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
…on a beautiful Saturday afternoon, gathered in a parking lot near SCSU in New Haven. Mind you, this was no ordinary lot. This was THE place to be: strains of merengue and bachata could be heard from far off car stereos, lawn chairs and grills were plentiful, and the vintage low-riders brought the feel of 1970s Havana to New Haven.
Our hare, Tiajuana Donkey Fluffer (no, it’s not spelled wrong, that’s how he spells it! Come on now), gathered us around and handed a pristine graduation robe to the person who would be graduating next, Taint No Savior, who had refused to wear any collegiate gear at all. Who had the last laugh now Taint? After a brief chalk talk, the live hare set off, confident he would never be snagged. After a few beers in the lot ranging from fancy schmantzy craft beer to PBR Light, the pack set off.
Through knee high grass, goose shit and poison ivy, the pack traipsed, only to be confounded by pink flour, or the lack of it, at our feet. Faceful of Leroy, heading out to the street checking, came upon a shot…the heavy ball used in shot put events, and the pack decided to all give it a try during the first drink (Dark and Stormy-ish something or other…obviously TDF‘s never been to Bermuda).
Back onto trail, smack dab through the lecture hall buildings and labs of SCSU, where Tap That Teacher reminisced about her days, I mean years, there oh so long ago. Through a cemetery, past some dorms, around the football field to a turtle check waiting for the DFL at the time. Can’t remember who it was though… through a parking garage, on past the northern reaches of the school towards the urban jungle of New Haven. A drink check at the side of the road….pint of some God-awful whiskey was found….in a patch of poison ivy no less!!! The pack couldn’t, or wouldn’t, finish it, so on they went, bottle in hand (covered in poison ivy oil, don’t forget).
Onward they went…Smashmouth turning back as his spidey senses started tingling as the pack came into close proximity to mega shaggy….and then inward to West Rock Park they went. Upward too. The pack broke in two as the FRBs Back Tits McGee, Marty “Gimpy” McDie, and Cunt for Red Cocktober…Leroy and Pee Dignity were representing for the ladies I believe, took off r*nning. Bringing up the rear were the old gas bags of Taint No Savior, Bambi’s Bitch, TTT, Cock Can’t Kill Me, and Jersey Shhhhwhore. Sorry Mathole, I have absolutely no idea where you were! Up a never-ending dead-leaf and slate steep hill they went, TTT encouraging her group on with an impromptu dance party (tech on trail, tech on trail!). Even though all she got for her efforts were death stares from the huffing and puffing hashers lying at her feet. Sheesh!
Onward, and upward still the pack travelled, passing many muggles on trail, leaping from rock to rock, encountering sweeping vistas, playing in caves (cough, Leroy, cough). From the FRB group Cunt came back to guide the rest on, back down the mountain, to a swiftly flowing stream. The group stood open mouthed for a second at the realization that the beer, never mind the trail, was across the river. One by one they bravely stepped into the frigid waters, BTM teabagging the damn water for all it was worth, all to be taken down by the slippery, slimy rocks to be found beneath their feet. Mathole tried to carefully pick his way across, but alas, he too was taken down. Taint baptized himself and proselytized for a moment. BTM told a whopper of a tale about saving a flying dog and chasing down some hippies. (Check out our Facebook page for the story straight from the Tits’ mouth).
Back to civilization, the group plodded squishily on, encountering package and boob checks, totally missing a PQ-something or other reward. Or maybe that was just me. Back to Southern, past TTT‘s apts, dorms, party houses, etc. through the campus. Taint supplied anyone who wanted with flavored vodka nips…vanilla and orange mixed together is yum. To the on-in, a small isolated lot 1/4 mile from the cars that the dehydrated pack voted to do circle in.
Down downs were given to BTM, FRB, TTT, DFL. No surprise there… Cock for returning hasher…we don’t care that it takes you an hour to get to us, what the hell man? Pee Dignity and Back Tits did two dogs fucking; Leroy got accolades for carrying the shot the whole way on trail; Cunt, Leroy and Jersey thought they could sit during circle and not get caught; someone pointed, someone had tech, yada yada yada. Taint gave a rousing thank you speech as he will be h3@ding to greener pastures shortly, and a spectacular group hug ensued.
To end, some lazy hashers took advantage of TDF driving and piled 8 into his 5 seater. Taint tried to walk back to the cars, he really did, but after 50 grueling feet he gave up and jumped in as well. On-after was at our favorite sports bar, why Sports Haven of course! Why not? Cheap food, towers of beer and super friendly bartenders ;). What more could your average hasher ask for?
Till next time, On-Out!
Love, the sucker who gets to write these things. TTT
As my hash-trasherer predecessor likes to say, hope you have a beer, or three, it’s gonna be a long one….
Friday, Feb. 27th, Hashmat Pub Crawl
Around 15 hashers met at Trinity Bar and Grille to await our guest hare, Rotten Groton’s Binocucock…who pulled his usual shit and showed up a half hour late. But he was armed! With all manner of hair accessories… Adding to Binoc‘s stylings, we had afros, red and green hair, pigtails and tiaras. Chalk talk was had and the hare was off!
So this “crawl”, you know, nice and easy (like our harriettes), from pub to pub was, like the hare, nowhere to be found! A quick stop at Pub #1, I mean a parking lot, brought us a freakin’ gallon of whiskey to share. C’mon Binoc, really??
After a quick stop here, onto Pub #3…or parking lot #2, with a white cooler cleverly hidden in a snow bank filled with Milwaukee’s Beast. After a rousing rendition of Coach Sandusky led by Taint No Savior, the pack carefully made their way down the icy sidewalks. Well, most of us anyways, as Cunnilwontus slipped and the smack of his cranium against the ice could be heard back in Charleston. A quick jaunt into East Rock Park brought us a bottle of Fireball, and a couple of cops patrolling the park. But not to fear…Just Kate, (the cop whisperer), Cunnilwontus and Taint sent them right on their way.
Some time during the “crawl”, Tap That Teacher, being the responsible person we all know she is, lost all of the toe tags. She must have been mugged or something, for sure. Another straight shot back down Orange Street (you rock, Binoc), got us to Christie’s Pub, surely due to the razzing of the hare by the pack due to more parking lots than pubs on the “Pub Crawl”.
Trail ended back at Trinity, and Rotten Groton’s EZ Keyless Entry took RA duties for the evening. Many down, downs were drunk, and our hare was shitfaced – rightfully so, that bastard. I think there may have even been an auction to see who wanted to claim him as their own, but it ended with a game of “No thanks, you can have him!!”
Saturday, Feb. 28th, Hashmat Main Trail (Go get your second beer!!!)
The day started out pretty damn cold, according to the sweet, cute, precious, dainty hare, Tap That Teacher, with 15° and a wind chill of holy fuck! The pack of 35 congregated at Sports Haven, snacking on jalapeño poppers and pretzels, and unlimited Pabst Blue Ribbon, choice beer of hashers and hipsters alike. Who knew?
After a quick chalk talk, led by our stand in RA Emeritus, Hi I’m Gay, in requisite hazmat suit, and hare TTT, the pack was off! Cause for Blindness auto hared, and Malt Lickher and Cunt for Red October were hopelessly lost on trail…or did they skip trail altogether? We may never know… A quick song check in front of IKEA, a meander right by the train yard, onto a spank check towards beer check #1 at El Amigo Felix. (The hare lost her “map” 1/2 mile into trail, so she just had to wing it).
The pack scared the few patrons of the bar, drank their cheap beer, and were on their way. Through some sights at Yale the pack dashed, beating the hare to the next beer check at Wall Street Pizza. Know who else they beat? Hentai Me Down, who left Syracuse 26 hours later than he should’ve, sauntering in the door like he’d been there the whole time just in time for some beer…. nice try.
A dance check and a couple of body part checks later, the pack ran into a BQ25, blackberry brandy (yummmm….you’re welcome), in Wooster Square, then made their way back to Sports Haven. Through a series of unfortunate (fortunate?) events, we were given a private suite overlooking the entire venue. Master Hater took advantage of the floor to ceiling windows to press her ample bosom to the glass to the delight of… all below.
HIG stayed to RA circle – some trangressions: FRB – Bleeding Gash, I’m guessing, DFL – ummm…it wasn’t me, so I have no clue…Binoc maybe? Smashmouth, in his aged state, elected to sit through circle, as those old folk often do. The gaggle of FRBs did a group down-down, and Just Paulette and Skeletwhore did “two dogs fucking”, for wallflowering maybe?? Who knows? I was pretty tipsy by this point. All kilt wearers drank, all visitors, returners, and Cause and Flounder drank for having been at all 8 hashmats. That’s some damn dedication there!
The evening was capped off by a naming for Just Kate….our friend from the south, and by south I mean Jersey. She wasn’t named Cop Whisperer, Jersey Blows (damnit!), or Snookie something or other, but she will now be known by Jersey Shhh-whore. On-after at TTT’s place…. and you’ll never hear those stories unless you were there.
Sunday, Hangover Trail (shot time!!!)
Sunday’s guest hare, Blowhole, of the Skull and Boners, welcomed a group of about 16 hashers to her crib, and plyed them with coffee, booze maybe, and PBR. She dashed off to set trail, and the lazy wankers eventually followed her. The sidewalks were a sheet of ice, and Bambi’s Bitch turned it into his own skating rink. Cunt for Red Cocktober carefully cradled 3 bottles of champagne the entire trail, ensuring they made it safely to their destination, Cafe Romeo, for mimosas.
But were the hashers satisfied with this? Hell no!! We wanted, we needed, more trail! Hentai Me Down drew the short straw and took off running, well sort of jogging, towards downtown. Cunnilwontus serenaded us all at a song check with a biblical, 5 guy type song. what the hell was it even??
The pack immediately lost trail, split up, and met back up at a group sex check…where eagle eyed Faceful of Leroy spotted the hare, eyeballing the proceedings excitedly from around a corner. She and Cunt gave chase….not even Gash nor Marty McDie could’ve kept up with her, but the wily hare dropped a song check as he was about to be pantsed. Damn! Trail ended up at Christie’s, where TTT and Back Tits McGee were denied frosty beverages due to lack of ID. Um, really? Have you seen those two?? Hentai somehow charmed the beers out of the bartender and all was right again.
Cunt took the next leg, using chalk and….ketchup? Hey, hashers are really poorly prepared! (But clever….) Shortcutting was to be had by TTT, Hentai and Cunnil, and the rest of the pack breathlessly arrived shortly after. The damn snow, coming down heavily as it was, dashed any hopes of a third leg, so the group trudged back to Blowhole’s pad. Immature middle school games were played, old school tunes were heard, and this concludes another great Hashmat.
Thanks to all who traveled from near and far to join us, thanks to our guest hares, we apologize to our livers, and pay tribute to Dr. Gonads, without whose troublesome antics Hashmat would’ve never become a reality. On-out wankers!!
Tap That Teacher
…now you may go pee.
Hashers! You may be thinking to yourselves “Goddam DYD is a deadbeat, waiting to the last moment to release the top-secret address to Saturday’s Hash,” and I would have to agree with you and offer humble apologies, and then throw myself upon your merciful hearts when we make it to circle.
Breakfast in America Hash! Hares Don’tYouDare and Virgin Hare Will (a.k.a Stabby Stabby) will lay a delightfully wicked trail through Hamden where there will be our beloved paved surfaces as well as a smile-inducing amount of off road Hashing. No real shiggy to speak of, unless we can get your asses lost, and no poison ivy, which makes TTT damn near giddy. There will be Bacon-Infused Bourbon on trail, as well at Oatmeal Stout. Perhaps a bagel fight? You’ll have to Hash it to find out for sure. Oh, and there will be Big H3AD (winky). On Out is EARLY! 10:00 AM! And now for the details (if only to keep Back Tits at bay):
EVENT: Breakfast in America Hash
Date: Saturday, November 22nd
On Out: 10:00 AM, or 1000 for you Jarheads and Squids
Location: 41 Todd Street, Hamden CT 06518
Parking: In the Farmington Canal Trail lot, or nearby and walk the trail to Todd Street
Distance: About Four-ish miles
Strollerable: Nope, definitely not.
Hash Cash: $5.00 Cheap
New Shoes: Always strongly encouraged
This Saturday our own Tap That Teacher may be seen traipsing around the neighborhood of West Haven clad in nothing more than a diaphenous white schiff as she lays trail for our annual White Dress Hash – Winter is Cuming! While TTT is always game for the saucier side of White Dresses (think Victoria’s Secret collides with Billy Idol’s White Wedding) she has expressed concern of a cold Hash now that we’re into the early part of Novembrrrr, so White Dress accordingly. That’s right, skimpy rules the day, prudish attire drinks at Circle for being wusses. Let the Hash details begin!
WHERE? The far left of the parking lot near Jimmie’s at Savin Rock – 5 Rock Street, West Haven CT 06516.
DATE? Saturday, Novembrr 8th.
ON OUT? 2:00 PM Sharpish!
DRINK CHECKS? TWO! WooHoo!
HASH CASH? $5, Cheap!
STROLLERABLE /DOGABLE? Why do we even ask this?
SHIGGY? Maybe. Maybe not. It’s West Haven, fer cryin out loud.
ID NEEDED? Only if you want your corpse identified.
WHITE DRESSES? Not mandatory, but kinda desired if you want to be sexy.
Lastly, there’s a special treat for every Hasher wearing new shoes!
On On! DYD