the stream.  Whoops.

Now, I’m not 100% sure what trail was supposed to do at this point.  I believe it was intended to go back to Celine’s home for a beverage check, then continue for another loop to another beer check, then come back to start.  Some sort of heavily distorted figure eight.  Only… that isn’t what happened.  The pack arrived to the second drink check, found an ON-IN mark and a bunch of confusion regarding the rest of trail (there were marks, but the hares were in the house).  Actually, the marks that were laid seemed to also be irrelevant, because when Two Minute Ride tried to get the pack to finish the trail (most of us were lazy fuckers, and we had beer with us right there), he went off in a different direction.  Those not lazy fuckers who wanted to continue trail also wanted to snare the hare… and may have given a shortened start.

Well, we had some time to kill, since some hashers are overachievers.  Credit was given to PooFs completing Rags to Bitches (and some of the clothing at least was returned to its original owners), and then the spectacle of the Evil Monkey occurred.  And I think it was done without any vomiting, so good job gents.

I assume beer was had on this extraneous leg of trail, but what really stole the show was Stunt Cock and Sloppy Jodi returning before the hare (with the hare’s little blue shorts).  It seems that when the pack is in close proximity the best way to avoid them is NOT to jump into a briar patch.  Actually, Two Minute Ride was the last to return from this leg of trail.

Finally!  It was time for circle.  The PooFs handled this.  Hares in the circle and feedback!  Various thoughts expressed included: too long, requests for more trespassing, good the 2nd time around, not sure what this blacktop was but #blacktrailsmatter, and other such sundry.

FRB: Counterfeit Dick
FBI: Swamp Whine
DFL: Two Minute Ride (and when one hare drinks)

Other shit that we got both hares in on because one of them was called in:

• Lost Shit (Two Minute Ride regained his phone from the Space Unicorn trail in Boston)
• Birthdays
• Killing two birds with one stone (Celine didn’t even wait to be named)
• Neglect of a PooF sash (Two Minute Ride’s look of terror was priceless)
• Blood on Trail (also included was Sloppy Jodi, Suckit Wrench, Big Piles, and The Buttler Hit It)
• and probably some other shit.

As for accusations that didn’t include the other hare we had Suckit Wrench brought in for “Throwbacks” (wearing Jinco jeans), No Hash Gear (Reverend Blow Hole, Too Short To Tuck, and several others), Roscoe Pee Cum Stain for imitating a rare blue lobster, Hashers who hadn’t yet been called in circle, Named Hashers without ID, various cranium gear, and who to talk to if you wanted haberdashery.

So, it became time to wrap one shit-show up and to start another.  Circle was closed, some ppl went inside to where it was warm, others stayed outside to smoke cancer sticks.  Pizza was ordered, Cards Against Humanity was played, and fun was had.