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.