Location: Millenium Park, West Roxbury (AKA the Gardner Street Landfill
capped by Big Dig dirt;
http://www.newtonconservators.org/25millennium.htm)

I believe everyone arrived by car although the park is T accessible.

Hares: Bleeps, Sweeps & Creeps and N*pples Erectus

Attendees were, of course, all visitors:
Da Pitts: Counterfeit Dick, P*ssy Factory
Seacoast: C*m Titty, Nappy Headed Sew Ho
Boston: Pat My Fly, +2 Coonass, Yellow Dick Gnome, Mexican Humping Queen,
An*l Beads, Goes Down on Buoys, Taj My Hole, The Buttler Hit it, Sucker's
Bet, 2nd C*mming, Piss Stop, F*ck That Hurts [bag car]
Happy Valley: Jimmy Crack Whore

Pre-lube involved as many beers as your mug would handle (or cans for
those that didn't bring mugs - but more of that later) in the parking lot
for the canoe ramp while listening to hippie music. Some dog walkers
thought that flour dropped for circle talk may have been dog poison. Buoys
provided sunblock in gel/slime form which was entertaining enough that you
may want to look out for it at future hashes.

After a train came by, the pack left at a leisurely pace down a trail next
to the tracks. We came out to a check that surprisingly did not go up the
steep hill or into the water at the canoe launch, but continued along the
pond that had a dog in the middle (flood waters have receded). There was
poo around this point.

Trail proceeded a check at a bend in the trail with a false continuing on
the trail so the only option was to cross the 'river' feeding the 'pond'
and straight into shiggy. We picked our way through the bushes and
knotweed forests and AB got his balls grabbed by a branch. It turned out
the false wasn't quite false as Pat My Fly was waiting for the pack with
dry socks as trail came back towards the park.

Trail ran along the side of the hill [landfill] until a check where
(amazingly) trail did not go up the hill - but back across the water. I
personally emerged from this crossing with a foot-full of kelp/algae still
attached. And we entered the poison ivy. And mud. Mud so deep that it
almost sucked peoples' ... shoes ... off. I believe AB got involved with a
bush and got thorns around here.

The pack started to get spread out at this point (except for Piss Stop,
who I don't believe made it this far). Trail went back into the woods
while Pat My Fly continued to echo-locate the pack while remaining on the
trails. I laid a turkey/eagle - but didn't make it a pack mark as hares
were using flour - but it wasn't the most confusing mark of the day. Trail
led to more poo and then back out to Pat who was continuing on the blue
trail.

Finally, we found beer near and emerged into a nice suburban neighborhood
for a rolling beer stop or such. Presumably this was to keep the pack
moving rather than congregate loudly and attract even more attention than
we got from the few passerbyers. Bag car was located between two bus stops
that were no more than 200 ft apart. Why? Why not. There were small beers
and no Piss Stop.

Having watched the FRBs, we continued towards the back of a nice little
house. Then we found the generator behind it. Upon further inspection, the
house is just a sham for the transmitter equipment for the five antenna
towers behind the house, although it does have a mailbox. The antennas are
surrounded by bog and Pat My Fly finally got wet.

We continued along the edge of a cemetery which we did not go through to
the delight of 2nd C*mming. After more poison ivy, I emerged to find the
pack going back down the path we had come out on. There were rumors of a
true-trail mark so the pack headed back to the parking lot overlapping the
previous marks and guessing that A' meant really close to A (it wasn't
that close). I went back to find the true trail and found a turn to the
left (well, I was walking backwards so it went to the right for me). I
called and called but no one came and so I entered the shiggy again.

After picking through some serious talons/thorns, I made it back out to a
trail where I found C*m Titty and Sew Ho coming from the beer check.
After some confused looking around, we proceeded where the flour arrows
indicated. Until the check. Then I discovered that I couldn't see the red
flour on the leaves. Finally other hashers came up behind us and found
trail which was, of course, across the water up onto a hill largely
composed of old asphalt. Mmmmmmm.

We proceeded along the back side of the cemetery to a large leaf pile then
out to where we found bag car and 2nd C*mming found the on-in while we
tooled about finding nothing else.

Only eight hashers made it to the on-in via trail:

+2 Coonass, Yellow Dick Gnome, Cum Titty, 2nd C*mming, Nappy Headed Sew
Ho, Buttler

We f*cked all the virgins and drank all the beer while waiting for the
autohashers to arrive in cars that, in at least one case, did not belong
to any of the occupants. But they made it.

2nd C*mming kicked off circle with a Follow the Hares that had a meter
that was tricky with such an assortment of hashers. Bleeps took over and
regaled us with the story of how Piss Stop snared the hares. His account
was better:

The hares heard the pack behind them after the rolling beer stop (maybe
they would have had more time if it was a beer check) and were running
like the wind (there was little wind that day) when they came across Piss
Stop twirling on trail saying something like "I was on trail, I dunno what
happened". 'Fast Forward' and she was left to direct the pack to not go
back on the earlier marks but apparently lost track of the hares and where
they went so was unable to keep the pack on trail (and so they he*ded back
to A).

FBI (Yellow Dick Gnome) and FRB (2nd C*mming) were made to drink out of
tiny cups provided by Seacoast (from Green Dress). DFL may have been Sew
Ho, but somehow +2 Coonass stepped up the plate muttering something about
bring up a cooler from bag car.

There was a down-down for all hashers who drove to the on-in. We miss you
Wang. There was a down-down for bag car which I have in my notes as '(best
ever)' but I'm not sure what it's referring to.

2nd C*mming accused those hashers with blood on trail, which was largely
everyone. Lost sh*t was produced as AB's tag had fallen off but was
recovered. Jimmy drank here too and I think may have picked up an East
Sh*itty Pipes tag .

CT accused Gnome or +2 Coonass of rascist behavior as he let her go to
the on-in instead of helping with the cooler so she'd be FBI. If memory
serves, CT would have been FBI otherwise.

Bleeps called for an honor down-down for the anniversary of PBR getting
its blue ribbon. The pack was happy to oblige.

AB called out hash crashers which included +2 Coonass and 2nd C*mming who
both had spectacular falls due to the shiggy.

Buoys called out those not wearing hash attire, a requirement laid out in
a supplementary email to the original posting (so as to confuse hashers
and make sure some were ill prepared and there would be someone to call
into circle). Many were made to drink.

Buttler accused those with same-shirts, but apparently this is accepted
behavior at the PooF hash so I drank for false accusations. Counterfeit
Dick drank too for some reason.

Those without vessels included Buttler and Mexican Humping Queen and
likely more. Whistle check caught Taj, Mexican, Gnome, Pat, Sucker's Bet,
and 2nd C*mming.

Then Nips reached into her sack.

Jimmy called out those who changed before circle: CT, AB, Count (sic), +2,
Gnome.

Nips found what she was looking for in her sack and regaled us with
stories of the origins of the PooF hash. Apparently Kick Me in the Nuts
and Drippy Spiggot were involved but *were not there for the inaugural
hash*. 2nd C*mming and Sucker's Bet got stickers of monkeys flinging poo
for signing up first.

As it was the other Labor Day, there was a down-down suggested by +2 Coon
ass for those wearing red: AB, CD, Piss Stop, Jimmy, and Buoys.

There was an accusation (by Jimmy?) against those that had not made
accusations so far: Sucker's Bet, Pussy Factory, Buoys, Mexican, Taj, Sew
Ho, F*ck That Hurts, Pat My Fly, Piss Stop, Yellow Dick Gnome

I made an accusation that the giant pile of wood ready for a bonfire wasn't
on fire enough; AB proxied.

Announcements:

NURD
***RIH3 at Blue Hills (TODAY IS MONDAY)***
Nips is drunk
There are complicated things to do to be called a PooFlinger hasher The
PooF website (under construction) is: http;//poofh3.com/

Circle ended with a song printed on the back of our tags that I can't
recall right now. The bonfire pile somehow survived.

The On-After was at the Old Irish Ale House. Maps were printed on paper
that was too fine for hashers but did not have our actual location on the
map, but we all managed to find our way there.

After finding out that we were not the 'function', and narrowly avoiding
escalating sugar packet fights into salt shaker fights, the hash tried to
get Nips to wait on us. She wouldn't even open the window overlooking the
Charles and so got no tips. There was a beer for the invisible hasher but
something something it got screwed up because Taj was the only one who
wasn't pretty pale or something like that.

We met our waitresses, Noreen and Blessed Mother Mary Lou who thought that
2nd C*mming at Marathon was "a very pretty girl" and that hashers go to
the bathroom "like kids - one goes and [you] all go." Noreen asked Buoys
if he'd like anything just as he was giving his pecks a feel/lift. Thumper
began, sans one table (AB, Sketchy Ho, CT, and probably Sew Ho). Someone
had a 48th birthday but I couldn't hear it over Taj sneezing from
allergies. The soup of the day was 'Mexican Fiesta' but somehow Humping
Queen was not involved.

Notes get even worse from here on out:

"But I love the clown"
"I have twin girls" (o rly)
"I'm from LA" "I wouldn't admit to that"
"I'd ride in the car/cock"
"That isn't the first time today that you've hit the back of someone's he*d"
"Meat in every orifice" (a potential name, I believe)

Thumper became child friendly by changing 'get f*cked up' to 'imbibe a lot
of beer' and such due to families that were the actual 'function'. The
wussie table still did not join. It's not like it was strippie Thumper or
anything.

Passerbyers were frightened. Priests in the bar were frightened. The
function had little kids that were steered away from our corner.

Food came and I had to leave.

My only remaining scrawls are "Soda dispenser" and "Resin". If you know
what either mean, you probably didn't play enough Thumper. See you tonight
at the Blue Hills!

-Buttler

 

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