Tag Archives: hash trash

Rock Star Hash Trash

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This amazing hash trash will start out as all shitty hash stories should….SO THERE WE WERE! NO SHIT!

A semi-decent mid-winter’s day, ready to become the rock stars we all know we are. A gaggle of around 20 gathered with, wait – more chicks than dudes?? Wow, that’s a first! Our hares Freddy Mercury and David Bowie, aka Tijuana Donkey Fluffer and Just Pete, promised a debaucherous trail that would rival Ozzy and Tommy Lee’s infamous exploits! Uh-huh.

For prelube Bowie/Pete concocted some burn your throat steaming hot cocktail for those brave enough, and the rest drank a mishmash of leftover beers. We noticed a dark Volvo with Maryland plates turning into the parking lot…could it be? Really? Yes! It was New Haven’s own Bambi’s Bitch back for a visit! No shit! Mathole, stand-in RA, started chalk talk, and boy, we must’ve really been running behind because Binocucock saunters up and actually catches it all! We blow off the hares and give them 9.69 minutes, then we’re off.

An immediate T/E split awards the eagles with mustaches to make Mr. Mercury jealous, and then the group quickly reconvenes, straight on to a virgin check. Thanks to Placenta something or other from Charleston for mentoring his virgin. Not. We had to wait for that neon clad boy to make his way back, h3@d hung in shame, so we could point him in the direction of true trail. Into the woods for BC1…Franzia bag-o-wine. Yum. Toward the body of the Sleeping Giant we go, straight to a KOTH. Reward, but no punishment. Come on! Hashing is all about punishment! The pack voted to wait for all 3 DFLs instead of leaving them behind for some reason. What’s with all the chivalry on trail?!?hash 2

Across some slippery ass leaves, through some snow and mud, BC2…BQ25. Great job hares, took 19 of us 5 minutes to find your dumb bag-o-beer. Thanks Marty. Binoc’s esoteric knowledge of, well everything, let us know we were at some quarry place, and yes, sitting on poison ivy. Bambi’s Bitch found a Mexican stripper’s sequin…in his Modelo beer. WTF? (I’m sure he kept it for something or other).

hash 3

Now, we were told we would get wet on this trail, much to the delight of the harriettes who showed up…but this is NOT what we expected. Knee deep 12° water, replete with floating ice blocks. Who’s knees? Not Flick’s, and not Teacher’s! Frostbite all around! And chivalry too, thanks Marty and…someone else, who knows? We run into an awesome super nova, then straignt onto Quinnipiac University’s campus. Kudoos (maybe?) to Jolly Green Cowboy for planting himself at the dick check for 15 minutes to spare the others who would’ve claimed that “They were in the pool!!!” I’m sure all the visiting parents appreciated it as well. Song check where we almost left the trio of DFLs again, to a Rock Star pop-rocks check. Let it be known that Binoc wishes they had KY flavored ones too. Ummm….IMG_3955

Stick with me here, I’m almost done! Do a shot or something.

Into the home stretch, Gene Simmons, aka Master Hater, bit the bullet and pulled a Cowboy for the duration with her ample bosom out for all our voyeuristic pleasure…BQ3 was some hideous concoction of vodka, Southern Comfort and grapefruit soda. Yup, hardcore rock stars here. With all the booze consumed, TTT convinced some minions 😉 to just zen back to on-in. PAHB! A small but dumb determined group soldiered on, making friends with a decaying pumpkin which Placenta got his cranium up close and personal with. Grossssssss!!

Circle time: FRB Tweedle Dumb. DFL Not Teacher! Blood on trail Placenta. Pointing Teacher. Placenta looked like he was too sober so kept getting called in for all sorts of bull that we made up. Cops: Cowboy. Yeah, he decided his nether regions were too stuffy in his neon shorts, so decided to go without for circle. The Hamden PD were not impressed. “Disgusting” was the word they used I believe!!!! On-after, pizza and beer, and our hare Bowie/Pete, was named forevermore, That’s Pee in the Corner. And yes, he must sing it.

God I’m tired. On-Out, TTT

So there we were….

…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).

shotput

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).

SCSU hash

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 CocktoberLeroy 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!

hill

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.

tdf

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

Nose goes!!!!

 

 

Greenish Trash

A small group braved the shitty pouring rain to join Mathole (wait…it was pouring on a Mathole trail??? The meteorologists should hire him, no joke!) through a tour of gorgeous, scenic downtown West Haven. The wearing of the green was abundant; even Bleeding Gash wore a green diaper to join in on the festivities! Blobs of pink flour led the pack through the West Haven Green. The racist bastards, otherwise known as the show-off males of the group, Gash, Back Tits McGee and Marty McDie, led the cool chicks, Just Paulette, Just Mishi, Jersey Shhhwhore, and Tap That Teacher. Our outfits, especially Gash’s festive diaper, elicited car honks and stares of disbelief all along the trail.

There was actual more-than-10-feet of shaggy, through the snow and a stream…not sure why the water was green; we’re not gonna think about that right now. An off (on?) the foot of Baileys was found in a park, and then back to the on-out it was! photo (5)

Circle was stealthily held in the gazebo on the green, stupendously RA’d by Mathole. FRB….one guess. DFL….one guess. Down downs to TTT for losing her shortcutting skills, Gash for cranium gear in circle, Mathole for PBR light…who even knew??? Mishi as a returning hasher, TTT for alcohol abuse. (Should’ve been everyone else for making her laugh, duh). TTT for false acusation, Paulette for wallflowering, Gash & Back Tits for something homosexual I’m sure. Marty and Jersey…..did we even make them drink? Who knows?

On-after at Duffy’s Tavern, birthplace of NH4, with the addition of Just Loki.

 

Hashmat Trash! Read on, if you remember how!!

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
photo 1 (4) 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!

photo 2 (3)

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??

A straight shot up Orange St, passing some meth-heads along the way, also where the group of FRBs refused to mark the checks for the rest of the pack, took us to Contois Bar….2 miles away.contois

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.beer

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?chalk

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).felix

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. grou[

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!circle

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. kate

 

 

 

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. bkfst

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??cunn

 

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

 

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.

 

Hash Trash: Dead Christmas Tree Hash

Hmmm, I didn’t realize Mathole was haring this hash…that must be why it was pouring out, right? But no. This time, our seasoned hare Smashmouth was at the helm of this freezing, rainy Sunday. The pack of 14 eagerly awaited their beloved hare in the parking lot of the Guilford train station, long past the start time, and we started wondering what may be keeping him. Did he forget about us? Did he get lost on his own trail? …a distinct possibility. Did he get entangled in some unforgiving “brambles”? Not quite.

From the Guilford Police Blotter, Sunday, 1/18/15: “A suspicious person complaint was investigated at 1:41pm. A man walking on Rte 146 towards Sachem’s Head (head, who said head?) was observed throwing white powder along the road side. Police determined the man was marking the road for a r*nning group.”

Let us pause for applause….

So Smashmouth finally shows up, covered in ‘white powder’ to find a group with hashers from New Haven, Groton, Skull and Boners, New York, and DC, eagerly awaiting his super-duper trail. Oh…and the rain stopped as soon as the drenched hare arrived too. We got more and more nervous as chalk talk went on…no boob checks, no dick checks, no song checks……NO BEER CHECKS. Upon hearing this, and as the taillights of the hare’s vehicle disappeared from sight, the pack split in two: The regular drunks and the super drunks.

The regular drunks, consisting of Tiajuana Donkey Fluffer, Back Tits McGee, Just Paulette, Master Hater, Marty McDie, Just Kate, Taint No Savior, Depantsipation Proclamation, and…Gay If It Suits Me? (Really GIISM?), took off after the ‘white powder’ marks. The super drunks, consisting of Tap That Teacher, Penis Fly Trap, Bitch Please, Just Sarah and Just Emily made their way straight to the closest dive bar…can’t remember the name and it’s too dive-y to even be listed on Google maps. Shortly after starting out, an exhausted Taint No Savior and Depantsipation Proclamation decided to join the super drunks, giving up on trail after 300 ft.

The regular drunks followed the hares’ marks carefully, going on an extended tour of historic downtown Guilford. The super drunks, having arrived at bar #1, hear a squeaky voice calling out “Wait, wait for me!” Just Kate , losing the trail as one is wont to do on a Smashmouth hash, blazed her own trail, unbeknownst right into the arms of the super drunks about to enter bar #1. After some quick pitchers, bar #2, Augur’s Pub, offered up some Irish hospitality, with Just Sarah reading to the group from a selection of books in the bar. I know, right? A hasher who can read….

Upon leaving the bar, Depantsipation Proclamation decided to jump over one of the myriad of puddles dotting the icy sidewalks, and down she went….cranium vs. pavement. Trooper that she is, she shook it off, nurse Penis checked her out for 1.2 milliseconds, and proclaimed her fine. Arriving back near the train station, a souped up-‘Fast and Furious’ type car pulls up, with TDF driving, and GIISM as passenger, off to look for Master Hater, who went missing some time earlier. GIISM jumped out, TTT jumped in, determined to short cut as much as possible.

Back at the station, the group left a sweet, thoughtful chalk message for Master Hater: “Master Hater. Take train back to New Haven”. After much use of technology, she was found wandering a few miles away, and rescued by TDF and his Batmobile.

The hashers all caravanned to the on-in, Smashmouth and Mrs. Smashmouth’s lake home; the hashers were surprised we were let inside at all! Circle was held in the kitchen, around the island, and down downs were awarded to: DFL – Cunt for Red Cocktober…who missed trail entirely, FRB – Back Tits or Marty…same thing. Auto-haring – GIISM, TTT, and TDF. Shortcutting – Super Drunks, tech on trail, TTT (shocker, I know). Getting lost – Master Hater and Just Kate. I’m sure there were more, but the chili that Mrs. Smashmouth made for the hungry hashers must be clouding my brain…till next time…TTT

 

Three Hashes, One Recap and an Excuse to Drink Beer!

Oh Eff Me.  How do these Hashes get away from me so quickly?  In the past three weeks New Haven Hash House Harriers have had three Hashes and a figurative ass-load of new traditions thrust upon us!

I need to get you to the most recent Hash, the Rising Sun Hash, which was Hared by the wiley, bicycle-stealing Tijuana Donkey Fluffer and formerly Just Ed, a.k.a Superman in Underpants.
 
You got a beer? You Hash, so I’ll assume you’re responding “Oh F*cking yes,” as you settle in, closing one eye as you read so as not to double-image the shit out of this posting (this was an awkward sentence, so please feel free to squint harder and re-read). Cue the harp strums and bleary Gilligan’s Island-style dream-sequence graphics as we travel to the afternoon of Saturday, August 2nd.
 
 Epic Shiggy, New Shoes and Cheese It, The Cops! 
Milford PD

Saturday’s 154th New Haven Hash House Harriers Hash may not have been the Hash that hallmark Hashes are made of, but then again, I’d be hard-pressed to conjure a more perfecter (yep, I said “perfecter”) Hash. 

As you’ll recall from past posts, this was Hare Mathole’s August Holiday Hash, an irreverent celebration of all that’s not celebrated in our most sweltering month.  Can celebration and conflagration be interchanged here?  Oh hell yes.  Hell to the effing yes…
 
Mathole dodged the rain bullet this time (his last Haring was a soggy morass of three-legged antics, so he was due for reprieve).  But was it to be a celebrated Sh*tty Hash?  History will be the true judge, but until this Hash is in our past this posting will need to serve as the official record.
 
Don’tYouDareCloseYourEyes came way too early (go figure), cleverly representing Veteran’s Day, St. Patrick’s Day, International Beer Day and Festivus, but he was quickly shown up by Tijuana Donkey Fluffer’s awe-inspiring Cat Eye T-Shirt Festival gear (who knew it was even a holiday?).
 
Then the shit got real. Just Ed shows up and just after unbuttoning his shirt to reveal a Superman S. he then drops trou, not knowing that his dramatic presentation was thwarted by Kryptonite, dropping his Superman Underoos with said trou, leaving him in the ShopRite parking lot doing the Superior Dance in his underpants like he had the bag of chips to be all that, but instead he was just the Superman-wearing-t-shirt-in-his-underpants-guy-in-the-Milford-parking-lot attracting looks of confusion from shoppers and dropped eyes from Hashers.  Shameful, right?
 
In comes Bleeding Gash to the rescue.  WTF? Again, I ask, WTF? Darth Vader with a t-shirt reading “May The Fourth Be With You.”  Coolio.  I’m down with that. But the Baby New Year Sash and requisite diaper? Really? And not just a diaper. Or even an Adult Diaper. Bleeding Gash approached this like the first time he bought condoms, throwing the first “diaper” product he found on the counter. Fer christsake, he didn’t even buy a Snickers bar to cloak his purchase! Amateur…  In his haste Gash bought Adult Pads and not diapers, which meant he had some serious duct-tape work ahead of him.
 
It was not a pretty sight, indeed.  Shortly after the On-Out Hashers found themselves Song-checking at an actual watering hole, or to clarify, a pond hidden among the piles of Canada goose shit.  Waiting for the DFL Hashers to show up our clever banter is silenced when a Milford PD cruiser pulls up near our gathering. Oh great, we’re all dressed like a-holes and it’s quite likely there’s a load blooming in Gash’s make-shift diaper. Cop gets calmly out of the front passenger seat with only the slightest glance, reaches back and opens the back door. Who pops out? Goddamn Tap That Teacher, who giddily dances up to the check. She claims the cops offered her a ride, but several of us suspect she lured them in with talk of handcuff play. We may never know.
 
The balance of the Hash was certainly Hasherific, and was highlighted by Mathole’s trail that had us treking trough at least 10, maybe 11 yards of off-road shiggy. We were out before we even knew we were in, if you know what I mean. As mentioned above, shiggy as hell.
 
On-In was highlighted with more flagrant behavior from TTT as she latched on to the sole Virgin’s hand, dragging him to a shared title of DFL. Oh, and nary a Hasher escaped the punishment of false accusations and and the requisite punitive beers. Aaaaahh, punishment! Highlight of On-After was Just Linda’s belief that things written in this post are true and directive in nature, so when the NewHavenH3.com site said “Wear new shoes” she happily obliged. Hash lies are the sweetest lies of all!
 
Now go refresh your beer.
 
Impromptu Out-Of-Towners Welcome Hash!
 Leeroy
It’s been well-documented that our own Five Minute Layover has been road-tripping with her mini-chicas for the past 10 weeks (welcome home, FML!), where she’s successfully ferreted out all manner of new and obscene Hash traditions, as well as all manner of new and obscene nationwide Hashers. On Tuesday, August 5th, NH4 (or NHH3, if you’d like – Don’t care what you call us, just call.  Seriously), welcomed FML’s new-found bestie Trifukta from Phoenix at an impromptu Hash Hared by Hentai Me Down with an On-Out at our watering hole of choice O’Toole’s (not to be confused with Mathole’s actual Canada goose-shit laden watering hole in Milford). The Hash was small, but size doesn’t really matter, right? Tap That Teacher and Don’tYouDareCloseYourEyes represented from NH4 while Penis Fly Trap and Duck Duck Oops from Skull and Boners joined in, as well, rounding out our Evening-O-Thrills!
 
Hentai’s ad-lib trail was marked with the obligatory wander around New Haven’s greens, and, quite surprisingly, inveterate DFL Hasher TTT forged our way out of a shitty trail. Beer would soon be near!
 
We hopped an urban fence (Don’tYouDare did this quite lamely, in hindsight) and soon found ourselves at the First Beer Check, Only Beer Check, and On-In. Who the hell wants to Hash when there are war stories to be told.
 
So there we were, in a random parking lot, drinking giant PBRs out of Hentai’s tiny Dixie Cups (BTW, Hentai had a PBR Check on trail, which called for a Piggy Back Ride, but the Hashers kind of blew him off and assumed it was a Package, Boob, Rear Check, which we accommodated). We were close enough to the On-Out, which would also be the On-In that it was mutually decided that Hashing should end and bullshitting about Hashing adventures begin. And the bullshit commenced…
 
And then Trifuckta (who, coincidentally spells it Triph Uckta, but who in Arizona knows anything about spelling?) breaks into his epic tale of Leeroy Jenkins, disrupting Circles with unexpected nudity and an irreverent sense of willy-nilly brouhaha as yet unseen on the East Coast (even at Skull and Boners Hasehes!).  Based upon Some YouTube Clip from Some Video Game Leeroy Jenkins has become the harbinger of all that is melee-ish, and has even warranted it’s own patch. Essentially, per Trifuckta / Triph Uckta, one simply and covertly strips down to pure birthday-suitness and then yells / decries “Leeroy Jenkins!” with all the fervor one can muster while wearing nakedness and then run among the masses with the intent of taking all controll from the RA, which likely isn’t too hard.
 
We listened in awe. Nakedness? Hashiness? Irreverenceness? We were IN!
 
Trifuckta went on to explain that once you Leeroy Jenkins (yes, a noun and a verb) you’ve a moral obligation to assume the naked and running position whenever anyone yells Leeroy Jenkins.  Failure to do so could very well result in the stripping of your Leeroy Jenkins patch.
 
On a side note:  Once you’ve dropped undies and have run around with your assets in the wind is there anything that would prohibit you from doing the same in the future? Could pointing and laughing from your fellow Hashers become worse? I think not.
 
Fast Forward to Saturday, August 16th! Got beer?
 
Tijuana Donkey Fluffer’s Rising Sun Hash (co-hared by Just Ed):
 habu-sake-japanese-snake-wine 7
Another beautiful day in Branford, and the weekend-abandoned Branford Train  Station was the perfect spot for an On-Out (TDF had explained via MeetUp his house would only accommodate 3.5 midgets, which makes me wonder vertically or horizontally).  Cops only drove by once and actually sped up upon seeing Hashers – TTT was not to pop out of another official vehicle.  Alas!  Trail was live, and there was a promise of illicit / illegal booze at the On-In.
 
Trail was shitty, which it to say, it was shitty in the shittiest of shit-for-trail-marking-trails possible ways, yet we persevered!
 
TDF introduced this as an authentic Okinawa, Japan trail (which Don’tYouDare, Bleeding Gash and TDF had run before, but let it be known Don’tYouDare ran the Okinawa Hash the same year that rat-bastard TDF was born, goddammit).  And, introducing a new component to the NH4 Hashes he introduced the BC25 Check!  In essence, there was beer to be found within twenty five feet / yards of the BC (units of measure are quite subjective when Hashing, which you all know).
 
Only half the assembled kennel made it to the Beer Quest, as trail doubled back upon itself and Hashers (read: TTT) opted to chillax sans beer until the true Hashers  reappeared.  Bleeding Gash ran completely past the Beer Quest, which kind of sucked as he was all hell-bent on being FRB and forsaking a giant bottle of refreshing malt liquor (en serio?).e
 
All ended with a poorly-executed limbo at the On-In (Who knew TTT had a set of stolen fast-food restaurant cordoning-off thingies in her trunk?!?!) where TTT claimed FRB and virgin Hector was DFL.  And then it got kind of good.
 
Having about a dozen-ish past-Hash Hashers tucked into the back corner of a quiet train station parking lot made for an amusing time as we we collectively lacked the motivation to find an On After.  Beer was consumed, accusations were made and then we consumed more beer.  Tap That Teacher struck Hasher-Stealing-From-A-Child-Gold on trail when she latched onto a bicycle even smaller than her.  And then at some point TDF took possession, riding it like a clown car into circle for Down Downs with co-Hare Just Ed.
 
The Naming Inquisition of Just Ed revealed he seems to have issues following up on phone calls with the ladies and that, while frequently vying for FRB, he’s surprising not so fast on his feet when answering odd questions thrown at him by fellow Hashers.  He was banished from Circle while a decision was made, and finally rode back on Tijuana Donkey Fluffer’s midget bicycle handle bars.  And now, I’d like to introduce the the Hashing masses, Back Tits McGee!
backtits
 
Okay, it was a bit of a stretch based upon a foolish moment of back tits horny-ness from a trivia night a few days before, but it struck Back Tits like a giant set of, well, back tits, and he was left shocked and appalled that he was not awarded one of Hashing’s more Cool Kids Names, so we considered the naming a great success!
 
TDF then extended the celebration by sharing shots of the Habu Sake he smuggled back from Okinawa on his last tour there.  Imagine, if you will, a vile, rice-based alcohol in which a poisonous snake was killed and then allowed to ferment in to the point its scales began to break off and drift in the boozy mix.  Got it?  Bad alcohol?  Check!  Dead snake?  Check!  Warmed by the summer sun to enhance boozy-snakey goodness?  Check!  We all bravely drank, and Just Linda only threw up a little.
 
So this now-too-long story of three Hashes seems to be winding down, but wait! There’s more!
 
TDF’s On After was cooling down comfortably as dusk started to overtake the train station parking lot.  At some point Hentai Me Down and Just Linda get up and head behind a car at the edge of the lot.  We, as Hashers, conveniently pay no mind to the whispering and covert nature of their escape because, well, we’d all been drinking and our ability to focus sharply was admittedly lacking.
 
And then, out of the darkening dusk comes the cry “LEEROY JENKINS!!!”  And there are Hentai and Just Linda bare-ass naked and running like hell (quite racist behavior) along the edge of the parking lot. TDF stops riding the bike and stands to see the spectacle, and just as he utters something about Peter Griffin we see Just Linda bottom out on her stride.  The ensuing crash and burn played out as slowly for us as it likely did for her.  High speed, no protective clothing and the unforgiving parking lot surface.  It was a perfect Hash, indeed!

 

Hentai Returns – R*n #152

Hentai Returns – Trail 152

So there we were – a cool summer’s day, hanging out in the DMV parking lot. Hare Hentai Me Down, freshly off his ‘scamper naked thru the woods for a month’ adventure, promised a shitty trail with 2 drink checks, lite shiggy, and other treats.

The pack took off, Just Ed, Blowing You Softly and Tiajuana Donkey Fluffer leading the way, Tap That Teacher trailing behind as usual. But the checks got the better of them and as the pack turned around multiple times, TTT was in front. As BYS was heard asking on trail, “Does TTT know something we don’t?” the answer is “Yes, yes she does,” as we’ll soon find out.

The first beer check was under a huge great-for-climbing tree at the base of East Rock Park. Just Ed really enjoyed his spot sitting against the tree… The pack set off again, deeper into the park, this time only to encounter CBs and YBFs galore, effectively keeping the pack together. The 2nd drink check was down a long slippery slope leading out of the park and consisted of a Capt. Morgan and ginger ale OTF. Mathole had something against this concoction, however, as he violently flung it away from himself, sending it plummeting to the ground, spilling half of its contents to the ground. Let’s just call it an offering to the hashing gods.

The last leg of trail had a new check…PBR!!! Yeah, that’s what we thought too! But noooooo….this was a Piggy Back Ride check. Half the pack participated, half did not. Just Ed stayed behind to wait for TTT – who never showed up. Why? Because what she does know is that short-cutting is always the bestest thing to do, as she skipped back to the On-In as FRB.

Circle down downs were awarded to FRB TTT; DFL Just Johanna; Racist attire to Smashmouth (again); and TTT drank for tech on trail (again). Our RA Hentai got shitty drunk and laughed his way through the rest of circle (Remember kids: The vessel is supposed to be inverted over your h3@d, not just raised there). Just Ed drank for falsely accusing TTT of wearing new shoes; Just Tim, Just Johanna, and BYS drank for not hashing with us for a while; Mathole drank for out-sucking (god, that sounds dirty) Dontyoudare as beer-bitch; and Just Tim drew accolades for carrying Mathole’s ass (I think?) a hella long way at the PBR check. And TDF just stood there and smiled innocently.

On-After was wings, beer and some sort of poutine-y thing at Archie Moore’s. On-out wankers!

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