In the words of my predecessor Don’t You Dare Close Your Eyes, Hold Your Breath it Gets Better, this is gonna be a doozy. I’m a bit behind on the hash trashes because reasons. But I’ll try to reach into my clouded brain to pick out the few bits and pieces of the last few hashes I can remember. As you know, go grab a beer and settle in….
So Bambi is the latest hasher to move on to greener pastures, so he thought he’d treat us to a shiggy filled, ludicrously obnoxious trail one last time. Bambi needed some 420 inspiration before he set off to live hare, so we’re guessing this may have been a factor in what came next… The pack set off into immediate shiggy and dirt paths, by abandoned baseball backstops, to a BQ25 near a dilapidated, graffitied pump house. Have you ever seen Bambi? The boy is like 8 feet tall….and hid the beer in a spot where only other 8 ft. tall freaks would find it – or Back Tits McGee. After 20 minutes of frustration and use of tech to ascertain the location of the frosty beverages, this is where Marty McDie climbed to retrieve them. Many comparisons were made on trail that day of feeling like we were on the island in LOST. LOST being the key phrase. Cunt for Red Cocktober and another intrepid hasher drained a pool of mosquito ridden swamp water, just cuz.
On the pack went, past the hatch, restricted area signs, and after much searching to a beer check on an old mattress. Even Marty was smart enough not to become vertical. The hashers dashed on, to find themselves in…who knows? An abandoned quarry? No marks to be found for awhile, till a mark was spotted atop a hill, where we found a huge dick and tit check. The pack clamored on up to find…themselves fucking lost. Marks everywhere that led to nowhere… Here is where we realize Bambi done fukked shit up. Out of the woods, to the abandoned…what was it? Pratt and Whitney or something? Faceful of Leroy checked the street, Cocktober checked the lot. Nothing. A (tech on trail) call to stoned Bambi…the ‘False’ mark…was supposed to be ‘true trail’. Damn boy.
On through the apocalyptic cement and rock strewn lot, chasing the shot the whole way, past long forgotten playgrounds, under a fence by the train tracks. On to a cinnamon whiskey check…this is what we thought of the so far 7 mile trail….
Into the woods, TTT takes off on her own, telling the virgin not to follow…but he and Master Hater eventually catch up, and do unwisely follow her…the wrong way. The only water crossing that day was by TTT and MH. Dummies. Circle ensued, sitting circle I might add. Some highlights: Trail treasure of a quarter keg of some crap beer; Circle beer was just about nonexistent (thanks Bambi), Just Evan, dear sweet boy, cannot hold his dang liquor, had to be driven home by Cocktober, and proceeded to puke all over his car. On-after at Stony Creek Brewery in Branford. Thanks for the sausage Marty McDie, and the bug spray Leroy!
One down, two to go!!
Milford Pick Up Hash
So, our hare for the June 20th had to back out for nefarious reasons, so we decided to take matters into our own hands. Pick Up Hash it is! The three lucky ones to draw the straws on this rainy afternoon were Gay If It Suits Me (NY by way of VA), Cunt for Red Cocktober (Groton by way of NH), and Marty McDie (Branford by way of Madison). Not one of them took our advice and even looked at a map of Milford, so the wankers were allowed tech on trail to figure shit out. Off they went, not wanting to each take a leg, but make it a haring threesome instead. The pack stayed behind to drink some grown up root beer and mess with first time New Haven hasher, Just Chris.
The pack split up not 200 ft onto trail, missing the long loop that took us to the first beer check at Seven Seas Dive, I mean Restaurant, and arriving 3 minutes after setting off. On to the next, the pack split again, with the majority actually following trail, but TTT, Leroy and Mathole wisely shortcutting straight to the next check at Casey’s Pub. (I think someone in the trio may have had some inside information…) The rest of the sweaty pack showed up, downed their beers and set off again. Long stretches here onto main roads led the pack to the third stop at Crush Bar. Pitchers of fancy fucking beer flowed. Or maybe I was just drunk by this point, who knows. Straight shot back to the cars for circle, or maybe it was somewhere else, I can’t remember. On-after at Archie Moore’s for some awesome wings!
You’ve made it this far, may as well keep going!
‘Murica Combo Hash
So the super lazy wankers from New Haven ixnayed hashing on the 4th and wanted to invade RGH3’s Full Moon hash on the 3rd. Instead, we teamed up and hared together! Master Hater and Tap That Teacher, known FRBs of the group, thought that live haring would be a great idea! Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. Oh, sorry. Anyways, the large pack of around 25 or so humored them and sent them off. Thanks to Pee Dignity for the awesome burger cake!!
After the group sex demo at the local stockade, the pack missed the mark that would’ve sent them right into the cemetary, where the hares needed them to go! Nooooo…they just went everywhere BUT that way…spotting the two hares hiding nearby waiting for the DFL to make it into the cemetary so they could dash in and make exit marks. Binoc U Cock snagged them, but was a good sport when they reminded him that if they were snared, there was no trail! The hares bolted, followed by 3 FRBs, who gamely ignored the hares sitting on the hill and hiding behind a gravestone to continue on trail. On out across the street, to a gazebo and dick and tit checks, the hares were spotted by Avalanche and Humpty Dump, who decided to keep their distance but spy. Beer check at Scottish Dave’s pub for frosty PBRs. On out and the pack came to a song check, in front of a B and B where an outdoor dinner show was occurring, and they were promptly shushed.
The exhausted hares, hearing calls and whistles behind them, ran for their lives, spotting TDF and Binoc close behind. TTT employed a ridiculous amount of song checks to hold the path at bay, Master Hater resorted to screaming. Once the pack was no longer in sight, the hares slowed down enough to tape some bottles under tables near a oceanside restaurant. Nip Quest 25….okay, it was more like Nip Quest 200, was a success for those lucky enough to find the nippers. Through residential streets they went, the path lit with glow sticks as well as marks, the hares somehow staying just in front of the whistles and FRBs.
Last beer stop at an outdoor patio at Chip Pub, then straight back to the cars for circle. FRB…Thailor in the Stink maybe? DFL Humpty Dump. Hares called in for ummm, well everything, and also made to drink the hash shit, with pretzels, popcorn, cheese balls, and other deliciousness. Master Hater was a trooper and chugged away, while TTT was a wimp and just dumped it down her front instead.
All in all, the hares made the pack feel great by giving them so much to complain and bitch about. Never mind how speedy they all were by catching the hares multiple times. On-after at Chips Pub, except for My Thing’s a Mini and Avalanche, who ended up at a meat market in Madison waiting for the group. Kudos to Mini for figuring it out and making it back to Chips.
And I will gladly give up hash trash duties to anyone so inclined to pick them up.
On-out y’all! TAP THAT TEACHER bitches